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 #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

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)

A Sense of Being FGC (2012) #17

Fear has no smell, no sound. It is simply a sense of being.

Ray eyed the woman across the piles of paperwork on his desk. His stubby finger jabbed the only white sheet amongst the coffee and smoke stained. She twisted the buttons of her fox fur shawl. He sniffed, wondering what she were most afraid of. “Are you sure all of this is necessary?” Ray stared at the handsome woman, mildly intoxicated by her floral perfume. She snapped her purse shut and patted a wisp of hair back into place. “Of course” She glared at him. ”Are you saying now you won’t do it? We had an agreement.” She reached out and placed a hand on a fat envelope, drawing it towards her. “Unless that means nothing to you?”
 Ray’s hand shot out and grasped the edge. They glared at each other. “Not at all. I’m just; concerned. Just how many people know about this?” She let the envelope go and watched him pull it back towards him. She flicked her purse open and fished a silver cigarette case. A red fingernail separated the jaws to reveal snowy factory made cigarettes. The heat beaded on Ray’s upper lip as she watched her tenderly pull one out and place it in her dark red lips. The tip flared as she drew a huge breath in  and leisurely allowed it to whisper out of her mouth curling snake-like round her face. “Does it matter?”
 Gripping the paper, he dropped his eye to the list of demands. “So the deadline is eight pm tonight. It doesn't give me much time to-”
 “You have known about this for a long time. Don’t act as if its a surprise."She blew a cylinder of smoke over the desk. “You don't think you are up to it.”
 “Not saying that. Its just its too quick, I have so much more to do. Its too soon.”
 “Ray Beconsfeld. Private Eye and champion of the people. Your concerns are my concerns.” Jean pointed to the doorway. “ That’s what the sign says outside. Do I need to spell out what is at stake?” He kept his eyes lowered, avoiding the blistering glare from across the table and shook his head. “I don’t have to say that I don’t want any police involvement? The police have no sense of humour. With my brother now promoted as Chief sergeant, this matter is delicate. He wouldn't understand any of this - the reasons why - “
 He put his hand over hers “Don’t worry I won’t involve police. Your brother and the rest of the establishment don't look on what I do as anything useful. I’ve always been made painfully aware of that.” Her chair scraped backwards as she stood. The discarded cigarette fell to the floor, her heel twisting it into the grimy carpet. She adjusted her fur shawl. “Tonight at 8 then. You’d better be there.”

“Jean. You shouldn’t have come here.” She stood with her back to him considering for a long moment, before grasping the door handle and sweeping out. The door shuddered and attempted to close, but the grime and fluff built up stopped it in its tracks inches from the jam. His fingers curled round the sheet. Ray considered crunching it in his fist before relaxing his grip and smoothing it out. “Why the hell are these always so complicated?” His picked a pencil up and used the broken nib to furiously scratch his head.
 “Mr Beconsfeld, what would you like done with all this filing?” Gilda thrust her crimped hair though the doorway. Rays shoulders slumped. Twenty years of detective work, clues, contacts and leads. It aught to be handed on; to someone who would see the value in it and - Ray deliberately folded the snowy parchment in quarters and slipped it into his breast pocket. “Thanks Gilda. Box it up. I’ll put it in the archives.”
 Her mouth twisted. “Mrs Beconsfeld won’t like that. She told me -” Jamming his limp hat firmly on his head, Ray growled, “Thank you, Mrs Schultz. I am well aware of that arrangement. Now box it up and do the job I pay you to do.” Her head disappeared. He breathed in. Musty paperwork, decades of dust, sour sweat, stale cigarettes assaulted his nostrils. Gilda Schultz was afraid. Though his nose couldn’t detect it; he knew.
 Her head was bowed over a pile of paperwork as he stomped outside. Boxes were stacked in haphazard piles around the tiny waiting room. He put his hand on the word handle of the outer door ad stared through the frosted glass in the insert. His painted name on the reverse was chipped. “I’m going out. Close up would you Gilda? I won’t be returning. Got a few folk to see, things to do.” Her stifled sniffle caught him unawares. He swore under his breath and shoved a hand into his pocket, retrieving a small box. Ray shuffled over to her desk and cleared his throat. “A token. Something small.” He dropped in on her desk and felt his toes squirm inside his shoes. Silence hung between them uncomfortably, until Ray turned on his heel and escaped out onto the street.

