FGC #29 Silent Screams

I feel your judgement. Eventhough your eyes dart away if I try to engage you with a glance. Your thoughts shout across the room. Irresponsible mother.  Heartless, unfit, uncaring.

I am haunted by the repetition of those lost minutes. Scant moments, snatched asleep. Enough for him to wander into the laundry. Then. Silence. Screams. My screams.

The stillness of this room, the beeping machines, the sterile scent of cleanliness only harsh chemicals can emulate. My waking nightmare. My red eyes stricken by drought. 

This ultra-bright floor, frowns at me as it compares my worn slip on shoes against its pristine efficiency.

They tell me its time. I nod mechanically as switches are flicked. I watch his rhythmic breaths, forced downward are suddenly silenced. Tubes are removed and the incessant beeping map of the journey of his small heart are ceased.

Like automatons they leave; wheeling their machines toward the next room, perhaps to save a life this time. Their judgment and disgust pollute the air. It chokes me and I wish for tears.

I grip the tiny body trapped under that shiny white shroud. His face always peaceful, does not fight for breath. I smooth the mouse-brown wisps away from his face. Lips now blue. Just the way they had been when I found him. My lips white as I screamed, desperately pulling him out of that overly large bucket, half filled with soaking nappies. 

If only I hadn’t tried so hard to be environmentally aware. Been like other mothers. If only I had used disposable nappies, he’d still be alive.

The purity of all the whiteness hurt my eyes. All the chemicals used to make everything so sterile, seep insidiously around us. Nothing toxic had been allowed into my child's life …… until now.

An efficient hand feels for a pulse and with a cursory glance at the clock; calls the official time; summoning death to collect another soul before stalking robotically out. 

I feel the judgement of the orderly as he wheels my bright little soul away. The one who should be playing in the garden today. Digging his fingers into the cool earth and smearing it over his dungarees. I see your judgement.

Irresponsible mother. 

A few moments distraction. A few centimetres of water. Playful boy, pulling at those soaking nappies. Reaching inward and toppling forward. Trapped. Drowning.

Can you ever look at me again? This end. Is this the end of us?

Irresponsible mother. Murderer. 

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This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge  FGC #29 Monologue

Words: 410

FGC #28 The Staircase.

This story has been pulled offline in order to polish and submit to a competition.. wish me luck!

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This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge  FGC #28 Time Travel.

Words: 2894

FGC #27 Out of the Rain.

Explicit Content Warning.

As part of a genre challenge, I have written an Erotic Short Story. If you are easily offended or embarrassed by sexual content, do not read on.

Carlyn pushed against the door relieved when it released and allowed her in. Rivulets of water streaked her blouse, its thin gossamer clinging to her skin.  Her nipples threatened to push their way through the fabric.  Hot breath formed a cloud once inside. A distant siren wailed, sending shivers down her body.

“Crazy night huh?” The voice satin smooth. Carlyn froze, clutching her sodden blouse. “I’m sorry, I though I’d find a dry spot, just until the worst was over. I didn’t break in. The door, it was.”

“Open. I let myself in too.” A heavy jacket slid over her shoulders. her eyes adjusted to the dim light as she made out the shape of a broad man.

An explosion rattled the windows. Carlyn crouched out of habit, her eyes brimming with tears. “When will this all end?”

Gentle hands gasped her shoulders and encouraged her to stand. He quietly shh’d as she pulled emotions into check. She gripped at his shirt as another explosion ripped at the street outside. Carlyn loosened her grip on his shirt; suddenly aware of the proximity between the two and shocked as her body reacted to him. She flattened her hand against his chest, allowing a moment to delight in the firmness underneath his cotton shirt. Her breath shortened as her heart hammered. She could feel the blood rise around her own cheeks. Swallowing hard, she dropped her hand; hoping he’d not sensed the flare of hormones she thought had died within her; killed off by the constant fear of death following her steps.

“We might be here for a while. Come away from the doorway at least.” 

Carlyn  smiled, “Thank you. For being so kind and ” she ran her hand over the suit jacket, “Well, for making sure I didn’t freeze.”

His hand caressed her tight grip and they stared at each other.  His arms slithered around her and gently held her as she shook. She allowed her form to meld into his. The faint armoma of the warm spice on his body  grew stronger. Alarmed at her lack of self control she attempted to push him away. 

”I’m not normally like this. I’m sorry.” She attempted to straighten and sit up. His arms loosened, but continued to press against hers as his hand rubbed her back gently. Carlyn shook her head and took a deep breath. She could feel her heart racing as his hand continued to stoke her shoulder.  Eli’s hand ran up her arm and brushed across her cheek. His smile calmed her as the air between them sparked with intention.

“The bombing is worse tonight. We might be stuck here for hours.I’m Eli.”

“Carlyn.”

He brushed a hand across her hair. “You’re very beautiful.”   One hand slid down to her arm. He moved in closer, his hot breath tickled her throat. “But you’d hear that all the time.”

Carlyn’s breath shortened. She’d never felt the rush of emotions which now coursed though her body.   She rubbed her face against his and nibbled at his ear. “Not in a long time. I’m all -” 

“Alone?” Eli’s lips met hers; lingering as they breathed in one another’s desire.  Carlyn brought her hand up around the back of his neck. 

She gasped at the firm touch. He took her open mouth as an invitation to explore. His tongue flickered possessively around her lips, flittering against her teeth before plunging into the cavity of her mouth. 

They both groaned as the kiss deepened.

As Eli’s hands clutched around her body, Carlyn’s fingernails ripped the back of his shirt as he pushed her onto the floor.  He breathed her scent in as rubbed his face down her chest, finding the bottom of her shirt and lifted it with his lips.  She gripped the ends and pulled them apart, the buttons ricocheting onto the floor boards. His tongue danced around her navel as his fingers stroked her hips. 

Carlyn felt a heat flush pulsate through her body as she groaned and thrust her pelvis up. Eli pulled her trousers down her thighs and nuzzled at the mound in her panties. She shimmied and wriggled. “Get these drenched pants off me” she pleaded. 

“So greedy, so demanding.” Eli smiled as he assisted.

She hooked a thumb at the top of her panties to wrench them downward, but Eli halted her with a firm hand. He drew her hand on top of his head as a finger lifted the elastic of the side of her panties. Pushing it back, his tongue slivered over her protruding lips, now wet and sleek with anticipation. 

Carlyn pushed his head toward her pussy and riped her panties away. She bucked against his face, but was firmly pushed down by his hands on her hips.  His teasing escalated as a finger is inserted into her vagina and pushed a steady pressure downward. His tongue flickered around the labia, delighting as it engorged and reddened.

With her control dissolved, Carlyn moaned and gripped his head, her fingers twirling around his hair.  His tongue plunged deep inside her dark red cave.

“Let me. Come up here.” Carlyn horsely cried.  Eli’s attention eased as his slid up to lay beside her. A free hand tweaked her erect nipple and slowly circled it.

