flash fiction

Getting Away

by

“Wake up!”

“Hmm…”

“Wake up!”

“Hmph!”

“Come on, Trina! Get up!”

The blanket is ripped from my body. The chill immediately makes goose bumps stand at attention all over my body. Blindly, I reach around me in search of cover, but all I feel is the grass and the small feet of my sister, tapping impatiently.

“Go back to bed, Kelly,” I mumble as I roll over and curl my arms and legs up to my stomach.

I did not sleep well. The roots beneath my back made sure of that. We’ve been on the run for two weeks, but barely any sign of —

“Fine! Don’t mind me if you get eaten alive then!”

My eyes snap open and roll over to see what Kelly is freaking out about. Well, now I see she has every reason to panic.

Dripping fangs are bearing down on us from the mouth of a beast sitting on a tree branch. Now, this isn’t your normal tiger or crocodile kind of beast. We’re talking a four-hundred pound scaly quadropod with large eyes, a bear snout, saber-tooth fangs, and paws that could grip my entire head in a single grasp. A purple tongue slithers out and across its teeth as the beast curls its shoulders. It’s ready to pounce.

“Kelly,” I say getting onto my feet. When I put my arm protectively in front of her, I feel Kelly’s hands grip my forearm.

We had come so far; we were so close to the border. Our freedom is practically right here. I should have known we wouldn’t make it out alive. If the men who captured us didn’t find us and kill us themselves, these beasts would finish the job.

“Kelly, you listen to me,” I speak quickly and quietly, “You run. Okay? As fast as you possibly can. No matter what happens, I won’t let them take you again, so you keep running, you understand?”

I see her nod her head.

“When you reach the outside, find an adult and tell them to take you to the police. Tell them everything you’ve gone through and tell them every name you heard while we were trapped, okay?”

She nods again, this time slower. My little sister, so strong even in the face of danger. Sometimes I wish I could be like her.

“Ready?”

She grasps my hand once more and looks into my eyes.

“Go!”

She darts from out behind me into the brush as I start to scale the tree. These beasts don’t like touching the ground if they can help it; if there’s anything I learned by being trapped for six months in that hell hole, it was that. Those stupid scientists created them: a hybrid of a gila monster, a tiger and who knows what else. All I know is that there’s something in the ground that throws them off balance, making it harder to catch prey.

Sure enough, a moment later the creak of a branch tells me the beast is on my trail. Better me than Kelly.

I make it up about a dozen feet from the ground to the thickest branch that can hold me. With support from higher branches, I sidle my way along until the branch of another tree can carry me further. A snap of wood and a snarl draws my attention. The beast has already taken my place in the tree I was just in. As quickly as I can, I put a tree trunk between us.

Looking around, I notice there’s a deep ravine just beyond the thick branch my feet were shaking on–my only way out. The moment I feel the beasts strong paws climb onto the tree I’m in, I don’t hesitate. I run and then jump.

The wind rushes by, making my ears whistle. Right before I hit the water, I pinch my eyes closed and hold my breath, wanting this whole mess to be over.

*   *   *

“Is this her?”

A man’s voice rouses me. Water laps up onto my legs in a slow rhythm. My hands and forehead sting.

“Trina!”

At the sound of Kelly’s voice, I open my eyes and am blinded by the sun. With all the strength I can muster, which isn’t much, I try to push my body up.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, easy there,” the man speaks again. His hand is on my shoulder. A tickle in my throat makes me cough. Kelly comes into my vision, splashing water as she runs toward me.

“Trina!” She kneels next to me. I want to hold her but I can’t even lift myself up, so I give her my hand. She takes it eagerly. “You okay?”

“I will be, I think,” I say, my throat feeling like it has dirt in it. “What about you, Kel?”

“I’m good,” she smiles at me. “I found someone to help!”

I finally am able to roll myself over enough to see the man. After his head blocks the glare of the sun, I see the face that appeared late in my bedroom six months ago. The face that told me not to scream. The face that said someone was coming for us, that they weren’t to be trusted. He had said he would come for us as soon as possible. Now he was here. A smile cracks through my parched lips.

“Hi, Dad.”

FWF ~ Gentle One

by

It’s far past my bedtime. Daddy would be furious if he knew I was out in the woods behind our house again. Ever since dusk, it’s been bugging me for so long that I just have to be out here right now. I have to find out what I saw.

I make my way past crooked trees, keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of movement. The glimmers disappeared this way, I’m sure of it. After a few minutes, I notice that I’m approaching a swamp from the squelch beneath my feet and the dull shimmer of water some fifty feet away from me. I stop, not wanting to venture too far into the messy mud.

Glancing around, I cross my arms in front of me and feel goosebumps erupt on my skin. It’s much colder than it was a moment ago. The chill came on a subtle breeze. I look to the direction I feel the wind coming from and gasp. There’s the white glimmering flash again!

The longing to know what it is overwhelms me and I start to walk over. Every step I take towards it makes the wind blow harder until I finally feel like I can’t breathe from the pressure on my chest. Have I walked into a wall? That’s almost what it seems like.

