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.

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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.

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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)

Boots and Simnel Cake FGC (2012) #14

First light filtered lazily in through the attic window. I am glad that winter has finally left its grasp of us. The damp, constant present of chilled draughts surrounding me has only been replaced b the lack of ventilation and heat radiating from the roof tiles.  But I am thankful all the same. With no fireplace in winter, I’m nearly crushed by the weight of any material I can use to cover myself, thought the shivering generally means it finds it way to the floor in the early hours of the morning. In the summertime, I must cope with the sweltering evenings. Spring, especially May, is my favourite time of year. Especially today.

I throw the covers from me and push myself up. The rough floor boards are freezing.  I creep over to the water-set and splash a small amount of liquid into the deep bowl.  My fingers trace the chipped rim and run down to circle the delicate floral design on the side. It’s more grand than anything the Reeve in my home village may have had, despite the cracks and chips.

I glance upwards and give thanks for the kindness her Ladyship has shown me. Although the food is far less appetising than what is served on the Lord’s table, at least I know I have a meal every day. Much more than most folk can say.

I tease out the tiny sliver of soap from its dish and make a luxurious lather before scrubbing my face clean.  I try not to feel a tingle of pride as my fingers whisper along the skin on my face. A maid’s work is hard with long hours, but it keeps me out of the harsh sun. My complexion is still as dewy as a twelve year olds and for that I give further thanks for my position at the Manor.

I slip on my best dress. Its cold as it shimmies down my frame and I realise that its a little tight across the chest. The moment I wonder if Thomas would notice, I blush deeply and put the baker’s apprentice out of my mind.

I loosen my hair from the thick plat and brush it fiercely with the whale bone comb the young mistress flung out the window in one of her rages. I flick my hair up, sweeping it into a bun and secure it tightly on my crown, ensuring no wisps escape around my ears. Her Ladyship will inspect all of the staff before they set off to their Mother Churches this morning. She warned us that if a thread or hair were out of place, she would not allow us to leave as it would bring shame on her name.

I decide to loop a shawl around my shoulders as it will hide the puckered material across my chest. With my sturdiest boots in my hand, I creep down the stairs and make my way down to the kitchen. Dawn has just broken and I can only imagine her Ladyships displeasure should she be woken by my clomping heels above her. 

I shiver with delight, anticipating the freedom once I leave the Manor Gates. The world is seen through the gratings of the kitchen windows or from atop in my attic room. I see the well to do folk promenade up and down the streets, hear the hiss and crackle of the gas lanterns at night. One day a year I too can experience this world outside the Manor.

Nellie smiles at me as I enter the huge kitchen. She pokes the roaring fire and sucks on her pipe as she points to the steaming kettle set on the table. Blowing a stream of smoke from her nose, I stifle a giggle as I try not to verbalise her dragon nickname.  I bob a thanks to her and make a cup of herbal tea.  Nellie likes to think she is above the rest of us girls and forces us to cursty first thing in the mornings; as if she was the Mistress of the Manor. 

“Yer Simnel Cake is over there luv. It come out real nice too. Shows a dumb cluck like you can learn somethin’ other than to mop a floor.”

 I bite back a retort and smile demurely. “Thanks to your good teaching Miss Nellie. My Mam will be pleased.” My herbal tea steeps, its aromatic smoke winds its way around my head. 

“Best be on yer way then. You’ve two good hours walk ahead of you to get home and them church bells wait for no-one.”

I look toward the doorway. “But her Ladyship. She - “

Nellie drew a huge breath in through her pipe and formed rings as she exhaled slowly. The other two housegirls crept in and bobbed their greetings.

“Her Ladyship is indisposed this morning. Put me in charge of your morals and whatnot.” Nellie tapped out the ash of her pipe on her shoe. She squinted at the three of us. “I don’t reckon I needs to be telling you how to behave today.”

