Flash Fiction: Twisted Love

This week’s challenge is pretty open ended.  Twisted love, probably in honor of V-day.  This story actually relates to the back story of a novel I’m currently working on.  Its how the parents of one of main character’s meet.  I had a lot of fun working on it.

Beautiful Mistake

 

“I wonder where I can find something to eat,” a handsome man with white skin and flaming mane muttered.  He leaned up against a pine tree rubbing his belly.  He braced his arms back to push off the tree, when he froze.

 

A young woman with dark hair and eyes walked down a dirt pathway going down the hillside.  Her robe was undyed linen and her only adornment was a carved, open book on a plain string around her slender neck.  She grasped a book in her hand, as she sang softly to herself.

 

“A Priest of the Unbidden,” he said.  He shifted in his chainmail and stepped forward.  “Excuse me. Do you know where there is somewhere to eat?”  His voice was smooth, and seductive.

 

The woman stopped and stared.  A blush came to her cheeks.  “Yes,” She said, averting her eyes.

 

The man winced.  He hadn’t meant to use his powers, but he hadn’t learned how to turn them off.  “Where do I need to go?”

 

The woman tipped her head. “Down by the Heart of Thought,” She looked away chewing on her lip.

 

The man mulled this over. He knew that meant the place where Priests of the Unbidden lived, but he didn’t have any interest in the bland food they ate.  “Is there a tavern or café there?”

 

“Yes, nearby in the village,” She said her face turning more crimson by the second.

 

He knew it was because his power was going more and more each second they spoke.  “I’m Voracan, by the way, what is your name?” He asked, hoping it might help offset his powers.

 

She bowed with a stiff movement.  “I’m Lillian High Priest of the Unbidden.”  A bit of the blush faded from her cheeks.

 

“Could you show me to the tavern, then?” Voracan thought he might be able to find it, but there seemed to be an awful lot of winding pathways here.

 

Lillian nodded, and started down the path.  For the first few moments the only sound was soft cooing of a bird.  “Why did your parents give you a name in demonic?”

 

His face scrunched up.  He knew he should have come up with a name that didn’t reveal what he was.  “I’m a demon.”

 

She whipped around to stare at him, all color draining from her face.  “Are you serious?”  Her hand went to clasp around the book symbol.  “Stay back.”

 

He shook his head.  “I was thrown out of Silt.  I’m no threat to you.”

 

“Do not lie to me, demon.”  Lillian’s voice turned hard.  Her eyes blazed with passion.  “We of the Unbidden have no power other than our knowledge.  I know all about the lies, and tricks demons play to gain humans to torment.”

 

Voracan was fascinated by the change.  When she wasn’t being cowed by his presence she was a strong woman.  “You are right. I have power to harm you. “He gave her his best disarming smile. “It would be more accurate to say I would not.  I was thrown up for sparing a human, not for harming one.”

 

“How do I know you were tossed out?” Her nostrils flared as her face tensed.  “Anyone could call themselves forsaken, it means nothing.”

 

He acknowledged that was true.  Then, he let go of his appearance that made him look human.  His skin turned deep ash gray, large horns curled from the side of his head, eyes the color of rubies and hair of living flame flowed down his back.   He knew in his form his features grew finer and whatever was more attractive to the viewer.  “I wouldn’t bother with words.”

 

“Seducer,” She swallowed hard.  “Why are you bothering with words?”

 

“I don’t like what I am. I never have. I want to live a normal, human, life.”  That’s all he really wanted.

 

The woman eyes narrowed and her grip tightened on the symbol of the Unbidden.  “And, how do I know that this isn’t some scheme to lower my guard so you can seduce me?  I’d be a prize wouldn’t I? The High Priest of the Unbidden.”

 

Voracan figured it was true.  High Priest was an eternal virgin untouched, and always raised with in the order.  “Why are they letting you wander around on your own?”

 

She huffed.  “I’m hardly wandering around on my own.  This is a short walk from the Heart.  You are the interloper here.”

 

Voracan couldn’t help it, he grinned.  She was adorably irritated. “Why are you walking by yourself, then?”

 

“As if it is any of your business, silt spawn,” she said.  A bit of the acid had faded from her voice and her features softened.

 

“I suppose it isn’t.”  Voracan was definitely surprised by the fire in her nature.  Who’d think for a scholarly little virgin would be so bold.  “But, it does seem your people would travel with you.”

 

“It is a short walk to the village. It is my duty and privilege to talk to the villagers and train them in words and numbers.”  She took a step back up the path watching him.  “And, to spread the word of knowledge.”

 

He ran his gray hand through his hair and changed his appearance back to the handsome man with flame colored hair.  “Well, if you’ll tell me the direction to the village I’ll head there now, and leave you to your preaching.”

 

She went still, and then her eyes went huge.  “I can’t let you in the village alone.  Those people are mine to protect.”

 

“Either I eat food or feed in more traditional way for my species.”  Voracan preferred to avoid that.  After youth of feeding at the order of the older demons, he didn’t want to indulge in anything carnal.

Lillian’s fingers went white, she chewed on her lip.  “Walk in front, I’ll keep my eyes on you.”

 

As he shifted to in front of her he took the path.  He could hear her talking in a softest of whispers.   The thick trees opened up to reveal a small village.  The houses were freshly painted and the roads paved with gravel.

 

A warm hand rested on his arm.  “The tavern is the first building on the right.”

 

He flicked around to look at his companion.  The tavern didn’t really stand out it look much like the other buildings.  The only difference was a sign of a bed and tankard on it.  “It’s more of an inn?”  He asked keeping his voice low.  Since, his powers weren’t under his control he figured he shouldn’t push his luck.

 

Lillian ignored the question as they stepped inside.  The walls were a bright blue, the tables and furniture white.   There is even lace curtains, Voracan thought with a shake of his head.  “Can you order for me, I’ll give you money? I don’t dare talk more than I need to.”

 

Those dark eyes seemed to pierce his mind.  “Why?”  There was an edge to her voice that he found compelling instead of terrifying.