 The winter evening breeze clawed his face. Ray pulled his coat tighter and hunched as he strode along the main shopping precinct. The list Jean had left was nearly exhausted with nearly 45 mins to spare. He allowed himself a rueful smile. What sort of bizarre activities she intended with the items he’d procured was beyond him. He didn’t recognise the address she had scrawled at the bottom of the sheet, but knew enough of the darkened alleyways in old Chinatown to guess of its whereabouts. He checked his watch and picked up his stride. He intended to be early; just to see Jeans disbelieving face.

 The sour stench of rotting vegetables permeated the wide alleyway as he continued into the depths of Chinatown. A door opened midway as a waterfall of steaming liquid was thrown out into the gutter. Ray swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. A shriek from behind him sent fingernails of dread down his spine. Pounding footfalls echoed closer as a male made his escape from the woman’s continued screams. Ray slumped his shoulders, but continued to walk, judging the distance between the approaching man and him. At the moment he passed, Ray stuck a foot out and grasped at the collar of the miscreant. The man groaned and rolled to an unsteady low crouch. Ray stared and exhaled as he recognised the figure. “Fred Bare. Tonight? Really?”
 More footfalls thundered up the alleyway. “Grab that pervert Mister, don’t let him get away.” The new arrival pushed his foot on the Fred’s chest. “Thanks for stopping him. This dirty bastard flashed my girl.” He poked the prone figure. “Lucky for you there is a witness, otherwise I’d have to beat the bejezus out of you.” He stuck a hand out toward Ray. “James O’Donahugh. My thanks to you.”
 The little mans beady eyes glitter murderously at Ray as his lip twisted in an uncomfortable grin. “ Caught me unawares. But not again, Ray. What ya doing bustin' my balls tonight for?”
 James smoothed his moustache and pushed his foot harder on Fred’s chest. “Caught ya with your pants down too. Not that anyone would notice.” Ray put his hands up, hating the sound of his voice the moment he spoke. “Let the authorities deal with this weirdo, James. Just walk away.” James gave Fred an extra push and grunted as he left the figure to roll on the alleyway.

 Cliperty clacks echoed up the alley as a tiny figure furtively called out to her boyfriend. “James? What’s going on? James?” With a flurry of movement, the flasher leapt to his feet and crouched low, growling animalistically. His coat flourished behind him, settling around him like a mist. James’s grin was wider that the harbour. “Now this is what I’m talking about. I’ll sort out this perv.” Ray sniffed. Wet bricks and putrid fish. “Not tonight. Of all days. Where the hell are the police when you need them?” he muttered under his breath the irony not lost on him. James’s youth shone like a stupid beacon. Ray put his hand on his shoulder “I got this.” He felt old and wrung out. “You run along with your girl. Let me talk to Fred. We go back a long way.”

 Fred kicked a trashcan over sending the lid scattering across the cobblestoned pavement. He leered at both men beckoning with a hand. James leapt toward him and began to swing punches at his face. Both fell to the dirty street and began rolling in the grimy puddles. The flasher bucked and twisted, unsettling James’s position, forcing him to the ground. Fred fluidly stood and forced his coat back to display his naked glory. The coat theatrically swept upward again as he fumbled inside it. Too late, Ray spied slender stiletto knives being withdrawn from their secret spaces in the hemline. James’s face crumpled in disgust, but was immediately replaced with a look of blank shock. One of the knives appeared in his chest as seeping claret began to colour his shirt. Ray recognised the acrid thin scent of blood and wondered if this distinguished the smell of fear. James’ girlfriend began to scream as she clattered over to his body. Ray shook his head. Fred was a serial pervert, not a killer. “Has my world gone mad? I’m really losing my touch.”
 A wailing siren he had dreaded hearing for twenty years resounded; blue and red lights bouncing off the alley walls. He turned to the weeping girl. Blood crept across the cobblestones and licked at her shoes. He averted his eyes, hating his lying voice as he tried to calm her, “He’ll be fine. Miss. The police are here now, they’ll take care of everything.” His breath caught in his throat. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to go.” His mouth twisted as the last few words left his lips. He’d never walked away from a scene before.
 Fred crouched in the shadows. Another knife flashed, burying itself in the girls back. With a whimper she slumped over James’ body. Fred and Ray exchanged stares momentarily before the flasher plunged into the darkness. Ray rubbed his chin and ran his fingers up his face. “Why tonight Fred? Why didn’t you just stay with flashing?”
 Police whistles peeped. Ray slunk into the shadows and slipped away. With heavy heart, Ray continued down the alleyway, searching for the address Jean had impressed the time sensitive importance on. Perhaps everyone was right. He as getting too old for this game any longer. Ray argued with himself along the alley, desperately unhappy he had not been able to foresee or prevent the attack.