The glimmer is only a little bit closer to me now, even though I feel like I should be closer. Wait a minute… it’s getting brighter and brighter! The light is coming towards me.

A voice speaks, “You need to go home, Silas.”

I can only muster a squeak. “Wha?”

“We are the Fae and we have been assigned to protect you, gentle one,” the voice continued, “only you’re not supposed to know.”

In an instant, the light surrounds me and I’m warmed from the outside in.

The next thing I know, I’m looking up at my ceiling with my bed sheets on top of me, wondering what on earth I saw at dusk. A strange glimmer or sparkle, was it? I consider going out to the forest despite Daddy’s temper. But then I change my mind and doze off to sleep while dream of fairies.

FWF ~ Not Alone

by

Waves slapped up against the ship, rocking it along with the whistling winds. That’s the last sound I remember as I laid on the cold, wet wood on the bow.

Now I’m sitting in cold water up to my waist looking out at the open sea to my left. Our ship used to be right there, but it crashed into the rocks and sunk into the watery depths. It looks like I’m the only left.

The problem is that I don’t feel alone.

There’s rustling in the trees across from the marsh with bodies that I can’t make out moving quickly through the brush. What sounds like someone trudging through the mud seems to come closer and closer to me. Then a subtle breeze comes from somewhere in the marsh I’m sitting in. In my mind, I imagine some horrible, horned water beast sending out his breath and inhaling strongly to get the scent of a meal. At that thought, I bolt upright, wringing out my sodden shirt as I walk to firmer ground. My eyes dart every which way, but it’s so dark there’s not much I can truly see.

I hear a snarl and jump. I am most definitely not alone and I know who that snarl belongs to.

The ship we came on held animals, quite a few of them. They were being brought to America for a circus. There were monkeys, a couple lions, a baby elephant and a couple zebras. None of those animals made this particular sound.

There was a tiger on board that would snarl just like that while I mopped up the floor around its cage, as though it were rolling its shoulders up and down, preparing to pounce on supper. I’m not sure if I’d care to see that tiger right now, especially if that cage had a similar end as our ship.

Another gust brushes by and a chill runs down my body. My arms grasp each other, feeling many goosebumps prickle up.

Then a sound I’m not expecting–a slight tinkling, like a small bell–rings slightly through the humid air.

From out of the jungle, a green light no bigger than my head comes my direction. It’s bright–too bright. I shield my eyes against the green glare. At that moment, the clouds part and expose a very full moon.

“No need to be afraid, little one.”

The voice is small and female, though clearly grown up. The light surrounding her is so bright that I can only see the outline of her tiny human-like form which is dwarfed by feathery wings.

“What are you?” I ask, though my gut tells me she’s magical. Magic may only be spoken of in hushed whispers where I’m from, but I always hoped and dreamed that it really existed.

“I’m a faerie, and I’m here to help you, Linley.”

I inhale sharply. She knows my name. I’m about to ask her how she knows who I am but she cuts me off with a giggle.

“We know everything about you and have since the moment your body touched our soil.”

As she spoke, she held out a wand and another green light started to glow and grow. Within moments, that light shifts into a lantern.

“Take it,” she says encouragingly. Once I grab the handle, it’s like everything around me–the marsh, the ocean, the jungle behind me–comes into clearer view. “There are few others who survived, but you must find them. They are all on this island somewhere, scattered from the impact.”

“Why must I find them? I’m only a child,” I ask, near tears, hoping that an adult would come and protect me so I wouldn’t have to do this on my own. What the faerie says next makes me catch my breath.

“You’re the only one who believes in the Magic so it must be you. Don’t worry, you’ll find help as you go,” the green light of the faerie starts to float away from me. “But beware, there are plenty of creatures that won’t be as kind.”

Rustling surrounds me as though those creatures are around, and I could have sworn there was a howl somewhere in the distance. The lapping of the water on the marshy shore seems to increase like a stronger tide could be rolling in.

“Stick to the path illuminated and you will find your comrades and your escape. I cannot stay, but I trust I shall see you soon, Linley.”

In a glimmer, she takes flight over the jungle into the foggy clouds, illuminating the emerald green trees that make up the jungle. The clouds slowly roll back together as if the moon were pulling a blanket around itself. For a moment, it’s quite beautiful and I wish I had a blanket to keep me warm. Then I remember, I’m not alone and there’s nothing here to keep me warm. Moving is my only option.

The green lantern the faerie left with me shimmered with a yellow ribbon that unwound itself from the green light, leading me away from the marsh and up a stoney path alongside the jungle.

Who knows where this path will take me? I can only hope that I can trust the lovely green faerie who knows my name, and trust that I will find whoever is left from our ship.

Armoir

by

Shadows of bruises.  That’s all I see.  Around the eyes, fingerprints on the neck, and there must be more along his chest.  But those are hidden.  Hidden by a soft white linen jacket, masking the marks of a night gone horribly wrong.  A night where the truth ended in pain.  This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

His body lays like an old statue, and somewhere deep inside me there is a sense of unnerving.  I have never seen him so still in the five years that I’ve known him.  A part of me wants to reach out and shake his arm to see his bright blue eyes open wide to take me in,  with a laugh bubbling out of him… as though this whole thing were just a joke.

