Category Archives: Lydia’s Stories

Fiction: Sealed Letter (523 words)

Dear Anna,

I know you don’t want to hear from me right now. I hear that you don’t even go by Anna anymore, but you’re Lydia again. Like Mom and I used to call you when you were very small. Can you even remember us calling you that? Either way, it’s kind of nice. I always like Lydia better than Anna anyways.

But, I know you. And I know that you wouldn’t like me calling you Lydia now. So, I’ll stick to Anna. Because I don’t want to make you any angrier than you already are with me. Because I know you are already livid. But you’re livid with the wrong people.

The truth is—You’re probably reading this years from now.  Maybe five? Six? I’m betting you stuck your head in the sand—ran away—as soon as this letter hit your doorstep. Tried to pretend I didn’t exist. But, you kept the letter. Sealed, but you couldn’t make yourself throw it away, even as you ran. Not this. Not your last contact with your brother.

Then again, maybe I’m wrong. Maybe five or six years down the line this paper will have rotted away under a pile of trash where you immediately threw it as soon as you recognized my handing writing. Maybe I’m wrong—but I doubt it.  So—I’m going to say what I need to say, and you’ll read it when you are good and ready.

I wasn’t to start by saying I love you.  You’re my sister and I will always love you—no matter what happens. I love you with all my heart.  You will always be blood, and I will always want to keep you safe. So, if you’re reading this because you finally came around to my point of view, you can always come see the right side of things. Please, don’t hesitate to come to me. You can walk right in and I promise no one will lay a hand on you. I swear on my life you will be unharmed, and you know how highly I value my life. I want you here with me, Anna, at my side, because I know that together we would be unstoppable. We could make this world what it should be. Wouldn’t that be wonderful, Anna? A perfect world? Us together again? I’ll tell you now, it is all I want.

I still don’t quite understand, Anna, why you left in the first place. I’m not angry, I just don’t understand. You saw the same horrors that I did. You are just as smart as me, so I know you comprehended what we saw. Why didn’t you get angry? Why am I the only who is angry about this? Why don’t you want to change it with me? I just want to understand, An. Please.

I’m keeping the Razr. Even if it’s five, ten, one hundred years from now that you read this letter, I will still have that Razr, charged and with me. You know the number, and I will answer. Call me, please. I miss my sister.


Your one and only brother,


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Posted by on April 5, 2017 in Lydia's Stories, Stories


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Fiction: Get Out (152 words)

This was going to be the one to break free. I was really hoping that I would be able to get my daughter out, but she just wasn’t ready yet.  Just like I wasn’t ready yet.

But this Anna, my daughter’s daughter—and yet almost my genetic clone.  I can see it in her eyes.  If I give her the out, she’ll take it, and she won’t look back.

It’ll be the end of my life, to let her out.  People here are not going to be happy-and thy will take it out on me.  But I think that I am a small price to pay to finally break the cycle.  Because with Anna gone—they can’t start the whole circle over again. With Anna gone, they’ve lost.

So, it starts tonight.  I am going to get my daughter’s daughter, my younger version, free of this hell-hole that we call our life.

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Posted by on February 8, 2016 in Lydia's Stories, Uncategorized


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Fiction: Runaway (123 words)

I never felt comfortable with all the training thy put us through. Not really.  Of course—it’s not like I could complain. Their training was all I had ever know—all Timothy had ever known. Where else were we supposed to go?

But there was something about the way they explained my mother’s death—and something about the look on my grandmother’s face whenever they repeated the story.  Someone was lying to me—but I couldn’t figure out who, or more importantly, why.

So yes, it was easy for me to jump at the chance to leave it all behind.  I wanted to go someplace where I wasn’t going to be constantly and consistently lied to.  Can you really blame me for that?

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Posted by on February 4, 2016 in Lydia's Stories, Stories


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Fiction: Hours (366 words)

How long was it that he had been out? Hours. Several hours at least. Lydia looked at the clock, but for some reason the simple concept of hours and minutes seemed over her head.

The doctor wearily approached her in the chair near his bed. “Lydia, you really need to get some rest. You hit your head pretty badly, and you carried him several miles. He’s not small a man.”

