#VisDare 20 – Climbing

Prompt: http://anonymouslegacy.blogspot.com/2013/05/visdare-20-climbing.html

The old woman knelt by the little pile of dirt and patted it gently. Her hands were gnarled, but still strong. She grabbed the watering can resting near her left knee and gave the acorn she’d just buried a good soaking. She didn’t come back to the garden every day, but someone did, and soon a small green shoot worked its way out of the soil.

The old man tended the weeds around the tree carefully, ensuring that nothing would take precious resources away from its roots. The rains came not at all this time of year, and he couldn’t carry as much water from the creek as he used to.

The very old man and the very old woman stood near the tree. They’d nourished it with very nearly the last of their strength through these many years, and finally the tree was ready to blossom, the buds heavy and full of life. He took her hand in his and squeezed, lightly, trying to hold on long enough to see their gift to the world reach its culmination.

The extremely old woman and the exceptionally old man lay near the tree. Their chests rose and fell slowly, barely, and as the sun crested the hills, the buds opened. Within each one lay a babe, the first children seen since before anyone could remember. The sky filled with a chorus of cries, and though the two on the ground passed on, the tree brought life eternal back to the world.

Mid-week Blues Buster 13

Prompt: http://thetsuruokafiles.wordpress.com/2013/05/14/mid-week-blues-buster-week-13-note-time-change/

Allie pulled her hand back, the knife slick with blood. The sparks were so much more vivid when they died slowly, in pain. His bowels spilled out over his lap, and she poked at them with the serrated edge, listening to him howl. As always during these times, her mind bifurcated, and her anticipatory joy was overlaid with lectures from medical school. She’d loved dissecting bodies in class, of course, but nothing compared to seeing the organs pulsing and contracting, doing their jobs because they didn’t yet know that the person they belonged to was being brutally eviscerated.

When it came, she gasped in ecstasy. This was the biggest one yet – filled with rainbows invisible to human eyes, swirling in kaleidoscopic patterns around his empty corpse. It trailed along her fingers, and Allie felt it again, the sense of knowing, of understanding, of acceptance. Her parents had taken her to church every Sunday for years, and she’d heard lecture after lecture on the sanctity of life and God’s Love for His Creation, but they were wrong. This is why we were put here, she knew, for the weak to give their beauty to the strong.

Her bike was parked across town, and she watched the stars fade into dawn as she walked, letting the high of the spark carry her after a long night. She could see them long after the sun rose, bursts of X-Rays and radio waves which pierced her eyelids like angels. Allie couldn’t wait to get back to the road on days like this, pine trees to the east, the Pacific to the west, and the next kill somewhere up ahead.

She knew that something was wrong before she rounded the corner. Fuck. Ryan was sitting on her bike, toying with her helmet, and looking every inch the scruffy rebel that made all the ladies weak. Allie knew better, though. He was the weak one. He saw the sparks, too, knew what they meant and how to draw on their power, but wouldn’t do it. He wouldn’t kill anymore, not after that night in Tupelo, and he’d been after her to follow his lead, like that was going to happen. There was a look on his face, though, that said something was different about this visit.

“I’m in trouble, Allie. And you’re the only one who can help.”

If you’re interested, we first met Allie here: http://projectgemini12.wordpress.com/2013/05/06/visdare-18-inspect/

Five Sentence Fiction – Goggles

Prompt: http://lilliemcferrin.com/five-sentence-fiction-goggles/

The strap on the goggles had gotten knotted again in her backpack, and this time the rubber had pulled itself into a configuration that was impervious to even the most dexterous of human fingers. She threw them across the hotel room and felt the tears come – her eyes were going to sting from saltwater one way or another today. This whole trip was a stupid idea anyway, fueled by one too many Hallmark movies about fate bringing people back together, and he wasn’t going to come walking across the beach, smiling crookedly and making her heart melt, no matter what she did. The tears eventually stopped, as they always did, and she retrieved the goggles, her fingers pulling and teasing at the knot until she felt it start to loosen, and suddenly she could breathe again. Down the hall in room 714, the enchantress smiled.

#VisDare 19 – Mirror

Prompt: http://anonymouslegacy.blogspot.com/2013/05/visdare-19-mirror.html

“You said the monsters can’t swim, right?”

“Right. Shh!” The mirror was heavy, and the pond was agitated, as if it knew what was coming. Caleb had to balance it, himself, and make sure little Allabelle didn’t wander out of his range, and she just would not shut up. Of course, he reminded himself, the monster wanted to eat her, not him. “Just a little farther, honey. When we’re done, I’ll fly us back to the castle, but you gotta be extra quiet.”

The image of Allabelle in his mind nodded solemnly, but he could see the fear on her face. They had to finish this soon, or all hell would break loose.

“We’re here. Now, you know what you need to do. Call the monsters, and when they come for you, I’ll make them hit the water instead. We’ll fly away, and you’ll be safe.”

Her little arms slipped around his leg, and he tried to make her feel a confidence he wasn’t sure he had. This might work. But then again, they might end up like her older sister.

“You won’t leave me, Caleb?”
“Never. Now be strong for me, just one more time.”

She shuddered, fighting the tears, and nodded again. “I’m ready.” Allabelle straightened her back and looked deep in the mirror. “Mommy? Daddy?”

Flash!Friday – 23

Prompt: http://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2013/05/10/flash-friday-23/

“You know the old theory that if you don’t know you can’t do something, you can? Well, it’s true.”

That always got the same reaction.

“What … exactly, were you trying to do?”