I shook my head vigorously. A tiny bead of sweat tricked down my back. The only day in the year house staff were allowed to leave the Manor was Mothering Sunday.  Christmas, Easter and all other festivals were simply days were there were more guests to feed and clean up after. I chide myself for feeling so hard done by.  Other members of my extended family were taken in as apprentices in factories or continue to work on the land in farms and dairies. Although its true that in no other trade that there is  a lack of personal freedom, I remind myself that the benefits of living under the care of the Manor far outweighs the limitations.  Her Ladyship does not tolerate friendships around the kitchen table, with certainly no laughing or horse play at any time. We work from the time we wake at dawn through till at least 10.30 at night; ceasing only for a meal break. I miss the sunshine, though in London, the grey days never extend to bright skies. Our only break of the week is the walk to church and bible study afterwards. I give thanks again for our Ladyships broad mindedness which allowed the housemaids time on the Sunday afternoon to learn to read. For my part, I persevered when the others gave up. I can hardly wait till I embrace my mother and read from the family bible to show her how much I have learnt in the past year.

I glance up at Nellie as she lights her pipe from a long straw kindled at the fireplace. She blows the glowing tip out and sucks at her clay pipe.

“There’ll be no chattin’ to the apprentices along the way, nor stoppin’ in at no hay barns. I’m Nellie, see.” She blows smoke from her nostrils. “And I hear everything. You’ll not be bringing any disrespect on this household by your actions, nor your words.”

We all bobbed and mumbled our agreeance. My fingers were sweaty, but I dared not rub them on my skirt. Once a year I am allowed to visit my mother and the rest of my family. Once a year, we were allowed to venture to the village we were born in. Through the generosity of our mistresses, we were allowed to bake and decorate a special fruit cake and deliver it to our mother. A twitch of an eyelid or speck of dirt on the hem of a skirt could mean that privilege were take away and another 365 days would pass before the opportunity was place before us again. 

With a sickening realisation, I remember my boots are still in one hand. My bare feet curl on the flagstone flooring. I bend my knees a little to ensure my toes don’t poke out or are discovered.  A bang at the door jolts Nellie from her scowling regard of our presentation. 

“Just like the butcher to be early for once.” Nellie set her pipe down on the table. “Well, get your cakes and wrap them securely with those bindings over there. Would be no good if all your hard work landed upside down on a country lane now would it?”

 The door banged again.

“No-one will be looking for those squares tonight when you get back. A clever seamstress could fashion a nice blouse for themselves from them.”

Adele frowned. I bumped her with my elbow and shusshed the question as it formed in her mouth. We quickly bound our cakes for our journey and farewelled one another. 

“Daisy.”  Nellies voice ripped panic through my heart.

I turned, careful to hide my boots and to bend my knees so that my feet remained hidden.

“You might want to put yer boots on before you are leaving the Manor. We don’t want anyone getting the wrong impression about the housemaids.”

I met her eyes. “Happy Mothering Sunday Nellie.”

“Don’t you be telling anyone Nellie has gone soft. Now be on your way before I change my mind.” 

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This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge , First Person

Words: 1510

This was submitted for #14 of FGC - with the inspiration coming from the traditions of today -  Mothering Sunday.

This  was also submitted to Friday Flash

The Unseelie Court FGC (2012) #12

“Hand me that box, Chloe.” Trent stretched his arms out toward the slouched figure at the doorway.

Chloe’s long fringe shrouded her face as she fiddled with the door handle. 

“Do you want that box up here, or in your room?”

Chloe shrugged lethargically. Her eyes cast low as she studied the dust in the cracks on the attic floor.

Trent opened the lid, pulling out a pink unicorn. “It’s just your old toys, dolls, teddy bears. Everything from your old room.” 

A fleeting look of panic crossed Chloe’s eyes, but was quickly replaced by a dull pain.

The unicorn dropped back into the box. “How’s about we leave it close to the door. Just in case. Or would you like me to bring it down and put it into your room?”

“No.” Chloe dug her finger into the keyhole of the door. “ Its fine Dad. They’re dumb.”