He stood in front of the Empire Theatre, once grand old gentleman; now tattered in disrepair and relic in modern times. Jean had always been one with the theatrics, so it was not a surprise, now he stood on the empty street, that this was the place she had chosen. The case he carried suddenly weighed a ton. He heaved it with a grunt as he walked round to the side and pushed his way into the old theatres back door. It relented with a creaking groan. Ray fancied he heard hushed voices a a burble of laughter echoed from the darkened beams. Cobwebs hung testament that no-one had passed through the corridors for years. “Damn it Jean, why do you always have to be so.” He caught himself as movement from the side flicked his senses. A board creaked. The voices had stopped. Ray cocked his head as if positioning his ear would in some way assist him hearing anything more. She was meant to be alone. A thrill of emotion ran through him. His heart hammered. He grunted, angry at himself again. There was a time, he’d have leapt forward, fists swinging to face whatever was behind the velvet curtaining.

A feint waft of grease paint and sale cigar smoke wafted around his head. The frayed side wing curtains rippled. He was certain someone was waiting beyond on stage. He shivered brushing off old superstitions. Grasping the curtain, he strode onto stage. Spotlights clicked on, their searing beam scorching brilliant white light into his eyes. “Surprise!” More lights blinked on as champagne corks popped and streamers fell from the rigging. Jean sashayed toward him, offering a champagne flute and shy smile. A huge banner floated down across the stage proclaiming the joys of retirement. “Damn it Jean. No-one was supposed to know. We were meant to just meet up and go -” A bead of condensation trickled down the flute.
Jean thrust it into Rays hand. “Happy Retirement Darling. I trust you enjoyed your last day?” He shrugged. ”Nothing out of the ordinary.” A barrel chested man put his arm around Jean and gave her a kiss on the cheek. He held his hand out to Ray. “Finally getting you off the streets then, Ray? Don’t go giving those folk in Hawaii any trouble will you?”
Ray gave Jeans brother a thin smile. “Still jealous I get the results I do? ”
Straightening his shoulders, Brian jutted his chin outward. “Still deluded that your Private Eye business solved anything. Nothing more than a vigilante pestilence.”
Ray growled “My methods give people answers.”
Eyeballing him, Brian countered, “You don’t know anything about a flasher seen on 32nd Street about an hour ago? He’s more your type of investigation isn’t he?”
Rays grip on the champagne glass tightened. “More than you can guess.” Jean put a hand on her brothers chest. “Come on now Brian. Its a party, not some back street brawling match. Let’s be nice.” Puffing his cheeks out, Ray gazed around at the small group of friends and family gathered on the stage holding drinks and laughing. “I thought we agreed not to make a fuss about me closing shop; that we could go on vacation without all this fanfare.” She took a swig. ”If its worth doing, its worth a party. Our taxi leaves in an hour. You’d better have brought everything on that list.” She looked down at the suitcase at his side. Ray drained his glass and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Let say some of the things were murder to get.”
Jean put her small hand on his and smiled. Her floral perfume surrounded him. "I can't beleive it. At last you've left that stupid agency and we will be together in retirement."
Ray choked. He knew what fear now smelt like.

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This was written in response to Write Anything's Form and Genre Challenge , a Mystery Detective Story under 2500 words


Words: 2456 words


This was also submitted to Friday Flash

Crisis of the Crystals FGC (2012) #15

Empress Jorvan strode in to the council hall, her eyes locked on to the head seat at the round table. The counselors stood and bowed low as she walked past them. Standing tall with her dark long hair flowing down her back, towered Mythris, Head Sieth Seeker and the leader of the Sisters of the Goddess. As the Empress approached her ornately carved seat  Mythris bowed again, “Welcome Great Lady, we are still awaiting the arrival of Cyrian from Asesca”

Jorvan slightely inclined her head toward Mythris in recognition and spun turning her back on her, “Sisters,” Jorvan greeted the gathering with her hands raised, “I trust you all had uneventful passages within the Gateways.”  

