Story 7

Fog

My brain was foggy.

I blinked my eyes to clear it away, trying to focus on the things around me.

I blinked my eyes again in surprise.

I was standing in a room, Hogwarts great hall style minus the tables, crowded with people dressed Victorian England style. Looking down at myself, I was too. Where were my jeans and Converse? The skirts of the dress sat heavily on my hips, and my shoes felt pinched and achy. I never went anywhere without my converse. I only took them off to sleep, if even then. I wanted my normal clothes. Though, this dress was an excellent shade of turquoise. It matched my eyes.

All of the people were looking at me, cheerful, anticipatory smiles on their faces. My face, in that horrible way, started burning. I hated being the center of attention.

Someone grabbed my hand.

I realized that I wasn’t the only one the people were staring at. The man standing at my side, holding my hand firmly in his own, was tall and handsome. But not my type. His hair was pale and so were his eyes. He looked very . . . regal. I don’t think I’d ever used that word to describe anyone before. But he just, was, decked out like some Victorian lord.

Despite the paleness, there was something dark about him.

What kind of wacky, messed up dream was this?!

He called to the people, his voice carrying, “Friends.”

There was no way all those people were his friends.

He continued, not hearing my sarcastic thoughts. “I apologize for taking time away from your evening. But,” a smile spread across his face, “I’d like to announce that the Lady Gavan has just given me her consent!”

Consent for what, to smack him upside the head? I felt like that would be a good thing to do at this moment.

“We shall be wed as soon as we can find a priest.”

WHAT?!

Oh no, he didn’t!

On no, I didn’t!

I jerked my hand out of his. “WHO ARE YOU?!”

His eyes narrowed.

The people on the floor started murmuring quietly to themselves, sounding like the gentle hum of a microwave.

The man wrapped his long fingers around my upper arm and dragged me, off balance, from the room.

I wanted to pry my arm out of his fingers, but he’s was pulling me down the hallway so quickly I couldn’t find my balance.

A servant, she was dressed in little more than rags, stepped out of one of the doors lining the hallway. She stumbled back, seeing the fire in my captors eyes.

“Where is the physician?!” he yelled at her.

“I . . . He . . .” The poor girl was kind of freaking out in the face of this jerk. She took a quick breath. “He requested that his supper be brought to his quarters.”

Mr. Not-Right-In-The-Head, Angry Man stormed past her.

I banged on his arm with my free fist, accenting each word with a punch. “Let. Go. Of. Me!”

He turned on his heel and backhanded me across the face.

I was stunned into silence as he continued to drag me down the hall. My face burned with pain and embarrassment.  Nobody had ever struck me before. My forehead creased. When had I started using words like struck? Why hadn’t I used hit, like a normal person?

Wait, that hurt! You’re not supposed to be able to get hurt in dreams.

I pushed the thought away, not liking where it was taking me. There was no way any of this could actually be happening. It was too impossible.

Mr. Jerk stopped at a door on the left before kicking it open and throwing me in.

I landed on my hands and knees. Quickly, I scrambled to my feet and stepped away from the man. I folded my arms and pushed out my lip. Yeah. I was totally pulling out the pouting card.

Unfortunately, it fell unnoticed. Mr. Angry had already forgotten I existed. He was looming over a little, portly man. He was squinting like he’d forgotten he put on his glasses. Did they even have glasses in whatever time period I was dreaming in? I made a mental note to Google it when I woke up. Was this the physician?

Mr. Angry was yelling at the little man. I felt kind of bad for him. “She lapsed! She lapsed when I was making the announcement of our intentions! She was supposed to have another hour! What happened?!”

The physician wiped sweat, and probably spittle, from his forehead. “M’lord, it’s possible that she is developing a resistance to the effects of the drug.”

“A drug!” I burst, losing my pout. “You have not been drugging me!”

The physician looked confused. “But we have been drugging you, Lady Gavan.”

Mr. Angry glared at the physician and he fell silent. Angry took a moment to let himself become not so angry. “Fine. It won’t matter after we’re wed. Do you have any here we can give her now?”

“It doesn’t matter,” I interrupted. “drugging me won’t make me marry you.”