Trent reached out to touch her on the arm but withdrew as soon as she flinched.  “Chlo - they’re just toys. What about Fairy Fay?” He pulled out a delicate porcelain fairy doll. “You may be more comfortable if you have some reminders from the last house.” He brushed the dolls hair back and held it out to her, “Good memories. We left the bad ones there, remember?”

“I’m fine, Dad. They’re dumb. I don’t want anything from my last room. I don’t want to -”  She flushed and turned her head away from him.  “Are we done here?”

Trent straightened and cracked his back. “Yep, thats the final boxes to be stored in the attic. Though I have no idea where your mother thinks she is going to fit all that stuff in the lounge room.”

As Chloe scuffed her shoe against the wide planked flooring, a large splinter broke away and stuck into her sand shoe.

“Watch yourself Chloe. Your leg is still healing. You can’t go round kicking things. And look at all those nails jutting up all over the place here. I’ll have to come up and knock them down sometime.” Trent bent for a closer inspection. “Huh, They are those old iron ones. Just like the ones in your leg, huh Chloe?” The sharp tips drew blood as Trent touched one. “Yeaoww! Man, they are sharp.” He shook his hand and then sucked the bleeding digit. “Going to be a tougher job than I thought. Well, you know the saying as tough as..” He looked up at his daughters blank face, the smile on his face withering.

Chloe folded her arms and kicked a wooden crate. “Whose stuff is this?” She glared at a collection of crates and a large wooden trunk under one of the lower beams.

Trent straightened  “The old owners, I guess. They must have forgotten them. I’ll call the agent tomorrow and see if we can get them sent on.” He pushed at the trunk. He frowned and bent for a closer inspection. “Now why would someone put huge angle hinges to attach this to the floor like that?” He narrowly missed banging his head on the beam as he straightened. “Damned place is a health hazard. I’m going downstairs.”

Chloe kicked one of the nails poking up from the floor, noticing that there were a number of them clustered underneath and surrounding the wooden trunk. She idly pulled at a piece of lace poking out from under its lid.

A shout from her father forced her interest from it towards him. Her racing heartbeat slowed as she realised he was dusting an old spider web away from his face. 

He blustered, wiping his face zealously. “Come on, Missy. Too many dangerous things up here for my liking. I’ll bring some pest killer as well as my hammer tomorrow.” He held the door she leant against. “ After a day like today we deserve ice-cream.”

“I’m not a kid, Dad.”

He hesitated a moment before flicking her pony tail. “Girls any age will eat ice-cream. Even if they have transformer legs.” 

A tiny smile graced her pale face and disappeared. 

Trent’s hand faltered as it rose to touch her on the shoulder.  “Honey, I can’t fix what happened. I don’t even know what to say to you any more.” He puffed his cheeks out as Chloe refused to look at him. 

She waited till his footfalls echoed down the narrow stair case before looking up and around the attic. Tracing a hand over the film of dust atop one of the crates, she stopped and bent to examine the ornate latch of the largest trunk. With a swift pull, it sprang open. She opened the lid slowly, only to be disappointed to discover the cavernous trunk empty but for a broken, old-fashioned hand held mirror and a small doll whose dress had been caught under the lid and had piqued her initial interest. 

Now that its skirt was free, the doll plopped to the bottom of the trunk, its clunk echoing hollowly. Chloe's eyes darted towards the stairs, waiting for her fathers impatient voice. She bent into the trunk, her hand searching the dark space for the doll. As her fingers sought to curl round the dolls waist, she dropped it, squeaking with surprise and pain. Chloe brought her hand to her mouth, sucking the fleshy part of her thumb; tears springing to her eyes. She inspected her hand, expecting to see a gaping wound from what she suspected was mirror shards. When it showed no such injuries, Chloe frowned and turned her hand over.  

“Come on Chloe! Theres a fudge sundae with my name on it and you’re keeping it from me!” 

She closed the lid and pelted down the stairs two at a time; soon forgetting her injuries, the nails, the trunk and its contents.