Nods and general murmuring around the room as each watched the other with a practiced suspicion.

“Before we open our formal meeting and whilst we wait for Cyrian, I am sure all of you would like the latest news on the regeneration of our gateways. Morfarn, how goes the  reconstruction of the Gateway taken from the Abby at Cora?”

Morfan hung her head.  “Poorly, Empress I am frustrated and ashamed to say. Despite the intricate drawings and careful instructions I am afraid that the secrets of building a circle again has been lost to us.  We have the crystal from the old circle but as yet have been fearful to test the theory that these crystals are replaceable. Thus we have not attempted to pull one out of a working circle and place another in its place; just in case it stops that circle as well.”

“What is your educated guess to what might happen, should we take a working crystal out and replace it with another?” Jorvans eyes bore into Morfans bowed head.

Morfan took a deep breath and continued to study the flooring of the council chambers.  Mythris stepped forward, her face flushed.

“With all due respect Empress, educated guesses are not what our empire was built on. Observance of the ways of the Goddess and respect to the ancient sacred feminine has always been the first and only answer we have needed.” 

Jorvan glared at Mythris, “Perhaps if the hierarchy were encouraged to strictly observe the Goddess’s ways rather than line their own pockets, we would not be in the situation we are. Now, Morfan, your thoughts..” 

Morfan looked around the circle of desperate eyes, knowing the outcome of her findings would tip the balance for many on their faith in the empire.  “All the circles stop, they don’t work again, the one we test no longer works. We just don’t know. It is a total unknown and to be honest, I don’t want to be the one to order the destruction of a working gateway.  Goddess knows, the ones we have left are becoming erratic at best.”

“Our foremothers debated long into the usage of the circles and spoke of limiting travel to Essential Transportation only and yet here we are still flitting confiders from one citadel to another on a regular basis.”

Mythris glared again, “Confiders provide an essential service to the wellbeing  and function of each society. Are you using this council meeting to announce your omnipotence and  suggesting changing the ways of the Goddess? ”

“I understand, Sieth Mythris, more than any other the gravity of my words and decisions.You are not above the lore of the Goddess, nor should you forget your place, nor simple manners; especially amongst esteemed council members from across the Empire.”

“Perhaps Empress, a better forum to speak on the Goddesses words and interpretations would be in the council of Seith and not this one.” Tanissa stood between the two women, her tiny stature in direct opposition to the energy and power her presence emitted. 

 Jorvan looked about the Council. “ I am simply suggesting that perhaps the confiders function might be localized, with resident confiders within communities,rather than  ones who travel throughout the Empire on  regular basis. It would cut the Gateway usage down considerably.”

Shocked gasps came from round the room.

“Even you, Empress are not above the doctrine of the Goddess. You are stepping a dangerous line.”

“As are you Mythris. The ways of the Goddess seem a little too convenient for some.”

Their long stares at one another was broken with the arrival of Cyrian whose strident footsteps echoed the room.

“Many apologies Sisters, might I take the first place in reporting; especially as my lateness comes directly from our primary meeting issue.”

Tanissa looked up for her papers and nodded. “Of course, it is duly noted in the proceedings, you shall have the floor after the ritual opening. Mythris, once you ready, you may have the floor.”

Mythris swept her hand over the side wall and sang in her evenly toned timbered voice a greeting to all assembled and blessings upon them; invoking the blessings of the Goddess in each path. Her hand followed an intricate pattern in the air beside the wall and the council joined hands to complete the ritual.

A transparent image of the star system hovered over the middle of the table and then faded in and out during the ritual. As the last note ended, the image became intermittent and gratefully zapped into nothingness. Mythris’s slender hand completed the intricate closing pattern in the air and in a fluid motion, sat in her seat.

“Sisters, even our opening ritual heralds the demise of the blessed artifacts. Not one to announce my true age, however, I recall a time in this council that the images were strong enough to believe they were real objects; not mere projections.”

Jorvan looked around the room as many nodded also recalling stronger crystal power.