“No, thank you. I’m fine.” Her tone dared anyone in the room to challenge her, but none of them would. Instead, the doctor who had approached her nodded to one of the nurses. That nurse got on the phone right away.

Two hours later, a man strode into the infirmary and straight over to Lydia’s chair. He pulled up another chair next to her, and simply asked, “How longs has it been?”

“I don’t know, sir. Hours at least.”

“Can’t tell time.”

“No, Sir.”

“Lyd. You need to lie down, get some sleep. I will keep guard over him and make sure he’s okay, but right now you need to be taking care of yourself.”

“Okay…okay…” Lyd stood up slowly, and turned to the man next to her for support as she made her way over to a bed.

“You know, my ego is deflating. I thought you were only this worried about me, but apparently you worry for all of your COs this way.”

“Don’t worry, sir, you were just worrisome enough to earn a very special place in my heart.” Lydia crawled into bed and within seconds the doctors were around her, giving her everything that she needed, but had been denying herself for ages.

“Thanks, Tristan.” Dr. Lam smiled, “You know she wouldn’t have moved from that chair for anyone else.”

“Yeah, she’s stubborn that way.” Tristan turned the chair Lydia had been sitting in so he could see both her and the unconscious Andre.

“You don’t have to stay, sir.”

“I told her I would watch him, and I’m going to hold up that promise. Not to mention, I want to make sure she’s okay.”

“And let me guess…”

Tristan smiled up at Dr. Lam, “I’m going to be stubborn that way.”


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Posted by on December 12, 2015 in Lydia's Stories


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Fiction: Won’t Give Up (200 words)

I sat quietly at Fitz’s bed side.  Anytime the nurses would let me in, I sat there. Even if he was asleep, even if they had taken him away for CT scans or MRIs or whatever.  My favorite times though, were when he was there, awake, talking to me, trying to know me again.

I knew he didn’t remember anything about me.  I knew that the doctors had pretty much given up hope that he would ever get those memories back, no matter what they told us to our face.  But he liked to hear me tell my stories, and he still looked at me in that beautiful way.  And when he smiled at me—oh god—it was amazing.

I still loved him—so much—memories or no.  And I hoped that he would fall in love with me all over again.

Timothy Razer had done a lot of terrible things to a lot of people.  He had stolen our wonderful past away from Fitz, probably forever.  But I wasn’t going to let him take away our future too. No, he didn’t get that.

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Posted by on November 21, 2015 in Lydia's Stories


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Fiction: Re-introduction (674 words)

Lydia came into the hospital room quietly  Everyone was assuring her that she was supposed to be there, that Fitz wanted to see her, but she still couldn’t help but feel like she was trespassing in one way or another.

But Fitz sat up in bed and gave her a smile and for a moment if felt like nothing had happened.  For a moment, Lydia could almost believe that her brother hadn’t completely ruined her life.  But then Fitz extended a hand.  “Hi.  I know you already know, but it feels weird to not introduce myself.  I’m Fitz.”

Lydia gave him her best smile.  “I’m Lydia.” She shook his hand.

“Hello, Lydia,” Fitz indicated to the chair next to his bed, and Lydia sat down.  “Okay, Lydia, lets not mince words here. Don’t tip toe around me, or try to probe and figure out what I remember.  I remember nothing.  Tell me point-blank how I know you, and we’ll go from there.”

Lydia chuckled at that.  Whatever Timothy did to his memory, Fitz was still Fitz, and there was something amazing in itself.  That mean there was still hope to try to fix this, no matter how small that hope would be.  Lydia desperately wanted to fix it.

“Well, okay.  I’m Lydia, and we know each other because I am dating Tristian, who is best friends with Andre who is-“Lydia trailed off.  It was just too strange to tell Fitz who his husband was.  Too much.

“—who is Andre,” Fitz finished for her.  “Yes, that is its own level of complicated.  We won’t get into that now,” Fitz studied her for a second as if he was trying to commit what Lydia said before to memory.  “Now, if you don’t mind me asking—earlier I heard you talking to Andre saying I should hate you—that we should both hate you.  Why is that?  Were we in some sort of argument before all of this started?  Some offense that I can’t remember but we should resolve anyways?”