The next morning, Chloe stumbled out of bed and continued to yawn through breakfast after she’d dressed. Trent took a sip of his coffee and eyed her with concern. “Didn’t get much sleep last night, Missy? Your leg hurting? Nightmares?”

“No”. Chloe shook her head. “I dunno, I went to sleep straight away. I just feel whacked this morning.” She brought her hand up to her collar bone and unconsciously scratched.  Trent offered her the rest of his toast. “Its an old house with all its strange noises.  You’ll get used to it.”

“Oh honey, I thought you’d grown out of your eczema.” Her mothers eyes were a mix of disappointment and anxiousness. “You haven’t scratched yourself to bleeding like that for months.Not since - ”  Fiona grabbed Chloe’s hand and inspected her fingernails. “I’ll cut these straight away. Look what you’ve done to your neck while you were asleep! You can’t afford to get any sort of infection. Not while - ”

“Fi, Chloe is doing fine.” 

Chloe pulled her hand away. “I’m alright Ma. Its just the dust we stirred up yesterday afternoon up in the attic.” But the scissors had already arrived and there was little she could do about the fussing that followed. Trent winked at Chloe as she rolled her eyes.

Chloe was lethargic most of the day as the family continued to unpack and rearrange furniture. Sent to rest in her room, she stared up at the ceiling, suddenly remembering the trunk in the attic. She took her torch and slipped out of her room. Chloe cautiously opened the door to the narrow staircase to the attic, her bare feet whispering up the stairs. The afternoons weakened sun filtered through the attics only window, casting muddy shapes on the uneven flooring. Huge support beams thrust themselves from footings to ceiling, transforming the shadowy space into an angular jungle. Her feet raced over to the trunk and in her haste to reach it, she forgot about the nails haphazardly surrounding it. Wincing, Chloe bit her lip as a shard from a nail protruding from the floor plunged itself into her big toe. She sat on the floor and shone her torch  over her wound.  Touching it gingerly, she gasped at the pain. “Damn it. Stupid nails. Going to have to dig that one out.”

She glanced at the stairway and held her breath, rewarded by silence. Her eyes darted to the wooden trunk as a small smile crept across her face. “After I check the crates.”

Shifting over to the wooden trunk, Chloe ran her hands over the rough boards. The chill of the iron cladding tingled at her finger tips. She ginergly opened the latch and shone her torch into the depths. The small doll slumped in a corner its tattered lace underskirt pulled upwards displaying her carved wooden legs. Chloe picked it up and examined the sweet but sad smile painted on the dolls pale face. She brushed its fine woollen hair back.

“What are you doing here all by yourself? Strange thing to leave behind.” 

A tiny bell tinkled. Chloe dropped the doll and shone her torch toward the other wooden crates. The bell chimed again. She reached to pick up the doll and shrieked as it was grasped firmly. Her knees slid along the wooden floor, tiny splinters or wood and nails embedding themselves as she was hauled into the dark trunk. Chloe screamed as the clawed grip on her arm dug deeper. Her fingers desperately sought to grip something to slow her abduction. The torch clattered to the bottom, the tiny bulb smashing on impact. 

Her strangled screams echoed hollowly in the trunk. By now, Chloe’s throat was raw from the earthy bellows of terror she continued. She felt herself falling through the darkness and just as suddenly, landing; warm sand enveloping her. Chloe clutched a gritty fistful and struggled to open her eyes, rewarded as sunshine screamed into her pupils.  A shadow above her blocked the glare. Chloe brought her arm up and tried to focus on the shape. Translucent wings shivered in the warm breeze, sending rainbows dancing across the sand.

Chloe rubbed at her eyes and went to sit up. Hands grasped her pyjamas and tore them into strips.  Chloe screamed again, kicking and thrashing at the hands, a new terror filling her body. Dark memories, like icy fingers slithered across her heart its insidious progression gripped her throat.