  

Carlyn pushed him over gently and slid a leg between his. “My turn.” She ran her hands down to the zipper and clasp of his pants and teased them open. His cock was swollen, threatening to burst from its confinement within his drawers. She knelt between his legs and smiled across his body at him. Carlyns tongue traced the head gently as she gripped the base and squeezed. She eased her mouth over the tip and slowly lowered her head. She felt his penis throb and quiver inside her mouth, a salty invitation sent heat through her body. Drawing herself upward, she flattened her tongue to lick all the way down the shaft. The wrinkled sack of his scrotum was tight as she teased a ball into her mouth and sucked hard. Carlyn grasped his cock, wet with her salvia and  ran her hand up and down firmly. She could feel the blood pulsing in the thick vein.

“Kiss me”  his gravelly voice begged. Carlyn slid on top of him, delighting in the slick wetness oozing from her pussy as it rubbed against his hairy body. With both legs astride him she eased herself onto his cock, shifting and pushing to enjoy its full length.  Carlyn thrust her legs under his to lock the position his and rocked rhythmically against his thrusts.

Her hair tumbled over her face as she lent over him. “Still want that kiss?” 

“I want it all.”  His hands tightened on her hips as he thrust upward.  He Pulled her toward him and in a fluid movement, they rolled over, so that he was on top. His knees screamed in pain against the hard flooring as he spread her thighs wide.  He penetrated and pounded her, thrusting deeper beneath her belly. She ground in time with him, her heart thundering in her chest.  Just as suddenly, the tension drained away from them as their fluids intermixed, spasm after shuddering spasm.

Eli reluctantly pulled away from her and lay on the floor, staring up into ceiling. “Its nice not to feel so alone. Even just for a moment.” His hand reached over to rest on her belly and stroked it gently. Carlyn’s eyes glittered in the light of the fires outside. “We aren't alone if we are together.”

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This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge  FGC #27 Erotica.

Words: 1306

Reflection: Far out - the closest to erotica I have written is a few smoochy kisses, but I'd rather be writing about things blowing up or dying horribly thank this.  Be kind with your  feedback.. I hope I have done the genre justice.

FGC #26 Tantalising Fixtation

Tantalising contented fixation

we hunger for that sacred precious state

captivated by its sweet caress and salvation

lips moist with anticipation

soft sensual succulent hunger consummate

Tantalising contented fixation

Dark guilt and innocent flirtation

despised, feared adored and delicate

captivated by its sweet caress and salvation

useless to beg for its cessation

this smothered spiritual liquid paradise

Tantalising contented fixation

angel whispers, demon temptation

exotic sacred and decadent

captivated by its sweet caress and salvation

bounty in anyone’s translation

aromatic soothing indulgent chocolate

Tantalising contented fixation

captivated by its sweet caress and salvation

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This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge ,  FGC #26 Villanelle Poem Challenge.

I have to admit, I'd never heard of this style of poem before  I did quite a bit of research first about the structure - but basically ( from a great poetry website Kazoom)

The villanelle has 19 lines, 5 stanzas of three lines and 1 stanza of four lines with two rhymes and two refrains. The 1st, then the 3rd lines alternate as the last lines of stanzas 2,3,and 4, and then stanza 5 (the end) as a couplet

The advice many places gave was to choose a subject or topic area that you are obsessed with... and well.. Chocolate is high on my list.

FGC #25 DeLorean Dilemmas

ECOPOCALYPSE

Choose Or Die is created by a bunch of scribblers who loved choose your own adventures when they were younger. Desperately unhappy about the sucky outcomes they were always landed, they decided that the power of choice needed to be handed back to the audience, and in this space, a different writer will continue the story along. A truly interactive storytelling experience where the readers actually do get to choose the fate of the main character.  Season 4 looks at an Eco Apocalypse.  I was invited to write one of the choices from Chapter 1 - italics will indicate a summary of the previous chapter.

Early in your career as a brilliant scientist you created a revolutionary Eco-Waste Control product which has been installed in a large percentage of home across the globe. As the figure-head CEO of one of the most prosperous companies, you spend most of your retirement recovering from wild parties or glued to your virtual  games, completely unaware that your invention has had disastrous side effects. 

Picketers have over run your mansion and an emergency board meeting has been called.

Your boardroom is filled with panicking blamestormers with tempers rising. Your Vice President, Milo, is finding it hard to take it seriously.

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You pound the highly polished table for emphasis. Bickering halts as all eyes turns toward you. “Listen up here, you bunch of sissies. You get paid the big bucks to react to shit like this. Do your freaking job. It can’t be as bad as the media is pretending it is. The reports I am hearing is ridiculous.”

Milo bites his hand to stifle a giggle. The stress has obviously gotten to him. You glare at him. You’ve been in the boardroom a handful of times, but this is the first time you’ve spoken in front of the senior staff. You are determined to come across as masterful and in control of the situation; despite having no clue what is actually going on.

“Where the hell is the Marketing team?”

A manicured hand shoots up in the back. “Maria Britanny, Marketing.”

You point at her. “Get a spin on this; blame the Chinese for their poor work practices and child labor factories. India can’t withdraw their contract. Remind them that most of the online and phone support from a large proportion of tech companies are routed to them, and they will lose billions if they do withdraw. Korea has problems with its whole weirdo government and hairstyles. Do something with that, will you?”

“Uh, the hairstyles of the government?” Someone clears his throat. “Are you talking about North Korea?”

“What?” You bluster. “Aren’t they the same place? North, South, not that different surely?”

The boardroom shuffles uncomfortably as a dozen sets of eyes bore into the table in front of them.

“What about Sweden?” quavers a question from the sides.

“I hate them because they all look so damned healthy and happy outdoors.” You puff your chest out, filled with an unnatural confidence. You feel like J.R. from the old Dallas show.

Paul Poppins from Public Relations glares across the table at the head of Marketing. “I think you’ll find that Public Relations will do a better job at negotiating those areas, rather than the gloss and pomp department.”

A shriek cuts the air as Maria’s manicured hands find their way around Paul’s throat.

“I don’t give a rats ass who does it. Make it so.” You look off into the distance, wishing you’d mentioned ‘Number Two’ or tried for a better Pickard voice.

Todd Brammers taps on his iPad, darkening the room and illuminating the wide expanse of one of the walls. You wish he would use up to date equipment. He projects several channels of live news reports into spots around the wall. Images of tattered humanoids stumble across the wall. Wide-eyed reporters breathlessly relate to their audiences what they are experiencing—that is, until the shit-covered masses reach the TV crew and the camera is dropped, the operator is dragged away or fled. Real life re-enactments of the Blair Witch Project are relayed on multiple screens. Screams are cut off into gurgling, pathetic drowning sounds. You gulp realising for the first time that something has gone terribly wrong with your invention.