The fresh ink of the words in a small box in a corner of Sunday’s paper would suggest otherwise.  This was no joke.  In fact, his effervescent laughter is growing faint in my memory against my will to remember.  As though a dim record were skipping in the back of my mind, his laughter that sounded like continuous hiccups, start to slip away in pieces.  I’ll miss them.

Through the subtle stale smell of phermeldahide, there is a slight sweet aroma of orchids circulating the room.  Orchids of pink and orange stand next to the oak box surrounding a sign.  On the sign, there is a picture of him from three months ago in his backyard.  Blue eyes crinkled at the edges, his larger two front teeth taking up much of his smile that lit up his whole face.  His lanky build was angled towards someone who sat next to him on his trampoline and his right arm was looped around her neck as her own her wrapped tightly around his waist, wrinkling the finely pressed button-down he was wearing.

The name below the picture is one that will stay with me for the rest of my life: Peter Dameron. That girl in the picture is me. This was us before everything spilled out… before our relationship changed for good. I would not say things went wrong.  I’d say one thing came out right, even if Peter’s father didn’t see it that way.

The Wicker House

by

No one would know that the Wicker House is any different from those on the same street. On the outside, it is the same as any other. Unless you happen to have a very particular eye.

For if you go to the backyard that has no fence, you would not know that there is a door. In fact, there is no way to even distinguish a door unless the stars are out. And even then, unless you knew what to look for, all you would see is a perfectly solid and impermeable stucco wall of a seemingly normal house.

However, whenever you walk past the house in the evening, you may just feel a cold breeze brush the back of your neck. Or if it is a new moon, you may hear a tortured scream coming from the complete darkness of the backyard.

If you choose to investigate the sound because of the tugging in the pit of your stomach, you will find that the backyard is empty. That there is no one there who could have uttered such a horrible noise.

And yet… you are sure the scream came from the ground you happen to be standing on as it continues resounding in your ears.

The Favorite, Pt. 1

by

The subtle hint of leather lingered in the air as Timothy ran his round brush across her bottom lip in a maroon sweep.  A tremble shook through her little body so Timothy eased up his pressure.  Teak may be the strongest of all wood but when it is not balanced well, teak will falter just like any other timber.

After one more swipe, she was that much closer to being finished.  Stepping back, he wiped his hand across his perspired forehead to admire his work.

She was indeed one of his very finest creations. The deep brown marbles–surrounded by what used to be the remnants of his old fan brushes that he had dyed black–reflected the dancing flames of the wooden candle chandelier.  Small and perfect, her little wooden body was donned in a blue lace gown.  The teak was firm, shape-able and obtained the desired golden glow which radiated from her cheeks.

It was his first time creating a doll with that kind of wood.  Teak wasn’t the easiest timber to come by or afford, least of all for this purpose since carpenters usually got the first bid. Luck is what got him this particular stock.

“Daddy!”

The call of Timothy’s young daughter snapped him out of gazing at his new creation.  Her arms clasped around his knees, nearly knocking him flat.  He could distinctly feel a small wooden body bounce against his calf, one he was sure he had made specifically for her.

“Can I see her yet?”

Timothy scooped up his little angel into his arms. “You know we’re not keeping this one, right Stella?”

Before Stella could respond to her father, she caught a good look at the doll he had just finished.  The doll in her arms nearly fell to the ground reminding Timothy of his reasons for making wooden dolls rather than porcelain. He lithely caught the doll, whom he recognized as one of his older creations, and placed it on his work table.  Stella squealed with delight.

“Daddy, she’s so pretty!”

She eagerly reached out for the wooden doll, but Timothy held her back.  He knew that if she took his new creation into her arms, he wouldn’t get the commission because, odds were, she’d never let the doll go. That had happened with one too many dolls already and their family needed the money.

“Sorry, sweetie. She’s still drying,” Timothy said putting his daughter down.  She ran to his work table, her eyes barely able to see above it. As she hopped to keep the pretty doll in her sights, Stella accidentally trod on her father’s toes.  “This one’s not for you.”

“But I just wanna see her,” Stella said all-too-innocently.  Timothy chuckled at her before grabbing her hand.

“Let’s go,” he ushered her out of his workshop. “Your mother’s probably waiting for us to have dinner.”

Bouncing on her toes, Stella responded, “Yeah! Mama made ham!”

As soon as their footsteps disappeared into their cottage, a slap of wood echoed through the workshop.

The doll Stella had been holding, the one she affectionately called Penny, lifted herself upright with help from the tools on Timothy’s work table. She turned to look at the newest addition to their collection. A sneer formed on her fading painted lips as she turned to look at the perfect, newly created doll.

*   *   *

This is the first part of a story I started writing a few months back… Let me know if you want me to continue and I can put more up. 😉