Cold water sliced across her body as small hands scrubbed at every part. She slapped at them, shrieking profanities and struggled to stand up. “Get the fuck away from me!” Her voice was raspy from screaming. More water drenched her as she scrambled on the soft sand. 

Chloe’s arms wrapped themselves around her breasts as she hunched and glared into the searing light. A lock of hair tumbled across her face as she twisted about, glaring at the figures surrounding her . 

Her feet sunk into the sand as the light caressed her naked body. Chloe’s ragged breath began to even out. “Fucking freaks! Who are you?” The tiny figures around her stood silently.

A sudden wind slapped sand into her eyes and as she fought to focus again, she found herself alone.

A lithe, feminine body swirled before her and a long arm stretched out to touch Chloe’s face. She battered the hand away, shocked to find her arm passed through the figure, only to reform as the wind shifted the sand. “Where the hell am I?”

Small mounds pulsed beneath the sand around her, finally forming an army surrounding her.  Chloe’s lip curled as her eyebrows wrinkled. “Fairies? But fairies don’t live in the sand. Fairies don’t even exist.”

Translucent wings fluttered as the silence buzzed.

The figure wound itself around Chloe’s body, its face close to hers. “So you say. But here you are. And here we are.” Sand tendrils slithered around the fairies before forming a slender regal figure in front of Chloe. “So tender.” She regarded her court. “ Are my loyal subjects hungry? Its been far too long since we’ve had a visitor.” A hundred rosebud lips opened into leering grins, revealing razor sharp teeth.

Sandblasted lips pressed against Chloe’s forehead, immediately recoiling with a hiss.

 “Unclean and damaged.”  A spray of sand seared into Chloe’s skin. “Order the doll who sent us this child to attend to me. Immediately.”  A flurry of wings darkened the sky momentarily. 

The beautiful face leered achingly close to Chloe’s, “Safe for now from us and you’ve no idea. ” 

“How? What? Whats going on?”

Spiting sand stung Chloe’s cheeks. “You have links with your human land. Embedded inside your legs, under the skin of your knees. Protected with iron. Count your blessings, human child. Begone!”

Chloe felt small hands clutch her arms as she was dragged into a whirlpool of sand. Her world went black and her mouth filled with sand as she tried to scream again.

Large soft hands grasped her around the waist and Trent’s aftershave enveloped her.  Chloe shook as he father smoothed her hair and pulled her out of the trunk. 

“What on earth were you doing in that trunk Chlo? Its just as well you left the attic door open, or I’d never have heard you screaming.” 

Fiona tore her jacket off and covered Chloe’s shoulders.  Trent’s face coloured as he realised she was naked. He stared from his wife to Chloe’s face, unable to put any further words together. 

Fiona began to lead Chloe down the stairs. “Make sure you do something about those nails sticking out on that floor tomorrow Trent. Its like a minefield around that trunk.”

“No!” Chloe struggled. “No - Leave them. Don’t touch them.They’ll find me. They’ll come.”

“Sweetie, I thought we’d left all your nightmares behind.” Fiona brushed her fringe back. “No-one is going to find you. You’re safe now.”

“I’m fine. Really.” Chloe pushed herself away from the embrace of her parents and rubbed her leg. “Turns out some things are a blessing in disguise. Fate even.”

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This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge ,  Magical Realism.

Words: 2305

This was submitted for #12 of FGC. 

This  was also submitted to Friday Flash

Weaving Lost Notes

Words: 348

Theme : Unexpected Fairy Tales

This competition is part of the wonderful (Inter) National Flash Fiction Day

My entry into the  OUAT Flash Fiction Contest  was chosen to be published - and therefore I have removed it from my site!  How exciting!  It is part of the Anthology, Once upon a time, and can be purchased from Amazon. Click on the image below!

The Cursed FGC (2012) #10

Luke’s arm slithered across my shoulders slowly. I smiled in the darkness hiding my delighted reaction from the others. Moonlight picked out the ghostly forms of the headstones standing like sentinels along the gleaming white stone pathway.