“You’d be surprised at what I’ve made you do under its influence before. Your consent was witnessed by more than myself.” His voice was cold.

I couldn’t stop myself from wondering, what had I done? Nothing, I reminded myself. This was just a dream.

“Do you have any more?” Mr. Angry’s question was directed at the physician.

“Nay, we cannot give her more now, M’lord. Even if the drug isn’t working, it is still in her system. To give her more would be dangerous.”

I snorted, very un-ladylike.

Angry whipped his eyes at me.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “You actually think I’m going to sit there and let you drug me? Well, newsflash, I’m not.”

He looked a little confused at the word “newsflash,” but he definitely understood “not.”

“Is that so?” a small smile curled the corners of his mouth.

Not the reaction I was expecting. I tried to maintain my superior attitude, folding my arms across my chest, again. “Yup.”

He stepped away from the physician. He threw open the door and pushed me out in front of him. His fingers returned to their favorite spot on my arm as he dragged down a different hall. “It would have been better for you, had you remained the meek lamb.” He threw open a door.

Did he know me at all? I had never in my life acted the meek lamb. Why did he want to marry me, anyway?

Past the door, cold stone steps led down in a circular staircase. I had to struggle not to trip as he forced me down them. A soldier at the bottom stood at stiff at attention.

“Follow me,” Mr. Angry ordered the man.

We were in a dungeon of sorts. Was this guy serious?

There was only one other guest that I could see in the row of cells. Angry opened the next available cell and shoved me in. I really doubted this guy’s mother had ever taught him to be nice to a lady, even one as rough around the edges as me.

The soldier locked the cell behind me.

I turned and pressed my face against the bars, glaring at Mr. Angry.

“You will be obedient to me. Before long, you will be begging for that which you so ardently refuse.”

He turned to the guard. “No food. No water.”

I started screaming everything I could think of as he walked toward the stairs. “I plead the fifth! I demand to see a lawyer!” He didn’t turn around. “You’ll never take me alive!”

To that, he did turn around. The smile on his face made me take an involuntary step back. “My dearest Rebecca, you cannot take that which you already possess.” He was gone.

I suppressed a shudder and sank to the floor, cross legged, thinking.

Before I could settle too deep into my thoughts, my neighbor interrupted.

“Becky, what happened? Are you all right?”

Normally, I would have bristled. Nobody calls me Becky but the people I give permission too, like my friends and family. Not a random stranger in Mr. Angry’s dungeon. But I kind of liked the way it rolled off his tongue, so I put my claws away.

It was too dark to make out much about him, but I tried. His voice didn’t sound much older than me. His hair was dark, making his face look pale. I tried to pick out more details, and failed.

He was crouched against the bars of our adjoined wall. “Becky?”

I remembered he’d asked me a question. I smirked. “I’m afraid you have the advantage over me. Who might you be, mysterious stranger?”

He barked out a short laugh. “Ha, real funny, Beck. Don’t avoid the question. Why are you down here? I thought you were all set to marry your one true love.”

I detected something bitter in his voice. His nonresponse muffled me but he said true love as if he were quoting me. That made me angry. “My one true love! Mr. Angry? Are you serious? What kind of unreliable gossip chain are you listening to down here? You’re almost as bad as him. Telling all those people I’d given my consent—”

He cut me off. “Becky, I was there, remember? Don’t play these games with me. Allow me to quote you: ‘I would gladly give my hand in marriage to my one true love.’” It sounded like the words hurt him.

“I never said that!” I spit back at him. “I think I would remember.” So Mysterious Stranger was the witness Mr. Angry had mentioned earlier. Why would Mr. Angry have my consent witnessed by a prisoner? Not that I’d ever given it or anything. I was only 18, sheesh.

Mystery sat down and rested his head his hands. He slowly massaged his temple, like he had some massive headache. I had one of my own starting to creep in.

“Stop playing your games with me, Beck. I can’t take it.” He rolled forward onto his knees and stretched his arm through the bars to reach me.

I was out of his range and didn’t try to move any closer.

His hand dropped slowly. He clenched the bars. “Whatever I did to make you hate me so much, I’m sorry. Tell me what I can do to fix it.” He sighed. “I know I should have told you this a long time ago, but I was too much of a coward. I need you to know before he comes back.” He paused, as if, even now, he was trying to gauge what my reaction would be. “I love you, Becky.”