“There is no way of making this go away with marketing OR public relations. Environaut is the cause for all of this. We need to shut down immediately and regroup under Chapter 11.” Todd firmly punches in a series of codes, bringing up spreadsheets and financial documents. The rest of the board stare, nodding and grunting at each other. You’ve no idea what the charts mean. You push your hands through your hair. You realise you don’t even know what Chapter 11 is.

“Fine!” You yell. “ Do the Chapter 11 thing. Shut down production—but I still want my spin happening.” You cling to the J.R. image.

“Will you be coming with us then?” Scott Black, the Head of Mergers and Acquisitions, asks you.

“What? Me? No, Milo and I need to check out the Flux Capacitors and gamma reactors in the proton isolators in the Environaut prototype. Science geek stuff. You know.”

Nods from around the room confirm that none of them understand what that means, but they are all relieved that they have a plan to execute without the CEO breathing down their necks.

“Come on Milo, we need to go.” You grab Milo's coat jacket and shove him through the door.

He explodes with laughter. “What the hell was that in there? Flux capacitors? And you know you still have shit on your forehead from this morning.”

You wipe it off. “If you’re not with me, go back to the boardroom and do whatever Chapter 11 is,” you fume. “This shit has gotten serious. I can’t understand what’s come unraveled and how it's happened so quickly.” You both stride toward the exit.

“So what's the plan, Kimo Sabe?”

“Just start driving. I do my best thinking when I'm on the road.” Your mind is rattling off possibilities, reformulating the plans of the Environaut. “ I think this calls for a drive in the DeLorean.”

Milo clutches your arm, stopping your train of thought. “You mean that thing actually goes?”

You grin. “The amount of money I paid for it, I’ve been guaranteed its an authentic working model.” You stride ahead. 

You and Milo climb into the car and exit the carpark. The outer perimeter of the security fence surrounding the Smart EcoGen HQ is slowly filling with picketers. You drive out as quickly as you can, hoping they won't notice you.

“It can’t be the recycling processors,” you mumble.”That had been tested for years in the earlier versions.” You steer the car onto the freeway and headed south. If nothing else, a trip to Mexico would clear the mind.

“What does this thing do?” Milo pokes a covered switch.

“Surely the diagnostic console didn’t reboot after the—”

“Hey, if I push this, will anything happen?” Milo doesn't wait for an answer and pushes the red, candy-like button. The DeLorean accelerates suddenly. The speedometer slowly creeps up to 88 miles per hour.

“Did you say something about a Flux Capacitor?” Milo grins. ‘Don’t thank me now. Let's go back in time and fix this mess. Then you can shower me with gifts and double my salary.”

The body of the car begins to shake as the inside glows blue. You take your hands off the wheel. You paid a mint for the car, and the previous owner stressed its authenticity. You grin, suddenly thinking of all the dumbass things you are going to fix up on your trip back in time. You decide you will scrap the Environaut and introduce either the Wii or Xbox to the market years before the original developers have a whiff of an idea of the gaming platforms. Hell, you may decide to do both.

Dials on the dashboard spin. “Shit. We need to set a date. Let's set it for when we met at college, convince ourselves not to bother and —”

“Just set the date, idiot. We are nearly at 88 miles per hour.”

“And running out of clear road.” The freeway ends, and you enter suburbia.

The speedometer slowly creeps around as the car surges forward. Tiny blue lights flash within the cabin. You cover your eyes. “It's 88 miles an hour. So long present day. You suck!”

The Delorean slams into the wall of a low set apartment block. Glass splinters as the steering wheel drives its way through your chest. Your ribs shatter as your lungs burst from the sudden impact. Your neck whips back and forth, breaking in the process. It flops to the side as blood seeps out of your nose and mouth. Milo’s body is ripped apart from the impact. Gore hangs in tendrils in what is left of the Delorean.

You seriously didn’t think a flux capacitor exists, did you? Go back to the start and try again.

If you’d like to continue reading this adventure ( on a winning streak) and be part of the decision process, chapters are still being written - so please pop over to Choose Or Die, read the story so far and vote for your favourite option.

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This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge ,  FGC #25 Second Person POV.

Words: 1500

FGC #24 Conflict of the Order.

Telana pushed her fringe back from eyes as she scanned the shadows.  The back of her neck tingled as she sensed the presence of another unnatural. As it dissolved, she breathed out, thankful she didn’t have to face whatever it may have been. The glittering lights of Las Vagas’s infamous strip reflected blindingly in the puddles formed in the dips of the road.She walked resolutely on, her collar flicked upward to protect her from winters final gasp of cool night air.

A group of drunken boys called her over, grasping their desperate hands towards her. She smiled and shook her head, scanning their auras. Nothing a few years of sensible living with a mortgage and kids would fix.

Under a street lamp, she flicked open her fob watch, immediately glancing up at the bar across the road. As she entered, she spotted the one she’d been looking for, alone dirty with guilt and downtrodden. He sat at the bar, ill at ease with his eyes shifting about the room. A half full bottle of scotch sat beside his glass. Telana smiled and glid into a chair beside him, ordering a glass of wine. She undid her coat and slipped it off her shoulders, revealing a glistening white mini dress. The hundreds of embroidered mirrored beads caught the disco lights, swirling iridescent colours around her lithe body.  Folding her coat into a ball on the bar beside her, she then spun in her chair nursing her drink, careful to appear to ignore him as she glanced about the dance floor. He was captivated by her every move.

Telana placed her glass on the bar beside him, tipping and spilling a small quantity on his hand. With a practiced banter, she apologised, blushing perfectly and tenderly wiped the moisture from his hand, dabbing the sleeve of his shirt.

He spoke haltingly, barely believing that he had a beautiful young woman sitting beside him.  She listened intently, hanging on every word until he reached his hand out, stunned when she didn’t shirk away.

“You’re too pretty to be here on your own accord, alone. I know you come with a price tag.”

“We all come with a price tag, Robert. Some are more prominent than others.”

“What’s yours?  Without being too blunt.” He flushed. “I’m sorry, that was rude. I know you must get asked in a lot of ways and a lady of your, I dunno, classiness, doesn’t come cheap.  I just.” He faltered and looked away.

“Its ok Robert. Its been taken care of.”

“Who?”

“Lets not worry about that part of the transaction. We were enjoying ourselves up until money came into the picture.”

“Aint that the truth.”

“You know, Money is”

“The root of all evil? Thats a misquote. Its the love of money thats evil, not the money side of it. God doesn't want you to be poor. I’ve always believed that.” He flushed again and swirled the melting ice in his glass. 

Telana smiled warmly. “I know. Shall we go?” Her fingers lingered on his shoulder and she traced it down his arm.  A tingle shot through his body at her touch. He left his drink at the bar and followed her through the gyrating masses. She flung her coat at his chest, pushing him away as a fist clawed its way from the crowd towards him.

“Leaving so quickly Angel?” A heavily muscled blond man towered over Telana.”Leave that jerk and come with us.” As he lifted his arm to grasp her, a body barrelled from the sidelines, knocking him over. Her rescuers cowboy boots landed a heavy kick into the blond mans prone state. Telana hid a smile as she grasped Roberts’ hand and led him out onto the street.