“Just a bit further. You gotta see this.” I didn’t need to see his face to know he was grinning. My heart hammered as I flushed; my hormones raging, screaming to be set free. 

Every cricket, hoot from an owl and rustle from the trees made the four of us press a little closer to one another.  I felt my heart pick up its pace as the scrunching of our footfalls echoed between the headstones. Deep into the oldest part of the graveyard, silent homes crouched along untrodden cobblestoned paths. Gates into long burnt out eternal flames hung from rusted fittings.

“The street of the richest dead people in the state.” Lukes arms extended forward to present a perfectly maintained avenue of marble and sandstone. “Unlike the tatty ones we passed, each one of these has a crypt.” He bellowed a theatrical evil laugh. 

“Some double date.” Vashali sidled up to me and whispered. “I hate you. You so owe me big time for this.”

I bumped her with my thigh. We smiled at each other and giggled.

A light breeze rustled the long grass behind the mausoleums. Bullfrogs called to each other across the swamp that hugged the edges of the graveyard.

“Now,” continued Luke, “Which one will we visit tonight? So many to choose from; but if you’ll allow me. I have one thats been calling to me for a while.”

“Calling to you?  You freak. I thought the goth girls didn’t do it for you?” Tom took a swig from his beer.

Patting his friend on the arm, Luke laughed. “I’ve come down here a few times and this one place; I dunno, there is something special about it. Wait till you see it. It will call you as well.”

Gently caressing my hand, he pulled me to walk beside him. I ignored his wandering hand as it brushed across my bottom.

We stopped in front of an ornate mausoleum equipped with weeping angels standing guard outside its wooden doors. Luke released me and patted a pocket. He grunted as he fished out a small mag light and shone it under his chin. His charming grin was now an illuminated leer; a mask of horror. Vashali and I shrieked for good measure. Tom spat beer at him. We all laughed uncertainly. 

“Who wants to follow me down and see what treasures the Belvedere’s have been left us?” Luke put a hand on the chains wrapped round the gate and rattled it.

Tom sucked the last from his beer and threw it against the wall of the tomb. “I hear they hid stolen confederate gold in every coffin.”

Shaking her head, Vashali looked at each member in the group. “But people have checked it out, even the family have searched. Everyone knows thats just a story.”

“And everyone of them went mad or plain disappeared after they went down there. Some say its cursed.” Luke drew his hands up dramatically and spun round to strike a pose. “With no Belvedere’s left now to claim the gold, its finders keepers. Who is with me?” He put his hand up to his ear. “Can you hear it calling you?”

A chill ran up my spine as the wind caressed its icy fingers around my bare legs.  “Its just a load of rubbish. No-one’s been down there for years.”

Flicking the lock with his torch, Luke attempted to cock an eyebrow. We stared at the broken links as he pushed the gate open with one finger. “I noticed this the other day. I nearly went down me-self. The gold is waiting for me. Its calling me. But,” He twirled my hair and ran his fingers up my neck, “ I thought I’d like to share the discovery with my closest friends, so I waited till now.”

He threw another torch to Tom. “Ladies first, unless you’re too scared of what might be down there?”

Vashali wrapped her arms round her waist and stared into the dark maw. She looked up at me uncertainly. I pleaded with my eyes for her to follow. Every delicious moment with the towns hottest guy was something I wanted to savour for as long as I could; but I still needed the assurance of my back up girl.  

My breath shortened and I shivered as Luke nibbled the top of an ear. The heat from his body beckoned as his husky voice whispered.  “We might get some alone time down there in the dark. Who knows what might happen?”

I shook and nodded. Tom held his torch at eye height, modelling the position most cop shows have their detectives handle their mag lights. “Lets get rich.” He wrenched the gate wide and strode in through the door. 

Inside, we searched the walls, disappointed to find dried flower arrangements, fragments of ribbon and windswept leaves piled to one side. Luke pushed past us.”There’s nothing up here, idiots. All the coffins are in the crypt downstairs.”