I climbed to my feet and backed as far away from him as I could. “What is it with you people?!” I shrieked. “First, Mr. Angry stands me up in front of whole bunch of people and tells them we’re getting married. Then he throws me in the dungeon. Now, you’re telling me you love me. You won’t even tell me who you are!” I smacked the side of my fist against the bar, the pain giving me something to focus on. “Why won’t I just wake up?!”

“Wake up? You’re not asleep.”

Though I couldn’t see details, something about him seemed so incredibly sad. Maybe I should have been more tactful in spurning his love. “Of course I’m asleep. It’s the only way any of this makes sense.”

“You’re not sleeping, Becky.” His voice was more solid. Even so, he paused. “You really don’t know who I am? That wasn’t you just trying to be funny in a completely not funny way?”

“No,” I whispered. I had to be sleeping. My throbbing hand said differently.

“It’s me,” his whole posture pleaded for me to remember, “Bennett.”

I tried. I honestly did try to remember. I wanted to. But there was nothing there but the fog. “What’s going on?”

Bennett slumped against the bars. “I wish I knew. I haven’t know what’s going on since you walked into my life a few weeks ago.”

“Walked into your life?” Under my despair and confusion, I was honestly curious. “Where did I walk into it from?”

He laughed soundlessly, shaking his head. “I’d tell you if I could, really. But you never told me, despite how many times I asked.” He paused again. “Do you really not remember anything?”

I huffed. “Am I supposed to?” Even I knew my question was stupid.

“What did he do to you?”

I shrugged, resigned. “I don’t know. After he made the announcement and I yelled in his face—”

“Wait. Stop.” I could hear the smile in his voice, even if I couldn’t see it. “You yelled in his face? I bet that didn’t go over well.”

I smiled too. “It didn’t. He got pretty upset.”

I kind of liked lover boy, Bennett. We shared the same sense of humor.

“Anyway,” I continued, “After I yelled at him, he dragged me out of the room to find this physician guy. Apparently, I’ve built up an immunity to the drug they’ve been giving me. I told Mr. Angry I wasn’t going to take his stupid drug. That’s when he threw me down here, so I would beg him for it or some other nonsense.”

Bennett was silent.

“Oy, Mystery Lover Boy,” I smiled to myself at the unintentional rhyme, “what are you thinking about over there?”

“I’m thinking, a whole lot of things just started to make sense.”

“What do you mean?” Maybe he could spread his sense to me.

“You might not remember everything, but I do. There have been quite a few things you’ve done over the last little while that haven’t made sense.”

Why wouldn’t he just come out and tell me? He was playing with me! Maybe we were too much alike. Oh, I would definitely play with him. I took slow steps toward him. “Like what?” I asked smoothly.

“Like how you called him your one true love. I can’t see you saying something that corny to anyone and really meaning it.”

I silently agreed with him on that point. I would have done it vocally but it would have messed with my game.

I crouched down in front of him. “Silly Bennett,” I whispered our faces only inches apart. He was frozen. “You should know that you will forever be my one true love.” I turned his face in my hands and pressed my lips gently to his check, letting them linger for a moment before releasing him and sitting back on my heals

He was absolutely silent and I had to fight to keep from bursting into laughter. After a several long seconds, he found his voice, but it sounded more confident than I’d been anticipating “You’re mean. I forgot that you like to play dirty.”

His hand snaked out and grabbed mine, catching me by surprise. He pulled me back to the bars. His strong hands cupped my face. This time, it was me who was to shocked to move as he brought his lips to mine. After a few seconds of my head swimming, he pulled back, our foreheads still resting together and teasing me.

His voice was like silk gently brushing my skin. “But you have also forgotten that I know how to play dirty too.”

He released me and moved to sit with his back against the stone wall next to our adjoining bars. After a few seconds, I sat down next to him on my section of the stone wall, less than a foot between us. His fingers slipped through the bars and intertwined firmly with my own. I didn’t pull away.