 

“I can’t control my powers yet.  When I’m hungry I tend to…” He paused wondering if there might be a better way to phrase it.  Then, he gave up, “seduce them.”

 

Lillian didn’t look as if she believed him.  She let out a long, drawn out breath and held out her hand.  Voracan hurried to put a gold weight in it.  She lifted a brow at the amount.  When he didn’t respond she headed to the counter.

 

He picked a chair in the far corner away from all the windows, and the door.  He settled in so his back was to the wall and he could see everything.  Lillian sat a mug before him and glass before the seat beside him.

 

A sniff told him his was some kind of ale, and hers was water.  “You don’t drink?”

 

“Of course not,” She said.  “The only vice is the power of the word, the truth of knowledge. I indulge in no other.”

 

He’d forgotten.  She didn’t fit the picture he had in his mind for a Priest of the Unbidden.   He sipped at his ale, and gave her a grin.  “You are missing out, this is fine ale.”

 

Lillian ignored him and set her book on the table and began to read.   Her fingers were long, fine and had callous exactly where one would from holding a pen for long periods of time.  She kept the tip of her index finger under each word as she read.

 

A thunk caused Voracan to jerk his head up.   A metal plate landed next to his ale, it had a thick stew with a biscuit next on a napkin to the side.  He waited until the server walked off, before turning to Lillian.  “Aren’t you going to eat?”

 

She lifted her head looking puzzled. “It is forbidden to eat anything outside The Heart.  It is to flavorful, and carries with the risk of temptation.”

 

Voracan felt himself smile again.  “You are going to sit there and read while I eat?  Why don’t you go deal with your students?”

 

“I won’t leave you alone, who knows what you’ll do.”  She didn’t even look at him as she continued to read.

 

“Come on, eat a biscuit.  How flavorful can a biscuit really be?”  He held out the flaky thing toward her, the napkin still folded beneath it.

 

She lifted her head.  “Eat your meal, and leave me be.”

 

“No, I don’t think so.  I can’t enjoy my meal with you sitting there not having anything to eat.”   He waved the biscuit out in front of her.  “It wouldn’t be right.”

 

Lillian shut the book and grabbed the biscuit settling in front of her.  “No one talks to me this way, Forsaken.”

 

“I’m not a villager, and I’m certainly not a member of the Unbidden.  I never tried denying myself anything.”  Voracan enjoyed good food, good drink, and good clothes.  He’d never give them up voluntarily.

 

She sniffed.  “You should try it.”

 

“I’d never work.  I’m a demon. It is a part of my nature.  It the same reason I was banished from Silt.  I couldn’t be different than what I was.”  He shrugged.  “That’s life, you can only change so much.”

 

Lillian picked at the biscuit.  She started to break it up in tiny pieces.  “You are awfully philosophical for demon.”

 

He let out a bark of laughter.  “You know a lot of demons, do you?”

 

For the first time, she smiled.  It made her regular face into something of great beauty.  Her eyes sparkled and her face came alive.  “I suppose you are right.”  She nibbled on a bit of biscuit absently.  Then, her eyes widened.  “Gorinth’s Balls, I shouldn’t have done that.”

 

“Gorinth’s Balls?” Voracan felt his chest rumble.  “What language for a Priest.”

 

Her cheeks blushed deep red.  “Sometimes, I work in the stables.  The stable master isn’t a part of the Unbidden.”

 

“How was your biscuit?” Voracan asked before digging into the stew.  It wasn’t the finest thing he ever ate, but it was good.

 

She toyed with it bit longer before taking another bite.  “Wonderful and you eat the rest. I can’t take the risk of eating more.” She pushed it back over to him.

 

He swallowed.  “If you are the High Priest you have never got the opportunity to rebel.  I think eating a biscuit is safe enough.”

 

“One vice leads to another.  Each vice is a weight on the scale of balance.”  Lillian spoke each word with a sharp dictation.

 

“Quoting the tenants of the Unbidden,” He shook his head.  “You are interesting to talk to Lillian of the Unbidden.”

 

She tipped her head.  “How would I be interesting? All I do is read books.”

 

“You don’t act like it.  You are fiery, and quick with your wits.”  He watched the blush creep up her neck. “Then, you throw in the random odd saying of the Unbidden.”  After taking the last bite of stew he shoved it away. “I’m going to explore the village.”  He jumped up and rushed out the door.

 

He could hear Lillian scrambling behind him as he made it out the door.   For some reason, he didn’t want to leave her yet.  She was a mystery and he hadn’t met many of those in his life.  All around the paved square up a head there were merchants.  One was selling cups, tankards, and mugs.  He’d needed a metal travel cup for the road.   He took off toward him.

 

As he got closer the merchant had a huge selection of items.   The man smiled at Voracan.  “Greetings, good sir.  What can I help with on this fine day?”

 

“I need a set for travel.”  He motioned at the small travel bag attached to his side.  “A small set, I like to travel light.”

 

The man shook himself off.  Though, his eyes didn’t want to leave Voracan’s body.  He knew his powers were affecting him.  “I’ll gather up a simple set for you, sir.”  The man turned missing around in the back of his cart.

 

Lillian moved beside him a frown on her face. “Can’t you control yourself?”

 

He felt his cheeks heat up.   “I haven’t been out of my home very long, less than a month.”

 

Lillian’s brows disappeared into her hairline as her eyes widened.  “That’s not long at all.”  She pulled at a strand of hair.

 

Her eyes rested on a bright yellow mug, the color nearly glowed.   Her fingers ran down the side of it.  “That’s a happy color.”

 

Voracan stepped toward it.  “Do you like it?”

 

“I said it was a happy color.”  Lillian said her word’s sharp.  Voracan suspected she didn’t want to admit more than that.

 

The man returned with a small sack.  “Here you go, sir.  A plate, a mug, and cutlery.  Anything else you need?”  The man’s voice had grown husky.

Voracan made the effort to try to tone down his seductive power before speaking.  “May I also have that yellow mug over there?”

 

The man shook himself off, looking a bit more natural.  “Sure, sir,” he grabbed the mug wrapping it up with paper.  He placed in a paper sack.  “That will be half a weight.”