Vashali gripped my outstretched hand. “Remember, you owe me for this.” I squeezed her hand and we giggled as we began our decent. Following the bobbing lights of the boys ahead of us, our laugh was silenced as we wounding down the sweeping staircase. I wondered at the enormous expense building such a monument to the dead might have been.

At the bottom, two lights shone onto a shape on the floor. I stepped on something that snapped and scrunched underneath my weight. I stared at what I’d stood on, ignoring the silence of the two boys ahead. My hand flew to my mouth as I muffled a scream. “I think I just stood on a bone. Are you boys messing with us?”

Vashali kicked it with her foot. “Please don’t tell me its human.”

“Its not a squirrel. Its probably part of this.” I tore my eyes away from the fragments underfoot to gape at the unmistakable outline of a human skeleton sprawled across the passageway. 

Vashali’s legs wobbled as she tumbled against me. “Can we go? I need to get to fresh air. This date has gone far enough.”

Luke shone his torch onto her face. “You want to find your way up those stairs and then through the graveyard by yourself? We’ve got the torches and its pretty dark out there.”

She clung to my shoulder and shook. I felt her tears dampen my shirt.

I stared at the bones. “How did it get down here?  I mean isn’t it supposed to be in a coffin or something?”

Tom shrugged.”Who cares. It can’t do much harm to us laying there.” He held a hand out to a trembling Vashali. “Come on. We are down here now. Lets just look around and then get out of here.”  She shook her head and buried her face into my shoulder. “ I just want to go.”

“Suit yourselves” He waved his torch around the space. Its feeble light failed to reach the other side of the room from where we were standing.

“Shit. Luke, look at this. More bones. How many dead dudes are out of their coffins?”

“Its not funny Tom. We want to go. Please.” I wound my hand round the stair banister, not trusting my own legs to carry me closer to the pile of bones, or to explore the others. Vashali’s fingers dug into my arm. The oppressive darkness of the crypt clung to me, pushing the air out of my lungs. 

 “Holy Shit.” The lights wobbled and bounced from the other side of the room. “You better come and see this.” Tom squinted as he unsuccessful shone his light toward the voice. “What ya got?  Gold?”

He strode over and swore. “You girls going to stay in the dark or come over here?” One of the lights dipped to shine a path for Vashali and I to creep unsteadily towards their excited voices.

Against the wall, a withered body hung at impossible angles from rusted shackles .

Its dry thin arms still bore dark stains where blood had trailed down them. The oversized shackles had dug cruelly into the wrists as the figure had obviously struggled to break free. Her fingernails were torn and the tattered dress she wore was dated. Her head had dropped forward and long stringy tresses hung limply to her waist. 

“What sort of weird shit is this?” Luke flashed his light around the other walls, as we half expected to see more bodies hanging in similar fashions. “Looks like she was tortured and just left to die here. Sick bastards.”

I gasped for air. I could almost hear her screams as she been dragged down the stairs. 

“Look at the scrapes on the floor here.”

I struggled to get air into my lungs as I stared at the scuffle marks in the thick dust leading from the staircase to where the body now hung. She’d  have fought and begged before they left her locked in the darkness. Her moans and screams may have been heard by anyone daring to approach. I dry wretched realising that the night sounds of the swamp would have all but drowned it out. I stared at the withered arms, wondering how long it took for her to starve to death.

“Any of you know who is it?” We shook our heads.  

“Who knows how long she’d even been dead. Look at her dress. Years out of fashion.”

“Trust you to know anything about fashion Tom.”

We stared in silence at the body, unwilling to acknowledge the attempt of humour.

“How long does it take for a body to decompose?”

I shrugged, “Who listened at all in biology?”

“I mean, she still looks ok; apart from being all dried up and dead.”  Luke approached the body and shone his torch to get a better look. A bright glint sparkled at her chest. “See that beautiful necklace she has?  Someone has to know her. If we took that to the police, we’d be able to trace her - tell her family.”

“What?”

“That she was murdered, tortured? That’s just what her family wants to hear.”