Crazy dream or not, but I think I was falling in love. In a dungeon. With a boy whose face I couldn’t even clearly see. I had no idea it was that easy. What if he was ugly? I hoped he was ugly, then it would make it easier to wake up. But, for now, I didn’t want the dream to end quite yet.

Story 6

This is another installment of my series of short stories who's ideas I love, but who's development I'm not ready to undertake.

Death Row

The harsh lights flared overhead. Cam threw his arm over his eyes to block them out. He wanted to enjoy the peace and solitude of the quiet darkness. He might not have too many more chances. He might not have any.

The pounding of drums echoed loudly in his ears as the guards heavy footfalls fell. Where would they stop this happy morning? He was dying with anticipation.

That last thought made his lip curl up in a snicker. The sameness of the morning routine was used to inspire fear, bored Cam. At least, that’s what Cam told himself every morning. 

The guards approached.

Approached.

Passed.

Cam’s arm slipped shakily away from his eyes. It was some time before he was strong enough to rise. He would live to wake to the blazing lights of tomorrow. He rebuilt his wall of nonchalance as he listened to the commotion begin down the hall, as he knew it would.

“No!” the young voice screamed as the shriek of iron bars sliding open filled every corner of the room. Cam closed his eyes. They were taking Kaleb.

He rolled off his cot in a smooth motion, the momentum bringing him to his feet. He took the single remain step to the bars. “No!” he screamed, echoing the little boy. He pounded his fists against the cold metal. Cam took back every thought of relief he’d had. He would give anything to have had the guards stop at his cell instead of continuing down the row to his little brother.  

As the party passed Cam, he launched the small attack he could from the inside. His arms reached out between the bars and started tearing at the guards. The unexpected attack caused the guards to lose their hold on Kaleb.

The young boy scrambled to his feet and squeezed through the bars into Cam’s cell. The bars weren’t as close together for the older kids as they were for the younger kids. Kaleb’s arms were wrapped securely around his brother’s neck. Cam felt the hot tears on his skin. He held Kaleb tightly in the circle of his arms. The brothers hunkered down in the far corner of the cell, whispering fiercely but incomprehensibly to each other, as the guards were figuring out what had happened. The cell door shrieked open and Cam placed himself protectively in front of his brother. Rough hands grabbed at them.

“No! Stop! You can’t!” Cam yelled. And finally, “Take me!” 

As a unit, the guards turned to look at the head guard who stood motionless outside the cell. He shrugged, indicating that it didn’t matter either way.

The guards held Cam tightly as pair split off to return Kaleb to his cell. Cam gave his little brother a weak smile. Kaleb didn’t smile back. Tears were nearly blinding the boy’s vision. Cam noticed that the world was starting to blur around the edges.

“Be strong, Kaleb!” he yelled.

One of the guards drove a fist into his gut. “Quiet!”

Cam went with the guards, not fighting. As they passed the cells, none of the other boys would meet his eyes. Cam didn’t resent them for it. He had been the same way for all the others in their final walk. Such was life on Death Row.

He was to be executed before the firing squad in the courtyard of the prison. It was the same place the prisoners were allowed to have their recreation once a week. The guards shackled Cam to the far wall. Four gunmen stood twenty feet away from him. As one, they raised their guns and aimed.

Shouts arose from the top of the left wall next to the main compound. Whatever it was, it didn’t matter to Cam. He’d purchased a few more days for Kaleb with his life. That is what mattered. His head dropped to his chest. He closed his eyes and waited to die.

Story 5

Escape

Shivers raced over my skin. A long cold river flowed swiftly passed. Snow covered the land. I was on one side of the river. My friends, my family, and my heart were on the other. To them I was lost.

I climbed the dead tree that overlooked the mountains. The small boat I’d used to row over was banked just below me. I couldn’t go home ever again. My destiny was now intertwined with that of the river.

“Madge!” a voice floated over to me. I glanced down from my perch to see Parker looking lost and lonely on the opposite side of the river.

I’d said my goodbye for long enough. Now it was time to leave. I slid out of the tree and into the boat.

“Madge, please, no!”

I couldn’t look at him as I picked up the paddle, and began rowing downstream with the current.

“Madge! Don’t leave! I love you!”