 

Voracan thought it seemed steep, but this area was very out of the way, and he had no trouble getting money.   Before he could hand it over, Lillian stepped in front of him, giving it to the man.  “Your change from your meal, Voracan.” She said before stepping away.

 

Voracan took his two sacks moved with her.  “The rest of my change?”  He grinned, thinking that she was keeping his money.

 

She held out her hand with the rest of the money.  “Take it.”

 

His fingers ran down her palm as picked up the coins.  He lingered touching her longer than necessary.

 

Her hand snapped back.  “Are you quite done?”

 

“Sorry, your skin is quite soft.”  He pulled up the sack and handed it over to her.  “Here, I bought the mug for you.”

 

Lillian glared at the bag. “It is forbidden to have such things.”

 

“Keep in your room, no one will know it’s there.”  He winked at her.  “I’ll keep your secret.”

 

She stiffened her hand still not taking the sack.  “Why would I keep it?”

 

“To remind you have the handsome, philosophical demon you met who trailed about town one morning.”  Voracan wasn’t sure if she’d want to remember.  He did.

 

Her lips twitched and she took the sack.  “You are interesting, Voracan.  I still do not trust you.  This could be a game, demons are fond of them.”

 

“That’s true, we are.”  He knew he should go, but he couldn’t make himself.  “I’ll earn your trust.”

 

“Earn my trust?” Her voice went a pitch higher as she clutched at the sack.  “What does that mean?”

 

“I think I shall stay around town a bit.  Perhaps, I’ll take you up on your advice and join the Unbidden.  It might be good for me to learn the wisdom of the ages.”  He had to grin at that. “At least use the library at any rate.  I could learn more about the Northern Kingdoms, perhaps pick a name that’s more common.”

 

“Right,” She spun around.  “I’ll keep tabs on you. If I have to I’ll call my friend, who is a priest of Gorinth to banish you.”

 

He watched her rush off.  “Don’t worry, I’ll behave, Lillian.”  He whispered as his heart clenched.

Flash Fiction: Voice Mail from the FUTURE!

This week’s flash fiction challenge is a little different.  First of all, Chuck Wendig is farming it out.  And second of all we have to make an actual voice recording of a voicemail of the future.  I totally love this idea.  It reminds me of the Artifacts of the Future that show up in the Wired magazine, which I love.  My voicemail is mom calling for tech advice with a twist.

Voicemail

Son, I don’t know how to get this piece of crap to work.

 

<sigh>

I went to the doctor and got the port installed.  But, I can’t get the damn hangy bits to attach.  And, I know you said to hold down the start button, but it just keeps restarting over and over.

<pacing speed up>

And, don’t say I need to read the manual I read the manual.  And, you know what? It doesn’t make any damn sense.  Not a bit.  If you want me to use this stupid thing, you need to come over and help me.  I’m done messing with it.

<bright and happy voice>

Love ya, bye.

Flash Fiction: Bah Ra

Chuck Wendig’s challenge this week is to make an alcoholic drink (imagined or not) and write a story relating  to it.  I brought back Soul Merchants, cause they’re fun.

Bah Ra

“I like being in Woellian body.  You guys know how to make a cocktail.”  I fluttered with strands of white hair I’d streaked black.  The deep blue skin I wasn’t quite used to, but I’d only been in this body a week.

The Woellian bartender skin was a pale blue with multi colored swirls painted on his skin with only narrow strips, bright red over his body, and blocking the important bits.  He frowned, those snowy white brows like two beautiful clouds in the sky.  “You are a Woellian.”

“Try again, sweet cheeks.”  I sipped drink, it was acidic, fruity, and kicked me in the teeth.

His eyes glanced downward.  An infinity symbol made out of hourglasses rested between my breasts.  “Soul Merchant.” He bared back his lips around his predatory sharp teeth with a hiss.   “Your kind isn’t allowed in here.”

“Oh come on now.  I’m not a regular Soul Merchant.  You should know that.  I’m what your people call an eiaa of my kind.  Your leaders have given me special privileges.”  The drink smelled good.  Ripe, lush, like you could bite into and juice would run down your chin.

“I’ll confirm that myself.” He stepped away to near the bouncer.  In all my many lives, I never got along with bouncers.  Wild drunken women never seemed to appeal to them.

With a twist of my hip I swiveled on the bar stool.  The decorating here was odd.  Well, odd for anybody but a Woellian.  The ceiling was a splattered with every color imaginable, then overlaid with sparkling net of diamonds.   The walls were ever changing light patterns of red, blue, yellow.  And, the floor was painted black to look as it was the middle of a fireworks display.  They had weird taste.

The music at least whispered deep in my soul.  Rhythmic, dark, and fast paced, it made me want to give into my emotions and dance.

“You are cleared to be here.”  A rumbling little growl from behind me, the bartender didn’t like me.  Unfair, really, I’m so likable.

“What’s in this?” I asked as I turned back around to face him.

“Jul berry, three smashed, bactium tincture, and heart of leora flower.”   He recited those pretty gray eyes hostile.

I wish I hadn’t asked.  Ignorance is bliss, as I well knew.  “Not all Soul Merchants are bad.  We are like genies. We grant people wishes, you know.”  I gave him my best pretty girl smile.

His eyes flattened as they flared red for a second.  Oh, man hunting red was coming out. I must have pissed him off.  “You give people what they want, if you deem it in your own interest.  And, they pay you in something that they don’t understand.”

“How’d you figure? You know your own worth don’t you.”  I took another drink.

“Nothing would know the value of a soul as much as Soul Merchant. “  He shook his head.  “Therefore, you offer the deal with false pretenses.  You could say anything you wanted. I would have no frame of reference for the deal.  Nor anyone to counter the deal.”

I chewed on my lip in thought. Right now, I could go for a smoke.  However, Woellian lungs did not handle any kind of inhaled substance well.  Maybe, that’s why they enjoyed their liquor so much.  “True, but I’m not like the rest.  Can’t you tell? Don’t I seem sweet, and fun? The rest of them are so stuffy and by the rules.”

“I can see the age in your eyes.  You might act young, but you are not.”  His lip curled.  “You are pretending to be what you are not.”