Lydia took a deep breath.  She had already decided that she was going to be completely honest with Fitz, but that didn’t make it any easier to say.  “You should hate me because my brother did this to you.  I had the chance to kill him, but I couldn’t, and within the week he had done this to you.  He thought he was getting Tristian, thinking that would be the worst punishment for me. But either way, you are only like this because my brother and I are on opposite sides of a war and you got caught in the crossfire.  I am so, so sorry.”

Fitz sat in silence for a long time.  Lydia didn’t dare move or say anything else until Fitz had processed all of that—or at least as much as he could.  It was a lot to take in.

“I can’t say I’m happy with this information,” Fitz finally said slowly, “It’s not fair that I am like this, and it’s not fair that your involvement is part of it—however small that involvement is.  But, even though I cannot remember my family—I don’t think I could kill them.  The thought of trying is turning my stomach.  So that much I understand,” Fitz was silent for a second more, “Tell me, Lydia.  Do you think your cause is just in this war?”

That was an easy answer. “Yes. Yes, with all my heart, I know we are in the right.”

Fitz nodded, “And your Tristian? He believes you’re in the right?”

“Yes. Of course.”

“And my Andre?” Fitz asked timidly this time, “My Andre too?”


“Okay,” Fitz sighed, “Okay. Then we are okay, Lydia.  I’d like to see you again but right now—I need to rest.  I’m sorry to cut this short but…”

Lydia was already up and out of her chair, “No, no. I understand. I’ll see you again when you’re ready.”

Fitz nodded, and shut his eyes before he put his head back on his pillow.

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Posted by on October 11, 2015 in Lydia's Stories


Fiction: Waiting Room (310 words)

Lydia didn’t think that Andre would want to see her, so she hung to the back of the group as they went into comfort him. They’d cleared her of any association with her brother’s crimes, and verified that her loyalties were not split, but she wasn’t sure how much that would really mean to Andre right now, and she understood that entirely.

But he pushed through the crowd quickly, taking both of her hands in his, and looking at her so desperate and sad that she almost wanted to cry. She hated seeing him like this.  “Please, is there anything you know?  Any idea of what he might have done to him?”

She did start to tear up as she shook her head.  “I’m sorry.  Whatever this is—he learned it after I left.  I didn’t even know we were capable of something like this.”

Andre nodded, and dropped her hands. “Okay. But if you think of anything?”

“You’ll be the first to know, I promise you.”  Andre nodded again, offered her a broken sort of smile, and then turned to address the others who had come to wish him well.

Tristan approached, bringing over his own level of awkward, but he offered her a smile as well.  “Don’t beat yourself up.  You know he doesn’t blame you, right?”

“I know. But, I love Reed too. If you thought there might be even the tiniest of memories that might be able to him out, wouldn’t you go a little crazy trying to make sure you weren’t forgetting anything?” Tristan’s lack of answer was an answer enough. “Yeah. I’m going to go look through old journals, or something.  Try to pretend I’m being helpful. Let me know if Andre needs anything.”

“Will do.” Lydia walked away, allowing herself to believe that everyone in that room wasn’t watching her walk away with a judgement.

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Posted by on April 22, 2015 in Lydia's Stories


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Fiction: Memories (239 Words)

I wanted to be able to remember.  For the very least, I wanted to be able to remember him. The way he looked at me, I know he loved me, or who I used to be, or however you want to dice it, there was something very special between us and I wanted to be able to smile at him and say, “Oh, you. Yes of course I remember you.”

But I couldn’t remember anything.  I didn’t know my name.  I hadn’t been able to recognize my own face in a picture.  Whatever was happening in my brain had really done a number on me, and there didn’t seem to be any coming back from it.

So I apologized, because it seemed like the least I could do. And he smiled at me.  It was a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless. “Well, will you at least give me the chance to win you over again?”  I shrugged, because how else could I answer that. “I’ll come back the next time the doctors think it’s okay for you to have visitors, yeah?”

I nodded at that.  I wanted him to come back. And maybe that was worth something. He reached out towards me, by habit, before remembering himself and letting his hands fall back to his sides.  “I’ll see you soon.” He gave me one last smile, and headed out, leaving me alone with the doctors to try more tests.