The paddle landed with a clatter in the bottom of the boat. I spun around, and gazed longingly after him. He was the prize I couldn’t have. He was the only thing I wanted. But I had to leave. I had no other choice. “I love you too,” I whispered at his diminishing figure. I turned forward and picked up my fallen paddle.

A sudden splash made me turn around. Parker was no longer there. His head popped above the water, and he began taking awkward strokes in my direction as the ice cold water began to freeze him.

“Parker!” I screamed. I rapidly paddled in his direction. I’d almost reached him when his head disappeared from sight.

I threw myself at the side of the boat, and stretched my arms as far as they would go into the place he’d disappeared. Please grab my hand, I screamed in my head. Grab my hand!

Something bumped against me slightly. I clung to the hand and pulled upward with all my might. Parker came up out of the water gasping. He was only half in the boat, and I struggled with all my might to pull him the rest of the way without capsizing. When he was in, I striped him of his coat and shirt. We both knew we had to get his clothes off him quick or he’d suffer from hypothermia.

I tossed him one of my blankets, and turned around while he peeled away his wet leggings. I busied my self with taking off my own coat and shirt, leaving only my thin undershirt.

When he was ready, I grabbed another blanket and spun to face him. He was sitting on the seat, bare-chested, to one side, shivering. The first blanket was wrapped like a cocoon around his lower half. I wrapped my large coat around him and draped the blanket over it. Sitting down on the bench but facing the other way, I slipped my arms inside the coat and wrapped them around his chest. He pulled the ends of the coat and blanket around my back and held the tightly.

“Sometimes you’re so stupid, Parker,” I mumbled against his chest as we floated down the river, willing my body heat to warm him. It was all I could do to hold back tears.

“I-I c-c-couldn’ le’ y-y-you g-go,” he stuttered. “N-n-not wi’ou’ m-me.”

I felt a warmth spread over me. Maybe I wouldn’t have to go alone after all.

Story 4

This story came from my friend Emily shooting words at me as I wrote. The bolded words are the ones she gave me it you couldn't guess. I can see lots of possbilities with this one. It might be just the thing I was looking for. More posts from this one might come in the future.


Telepathic. More like tele-pathetic. I was a failure, I thought as darkness surrounded me. It was a massacre. Everything was destroyed. A feeling of malcontent permeated the air.

I felt miserable. Everything was my fault. The malicious people knew it too. They said I was a terror. A menace. I didn’t even cry out for help as the stuffed me into a bag to carry me away. The fatalities were too great for me to feel otherwise.

The remaining people dropped me on the ground. Cold rose from the hard floor, chilling my skin. I couldn’t fathom the things they had planned for me.

The door slamming closed reached me. After a bit of careful maneuvering, I managed to slither out of the bag. I was in a dark room. Not even a sliver of light existed for my eyes to use to adjust. Most likely I was underground. Most likely, the people weren’t coming back.

Ever.

I shivered and wrapped my arms around myself.

Telepathic, they’d called me after seeing my first demonstration of the power I didn’t know I had had. They didn’t know it was something much more. It was magic, pure and simple, and I had no control over it. Mostly, it manifested itself in moving objects. But lately, it showed itself more and more in displays of fire. “I wish I could create some fire now,” I thought aloud to myself. But, as I said before, I had no control.

Story 3

Betrayal

Betrayed. I felt myself collapsing inside. He had betrayed us all. And it was my fault for giving him the secrets.

I raised my head and looked out the window. Men in body armor were standing down below. They were the Enforcers. In quick fashion, they prepared to storm the building. Behind me, all the other Resistors were crouched low in deep, agitated conversation. I was set on watch. They didn’t want to talk to me at the moment.

The expected flurry of activity ensued in the courtyard. “They’re coming,” I said quietly.

Brad, our leader, stood up slowly. “Time’s up,” he commented sadly. “Scatter,” he commanded, and was gone.

I stood and ran deeper into the building. As if on their own, my feet carried me to the room. A hand tightened over my heart, but I had to hide somewhere so I stepped inside. This was the room he had first kissed me. The whole time he had been planning the betrayal.

As I backed away from the door, a hand slapped over my face from behind. An arm wrapped itself securely around my waist.

“I knew I’d find you here,” Damien whispered dryly.