“Ahh, what was that - trouble?” He stammered looking back into the bar.

Tracing her finger on his cheek. “Nothing we need to be concerned about. Shall we?  I have a room next door.” She guided him toward a boutique hotel, tucked into a side street.

The hotel clerk held a key toward her as he continued to read the newspaper. Robert stumbled behind Telana, his heart hammering in anticipation and fear. A man past his middle ages, he had long lost the battle for his college football star body.  She undressed slowly, allowing him to fumble awkwardly at her body. Her encouraging tone and smiling face belied her distaste for this part of her job. Telana thanked her creator for the small mercy that Robert was both out of shape and at such a heightened state of arousal, their love making lasted scant moments. She kissed his forehead, sending him into a deep sleep. Although she had powers of attraction available for her disposal, she had learnt the many tricks of her trade, not to have to use them. Instead, she reserved her powers for instant sleep in order to get her true job done.

Telana carefully slipped out of the bed and went to the bathroom to scrub herself clean. She padded naked across the room and fished out a small bundle from her coat pocket. She rolled out the soft leather case onto the sheet beside Roberts’ sleeping form. Exquisite scalpels, tiny elongated forks and small knives make from crystal caught the bedside alarm light, sending tiny stars onto the ceiling. he held her hands out over his body and tugged at his aura, pulling at the invisible chains of guilt, loathing and hate which trapped his soul.

She fought back tears as she stripped away his earliest hurtful memories. A mother who dies too early, father who resented the presence of a child, constantly reminding him that his wife was long cold in the ground.

Robert’s beginning was so alike hers. She stroked the memory of his mothers smile watching it glow and shimmer, placing it straight into his heart. His face softened as he slept. His soul awakened, yawning and stretching upward.

Telana continued to cut slithers though the chains around his body. Dark patches of jealousy shrouded his judgement, spite smothered empathy. She carefully separated the darkened chains from the tiny glimmers of hope until the floor was covered in tendrils of oozing hate. Telana picked up a tiny pearl from her kit and threw it into the midst of the swirling dark emotion. A crack appeared in the floor, sucking the negative energies into the deepest realms of hell.

She slumped into the chair under the window, exhausted with the effort this repair had taken. Robert shifted in his slumber, a small giggle emitting from his lips. Telana often wished she could see what happened after she had left; but knew that once a soul had been repaired, it found the true light and would follow in the path toward God.

Her fob watch glowed and vibrated. She flicked it open to reveal a compass face and physically groaned when she saw her next assignment.  Telana swiftly collected her instruments and wrapped her dress about her, securing it at the waist. She picked up her shoes and coat, sliding out the door silently. 

Shiny cowboy boots polished within an inch of sparkle tapped impatiently outside the room. Her heart skipped a beat. “You’ve missed your chance Twain. He has been saved.” 

“Why do you always assume the worst with me?” He pushed himself off the wall and smiled revealing perfect white teeth. His elongated canines pressed against his lower lip.

“You are damned Twain. With no soul and no redeeming features.”

“And yet you always take the time to speak to me. I like that. The ever positive angel, always trying to poach another one for her boss.”

“Can we not have this conversation so publicly?”

“Sure. My truck is parked across the road.”

Telana hesitated. “I owe you my thanks. For stepping in back at the bar. They took me by surprise.”

A toothpick twirled in Twains lips. “Couldn’t let one of those Greek boys muscle into your catch. Coffee?”

“I’ve got another job. I want to get it done before - “

“The Greek lads do? Don’t you think Vegas will get to him first?” 

“I shouldn’t be talking to you. I need to go.”

“I’ll take you. The least I can do for holding you up.”

Telana allowed herself to be led to his pickup truck and climbed in. She wriggled into her coat and slid her feet into her shoes before buckling up.

Twain cocked an eyebrow. “You’ve been down here too long. Gone native.”

“Its against the law not to have a seat belt.”

“If we have an accident, its not like its going to hurt you.”

She crossed her arms and fumed. “I knew it was a mistake to let you talk me into giving me a lift. I can’t think when I’m round you. You drive me crazy.”

“I thought angels had more patience than a saint?  Or is that just a saying?” his tousled hair hung in his eyes as he winked at her.

She refused to look at him, unable to guarantee she could control her true feelings. 

So where can I take you in this big ol town? Twain negotiated the truck out onto the road.

She flicked her fob open. “Caesars Palace”

Twain gripped the wheel dropping his casual front. “Look, I know you think we are on the opposite sides of this war, but take it from me, you don’t want to go in there on your own like - “ he gestured up and down at her. “The Gods of Olympus have a stronghold in that place, and you’ll get eaten up; literally.”

“Why should you care?”

Twain changed lanes and stared at the road ahead. His jaw twitched as the internal argument raged inside. “I’ve been a soul seeker for longer than you have been an angel. Don’t try and deny it. I doubt you’ve even gotten your silver wings yet.”  he checked her response, the side of his mouth jerked momentarily as she flushed.  “Do you realise that this is the longest conversation we have had  in the five years we have known each other?”

Telana uncrossed her arms. “I’d hardly say we knew each other”

“More is the shame.”

Damned straight she shrieked silently. “Twain, I shouldn’t even been talking to you. Being this close to you. Soul Seekers are plain evil beings.”

“Why do you think you aren’t allowed to know about Soul Seekers?  What my kind do?”

“Just when I thought we cold skirt around our differences, and be civilised, you have to bring it up. Are we nearly there yet?”

“Telana, we do the same thing. Our methods may be different, but ultimately, its the same”

Her lip upturned. “It would be un-angelic of me to sneer, but really? Your kind kill and feed on humans, trapping their souls and enslaving their bodies. Everyone knows that.”

“and thats the sort of tripe Hollywood and the church will keep perpetuating.”

“Then tell me. Make me understand. What you do?”

“Like you, I sent humans free from their chains. We let them choose their destiny without influencing them with silvery sparkles.”

Telana glared at him. “I don’t use my powers to influence anyone. They are healed and come to me of their own accord. They then find God on their own accord.”

“And thats why you and I should work together, against the real enemy.”

“I can’t work with a vampire. Your kind are all evil.”

“And Las Vagas hookers are hardly saintly.”

Telana opened her mouth, but had no words. Tears sprung to her eyes. How could she ever expect to know real love, to have a partner who could care about her after the years she had spent doing this job?

Twain pulled up opposite Ceasars Palace. “Many truths make us who we really are to our Creator.” He slowly reached over and put his hand on hers. “What matters is inside. Our enthusiasm for the job we have. Do you think I have always been this way? It has its advantages, but hell, its got its disadvantages too.”

A tear slid down her cheek. “I do what I do because its my job. When God asks you to do something, you don’t question it - even if its being a hooker in Las Vagas.”