Luke sniffed. “She looks like some goth chick and it was all some sort of sick game that went wrong.”

Tom put a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Let’s get out of here.  Don’t touch anything; we’ll get the cops to check it out.”

Luke shook it off. “Are you kidding?  That necklace is coming with me.” He stared at me. “My next girlfriend will look great in it.”

He put the torch in his mouth and reached over, picking up the necklace. He gingerly shuffled forward to unclip it from behind the lolling head.

The girls’ head shot up. She opened her mouth and sunk sharp teeth deeply into his neck. Luke jolted and tried to pull away but shuddered and convulsed as the life drained away from him. His torch smashed the ground, the beam cutting off immediately. 

Her eyes looked over his shoulders at us as she allowed him to drop at her feet. 

“Unbind me.” Blood trickled from her mouth.

Our feet were frozen; our bodies paralysed.

“Now!”

“Locks.” I found my voice as I stuttered and pointed to her shackles.  “There are locks. We don’t have a key.”

The female straightened as a blush fluttered across her cheeks. Papery arms began to fill out as her hair curled and glossened. She narrowed her eyes at me. “Unbind me now.” 

My feet stumbled towards her. I reached and pulled at the shackles, expecting them to not to yield.  At the touch of my hand, they both sprang apart easily, releasing the female’s arms.

As I stared with disbelief at the fluid workings of the latch; the female flashed over to Tom and gripped him under the chin. She smiled as she tore at his throat. Blood gushed and drenched the front of her dress. He didn’t have time to shriek before he too, slumped to the floor. His torch clattered to the floor. Its beam highlighting the oozing blood as it crept from under his body.

Vashali screamed as her legs collapsed under her. Her body convulsed and her gurgling cries ceased after the female drank her fill and threw her to the floor.

I pressed my back to the wall as my heart hammered. The woman used a fingertip to stop a trickle of blood from her mouth. Her barefeet whispered across the stone floor toward me.  I squeezed my eyes closed, holding my breath and waited for death.

A cold finger traced its way down my cheek and I was forced to open my eyes. Large dark eyes explored my face. “Thank you for releasing me. Though, you’ll wish you joined your friends.”

She slammed me against the stone wall and kissed me deeply. I felt her tongue explore my mouth as her fangs scratched tantalisingly across my bottom lip. I tasted blood  but felt no pain. I drank deeply as her body melded into mine. My lungs emptied as my heart beat slowed. Icy fingers scraped their way through my body as I arched my back, desperate to be consumed.  

Gentle hands searched my torso and cupped my breasts, squeezing rock hard nipples. They slithered up my arms. The kiss ended and I panted. Heat rushed through my body, dispelling the chill I had felt. She brushed her lips against mine and grasped both wrists, pushing me flat against the wall. 

The shackles clicked as they locked around my wrists. She pushed herself away slowly.

“Cursed as I once was. Like a spider, you must wait for your prey.”  Her hands smoothed my damp fringe. “They’ll come. One or two at a time. Your presence calls them. Your body may wither as mine did, but it deepens the thirst all the more when you get a visitor.” She brushed a tear away from my cheek. “And you must drink. If you let them them take your hand out of that shackle, they become trapped with you. Screaming and drowning in their own vomit beside you.” She unclipped the necklace and fastened it round my neck. “Its not pretty, take it from me. Just hope you get a group like yours was so you feed before you are released. Choose your replacement wisely. She must release you of her own will.” She adjusted the necklace and smiled slowly at me. “Come and find me when you are free. I have a feeling you and I will have alot of fun together.” 

She picked up the torch and snapped it off. “I’ll tidy this mess up so you don’t frighten your replacement off.”

I watched her drag the bodies of my friends into coffins. Her lips suddenly brushed mine. “Don’t be too long.” A dark shadow swept up the staircase.

I was left in the cold comfort of darkness.

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This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge ,  Horror

This was submitted for #10 of FGC. 

Word Count - 2499


This  was also submitted to Friday Flash.