My heart beat began to race.

“Trust me,” he whispered.

That set me off. I pushed his hand away from my mouth. “Trust you? What reason have you given me to trust you? You betrayed us!”

His hand was covering my mouth again. Footsteps went running beyond the door. “There are bigger things happening than you understand.” He turned me around in the circle of his arm and looked pleadingly into my eyes. “I need you to trust me.”

I couldn’t break away from the chains his eyes bond me with. I knew what I had to do. Slowly, I nodded.

Relief broke out across his face, and he pulled me into a tight hug. “Follow my lead.”

He held both my hands behind his back with one of his. After opening the door, he put his hand on my shoulder, leading me down the hall.

We passed by Enforcers searching the building, but the paid us no mind. I began to fell nervous as we reached ground floor. Damien could sense my agitation. He leaned close to my ear. “Be still. Trust me.”

I clung to his words.

We stepped outside. I blinked as my eyes adjusted. Damien walked me over to a man who appeared to be in charge. My nervousness increased. Damien’s hand tightened over my wrists.

“Is this her?” the man asked.

“Yes,” Damien said, and my heart crumbled. “This is their leader, as promised.”

“What?!” I exclaimed.

The man signaled, and Enforcers seized me from either side.

“Damien!” I called as they dragged me away.

He looked me straight in the eye. “It’s what has to happen.”

My crumbled heart wrenched in half as the men threw me into the back of a truck, and drove away.

Story 2

Playing with Fire

Flash! She couldn’t see. The light filled her whole frame of vision. It seemed to burn her from the inside out. She couldn’t breath. Amid the flames, a voice seemed to call to her.

“Lauren!” The voice seemed vaguely familiar. She released a rasping cough as she tried to call for help. The building shuddered beneath her. She heard a crash.

Another shout rang out. It seemed to be getting farther away. Then it disappeared entirely. The fire seemed to be growing dimmer.

Suddenly, she seemed to rise into the heat. She was being lifted up, pressed against something. Her eyes fluttered open to see an alien looking down at her. It placed something over her head and began moving. Lauren lacked the energy to be scared. She wanted the flames to snuff her out as she would the flame of a candle.

The heat seemed to grow more and more intense. Then in a moment, it was behind her, like a distant memory. Or not-so-distant-, she decided as a wave of heat rolled over her. Even that, though, was fading away.

Shouting assailed her ears. The alien lowered her to the ground. Soft grass brushed her cheek. Smells of warm summer evenings caressed her. Her sore eyes blinked open.

The alien, or fireman she now realized, was speaking to her frantic parents. Some dropped down beside her. Worried eyes floated over her. “Chris,” she mumbled with a raspy voice.

Her best friend was covered head to toe in soot. “What happened, Lauren? Where did go Bryce? I thought you were supposed to be on a date.” He looked over at his house next door. Firemen were pouring water on it to prevent it from catching fire as well. Her house was a total loss. “I was home when I noticed the flames. I ran over immediately and saw Bryce leaving. I went inside to find you, but . . .” He raised his hands in a helpless gesture.

I closed my eyes against the pain: The pain of the burns and the pain in my heart. “It was Bryce,” I rasped. “He set fire to the house with me inside. He said he’d gotten everything he’d wanted out of me.”

Story 1

This is the first story in a series of stories I find fun to write, and will maybe someday add to. If you really want to, feel free to use them as writing prompts for yourself.


Ghosts

Kya cried out in alarm as the hulking figure rose up before her. She backed away until her foot caught a root, and she fell to the ground. It was over. She knew it. She was going to die in the forest by the hands of a stranger. Kya should have known better than to wander off alone in the woods. The stranger had been popping up everywhere for the last week. She curled into a ball and closed her eyes as the stranger stepped out of the shadows toward her. Tears were streaming from her pinched shut eyes.

“Kya?” the stranger asked softly.

The voice haunted her. She hadn’t heard that voice in years. Blinking her eyes open, she peered out at the stranger. She couldn’t speak.

He pulled her off the ground and hugged her tightly. “I had to be sure it was you.”

Kya’s voice cracked out. “Trevor? But . . . but . . . you’re supposed to be dead.”