“I remember sunshine. I can smell it in your hair. I gave up so many things so I could serve a great force. Something bigger than just me.”

“So, we both freeing humanity?”

Twain pulled the toothpick out of his mouth. “Yep, one at a time, so that they can choose independently. And we use our powers to do so enthusiastically.”

“Enthusiasm as a hooker?”

“Did you know it comes from the greek word, ‘theos’?’ as in ‘in - theos’ -  in God? You do what you do with Gods blessing.”

“Want to go and kick some Greek butt and free a few souls?”

“After you.”

Telana applied her glossy lipstick and puffed her hairstyle up again. Linking arms with Twain, they strode into Ceasars, not knowing what would happen, but that at least, they would do it together.

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This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge ,  FGC #24 Urban fantasy.

Words: 2200

Noticing the blessings along the Journey FGC #23

A journey honours the realisation

of changes made

Never forget your dreams

Prepare for your passion

Face day and night

Share like the luckiest people

You want to rebuild

choose your way.

A solid foundation

so beautiful

is ahead.

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This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge ,  FGC #23 Found Poem.

This is a new format to me. I found a definition on Creative Writing Now  which best describes this genre. "A found poem uses language from non-poetic contexts and turns it into poetry. Think of a collage -- visual artists take scraps of newspaper, cloth, feathers, bottle caps, and create magic."

I flicked through the pages of "Road Ahead" - a Motoring Magazine focusing on cars, engines and motoring holidays, cutting out headings as they struck me. Collating it, I asked for personal guidance in my life's journey - having struck some road blocks and challenges.... and these words strung together; giving me a meaningful message. 

I've taken a photo of my collage - and also written it for clarity.

Forgive the Sin of Knowledge FGC #22

"You hold your sins as though they are armour. "

"You say that as though its a bad thing."

"They’re your downfall. "

"I don’t regret a thing."

"Even now? Here?"

"I see judgement in every eye staring at me. Not a spec of forgiveness, there’s no empathy, no love." 

"Your ego and pride stop you from seeing the truth. It always has. Please Ayah, without admitting your sins, there is no hope. Think of your family, think of me."

"Knowledge is never a sin."

"You can’t be saved without asking for forgiveness. Please."

"What I have done or not done is between the One and I. Only He has the power to pass judgment. I can only pray what I have done set the path for change in others."

"Ayah, you do understand what’s at stake?"

"Our entire civilisation refusing to question what is beyond our borders, to understand other cultures."

"Enough of the rebellious speech Ayah. Its over. "

"It may be for you."

"Your choices are an eternity in the depths of darkness or to be saved into the arms of the One. Your soul is at stake. Please. For the ones you love. Admit and save yourself."

"I have said my peace. I know where I am going. Do you Rueban?  Really? I’m only the first of those who will stand up to you and your obsessive religious fervour. It’s you who should be worried."

"Then there is nothing else to be said. Open the hatch Brother Midshipman. Let us pray for the lost soul of Ayah Minton. Fear the darkness of space and of the unknown beyond."

"All Hail he One. Fear the darkness of space and of the unknown beyond."

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This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge ,  FGC #22 Dialogue Only

Words - 284

This was also submitted to Friday Flash 

Giri - FGC #21

She had long strong fingers. They probed deeply into Candice’s lower back, exploring the knotted muscles, pressing exquisitely into painful areas before releasing, allowing pure blissful relaxation. Candice wasn’t sure if it felt so good simply because it wasn’t hurting any longer.

“You’re new.” A statement not a question.

The probing faltered momentarily, the touch lighter for a second.

“I’ve been away for a while.” The digging continued.

Candice rolled onto her side and caught the hand before it could withdraw. Her towel slipped revealing a breast. Both women drew a breath and regarded one another. 

Candice slowly smiled and released the hand. She sat up and pulled her towel up to cover bare flesh. “Away huh? Must have been some holiday. What’s your name?”

“Roz” she stumbled.

“I’ve had enough today. Make sure you are free this time tomorrow. I’ll be asking for you.”

Roz lowered her eyes, the flush rising to her cheeks. There was a time, she’d never have given the time of day to a woman like this. “Thanks Mrs Haynes. I’ll be outside if you need me.”

Candice swung her legs off the massage table and stood naked, not even attempting to reach for her robe.”That a promise?”

Roz closed the door behind her, clenching her fists and biting a lip.  Toya looked up from her magazine. “Is she ready for her manicure yet?” Roz nodded. “I’m going to clock off. She was my last client.” Toya picked up her kit. “Suit yourself. I’ll be about 20 mins if you want to get a drink?” Roz shook her head and grabbed her back before heading out through the glass doors.

XXXXXXX

Roz feigned interest in the abstract art displayed in the hotel foyer, acutely aware her pale purple tunic uniform stood out in stark contrast to the whispering silks and luxurious furs which floated past. She was angry at herself for wanting to see Candice again, even if it was from afar. A warm, spicy presence slid up behind her.

“Roslyn? Rose? Rosetta? I think you may be right. Roz suits you best.” Candice regarded her through long lashes.

“Mrs Haynes; I -” Roz’s heart hammered. she licked her dry lips as her eyes fixated on Candices glossy red pout.

“Put this jacket on. I’m buying you a drink.”

Sitting down in the corner of the bar, Roz toyed with her softdrink. Candice sipped her cocktail, her hand finding Roz’s knee. Tenderly she traced a circle on the top. Roz lent across to Candice , hissing, “You don’t think I don’t know what you are trying to do?  Play out your lesbian fantasy with something you can pick up and throw away like garbage?  Then you can run on back to your sugar daddy or whoever the fuck pays your bills. I am not that person, so get your hands away from me and don’t come back to the salon.”

Candice pulled out a cigarette and lit it. “Now see thats where you are wrong. We are both very much the same. Trapped in a place neither of us wanted or dreamt about. Forced to play the parts of people we don’t like. Both of us are meant of better things. Away from here. And I will be back. You know you want to see me again.”

Roz caught her breath as she stared at Candice. Her body, now tightly wrapped in the latest fashions, was now twice as desirable as it was when she was naked on her massage table. “You got the wrong girl. I need to leave. If I get caught here, talking to you -  I’ll get fired.” Roz struggled to stand.

Candice put her hand on Roz’s. “Rose Lyn Ferrier. 27 years old. Jailed for 5 years for the Chiveld Jewellery Hoist. Out after 2 years for good behaviour. Self professed lesbian and known accomplice to Sugar Lil. Accused, but never sentenced for countless other artwork and jewellery robberies across the state.” She squeezed the cold hand. “ Oh, I think I have the right girl.”

Slumping into her seat, Roz shook her head. “So much for the frigging slate being wiped clean after you get out.”

“Don’t look behind you, but I’m being followed right now. My husband controls everything I do, where I go, every moment of my life. He thinks I am having an affair.” Candice raised her empty glass to the bartender to signal another round. “Idiot doesn’t realise I‘ve been taking the pill for months. He’s desperate to get me banged up, breeding, a house full of kids.” Candice’s eyes suddenly welled, her bravado crumbling,” I can’t do  it. I know thats what most women want but its not me. I want to choose.”