I reached up and down and scratched my heads. Blimey, how stupid questions made me itch.

“I was wondering if people in China fell upwards.” No, I wasn’t. That would have been stupid. And only the most gullible bought it anymore.

“I got a little too excited listening to Lionel Richie singing ‘Dancing on the Ceiling.’” The customers hated that one, but I loved it. Was it my fault that no one remembered 1980’s pop anymore?

“I was reading a book about cloning, but it was upside-down.” That one, at least, was closer to the truth, if still a bald-faced lie.

“I was thinking about how mirrors reverse everything right-to-left not up-and-down, and looked in a mirror while lying on my side.” That was my favorite, because it confused everyone, unless they remembered what they’d learned in physics.

If that got a laugh, and they were good sports about the whole thing, I’d take pity on them and tell them my secret.

#ThursThreads – week 70

Prompt: http://siobhanmuir.blogspot.com/2013/05/thursthreads-challenge-that-ties-tales_9.html

We could hear him long before we could see him, the chains of his shackles marking his last steps with an incongruously melodic jingle. When he did round the corner, he looked more like a man out for a Sunday afternoon stroll than one about to be executed by the state for what more than one judge called the most disturbing crime they’d ever seen. I’d covered every stage of his career, from his transition from being just another misbehaved, entitled son of a famous and wealthy man to occupying the highest office in the land as a faux third-rate Everyman, and that attitude hadn’t changed a bit.

I’d figured that staying on the beat with him after he left office would be a cushy path to retirement for me – some jaunts to fancy locales for humanitarian events or PR, no real reporting – but that was before the disappearances grew alarming and the discoveries at his ranch. The Pulitzer for my coverage of the trials showed that I still had my chops, although I’d have traded that for fewer nightmares and a memory eraser.

He declined the blindfold and stood in front of the firing squad, utterly unconcerned. I’d remember that moment forever, him standing there awaiting the bullet that would end his life with incurious nonchalance and the stupid, glassy-eyed grin that defined his life. 

I just wish I’d known he could fly.

Review of Edgar Wilde and the Lost Grimoire – Paul Ramey

I enjoyed this book quite a bit. It’s reasonably short (no idea what the page count is because of the Kindle format, but it took me about 80 minutes to read), but it sucked me in quickly. It felt like a YA version of a Stephen King or F. Paul Wilson novel (Wilson actually has a YA series about New Jersey that had a similar feel), which is a strong endorsement to me. The mysteries weren’t profound, exactly, as is typical of novels in this genre, but the characters were compelling, and it was well-written and well-paced. I’d love to see more stories with these characters, to develop them more deeply – for example, I’d like to know more about Shelby’s background. She’s not a MPDG, but knowing more about her backstory would make her motivations clearer. 

Excellent first novel – more!

Available for download at Amazon, published by Nine Muse Press.

#VisDare 18 – Inspect

Prompt: http://anonymouslegacy.blogspot.com/2013/05/visdare-18-inspect.html

Ever since Nana June’s funeral, Allie was fascinated with death. Everything around her was alive, but everything around her would die. Mama had caught her sitting on top of baby Jacob, and after the trip to the hospital and the spanking with the switch, she knew not to do that again. Besides, they never left her alone with him anymore, even though he was totally fine.

Papa’s fishing pole was hard for her to carry, so Allie dragged it to the lake. She’d take another whipping for getting it all dirty, but she just had to know. The bugs she’d squished in the driveway were too small for her to tell when they crossed over, and no one would really get that worked up about a fish.

They were jumping that day, and she caught one easily, although getting it up on the pier was a lot of work. It flopped around, gasping for breath, and Allie lay as close as she dared, looking into its mouth, waiting for that moment. And then it happened – the fish that was alive was now dead. She saw the spark leave its body and sail away. Beautiful, tremulous, and ethereal, it captivated her, and she stared at the sky long after it had soared out of sight. She knew that every living thing had a spark like that, and she knew that she had to see as many of them as possible.

#MondayMixer

“We happy, Vincent?”

The question seemed to come from miles away, even though Jules was in the next room. Once he’d retrieved their prize from its repository, its song dominated his consciousness. It was a song he’d heard his whole life without knowing what it was, but now that he was in its presence, all of the questions he’d ever had were answered.

Vincent wrestled the portmanteau from the cupboard and wiped dust from the keyhole. It had been in there a long time, and he wondered idly if he was touching dust that’d been here during the time of the Old Ones. He pulled the key from where it lay upon his chest and slipped the leather thong over his head. It slid easily into the lock, and as soon as the tumblers turned, the effulgent glow from the inside merged with the song and told him his destiny.

With great apologies to Quentin Tarantino, of course.

Flash!Friday – week 22

Prompt:http://flashfriday.wordpress.com/2013/05/03/flash-friday-22/

“C’mon daddy. Have to go now, or we’ll miss it!” He pulled my hand I followed, letting him lead me out of the bunker. He knew something was wrong, but thankfully he didn’t have the ability to contextualize what had happened.

The snow had stopped overnight, and the sun was rising over the desert, its uneasy red light filtering through the clouds. “Isn’t it bewtful, daddy? I want to show it to mommy. Is she up yet?”

“Bew-ti-ful, little guy.” I corrected him reflexively, and tried not to think about the rest of his question. “It sure is beautiful.”

His impact on the world was limited enough that his feet barely sank into the snow, while I crunched along, pulling my boots out quickly before they had a chance to get stuck. He’d left marks like that on my heart, I knew, and someday I’d tell him mommy wasn’t getting up. Or anyone else, either.