A laugh burst out before I could censor it.  “I’m not trying to act young, I am only enjoying life.  I love drinking, partying, dancing, getting into trouble.  The rest of them, they hate all the stimulation, the lack of power over the physical.  Not me. The first time I was in a body I got into a fist fight.  It was amazing. The feel of flesh against flesh, the burst of pain, it was life.  Soul Merchants we kind of exist, that’s about it.”

The bartender mixed up another drink.  This one was vibrant blue with speckles of yellow inside.  He handed it off a female Woellian with red dyed hair, and crimson tattoos all over her skin.  I can say all over, because she was only wearing thin gauze over herself.

“What’s this called anyway?”  I tapped out a beat on the polished metal counter.

“Bah Ra,” He didn’t even look up from making the drink.

“Of the fruit, nice.” I finished it off.  My stomach roiled at the pickling.  All good, I enjoyed the feeling.

“You’re Wol is excellent.”  He took the glass away.  “You want another?”

“Oh yeah, hit me.  And, of course my Wol is perfect.  I’m a Woellian.”

He pulled up a shaker pouring three different liquors at once.  Then, he spun it on his hand.  With a flourish, he took off the top and poured it into another glass.  “You aren’t a Woellian, you are a Soul Merchant.”

“No, darling dear, I’m both.  That’s the thing. I can hear your leaders whisper in my ears.  They want me to conform.  I never will, but the whispers will stick around until I die.”  I licked the outside of the glass.  I let the fresh, berry smell to tickle my brain.

“Why are you here? Is to share your strangeness?”

“No way.  I’m here to get drunk.”

Flash Fiction: Bearskin Space Opera

This week’s flash fiction is to take a fairy tale and smash it up with another genre.  I went with Bearskin because it’s my favorite Grimm fairy tale of all time.  I rolled Space Opera. 

Time Isn’t a Straight Road

I stood outside the sealing chamber the scientist doing their last checks over the ring.  The one foot wide device had to be attuned to me before they broke it apart, freeing me from this reality to travel to another.

One stood apart, Melly, she watched me with downcast eyes.

“Melly, don’t worry, I’ll be back in a week, you’ll never miss me.”  I gave her a lopsided grin.  She was my heart. I couldn’t stand to see her sad.

Her lip quivered.  “Axer, don’t go.  Someone else can go.”  She jerked her eyes away.   “There is no guarantee you’ll come back.”

I took her hand and tipped her head back.   “I have to know.  A whole place, a whole existence, no human has ever seen, but I.   I can’t give it up.  Maybe, it makes me an egomaniac, but I can’t turn it down.”

The lead scientist tapped me on the shoulder.  “It’s time, if you’ll step into the chamber.”

I nodded and pulled Melly into my embrace giving her a deep kiss.  She let a cry and stepped inside the narrow cylinder chamber.  The science tugged the ring out of my hand.  It broke into two half circles and the door slammed down.

Light spiked up as I lost my vision.  Every cell in my body seemed to shake.  The stinging pain throbbed as my teeth rattled.  My eyes burned and I screamed.

My eyes fluttered open and I sat up.  The ring was still clenched in my hand.  The landscape was dark gray filled ebony spikes.  A crackling noise startled me to looking up at the deep blue sky cut by a green lightening.

Large, jellyfishes came into view floating in the air.  Their bodies glowed with random flashes of color.  As they drew closer I noticed a ring of spikes surrounded their heads.  Around them were semitransparent brightly colored fish that occasionally were getting caught in the jellyfish’s tentacles.

I rolled behind a spike to avoid the creatures.  As a jellyfish passed, three of the fishes floated toward me, one was vermilion, one was lime, and one was indigo.

My hand went to the baton at my side.  They were concerned that the gun may not be operated on the other side.  The three fish moved closer.  I lifted my weapon above my head warning them off.

Then an image appeared before me.  It was a man in an archaic dress from centuries ago with glowing eyes.  “Greetings, being, did you gate here?” The mouth didn’t move, but I heard an echo of three voices.

“No, we used a frequency to send me here.  What are you?”  Too shocked to really react I felt every muscle my body filled with tension.

“We are People of Many Skies.  We have travelled from one world to the next.  But, in our zeal to know we doomed.”  The image waved his hand outward.  “We allowed the Zoockie to come here.  They are mindless beasts.  They consume and consume.  They have eaten our world.”

I felt torn.  All this was so strange.  A part of me realized I had to embrace it to survive.  “If you can travel worlds why haven’t you defeated them?”

“We live in the mind, we have no physical minds.  The Zoockie have no minds.  They are only bodies.  Why are you here? What is your purpose?”

I debated how much to say.  They were creatures I’d never imagined.  What I revealed about myself was likely no threat to the human race.  And, I came to learn.  “To explore, to learn about new places.”

The figure shifted again moving closer to me.  The fish people moved closer as well.  “Can you return to your world?”

“I’m not sure.” A risk I’d more than willing to take.

“If you assist us, fellow being, we will help you return.  We will give you the metal that allows making sustainable gates.  You must stay until all the Zoockiee have been vanquished.  You are a physical creature, you can kill them.”

There wasn’t much choice.  I didn’t know if these creatures would attack me.  Nor, did I know if the retrieval would actually work.  I’d take the risk if they return trip worked correctly, it would automatically.  If it didn’t they owe me a favor.  “I’ll help you.”

I learned quickly that a swift baton to the body killed the Zoockie. They were frail creatures. However, I was one man against an invasion.  It was hard work.  The first year passed, and I wasn’t automatically recalled.

I continued to toil.  The years rolled by and I missed Melly.  By now, she’d think I was dead.  If their theory held I’d be a gone a week for every year I was here.  I wondered if I’d ever get back.  The fish people might say they’d help me, but who knows if they would.

Over time a spongy green moss plant started to grow back on the ground.  The spikes started to sprout leaves as I killed the Zoockie.  I devised ways for them to use their minds to smash the Zoockie into the spike trees.  Sparkling creatures started to appear, as brightly colored as the fish people.