“Mrs Haynes, its been very nice sitting with you, but I can’t see what I have to do with any of this.” Rozs' eyes slid around the bar. Two men in suits sat with near full drinks in front of them. Her shoulders sagged. “Can’t you just say something? He’s your husband - I mean its the 21st century for Christ sake its not like you are a 50’s housebound bride.”

Taking a swig from her newly deposited drink, Candice shook her head. “He’s THE Gerrard Haynes.”

Roz stared. “Millionaire type, Gerrad Haynes? You guys live the high life. What are you doing here?”

“Some dumb conference he is opening and then we are stuck here for a fortnight while he does the rounds at the schools and colleges. I’d trade it in a second. But I can’t leave. I got no family, no money, nowhere to go. Just him.”

Opening her jacket so Candice could see her uniform, Roz smiled, “Look at me, learn a trade - get some dummy papers, its not the highlife, but its a life. One I chose. You could do that.”

“Roz, its no accident I walked into your salon. I did my research. I knew you’d be the one to help me get out. Get papers, whatever. Please, get me out and away from him.”

“Well, You need a heap of money for what you are asking. Need time to plan things. But, I don’t do any of that any more. I am dead to my old life. I’ve made a new start.”

“Wait Roz. Its not just about me. My husband - he’s not a good person. You know he’s not all that clean?”

“Not really that interested in your bedroom life.”

“He is made out to be this philanthropist doing all this charity stuff. He rips them off. The Charity, the people who sign up. All those orphans who are supposed to have money sent to them, to improve those orphanages never get a cent. You remember those places don’t you Roz? Cold showers,  thin blankets, no food.”

Roz shuddered recalling the beatings, solitary confinement and endless chores she suffered at the hands of the nuns.

Candice traced a pattern on the table from the condensation dripping off her drink. “What he is doing isn’t right. Those kids deserve better. You deserve better. You could help other kids have a better life.  I need your help to expose him.”

“I’m sorry, I can’t. I’m not going back to the slammer. The girls in there - make me look like a marshmallow. I’m straight now.” She grinned half heartedly - “You know what I mean.”

Candice stood. “Think it over. Help me, help the kids. Don't you wish someone had done it for you? Its your duty to isn't in? Bring down one bastard who deserves everything he gets.” She traced a heart on Roz’s hand before gliding out of the bar.

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The next week overflowed with secret trysts; Candice always careful with meeting places and times. She didn’t mention the orphanages or her husband during their love making. For the first time, Roz felt she had connected with someone who was kind, loving and considerate. She fought the urge to be the first to suggest they leave their current lives together to build new ones. At night, she schemed and calculated how to make it - them - work.

A week since they met, the pair lay entwined across a king sized bed. Roz’s lips tingled as a flicker of a tongue crossed over lips. Candice’s breath sweet, musky warm air between them, filled her with renewed desire.

“We could just stay like this - you and me. Discrete.” Roz refused to look at Candice, fearful of what her face might reveal after her suggestion. 

Candice stroked her head. “I wish we could. But Gerrard wants me to have a baby. Once I do, nothing will be possible or the same. Please Roz. I can’t. I can’t let him touch me any more, not after you.” tears welled and grew in her eyes. “The thought of a creature growing inside me, clawing to get out, ripping me apart and then suckling mewling and helpless. I can’t” 

Roz pushed a stray hair out of her face, catching the tear on her finger. “What can we do then?”

Candice sat up. “He is exchanges a work of art for a replicas and then donates them to Art Galleries. Pays off the authorities who have signed to say its real.” 

“And the real ones are ?”

“Rolled up and sold to a private collector.”

“But how is this going to help us?” 

“Its time to expose him and run. He has a Van Gough to auction off for the Children's Fund. We can take the real one with us. We may be poor and got rotten jobs in some hillbilly town, but we will have each other. Meanwhile he will have alot of explaining to do from the authorities, and the collector. All we need to do is to tip off the authorities, cause a  ruckus, it will give us the space to get out.”

Roz rolled onto her stomach. “This ruckus needs to be high profile. Mr Haynes - he is top end of the strip.” 

Candice clicked her fingers “ The strip - He is doing some promo for the Childrens Charity in two days on the Glitter Strip where the painting is going to be displayed. Everyone who is anyone will be there.”

“So whats your plan Candice - neither of us are computer savy enough to hack into his presentation?”

Candice shrieked in laughter - “As if anyone could do that in the first place.”

“How about doing some sort of text message at same time to give everyone there the info about his underhand dealings?”

“You watch too many movies. What we will do is the simplest thing. Start a rumour about the authenticity by word of mouth. I know some gossips who can’t keep their mouth shut. Once one of the art critics takes a good look at the painting, and has a questioning look, he will want to leave. We never go in the same car - Michael will probably chauffeur me we can meet up and take off from there - he won’t miss me for at least 12 hours.”

Roz frowned. “This is dangerous ground we are going into. There is no turning back. Trust no-one till we are thousands of miles away, with new haircuts and identities. This is the real deal - we aren’t in some sort of action movie.  Listen, if I get caught, I’m straight back into the slammer. This time no chance of parole. I can’t blow it. I’m not going back for anything.”  

“I know you want out as much as I do. We do this, and we are both free.” Candice traced a finger down Roz’s arm picking out the tribal tattoo entwining her bicep. It twisted around kanji. She pressed it. "Hmm. 'giri'  Seems we have a duty to do this. We will be together forever afterwards.”

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In the alleyway outside the convention centre, laughter and music lilted their way around the two figures hunched in the shadows.  Roz handed Candice a small pack of paperwork and cards. “Our new I.D’s; untraceable and near perfect.”

Candice unrolled a small canvas sheet. The women stared at it. 
“Its alot smaller than I’d imagined.”

“Its worth how much?”

Candice snorted and rolled it up again. “Beauty and art is in the beholders eye. Here, you keep a hold of it.” She slid the I.D’s into a handbag and swung it over her shoulder. “Lets get out of here.”

Two dark suited men sprang from the dumpster and hoisted Roz by the arms, slamming her against the wall. One of them flashed a police badge while the other grabbed the artwork from her trembling hands.

“Sorry darlin. Every girl for herself. Once a thief, always a thief.”

Candice stepped gracefully into a sleek MBW Z4 and slid on a pair of sunglasses. “Trust no-one. Duty means shit.”

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This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge ,  FGC #21 Noir Submission

Words - 2000

This was also submitted to Friday Flash  ( though technically its a bit long for a flash.)

Traitors Truth FGC (2012) #20

Hair hung over the prisoners eyes. His head bowed as a thin line of blood and drool languidly reached his lap. The cold muzzle of a laser gun pressed into his chin and forced it upward. The guard leered, flashing a mouth of silver teeth. A shiver of fabric moved behind the guard as a newcomer stepped into view.

