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Fiction: Rescued (Part 2 of 2) (527 words)

When we finally came to a stop, we were miles away from the den. My rescuer handed me over to a boy who looked about seven years old.  The boy introduced himself as Stevie, and set to tending my wound with well-practiced care.  And that’s how I met my first werewolf.

Stevie had been a werewolf since he was sixteen months old, when his family had been attacked and mauled by a pack, and for some reason that no one could accurately explain, Stevie survived. The man who had saved me from the den, a hundred something year old vampire named Finn had been part of a crew sent to track the pack’s movements and clean up the mess they left behind. He had been ordered to kill Stevie.  But Finn had developed a soft spot for small children even then, and instead of killing him, whisked him away to some place safe.  He returned to his team, informed them that Stevie was dead, and no one had any reason to doubt him.  Finn carried on caring for Stevie over the last six years, helping him, but also teaching him how to fend for himself.

As Stevie tended to my wound, Finn returned to the den. He used his power, and a fair amount of money, to convince both the man he had stolen me from, and my own mother, to not come looking for me again.  My mother was happy to have the extra money since she had long been disowned from her own rich parents but still had quite expensive tastes, and the other vampire just assumed that Finn was a greedy bastard who had already killed me himself.  Regardless of their reasons, neither of them came looking for me, and I began to live my life with Stevie in the little house that Finn owned.

Stevie and Finn were the ones who named me.  Three years with my mother, and she couldn’t be bothered, I was just another meal ticket.  They named me Enid. It was Finn’s mother’s name, and it came from the Welsh word meaning life, the other gift they had given me.  Is it the world’s best name? No, and I have been teased for being an “Enid” in this day and age before.  But it’s a name that meant a lot to Finn, and he gave it to me anyways, so I love it.

For the next two years, I relied heavily on Stevie. Once a month, Finn would take me away so Stevie could “do his thing” without hurting me, but for the other twenty-seven days, it was me and Stevie, mostly fending for ourselves.  I learned how to set bones, sew stiches, and know the difference between sprains and breaks.  I learned how to make a couple of dollars go a long way as far as food and clothing were concerned.  I learned how to recognize a werewolf or a vampire after a causal glance or two just walking down the street.  I learned how to take care of myself in ways that your average person didn’t worry about until they were in their teens or early twenties.

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Posted by on January 16, 2017 in Stories

 

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Fiction: Rescued (Part 1 of 2) (571 words)

Most children grow up hearing ghost stories and fairy tales, things that they learn very quickly aren’t true.  They play act, they create fictions, they make things up, all thinking that none of it is real. They sleep soundly at night with their parents’ reassurance that there is nothing that goes bump in the night, not really.

I wasn’t one of those lucky kids.  I’ve known since day one that there are monsters in this world, and many of them most certainly will hurt you if given the chance. And I’ve spent most of my life learning to deal with them.

My mother was a teenager when she ran into her first Vampire.  A man a couple hundred years old who didn’t look a day over seventeen.  He tried with all his little monster heart to kill her, and she was only saved by direct orders from that Vampire’s maker, who thought killing the pretty little rich girl would bring too much unwanted publicity to the situation. My mother, with all the sanity of a cotton ball, decided that meant her life was destined to be intertwined with the “night walkers.”

She tracked them down, found a way to infiltrate their society. By the time she was eighteen, she was a feeder. She turned up every other night. She was dressed scantily by her handlers, and was sent to a small curtained room to wait.  A vampire, sometimes two, and on very rare occasions, three, would arrive to feed on her. Over time, some learned that they had a taste for her, and she developed some regulars.  Before her twentieth birthday, she was in high demand.

It wasn’t long after that the hints started to drop. Feeding off infants was illegal, but a three or four-year-old? Mm mm, pulse licking good. And a child that would share the same delicious tint as my mother’s blood—They would make a killing.

My mother was pregnant within the next half year. When all was said and done, my mother had a total of nineteen children. Nine of us lived to be teenagers, and only three of us made it all the way up to adulthood.  The rest fell victim to the life our mother forced us into from the start.

I was three and a half years old when my mother first sent me out to be fed on.  I remember that night very well, better than a three-year-old’s memory should allow. Most people block out traumatic events from their childhood, but mine, apparently, wanted to cling on for dear life.

The vampire who fed on me was one who had been waiting literally years for a chance at my mother, so upon hearing that she was pregnant, he was first on the list to get at me.  Usually, they had us wait until we were four years old, but this guy was powerful.  So my mom made a deal, and had me sent out early.

The guy could barely control himself.  It barely hurt when he bit into my wrist, but after a while it became clear that he wasn’t going to stop.  I could literally feel myself dying.  I screamed, not from pain, but from fear.  And once I had started, I couldn’t stop.  I screamed until someone grabbed me around the waist and yanked me away from that man.  I was clutched tightly to my rescuer’s chest, and he ran.