One I day I rested under one of the strange spike trees.  The projected image returned.  “Fellow being, our invasion has been repelled.”

“Yeah, things are looking pretty good around here.”  As alien as the landscape was, I had grown a fondness for it.

“Your time to return home is now.”

Before I could get too excited a sharp pain pierced my skull.  A formula flashed in my mind. “This is the metal that allows for gates.  Return.”

The sensation hit me.  It was familiar to me.  The same one from when I was sent here.  The stinging pain cascaded through my body, I blacked out.  When I woke I was standing in the chamber, but my form was fuzzy.  I detached my half the ring from my back.  The door slide open.

Melly stood there.  Her eyes had bags under them, she looked pale.  “Axer, your half.”

I held up my ring.  A snick as they connected.  Again a jarring pain hit my body.  The fuzziness faded.  “Finally, I’m back in time.”

Flash Fiction: Trailer Park Ninja

The challenge this week Who, Where, and the Uh Oh.  Roll a d10 out of each column and we had up to 2,000 words.  However, I didn’t even use a thousand.  

Trailer Park Ninja

The work cell rang. I didn’t answer instead I used coded login on my laptop. The caved in face of my handler clicked into view. “Carvell, you have an assignment. You need to retrieve a package from this address.” The address flashed on the screen it was in Hobgood, my home base.

“What’s the package?” Package was a pretty loose term meaning anything that I needed to bring back.

“A metal case imprinted with the roman numeral nine. Another hostile agent has it. Arm well, walk soft we don’t need anyone to know you were there.” His thick brows twitched.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be as silent as a ninja.” Already my mind ran through all the weapons to take, and how to strap them in.

Immediately, those brows flattened my handler wasn’t pleased. “We don’t need any dead bodies, if you can help it.”

“Why send an assassin to do a job that you don’t need bodies?” Legit question, I wasn’t sure if he’d answer.

My handler jaw tensed. A full twenty seconds ticked by before he answered. “You are closest one to the location. It needs to be taken care of ASAP.”

I fought the urge to let out a sigh. When wasn’t it needed to ‘be taken care of ASAP.’ “Understood, anything else?”

He shook his head. “No, and good luck.” The screen went blank.

I strapped on my vest, my guns, put in my extra clips. A few clicks and I brought up the location on my cell. The place was nearly on the outskirts of town. I double checked my weapons, my armor before heading down my disposable street vehicle and headed out.

As I arrived at the location my brows went sky high. “A trailer park,” I muttered before I could contain myself. The large bulky box houses with gravel strewn between them. Little spokes of grass sticking up every which way. My nose wrinkled as I could smell wet animal fur. How the hell would I find a case in here? The indicator light blinked to my right. Apparently, someone was keeping sensitive materials in a trailer.

With a casual swagger as I made it up the door. A creak gave me enough time to jump sideways as the door exploded. Shards of wood slashed at my clothes as I rolled on the wet ground. The mud smeared across my body as I came up gun in hand. Tension tightened my shoulders and I made a conscious effort to relax. Two set steps and I rested against the wall of the trailer. I dropped down as a noise behind me. My body coated in wet thickness as I saw a cat prance past me tail high in the air.

“Stupid cat.” Feeling more than a bit embarrassed I pull myself up and proceeded inside. The trailer looked like I’d expect Formica kitchen, old flower pattern worn furniture. The only thing that stood out was a ladder sticking out in the middle of the living room. The ladder stark and industrial standing in contrast to the surroundings.

I looked around for the case and the owner. All I found was neatly made bed, and a pristine bathroom. A glance at the tracker told me the item was moving away from me underground. I wanted to avoid the suspicious ladder, which clearly would be a trap. After looking down the brightly lit tunnel I didn’t see anything obvious. Since, I couldn’t put off the inevitable any longer I started down.

Each step rang in a disturbing echo- clang, clang. My teeth ground together. Announcing my presence like this was completely unacceptable. Nothing that I could do about it. I couldn’t handle it anymore and I took a controlled slide to the ground. As I hit the ground my knees jarred a bit.

A gun in my hands and I scanned the area. Plain metal hallway went in both directions. As far as I could see there were no doors. Keeping my eyes up I pulled up the tracker. The package was toward the south. The word trap bounced around in my skull step after step.

The corridor opened up to a massive room. I stopped stunned as I stared a flying saucer. Apart of my mind yelled at me to be careful check the area, but shock rolled over me. I always thought the UFO stories were crap. And here one sat sparkling in the artificial light. The stomping of boots drew my attention.

Yeah, I messed up. About ten men surrounded me guns in hand, steely looking their eyes. They stood up in the unvarnished black. “Drop your weapon and turn yourself in.”

I thought about it. But, it wasn’t in my nature. I dropped and attempted to roll. The air filled with gunshots as they hit my chest, my legs, and arms. They weren’t screwing around. Heaviness filled my chest as I settled on my back. “Guess I’m not much of a ninja after all.”

Flash Fiction: Cerulean Rider

First challenge of the new year.  Check out the challenge here.  This week we had to randomly generate a title, and make a story based off the name.  I went with dragons, cause dragons are cool.

Cerulean Rider

They told me over and over that I was wrong. There were no more sea dragons. All of them had perished in the war. A war some were calling the Great War. As if it was a great thing. Races destroyed, people’s ended, civilizations crumbled that is the only legacy of the war. In defiance I stood on the shoreline and wanted.

The gentle spray of water brushing my skin as the sun beat down with oppressive heat. The water glinted and sparkled like a wave of diamonds. The sand, even threw my leather sandals, burned with midday heat.

I knelt down to my dust covered travel sack and pulled out a string of shells strung on dried out kelp. “Beliv Jora Tah Vee,” I chanted as I wrapped it around my wrists. The chant rose above waves as the sting began to glow. The waves began to rock the waves growing higher and wilder.

“Yil Tasin Welian Woe.” The second part boomed over the waves as the shells shattered apart. And a blue lightning struck the water as I was blown onto my back. The waves gently lapped over my legs. A roar echoed over the water. I sat up my hands sinking into the wet sand.