“So this is the pretender.”  Hands which had never seen battle or hard work placed themselves on hips swathed in expensive cloth.

The prisoner brought his eyes to meet the new interrogator. “I am Prince Fekhe, son of Emperor Seth, Nephew to the usurped Prince Regent Ricco. Brother to Prince Zane and to Queen Elspeth. ” He spat blood onto the metal floor. “Your wife. I am the rightful ruler, by virtue of birth; Not you, riding on the slipstream of murder and treachery. ”

“Prince Fekhe and Zane disappeared when they were chldren.” Emperor Rory coloured as his hands slowly gripped into a fist. “You are accused of treason, of raising an army against your Emperor and falsifying your identity. Your court case has been nothing short of a circus act.”

Fekhe smiled. “And here we are. Behind closed doors and away from the legal system you so dearly love. You have had nothing to prove I am not who I say I am. You can’t discredit me. You can’t ignore who I am.”

Growling,the guard brought the flat of his gun across Fekhe’s jaw. “Stand before your Emperor.”

Rory winced as blood gushed from Fekhe nose, but immediately controlled his reaction. Fekhe swayed but managed to continue to stand. The two mens eyes burnt into each other.  Rory stepped closer hissing. “You don’t look like a prince to me. A monkey is fine clothes. Falsified fingerprints, altered DNA from one of the outlaw colonies with questionable scientific practices. You may look like him, but you are no prince.”

A polite cough interrupted his barrage. “The United Treaty is very clear about the treatment of all prisoners.”

Rory breathed in his retort and pushed the prisoner back into his seat. Turning with a thin smile he acknowledge the Cardinal and court recorders in the corner, his eyes flickering momentarily to the blank reflective wall behind them. “And you can all be assured this prisoner will be dealt within the appropriate manner.” 

Fekhe wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Where was the United Treaty when my brother was murdered in this very building? Why was there never a public out cry or investigation?”

Glaring at Fekhe, Rory hissed again, “You would be best to stay silent.”

Fekhe laughed mirthlessly. “Or what?  How can my situation possibly get any worse?”  He stared at the dull reflective wall hiding officials from the court. “ By my Gods, I hope this investigation is being beamed live to every corner of the known universe. Let the people decide who is telling the truth, who has things to hide.”

Rory stormed out of the room realising that the longer he stayed, the more opportunity Fekhe had in gaining sympathy and groundswell sympathy for his case. He passed the glass window open onto the interrogation room, noting the stony silence of his mother  as she stared straight into the room. Her body was stiff and unrelenting as he approached and laid his hands on her shoulders.

“You need to finish this Rory. Its become more than an inconvenience. Every day he lives as Prince Fekhe, your grip on the Empire loosens. I will not see war again. Not in my lifetime.” 

His court members melted out of the room, leaving the two figures to stare into the brightly lit interrogation room. Rory drew himself high and breathed in, refusing to look at his mother. “There are times, mother, I think you have plotted your entire life just to be the mother of the Emperor. That everything you have done was for that purpose and not for me at all.”

“I serve the people, Rory. You would do well to do the same.”

Froth formed at Rory’s mouth as he pointed into the room. “He is not Prince Fehke. He has no right to the Empire.”

Constance stood and smoothed her gown. “I have little doubt who is acting as an Emperor aught right now.” She glid past him, her train whispering past his feet. A stab of horror rushed through him as he suddenly saw his mother in a new light. Scheming, manipulative; a the spider in a huge web encompassing the empire.

Straight to the skift waiting on the private dock. He slumped into the seat and glared at his advisor as he settled into the seat opposite. As the hatches hissed to a close, Rory squeezed the bridge of his nose and exhaled.  “I thought that being the ruler meant I could do as I pleased. Treat people the way I felt they needed to be treated.” He glared at the silent advisor, “Conduct my justice system the way I felt it best suited.”

“I’m sorry, my Lord that’s not the case at all.”

Rory pounded the arms of his chair and gripped his chin as he fixed his stare out the window. His city lay beneath them as they sped over the highrises.

“I’ve more news which may not sit well.”

Rory snorted. “My day can’t get any worse.”

“I’m afraid it may, my Lord. The ambassador for Queen Aquaitannia of NewSpain has suddenly arrived with a horde of lawyers to discuss the marriage between your son and their Eissabella. You must know that they’ve been following the rumours of the pretender for some time and before you became Emperor, the Lanx family and theirs were closely linked.”

Before Rory could explode further, the Skift came to a halt and its doors opened slowly. Attendants bowed offering hot towels and cool refreshments. 

The advisor indicated with a sweeping arm. “I’ve arranged for the ambassador and his entourage to await your pleasure in the Northern Gardens.”

Grasping a towel and patting his face, Rory grunted, “We will go directly. No use in avoiding the inevitable.”  

Rory painted a thin smile cross his face as the doors opened into the gardens. Music stopped and all of the palace attendants bowed as the Emperor strode in. He sat in the largest lounger and gestured for the guests to take their seats.”Antonio Pergissi. Welcome again to Botania. Forgive me for not greeting you when you arrived. I was otherwise occupied.”

Antonio bowed low. “Emperor. Thank you for receiving us so early. To be blunt, we are not interested in your petty family squabbles. As I’ve come to discuss the agreements of the marriage between our royal families. My Queen has some concerns as these new developments you are exploring may deter this indefinitely.”

Rory bit into an apple and chewed deliberately. “ Don’t tell me that Queen Aquiatainnia is entertaining the thought that this pretender is legitimate? Please assure her that we take our justice system very seriously and are ensuring that there can be no mistake when the final decision is made on his claims.” 

“Prince Fekhe is very convincing. It brings many questions up.”

“The prisoner is a clear fraud. Don’t refer him with any royal title. We don’t even know what his real name is.”

“It would be more palatable, for everyone, if the disappearances of Prince Fekhe and Prince Zane were solved.”

Rory slammed his arms on the chair. “Damn it. That happened before my reign even began. The Gods only know what happened to those two boys when their uncle took them into protective custody. I was in exile for the Gods sake.”

Pergissi cocked an eyebrow smiling, “And Prince Regent Ricco proclaimed himself ruler, the boys disappeared without a royal burial or any investigation. Seems odd, even for this planet; wouldn't you agree?” Rory crunched loudly into his apple glowering at the ambassador as he held court with the tale everyone had heard.  “The Prince Regent Ricco is then defeated by your armies and you are advised to marry the boys sister Elspeth to forge your royal claim. So neat. Tidy.”

“Your point Ambassador?”

“Only that Queen Aquiatainnia is concerned about stability. Our colonies and empires work on a suspicious level of trust at best. She needs to be reassured that there will be no surprises. She is thinking of her people. War is such an expensive and mindless waste of resources. Especially if it is merely family squabbles.” 