 
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Posted by on January 13, 2017 in Stories

 

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Fiction: Last Night Together (407 words)

I knew what she was asking me to do. I didn’t have to be a psychic-I just had to know the logic of the situation.  Anyone who did what she wanted me to do…well, they weren’t going to survive the ordeal.  So she was basically asking me to die.  I knew it was for the greater good, but it was still a tough pill to swallow.

“If you want to break up, there are much easier ways to do it.”  I pointed out, trying to be causal about the whole thing.  The look Maggie gave me said clearly that I hadn’t quite pulled it off.  Well, I was contemplating my own mortality.  Heavy, heavy stuff.

“That’s not what I want,” Maggie said coldly, “Of course that’s not what I want.  I don’t want any of this.  But there isn’t another way to do this.  I don’t have anyone else to ask, Arthur.  There isn’t much else that can be done.  I don’t even know if you can do it, but we have no other choice, okay? No other choice.

“If we’re being honest,” I sighed, “I don’t want to do this.  At all.”

If I was expecting another romantic-adjacent outburst from Maggie, then I didn’t know my girlfriend very well.  One and done. Now, we were back to business.  “But you will do it.” She clarified.

“Yes,” I sighed, “Yes. If you ask me to do it, I will do it.”  I both hated and loved that she had that kind of power over me.

“Okay,” Maggie nodded, “Then I—“

“No,” I threw up my hands to get her to stop, “No, wait.  When you ask me to do this—really properly ask me—then everything has to change.  So-don’t ask me yet.”

“What? King, look—“

“No, Maggie, listen.  Are we going to fight any battles tonight?”

Maggie scoffed. “No, of course not. You need more training first.”

“Well, are we going to start training me tonight?” I pressed.

“No, we have to wait for Simpson and Danny to come back with the intel.”

“Then wait,” I repeated, “Ask me in the morning.  Please, one more night before everything has to change.  Ask me in the morning.”

Apparently, Maggie was still a little soft-hearted from her romantic-adjacent outburst. Her face softened, and she reached out to lay a hand on my arm. “Okay.  I’ll ask you in the morning.   In the meantime, let’s go to bed.”

 
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Posted by on November 16, 2015 in Maggie's Stories

 

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Fiction: Legal Theft Project– Loss and Understanding (366 words)

The last thread of humanity broke and he collapsed into the explosion of power. It was hours later that they all started to wake up, dazed and confused and not really sure what the final trigger had been—but it didn’t really matter now. The damage was done.

Krissy heard her mother’s voice calling through the fuzz in her head.  She sat up and looked around, trying to figure out where the voice was calling from, trying to respond to it, but finding it hard to make any noise much louder than a whisper.   But, her mother found her anyway, barely pausing to check for injuries before scooping Krissy into her arms and squeezing her tight.  “I was so afraid,” her mother crowed, “I thought you’d be next to him. I thought you would have been destroyed.  I thought that you were gone forever.”

Krissy barely had the energy to get angry at her mother, but she was giving it her best shot. “Of course I wasn’t with him. You expressly forbid it. You made it nearly impossible for me to get to him.  You made sure that I couldn’t be at his side.”

Krissy’s mother fixed her with a cold stare.  “Well, I was right, wasn’t I?   This just proves it.”

Krissy didn’t point out that she could have stopped this.  She didn’t remind her mother that he’d been on this edge before and Krissy had been the one to talk him down.  She didn’t tell her mother that all he needed to stay in control was to remember that he loved his humanity, and that she was a big part of that.  She just didn’t have the energy to inform her mother that any damage from this change, from anything he did, from whatever he had become—Krissy was putting the blame directly onto her mother’s shoulders.

No, her mother would learn all that soon enough.  And if the guilt wasn’t enough of a punishment, the understanding that her daughter had completely disowned her would be. And they’d hash out those details after Krissy felt like she could stand on her own two feet again. For now—she’d use her mother for literal support.

 
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Posted by on November 6, 2015 in Legal Theft Project

 

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Fiction: Law (154 words)

She was a Priestess.  She had been declared one since she was about four months old.  They took her away from her family, and trained her to read the books.  She was taught to study and to believe.  She was taught, accidentally perhaps, but above all else, her word was law.

That was a big mistake.  You see, Rhian didn’t believe in the books that she was taught to read and study.  But she did believe that her word was law, only because people treated her word like law.  And in the hands of a sixteen year old girl, well, a word as law was a very dangerous weapon.  And it was a very dangerous time.  Rhian was promoted to High Priestess, and it was a position that she would hold until she passed on.  The world would change a hundred times in those years.  All because one very intelligent girl’s word was law.

 
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Posted by on July 28, 2015 in Stories

 

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Fiction: Protector [Part 2 of 2] (510 words)

Even fifteen years later, twenty-two years old and preparing for one of her father’s many parties, Lillianne slipped on the silver ring, and thought of her mysterious savior from all those years ago.  But then, she pushed her to the back of her mind, and plastered on the well-practiced smile she always used when she was forced to spend extended periods of time with her father’s friends.  She half wondered how many of them would try to convince her father to let them marry her tonight.  She was sure it was going to be a number higher than she’d like.  That was the worst part of being the only daughter of a very rich and very powerful man.