A large reptilian head lifted from the ocean. My hearted started to beat faster. Could it truly be? I scrambled to my feet and rushed into the waves. The water logged down my pants, and soaked me to the bone. The strength of waves forced me to only stand leg deep.

The dragon rose in cerulean beauty glossy, and glorious under the sun. Large luminescent eyes of the sea green watched me with intensity.

“Are you real? Or, have I finally lost my mind?” As much as I hoped it was hard to believe.

The dragon shook its body the water cascading away from it briefly revealing the sinuous body. “I am no daydream, life mate.”

“I was right, you are a life dragon, and you are the brother to my soul?” My chest felt as it was being squeezed.

The dragon bowed its head in an oddly formal gesture. “You are. What is your name, mortal?”

“Alya Tuith, I am arrow maker’s daughter.” My father had been an archer before he lost his legs in the war. Never again would he run along the mountain tops bow in hand.

Dragon claw reached down and lifted me up. He settled me on the shore. “I’m Rider Ceru, Alya Tuith.”

“What do we do now? I’m no water creature. I can’t live beneath the waves.” The idea pained me. My brother needed me. I felt it deep in my heart. Without each other we would not make it.

Rider Ceru snorted as the rippling white mane bounced around in the wind. He looked like a massive ocean wave given life. “The water witch who lives here owes the Dragonkin many favors. Do no worry. Either I will live with you, or you will live with me.”

“I’m Morie,” my people the elves of the mountains did not live with dragons. They’d next accept what I was. “I’ll live with you. My people don’t enjoy change of any sort.”

“Stubborn as the mountains they live in, the Morie are. “ The dragon eyes seemed to glitter with humor. “They always were. Living with me will not be easy. I am a warrior. I protect my people in the waves. We aren’t ready to come back the world as much as our flying kin.”

He didn’t have to say I wouldn’t be seeing my family or people for a long time. Perhaps, I wouldn’t ever see them again. Only my father held my affection at home. However, he had four sons all archers. He didn’t need me. “You need me.”

“Delina come!” The shout loud enough I slapped my hands over my ears. Even a minute later Ceru’s words echoed in my ears.

Water welled up on the sand to form shape of a woman. Slowly, she gained tanned flesh streaked with blue, hair woven with sea weed, and a dress made of fish scales. “Dragon.” The witch spoke her voice sweet and light.

“I want to cash in a favor. “ Ceru announced his tail thrashing back and forth in the waves.

Delina cocked her head as her eyes shimmered between green and blue. “What do you want?”

“Allow her live under the ocean.” Ceru motioned at me with one massive claw.

“That worth more than one favor, it will cost it two.”Delina’s eyes turned shrewd.

Ceru brought his head down to look her directly in the eye. “Are you going to really push this, witch? It is little for you. Don’t play your games with me.”

“If you don’t want to play games, don’t talk to a witch.” Delina gave a bit of a grin.

“One favor, you owe me over a dozen. If you don’t accept I won’t help with anything is paid back.” He sat back.

She inclined her head and turned to me. Two arches of light shot toward me wrapping around me. Pain flared as I felt something burst from the side of my neck. My fingers ached as skin rippled outward. My vision blurred as I collapsed to the ground. My body moved as water pooled around me. My vision cleared as stared at scenery around me. Fish flocked by, lights flickered up from the depths below.

“Welcome to your new life.” Ceru announced before me dragging me home.

 

 

 

My Thoughts on Amon

Well, it’s been almost a year and half since I started this blog.   Now is a good time to put up another world. And, to explain that confusing and open to interruption statement, give me a second.

The original idea went I started this blog was to write about different universes IE ‘worlds’ I created in my fiction.  I tend to make a character and make a world to fit them.  Sometimes this character is later disregarded.  The worlds tend to stick around.  Amon was picked as my first, because it was the first one I dreamed up as a kid.   It fit the sort of darkness I could see in the everyday life.  Yet, it also fit the possibilities, and hopes I saw too.

I love Amon, because here are a people who have beaten on over and over.  Every time they achieve any sense of normalcy the universe conspires to take it from them.   Through nearly impossible odds they manage to survive.   The consequence being their race got darker and darker.   What originally started a small world still developing society, became a society where survival of the fittest was the only real rule.

One the concept I decided on early way back when I still couldn’t drive was to society to be slightly guided by a powerful being.  It took me a long time to come up with the idea of women who lived around a thousand years each, and passed on the wisdom of their lives to each other.   If you’ve been following along you’d know the first of which was Rilas.

Amon is also intriguing to me, because it is world on the edge.  It can either evolve into something better, or become a darker place.   Change, to me, is a great catalyst full of interesting storylines and interpersonal conflict.   What will become of this razor edge type dance?

I wish I knew.

Next week, I’ll be telling you a bit about the next world, which is Elenmitis.  It will be a fantasy world, a bit of a shift from science fiction.  It won’t be your typical fantasy universe, however.

This doesn’t mean I plan to never post another story on Amon every again, it won’t be the focus anymore is all.  In the next couple of months I’m planning for a lot of changes on the site.  I want to make a full-fledged time line and put up stories on there so you can see where they fall in the storyline.

In two weeks, I swear, we’ll be back to story time.

200 Words at a Time, The End

Thanks to helped my story make it the final round.  I’m super happy to finish it off.  The whole challenge has been insanely fun.  My favorite challenge ever, for now anyway.   Go to here, to read more.

I picked up my own story this time.  It felt right, and dammit I wanted to know to know what was up the ring.

Galactic Mercs

First part by Me

Another shot glass slammed down as Toops flashed her big, black eyes at me. “Are you going to black out.” Her tone as dry as the desert planet we had left.

“I never black out. “ I grinned motioning for another shot. “I’m only resting my eyes.”

Toops rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “Yeah, I believe you, Lancer. I really do.” Her scarred fingers pushed her still full glass back and forth across the metal bar top. “Didn’t you say we have a man coming in to offer us a job?

“You handle all the contracts. I’m your simple minded muscle.” I winked at her. “Me big man. Me hit things hard.” The burning fire scalded my throat as I took another shot.