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Posted by on April 16, 2015 in Lydia's Stories


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Fiction: A Small Test (423 words)

He reached out carefully to brush a piece of hair away from her forehead, but she held up a hand to stop him.  He gave a soft laugh.  “No magic, just skin—“he wiggled his fingers in front of her eyes as proof.  “I promise.”  She relaxed slightly, and he swept the hair off her face, discreetly checking for a fever as best as he could.

“My head is going to pop,” she said weakly, “explode like a watermelon.  You’re going to get brains goo on you.”

“Does it really hurt that badly?”  He whispered.

“Yeah. Just about.”  She rested back against the pillows a little further.

“You know, I could…” Tristan made a small swirling gesture with his hand.

“No.  Thank you, but no. I can’t turn to it anytime I feel a bit sickly.  I’ve got to fight through all this, okay?”

“But—watermelon head.” Tristan protested, miming an explosion between his hands..  Lydia laughed weakly, but shook her head no.  “What if I just helped you sleep?  You know? Like a big dose of Nyquil without having to show the cashier your ID?”

She eyed him for a second.  “Just sleeping? No curing?”

“No curing. Just sleeping.” He echoed.

“Swear on something,” Lydia challenged.

Tristan thought for a second and then “I swear on the fact that you are the most epic cock block in the history of cock blockers that I will only help you sleep.”

Lydia laughed outright in spite of the pain.  “I am an excellent cock block.”

“Oh, I don’t think Andre will ever let you forget it.” Tristian held up his fingers again, wiggling them in front of Lydia’s forehead.  She eyed them wearily for a second, and then nodded. He pressed his fingers gently to her forehead and listened as her breathing evened out.  He waited until he was sure that she was asleep before lifting his fingers away.  He kissed her very softly on the temple before heading back out into the living room.

Andre was at his side in a second. “Is she okay? What does she need? What can I do?”

“She’s okay,” Tristan assured him, “In a lot of pain, but asleep now. She’ll be alright.”

“She didn’t accept—right? I mean, you offered to…” Andre trailed off.

“Yeah. I mean no.  I just helped her get to sleep.” Tristan confirmed, and Andre looked immediately relieved.  “It’s going to be a long haul though.”

“True,” Andre agreed, sliding over on the couch so that Tristan could sit down, “But, at least she’s passed the first test.”

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Posted by on January 15, 2015 in Lydia's Stories


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Fiction: Dealing (378 words)

Lydia (or should he call her Anna now?) had finally told him everything.  The truth of how she and Timothy were created. The training they went through since birth to get as strong as they were.  What her grandmother–technically her genetic twin just decades older–had told her about her brother, and about the people who raised her.  The lie that put everything in motion.  She told him everything.

And Tristan didn’t have a clue what to do with it.

“I understand if you don’t trust me anymore, or if you want to lock me up or turn me in or whatever you feel is necessary.  But–I had to tell you. You can’t beat him without knowing everything I know.  To be fair, I’m still not sure you can beat him, but now at least you have a fighting chance.”

“You’re right. I needed to know…”  Tristan broke off, shaking his head.  “This is a lot.  We couldn’t win without it–and I thank you for that but–God.  I don’t know.”  Tristan rubbed at his eyes and looked at Lydia carefully.  “It’s too much right now.  So–Let’s just get through the next two weeks, let’s get through the challenge.  And then, well, I still don’t know.  We’ll decide what happens when we see which way the dice falls.”

Lydia started to feel a bit hopeful.  That didn’t sound like Tristan hated her.  He didn’t sound completely disgusted.  That was something.  “Okay–that’s more than fair.  Thank you very much.”

“Okay” Tristan stood up at stared at a point vaguely to the left of Lydia’s head, “I’m going to go.  I’ll talk to you tomorrow, figure more of this out.”

As Tristan turned to leave, Lydia felt a bubble of panic rise in her chest, and before she could stop herself, she called his name.  Tristan stopped, but didn’t turn around.  “I just want you to know…I do love you. With all my heart.  That was never a lie.”

“I can’t do this right now,”  Tristan said sternly, sounding the most sure that he had all night.  “Okay?  I just can’t deal with that right now.”

“Okay,”  Lydia offered weakly.  “Okay.”  Tristan left the room, and Lydia sank down to sit on the little rough bed and repeated “Okay” once more.  After all, everything thing else had already been said.

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Posted by on January 7, 2015 in Lydia's Stories


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