This particular night, she was only out on the floor for a matter of minutes when she received the shock of her life.  She was talking and laughing with her second eldest brother’s fiancée when she heard behind her, “Well, well, well, Lillianne, just as special as always, and still under the protection of my ring.”  Lillianne whipped around so fast that she probably could have taken someone out with her hair. It was her.  The woman she had met in the closet.  She looked just the same as she had then.  Well, not just the same. She did look older, but not fifteen years older like she should have.  When she saved Lillianne, she looked twenty-two or twenty-three years old, easily.  But she did not look thirty-seven or thirty-eight years old now.  She looked maybe twenty-six or twenty-seven at a stretch, but certainly no older than that.  She realized that she must be just staring at the poor woman, but she could not think of anything else to do.  She didn’t seem to be bothered by it at all.  She continued to smile as she spoke.  “I realize that the last time we met, I was incredibly rude, and I never introduced myself.  My name is Wyli, and I have to say that it was an absolute pleasure to meet you.”  She offered his hand, and on auto pilot, Lillianne reached out and shook it.  Wyli held her hand, and turned it so that she could look closely at the ring, her ring, on Lillianne’s middle finger.  “You’ve taken good care of it.”

“It’s my most prized possession.” She answered honestly. “Call me superstitious, but I genuinely believe it has kept me safe all these years.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’ superstitious at all.” She grinned at Lillianne in a knowing sort of way. “I think that ring has protected you in more ways than you know.” She let go of Lillianne’s hand and she let if fall back to her side. “If you’ll pardon me, I need to excuse myself for a moment.”

“Will I have to go another fifteen years before I see you again?”

“Oh, no, Lillianne. I think you’ll be seeing a lot of more of me in the future.  I fear you’ll begin to get quite sick of me soon.”

 
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Posted by on July 26, 2015 in Stories

 

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Fiction: Protector [Part 1 of 2] (627 words)

It was a ring.  A silver ring with a purple stone.  The design was simple, yet elegant.  She wore it on her middle finger of her right hand.  She was often told it complimented whatever she was wearing.  That was a very good thing, because she never took it off.  She never explained why, but it was important to her.  It had always been important to her.  It was important because She had given it to her.

Lillianne had first met Her on a tragic day in her family’s past.  Lillianne was seven years old when her home was attacked.  Her father had pissed a lot of people off, and the home she grew up in was marched upon, and whole sections of the house were set on fire.  She had run from her room, determined to make it out, but she had been cut off, both by flame and by bad men.  She hid in a spare bedroom, and as she heard people approaching, she retreated even further into an empty walk in closet.  She armed herself with the small pocket knife her father had given her ages ago when she was jealous of her brothers’ scout knives.  But even still, she was pretty sure this wasn’t going to end well for her.

When She burst into the closet, Lillianne didn’t attack her.  She had a gut feeling, and she didn’t attack.  “Oh, excellent. I thought there was someone in here.  I don’t want to hurt you.  I want to get you out of here safely.  Do you believe me?”

Lillianne nodded just the tiniest bit, and she turned to leave the closet, but Lillianne cried out, “No! Don’t leave me here alone!”

She immediately felt ashamed.  Her brother’s wouldn’t have cried like that.  She should be strong like them.  But the woman didn’t look angry or disappointed.  In fact, she smiled as she turned around to face her again.  She knelt down in front of Lillianne, and said, “Sweetheart, what’s your name?”

“Lillianne,” She whispered.

“Well, Lillianne, you are a very special little girl. And I’ve got to go out there just for a minute so that I can make sure that you stay safe.  Do you understand?” She nodded carefully.  “You’re still scared, aren’t you?”  She nodded again.  The woman thought for a moment, and then stuck her hand into her pants pocket and pulled out that ring. “Here.  You hold onto this.  It’s very special to me, and I’m going to give it to you as a promise that I’ll keep you safe and that I’ll come back. Okay?”  She held out her hand, and the woman placed the ring in Lillianne’s palm and closed her fingers around it.  “Keep it safe, Lillianne.  That ring is just as special as you are.”  And then she left.

The next thing Lillianne knew her oldest brother forced his way into the closet, screamed out in relief that he had found her, and carried her quickly to the main hall where the rest of her family was waiting for her.  She didn’t see the woman.  No one asked her about the ring.  They always just assumed that she had found it in the spare bedroom, since no one had been in that room in decades, it easily could have been left behind by some distant relative, a silly piece of jewelry that no one cared to miss.

She didn’t speak of the woman, because she wasn’t sure that anyone would believe her.  And she just couldn’t take something looking her in the eye and telling her that she had imagined her, that she was just a dream Lillianne’s brain had cooked up out of fear, out of a desire to believe that she was being protected.

 
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Posted by on July 25, 2015 in Stories

 

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