Her hand snapped out faster than my eye could follow. Those strong fingers crushed mine into my palm. “Do not call for another shot. I swear I will break your fingers right now.”

A hearty chuckle rumbled up my throat. “Alright, alright boss lady.”

My fingers were released. “We are partners.”

“You say that now, but once the client gets here you’ll change your tune.” She couldn’t deny it. It was true.

Second Part by Athena

The mark joined us not too long after that. I know they’re supposed to be clients, but I can’t help thinking of them as marks. Lancer likes to think of us as noble ruffians, taking on jobs to help the weak and disenfranchised. Truth is, we take on the jobs that pay the most. Sometimes that means we take the client for a bit of a ride.

Lancer was right about one thing: when the client arrives, I play boss. Pretty much have to; no one would buy me as the hired muscle – at least no one with all their bits in tact. Marks are always weary of a girl without a purpose. They’ll buy me as the brains, but not the brawn.

Lancer brought this one in. I let him do that once in a while because it makes him feel like we’re equal partners. More importantly, it makes the marks think that I’m hot stuff. They’re so lucky to get me, I send one of my peons first to see if they’re worthwhile instead of going myself. Doesn’t always work, but when it does, it’s a much bigger payday.

Part Three by Ely

The man they called Helix walked into the bar, the sunlight rushing past his entourage, harshly drowning out the dank ambiance so welcoming to the regular patrons. I had met him through an old corps buddy whom I usually only call upon in the most dire of business droughts.

As predicted Toops straightened out immediately, her strength radiating from her core, demanding an elevated level of respect. She had a knack for nonverbal communication, in more ways than one.

“Not exactly discreet is he,” She said in a disapproving whisper.

“It’s a paying job. Rodge made it sound like it would be of particular interest to us.” I finished under my breath as the group neared, my lips spreading into an awkward greeting. I am just the muscle…or I’ve had one too many…or both.

“Ms. Toops I presume,” Helix smiled, suave and somewhat greasily as he took her hand. He was dressed in a slick suit, all grey, matching tie, extravagantly out of place in this corner of the ‘verse. His three companions were obviously hired security.

“All presumptions aside, where they belong, I’ve heard you have work suitable for our expertise.”

Helix’s slimy smile grew, looking to me with positive regards to my choice of partners.

Part four by Paul Baughman

As soon as I saw Helix’s smile I mentally doubled the price we’d ask. I’ve seen smiles like that before. They never bode well. I also made a mental note to have a chat with Lancer. This buddy of his needs a talking to.

“Let’s move to a table where we can talk in private,” I said. I didn’t wait for an answer, I just turned away and headed for a corner table I had reserved earlier.

When I slid into one of the back chairs, I could tell Helix didn’t appreciate me turning my back on him. Lancer eased himself into the other back chair leaving the mark to have his back to the door.

“Well,” the slimeball said heartily, “what are we drinking?”

“We’re here for business,” I said, “what’s the job?”

“Nothing wrong with a little social interaction, is there?”

The way he said it, I knew exactly what kind of interaction he thought he was getting here. I tripled the price.

I tapped my ring on the table until it drew his eyes. It was just to derail his thoughts. Not many knew what it represented, so I was surprised when his eyes widened.

Part Five by Me (again)

“You’re the Hatchet.”  Helix eyes got wider and wider as he stared at Toops.

On the inside I let out a groan.  That woman’s bad temper was always getting us in trouble.  And, she was too proud of that ring.  “It doesn’t matter.  This is business, right, Helix?”

“You work with a murderer, a killer.”  Helix face flushed red as he stood up knocking the chair back.

To that I shrugged.  “I’m a mercenary not a priest.  You going hire us, or do we need to move on.”

Helix gave a rough shake of his head.  “Screw both of you.”  Without another word he strode out the bar.

Toops phone beeped and she took the message with a smile.  “Well, that’s good news.”

“Oh yeah, does it stack up with you being stupid and losing us a job.  Cause, that was pretty brilliant.”  I tipped my head toward the doorway our client had left through.

Her lips curled in a vicious, pleased smile. “I got a job for my sideline.  And, I now know why Helix didn’t want to work with the Hatchet.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“I just got hired to kill him.”  She said on a grin.

 

 

200 Words at a Time, Part 4

Okay, I had a really hard time picking the next part to continue.  But, this one caught my attention.  So, check out Chuck Wendig, thanks to Megan, the Wanderer, and Dave Kearney

Stewart

(Meagan)

“Yes, this penthouse view is quite breathtaking,” I turned to the luscious blonde before me, “but not nearly as lovely as—”

A thunder clap, and then I was standing in a small, glowing circle, surrounded by a gaggle of chanting fools in robes.

“Oh great Sorasel im Palat, lord of fire and darkness, fell devourer of the innocent, conqueror of—” Arcane symbols covered the speaker’s robes, nearly obscuring the heavy crimson fabric.

“Yes, yes, get on with it.” I gestured with my gin martini.

He paused, then finished in a post-pubescent squeak, “We invoke thy true name and bid thee do our will.”

“Oh you do, do you? Well I want you to send me back. I was having a smashing time, and that girl may not have two brain cells to rub together, but she looked quite likely to do some rubbing together. If you know what I mean.”

The robe-wearers shuffled, and whispered amongst themselves. The leader piped up again. “O great Sorasel im—”

“Stop that, stop that,” I interrupted. “Only my dad calls me that. I prefer my middle name. If you must speak, call me Stewart.”

More shuffling and whispering from my summoners.

*****

 (Wanderer)

“Oh great and mighty…Stewart….” the leader—whose pasty face was mostly spots—began again. “We bind thee to our will.”

I took a sip of my martini—extra dirty, extra olives—and raised an eyebrow at the little prat. Summoners used to know what they were doing. I looked at the floor where their demon trap was sloppily drawn with what smelled unmistakably like fresh, store-bought spray paint. I sighed. What happened to the blood of a virgin? Or even the vital fluids of an unwilling Christian priest?

I noticed their silence; I could practically smell their fear—a mixture of piss and that foul deodorant that promised them flocks of women. I took another gulp of the martini—it was perfect. Almost as flawless as my blonde client who was no doubt currently working her minimal intelligence into a sweat in an effort to find me.