Rory flicked the apple core behind him and drained a glass of wine. “ I couldn't agree more Ambassador. Reassure your queen that this matter will be brought to an end quickly and we can discuss more enjoyable topics shortly.”  He waved him away and ordered more wine, indicating clearly that the audience was at an end.

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After Ambassador Pergissi had overseen his personal belongings settled into his quarters, he wandered amongst the halls and found himself in a large room, comfortably furnished with sofas and a roaring fireplace. The Advisor beckoned him over and handed him a warmed cup of the planets liqueur.  “You’ve come at an inopportune time I am afraid. Our court is not at its best. I can assure you that it will be resolved within days. ”

Pergissisi took a sip. “ No need for such gentleness. We all have our spys everywhere.”

Pouring himself a drink, the advisor smiled nervously at the ambassador.  “Then you know in next few days the pretender will be discredited and executed. No-one is concerned.” 

“If the Emperor is not concerned, then why is he personally overseeing the interrogation? Why does the Queen sit outside every day?”

The advisor looked toward the door and sat beside Pergissi.” Its true your spies are the best in the empire then. Fekhe knows things. Family specific events only someone who had been there would know. He knows of private moments, jokes and nicknames. The Queen has been brought to tears with those memories.”

“Trickery, surely. He may been trained by someone.” 

The advisor took a long sip and stared into the fire. “You cannot buy memories. Not the shared experiences of siblings.”

“Our Eissabella will marry the next in line to the throne; be it this Prince Fekhe or Rorys lad.Its up to me to decide where our allegiance aught to lay.”

The advisor hook his head. “Who ever he is, this Fehke’s existence threatens the fragile peace we hold. Emperor Rory is not well loved. A resurgence of loyalty to a dead lineage is not what we can control.”

Pergissi nodded. “The outer colonies flocked to his charismatic charm, to his fine clothes and promises of equality. It will be most intriguing what will unfold. Regardless of the outcome sir, our roles will remain unchanged. The ruler - whoever they are, needs advisors and ambassadors.”

The men drained their glasses, nodded to one another and made their way to their bedchambers.

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The lights in Fekhe’s cell had not been dimmed for the evening when the door slid open. He turned his head to appraise his visitor, surprised to see Constance stride in, leaving her guards on the outside. 

“Don’t bother to stand. I am only here for a moment.” She withdrew a tablet from her coat and waved her hand over the dark glass display. “Your wife and sons have been welcomed into the city.” An image of a room within the palace focused, showing a security display of his family unpacking and exploring the space. “They are unharmed and will remain so as long as you listen carefully to what I have to say.”

Fekhe gripped his knees, forcing them to be still. “I’m listening.”

Constance regarded him for long moments. “You’ve done well for yourself. Gathering the sympathy of colonies who feel they have been left in the cold. Gaining the hand of the Princess of Scoshia was a masterful touch. You must have put on quite a show.”

“What is it that you want?”

“Peace.”

Fehke stared at her, unable to comprehend the word.

She flicked her hand over the screen again. Images of riots and angry crowds in streets flickered past. ” These are scenes my spies have sent me over the last day. The outer colonies want answers. They want a ruler and justice system they can rely on. You have been a thorn in our side for months, unsettling the delicate balance this empire has with peace. If it is found you are Prince Fehke, we will have civil war. Entire cities will be risk. Our empire will not only fight itself, but allow the outer worlds to invade. We must remain strong, united.”

“I am Prince Fekhe. You can’t deny that. Deny me my right to rule.” 

“You will be executed regardless. If you die as a royal, your family will be hunted down. Your sons will never know a nights sleep. They will live in constant fear.”

“And if I die as a commoner?”

“If you admit your pretence, your family will live within this palace as guests. After all, they are royalty in their own right. You have my word.”

She turned on her heel and left, the door sealing shut as he began to weep.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Later that evening, a hiss woke Fekhe as he lay uncomfortably on the cold stretcher in his cell. He watched as the figures huddled in the doorway; their whispers too feint for him to make out the conversation. The bulkier figure stepped away, leaving the door open as the slighter one fidgeted before rushing in.

The dim night lights within his cell allowed him to see Queen Elspeth only as she knelt beside him. He stared into her clear blue eyes as she tentatively reached her hand out and brushed back his fringe. “I knew it was you the moment I saw you.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “There’s not much time. I only wish I had more to talk to you.”

Fekhe grasped her hand and pushed himself up. “What are you doing here?”

Her top lip quivered, “I can get you out, smuggle you away. My husband will kill you.” She put her hand on his chest. “ I’ve lost you once. I couldn’t bear the thought that I can save you only to allow -”

“Where would I run to?  What would I do?  I am who I am and I must believe that justice will prevail.”

Tears ran freely down her face. “Damn it Fekh, Why are you always so stubborn? You were as a boy and now - Take the chance to escape. Please. For me.”

“What about my wife, my sons? I can’t run and protect them. I am the rightful ruler; by blood. But our Empire needs peace.”

“You don’t think the Emperor knows that? That the colonies are on the verge of uprisal, just waiting for the excuse to follow you?”

Fehke gently took her hand and kissed it. “My tender hearted sister. Peace has its price. Its bigger than just one individual. We will always know who I am and was. But for peace to have a chance. I need to be the deceiver.” 

Elspeth laid her head on his chest and sobbed. Her shoulders heaved as she drew gasps of air. Fekhe laid his cheek on her head and rubbed her back.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

He was woken roughly the next morning and not allowed to wash or change clothes. Guards pushed him through the series of passageways until they reached a large open space. Giant screens captured the beading of sweat on his forehead and the anguished look knitting his brow as he stood in front of the panel of judges. His eyes found Elspeth, whose face was puffy from crying. She had her arm around his wife who looked confused and panicked. 

Fekhe looked directly at the Emperor. “I committed treason against my ruler by taking on the identity of a royal and raising sympathy for my false cause. I was born a commoner, the son of a ships mechanic. I pray to my Gods for their mercy as I expect none from this court.”

Rory leapt to his feet and punched the air with his fists. “Traitor, by the powers of this court I sentence you to immediate execution.”

Elspeth withdrew from the balcony and collapsed against her lady in waiting. Huge heaving sobs racked her body.

Fekh turned and allowed the guards to push him toward the platform. His body was numb as they placed his hands on the large orbs. He closed his eyes as he whispered prayers to his Gods. It would be over shortly. The pain of his life would end. he felt the platform raise and halt, knowing that the scene would be beamed across the Empire. A bolt of energy pulsed through his body. He jolted as his muscles contracted and expanded rapidly.  Fekh found he was unable to move. The magnetic field surrounded his body and held it in place. 

A slight head movement from the Emperor signalled the final step with the execution. A huge bolt of pure energy pulsed into the magnetic field, incinerating the body held within it. The blue magnetic field evaporated as the last flake of blackened ash fell to the floor.

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This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge , #20 Space Opera.

Words - 2886

This was also submitted to Friday Flash  ( though technically its a wee bit long for a flash.. it kind of just kept growing)