“Without putting too finer point on it, our Empire relies on artifacts we don’t understand and cannot replicate. The circle of nineteen Gateways are fading. I barely arrived today, thus my lateness. There are whispers of an ancient religion. I can barely say the name.”

Jorvan  looked up at the waiting servants and administrators in the wings. “I would call for a locked meeting” She started hard at the staff, “Please excuse yourselves and position guards at the doorways, allowing none to enter until we come out.”

She waited for the silent feet of the excess personnel to exit before continuing.  “Technology and sciences died out centuries ago. We have no need for them while we have the way of the Goddess.”

She stared at the sober faces at the table.  “I cannot accept we are unable to understand even the smallest details of these gateways. Without them, travel between Abbeys not only within Terra, but throughout the Empire will be impossible. We can rely on the planetary ships, but time is of essence and I cannot wait for months for the council to assemble to discuss urgent matters.  We must speak plainly as the time for diplomacy and religious correctness has ended.”

“Each of us know the power of the Goddess and have benefited from her gifts of the mind and of perception. Only recently have we rediscovered that our rituals are intertwined with the functions of the artifacts and with out completing the minutest detail, they do not operate.”

She stared around the room. The silence was overwhelming.

“We have long known that the crystals which form the heart of the planetary ships also influence and assist the circles functions. Our foremothers were unable to find a source to mine or collect more and we too in this generation have been unable to clarify any further information. So my sisters, It has come to the time to make a firm decision on the Gateways.”

“Perhaps that decision can wait until I demonstrate my findings.” Cyrian smiled a languid catlike smile, her eyes glittered with promise.

“Please Cyrian, continue with your report.”

“Thank you Empress. As you know the planet Asesca has been unstable for generations.  The weather patterns have become unpredictable making sustainable farming and the functioning of citadels unbearable. Last year, with the assistance of the planetary ships the final inhabitants were moved to my planet and resettled. The Abbey’s artifacts have been stored and being brought back to Terra with the next Chosen Ship that docks for supplies. Your orders for the Circle of Nineteen to be dismantled was undertaken by our most gifted Sisters and talented stonemasons. I now bring you this.”

She stepped forward and withdrew a fist sized chunk of transparent and cloudy rock.

Each drew a breath in. Jorvan picked it up and examined it. “So this is that it looks like when not embedded into a wall.” It glowed dimly at her touch.

“We have extensively  tested it, Empress – it seems to only glow when someone with Goddess gifts touches it.”

“Humm, so a similar glow to when one of us touches a planetary Ship crystal before take off? “

She nodded. “However, the Ceremonial Touch of the crystal lasts only seconds. The longer someone with the Gift holds a freed crystal like this, the brighter it glows. We tested it with different sisters until one passed out after an hour of holding it. She recovered the next day but felt giddy and drained for over a week.”

Jorvan carefully placed it on the table in front of it and stared at it.

“So instead of answering any questions it poses more. Is it ….alive?”

“Everything the Goddess touches is alive in someway, Empress.”

“Spare me the religious doctrine. So we don’t know;  is that what you are saying?”

Cyrian nodded.

“There is something else. What else does a free crystal do?”  Jorvan noted perceptively.

“I cannot explain it – its best to demonstrate it. Please excuse me for a moment.”

Cyrian walked to the door and opened it motioning someone behind it to enter.

Her two guardians marched it, restraining a man dressed in rags. His eyes rolled in terror as he saw the congregated women. Cyrian closed the door behind her and collected the crystal from the Empress.

Myrthis stood frowning, “Who is this?”

“A common criminal, I assure you.”

“Crime of most types are not common within the Empire. We live in peace and harmony, there is no need to restrain him.” Mythris haughtily barked.

Cyrian bowed in an over exaggerated manner. “With all due respect Mistress Sieth, you have not walked amongst the people within the empire for many Solar Turns. You and your priestess live an isolated life far beyond that of normal people. I wonder what you might call common in any case.”

Jorvan broke in. “ What are you saying Cyrian?”

“I am saying that within many planets of the Empire, petty crime is not the only issue our guardians are having to deal with now. This man is a murderer.”

Silence filled the hall puzzled or blank looks met her.

She stared around the room realizing that many didn’t understand the term. “He killed another person …..deliberately.”