“Well? Get on with it.”

“We bound you, oh great Sora—er—Stewart.”

“I heard that part. So,” I made sure to smile with all of my teeth. “You’ve bound me. Congratulations. Now, what do you plan to do?”

“Jaime, this was your idea.” One of the other robed figures poked the leader.

*****

(Yours truly)

“Just give me a second to think.” The one called Jaime jabbed an elbow into his pimple-faced accomplice who tripped on his robe and stumbled out of the ring of table salt surrounding the group.

Amateurs.

Before the wannabe summoner could scramble back inside the protective circle, I bound his feet with a tendril of flame and pulled him kicking and screaming toward me. With a wink, I yanked out his entrails and sucked them down like a bowl of spaghetti. Normally, I’m not such a messy eater but I got caught up in the theatre of the moment. And besides, he made me spill my martini.

Licking my fingers, I turned to the trembling gaggle. “Alright my little binders,” I said.  “The time for playing has ended. Either command me or release me from your service.”

Sweating profusely, the one called Jaime fumbled inside his oversized robe. “Behold,” he shrieked, thrusting a small wooden crucifix in my direction.

A shiver rippled through my body. I had not seen a sacramental of such power in millennia. How the Cross of St Michael came to be in the possession of this snot-nosed punk was a question that would have to wait. The more pressing question was whether he knew how to use it.

Me,  Myself, and I

Jamie’s hands shook as he held the crucifix in the air the wood gleaming.   He licked his lips as lines of sweat rolled down his face.

“Hurry up, Jamie, his dangerous.”  One of the cloaked figures squeaked.

Jamie nodded.  ” Meat esta animo…”  He stuttered, “That doesn’t sound right.” Then reached under his robe and jostled out a notepad.  “Okay, Mea est anima tua.”

His Latin accent was atrocious.  As upsetting as that was I started to worry.  This wool headed idiot seemed to know the words of the ritual.  “What are you doing?”

Jamie throat bulged out as he took a hard swallow.  “Voluntas quae tua sunt.  Et verba mea cor tuum.”

Not good, not good at all.  “Look, kid, tell me what you want.  Maybe we could work out a deal.”

Some of fear stink receded from the air.  Jamie fingers tightened around the notepad.  “Paenitentiam, angelus cecidit, paenitentiam.”

A pause as Jamie glanced around expectedly.   I felt a wellspring of relief.  He didn’t know the end part.  “Well, now that you’re done slaughtering Latin what are you doing to do with me?”

Jamie frowned for a moment, and then his expression brightened.   “Sorasel im Palat habeo vobis.”

Well crap.

200 Words at a Time, Part 3

The telephone of writing continues.   This time I picked a story that stuck with me.  It was something I’d normally read being a horror with a religious bent.  But,  it compelled none the less.  Here’s my attempt.  

The beginning is from boydstun215.   The second part is from Adrienne.  And,  of course, the challenge is from good ole’ Chuck Wendig.

200 Words at time, Part 3

By Boydstun215

The soldiers carried the man across the narthex and through the nave. They lumbered along like some giant, wounded insect, three pairs of cold, stiff legs shuffling clumsily beneath a motley carapace of steel and leather. Close upon their heels, the master-of-arms was careful to avoid the hissing droplets of blood that the insect left in its wake. His sword was drawn.

At the end of the nave and standing at the foot of the chancel, the bishop held a gilded crosiers at arm’s length as if to thwart to advance of the shambling mass making its way toward the altar. In his other hand he grasped a large silver crucifix. Despite his advanced age and diminutive stature, the crimson-robed bishop made for an imposing figure. “No further,” he whispered. The soldiers stopped , unsure of themselves. One of the men looked down nervously into the pale face of the man he carried while the other two turned their heads in askance to the master-at-arms. For several moments the only sound was the steady hiss of the blood as fell from the lifeless man and met the cold marble floor.

“It must be done here,” said the master-at-arms. “Take him to the altar.”

By Adrienne

The bishop moved aside, letting the soldiers scramble up the few steps to the altar. His crimson robes did nothing to shield him from the cold radiating from their frozen armor. The slick marble stairs proved difficult for the exhausted soldiers as they stumbled and fell under their heavy load. Grim-faced, the master–at-arms followed their procession, only sheathing his sword to offer aid in heaving the unconscious man atop the bare altar.

The soldiers scurried away, stealing a glance at the stone table before fixing their gaze on their snow-crusted boots. The master-at-arms moved to the side of the altar where the man’s head rested. His shallow breaths produced a faint mist in the cold air. Steady drops of blood from his mouth had already created a small pool that hissed quietly on the stone. The master-at-arms looked down at the man’s face, searching for any hint of the soldier he once knew, but finding only the thing he had become. A sharp intake of air through the pale, bloodied lips tore the master-at-arms away from his thoughts.

The bishop joined the master-at-arms. Two terrified altar boys carrying trays covered with vials, books, crucifixes, and various cutting tools followed closely behind.

“It is time.”

By Me

The bishop took the vial from the boys with a slow deliberation he pulled the cork free.  The once dead soldier began to stir as he shook it, lightly, over him.  The liquid splashed against the body glowing for a moment as an acrid scent wafted upward.

The soldier’s lips pulled back bloodied teeth bared.  A low, animal like growl erupted from his mouth.

The bishop glanced at the master-at-arms.  “Hold him.”   And, he turned even as the man moved to obey.  He lifted up the cross with great reverence.   He muttered quiet words over the struggling thing.

The skin darkened, as more feral growls overwhelmed every other sound.  The soldier fought as the master-at-arms’ muscles strained to keep him still.

The bishop handed the cross back to the altar boys.  He took up a knife, and several empty vials.  He motioned to the book, “Read.”

One of the boys opened the book.  His eyes stretched wide and hands unsteady began to read. The archaic words weaved in between the snaps and snarls.

Bishop made a careful slash across the flesh of the soldier.  The blood was a dark violet against its skin.  He held the vial against the trickle allowing it to fill with blood.  “Soon, we can finish this.”