There were immediate gasps and looks of horror amongst the council.

Tanissa grimly looked around at the faces. “Hypocrites all of them” she thought. “Each of us have ordered the death of at least one Confider to keep our secrets. Each of us would not have a second thought in arranging an accident for another counselor which would result in higher political power for us.”

Though, she mused, the death of another person for no political gain was unheard of; certainly the average person had no fear of physical violence within their society. The normal person would either purposely ignore a missing sister  or not wish to be involved with Goddess Business.

Mythris approached the man and studied his eyes.  She closed hers and breathed a prayer to the Goddess and held her hands in front of her, her fingers fanned out over his heart. She immediately took a step backwards reeling with horror. 

“His energies are dark and unrepentful. What she is saying is true. He is an abomination to the Empire and to the Goddess.”

Tanissa stood. “ Why have you brought him here? To show him off as a circus piece? A curiosity? Our society is not equipped to deal with this sort of crime.”

“I may have an answer to the crystal crisis as well to the mounting crimes within the outer planets. The Goddess has gifted us with the perfect solution. As the Empress stated earlier, we have been unable to find a source of these items. Perhaps there is a reason. Perhaps they were manufactured rather than mined from a planet.”

“That has been a theory held for centuries, but we have no means to replicate the crystals. What little we know of this religion, Science, tells us that there are many books to learn its secrets from. Much the same with Technology. There are far too many tools which are unknown to us for us to begin to research the tenuous links we already have between that and our gateways. None of either are in existence to day. “ Cyrian’s face remained a mask of assertiveness. Tanissa leant forward on the table. “ So, tell us, what is this solution? Something that will force us away from our core beliefs and from the Goddess?”

 Cyrian pointed towards the man and ordered her guardians, “Hold him tight.”  She thrust the crystal onto the mans chest.

The crystal glowed, its white light growing in intensity every moment. The man’s mouth opened in a silent scream, his body stiff. Over the matter of moments, his skin wrinkled and sagged, his teeth fell out to the ground and his hair grayed and blew away by a breathless wind. Cyrian held the glowing crystal to his chest till he sagged in the arms of the guardians. They allowed the husk of the ancient man to fall on the floor.

She turned triumphantly toward the Empress. The crystal glowed with a warm pink tone, vibrating and giving off a low hum. Its cloudyness had cleared and in places looked nearly transparent. She walked to the wall Mythris had been at for the opening ceremony and swept her hand over it, her fingers  delicately dancing in the air. A small opening appeared in the wall and a cloudy crystal sat ebbing intermittently. Cyrian pulled it from its cradle and replaced it with the glowing rose coloured one, closed the door and swept her hand over the wall again.

Immediately the images of the planets appeared, real enough to touch. The Empress touched Terra and the rest disappeared, exploding the tiny planet to a larger scale. An aerial view of the citadel appeared intricate with detail.

The assembled women gasped.

“I never thought I would see this. The Chronicles of the past Empresses tell of this tool , but I had imagined them to be fanciful recollections, not based on truth.”

Jorvan’s mouth  was open as she stared at the images. She quickly glanced up at Cyrian.

“How long will the power from this crystal last?”

Cyrian smiled. “Again Empress, I am unsure, as you can imagine, criminals of that mans, humm caliber… are hard to come by. However, we have tested it on other men, taking the crystal away from their chest usually before they die withered and useless. They recover eventually if they are still alive once the crystal is take away.”

Jorvan began to pace the floor.  “Is it possible that the answer has been at our fingertips? Our rituals state that no ungifted must touch the crystals and that each gifted using the gateway or planetary ship must touch it momentarily  as way of thanks to the Goddess.For centuries, the crystals have needed regenerating with life force and we have only been feeding them crumbs with our tiny touches. It seems incredible that we have our answer to the gateways and crystals crisis. Cyrian you have our heartfelt thanks for this discovery.”

The room exploded with applause.

Tanissa looked about the room incredulously. Was this the same council who argued for hours on the possible banning of the rodeo events the men indulged in; all because some felt it were cruel to the horses and bulls?

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

Words: 2683

This was submitted for #15 of FGC  and forms part of a work in progress ( one I have let sit for 4 years but have promised myself to continue.. one day)

This was also submitted to Friday Flash