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#AmWriting #ShortStory #IndieAuthor The Raven Queen took her nightly walk through the Shadowfell, observing her kingdom through the eyes of her pets as she went. Her dark… Read more “The Curious Queen”
#AmWriting #ShortStory #IndieAuthor The building sat dark and decrepit as Haley, Josh, Mark, and Matt walked up the path. Their flashlights barely cut through the fog that… Read more “The Dare”
#writing #fiction #wp “Bartholomew!” I screamed from my lab. A pale-faced, skinny boy emerged from one of the many pantries in which I kept the supplies for… Read more “The Lost Prodigy”
Continued from March 12, 2018 Claire lifted herself from the ground, helping Goldman up as well. The creator was nowhere to be found as they moved to the… Read more “Detective Claire Haskel – Conclusion”
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Amed walked down the street in the small town he had moved to shortly after coming to the United States. He loved everything about his new home, except perhaps that it lacked the small things he missed from his home country. The food here was the biggest difference. Everything here was fatty, or overly sweet, rather than the simple delicious foods he had grown up with in the Middle East, but he cooked as much as he could to stifle the homesickness. Things were much better here after all.
Stopping in front of Sweet Treats, the local bakery, he saw Fiona, the owner, through the window. She waved and smiled at him, as she always did when she saw him. He felt awkward talking to women still, but he thought Fiona was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. They had met two years ago when he had moved here. She was the only person that didn’t give him suspicious looks when she saw him, and their relationship blossomed into a wonderful friendship.
“Good morning, Amed.” Fiona said a she swung the door open, turning the open sign around. “Come in, I have fresh Pan Au Chocolat. You’ll love it.”
“Alright.” He replied, “You spoil me too much. My teeth will rot out if I keep eating here.”
“You’re teeth won’t rot out, silly.” She said slapping him with a towel playfully. “If you don’t want to eat my baked goods, all you have to do is tell me.”
“No, everything you make is delicious. I would never refuse!” He replied, suddenly worried that he had offended her.
“Calm down. It’s alright, Amed. I know, you’re not used to it is all.” She said presenting him with a golden brown pastry with warm chocolate oozing from the center, “Trust me though, you’ll enjoy this. It’s French, you know.”
He cautiously put the end of it in his mouth and bit down gently. It was the perfect temperature. The flaky, buttery, crust mixed perfectly with the smooth dark chocolate. He felt a rush a satisfaction as he continued to eat.
“I told you didn’t I?” She said with a giggle. “Everyone loves French pastries, unless, of course, you’re some kind of monster.”
“It’s amazing, Fiona. How much do I owe you?” He asked when he finished.
“Dinner.” She said, her cheeks suddenly flushing.
“You owe me dinner. Tonight. You can pick me up at six and we’ll eat some of your cooking tonight.” She replied.
“I don’t know, Fiona. The other people in town already look at me like I’m up to something. What-” He replied.
“I’ve been waiting months for you to ask me out. I’ve finally worked up the courage and your going to shoot me down.” She started, throwing her hands up in the air. “I’m sorry, I thought we had something-”
“We can meet here!” He said, cutting her off mid-sentence. “I’ll bring some food here.”
“Well alright.” She said, suddenly adorable again, “I’ll see you at six then.”
To Be Continued…
Chris, comfortably lying in bed, surrounded by pillows, with the special comforter pulled up to his chin, stared at the ceiling. He listened to the light ticking sound coming at regular intervals from the water heater two rooms away, even through the hum of the overly expensive noise machine he had been instructed to buy by his doctor. He wasn’t sure exactly how long it had been since the last time he had slept, but he knew that his mind was wearing thin.
Weeks of research, doctors appointments, and pseudoscience solutions had yielded no results for him. He had even begun taking prescriptions to help him sleep, but they had little to no effect on him, other than occasionally granting him the reprieve from reality that only hallucinations could bring.
Tonight, however, there were no prescriptions, or anything else. It was only Chris, lying in bed as comfortable as he could be, starting at the ceiling. His mind wandered occasionally, but his body refused to allow exhaustion to gain a foothold. Hours passed and he hadn’t moved. He assumed that if he did it would reset some imaginary clock that required some arbitrary amount of time before he could sleep.
The clock tower across town chimed three times, informing him that his practically useless alarm would go off in three hours. Suddenly a thought went through his mind. Water. He hadn’t had a glass of water before lying down.
“Son of a b***h.” He muttered as he moved the covers of him.
He swung his feet over the side of the bed and slipped them into the slippers waiting for him. He walked out of the room, down the hall, and flipped on the bathroom light as he shut the door behind him. He turned to the sink, filling his glass, only half paying attention before he raised the glass to his lips.
In the mirror, where he had expected to see his old, tired reflection holding the glass, was only black. It was beyond black. It seemed as though it were quite literally nothing sitting in the cracked silver frame. He moved his free hand up to touch the nothing before him, but his body wouldn’t move.
Panic surged through him. He had hallucinations frequently in recent history, but none like this. Then he heard the whispers. They came through the void before him. There were so many voices that he couldn’t follow what any of them were saying. The volume of the whispers would rise and fall as though orchestrated by some great unseen conductor.
Chris stood there, unable to move, gripped by fear as the whispers increased in volume and he began picking words from the babble.
“Why?” One said, “Why me?”
“Please let me go, I have kids.” A feminine one said as though pleading with him.
“Run!” Another said, barely louder than the rest. “You have to run!”
The voices continued to rise in volume until Chris was sure that his ears were bleeding. Everything in the bathroom was shaking from the noise. Yet, he remained perfectly paralyzed in his pajamas staying into the void. He tried to form words but not even his mouth would obey his mind.
The blackness seemed to begin changing in Chris’ vision. He wasn’t sure if it was because he couldn’t blink, but it seemed to be moving. Drawing closer to him as the surface stretched toward his face. When it touched his skin he found his voice, but it wasn’t words he had found, it was the scream of agony escaping him from the burning cold washing over him.
Jack was a small and insignificant thing to the adults around him. His wiry frame, messy hair, and crooked teeth made for an appalling sight to anyone… Read more “A Humble Beginning”
Continued from Dark Fog
I walked slowly past the gates of the prison, enjoying the sounds of screams emanating from inside. What once barred entry to the interior of the prison had been disabled by the darkness on its mission to free the others. All that remained of both the gate and the guards that once manned the post was ash. Even their weapons had been subject to it.
I reached out with my mind to perceive through the darkness’ sentience. It was swirling from cell to cell, liking everyone it came across as it searched the cell block for the first of my compatriots, Jensen. He was a true ally and a formidable foe to anyone that fared to stand against him. As though the darkness could read my thoughts it suddenly jolted down the cell block and into a cell where I saw Jensen sitting calmly with his legs crossed in stark contrast to the majority of the prison, which was still screaming as other tendrils stretched from cell to cell.
Jensen, in his prison issued clothes, smiled at the darkness that floated before him. He moved slowly but confidently as he placed his feet on the floor. He stood, raising to his intimidating six-foot-five-inch tall height, before stretching. The tattoos on his skin crawled in response as if they too understood what was happening. He turned, grabbed a small makeshift bag from under the bed, then turned back to the darkness that watched him, glaring at it from under his thick eyebrows.
“It’s about time, Emordius.” He said throwing the bag over his shoulder. The light from the ceiling made the scars that covered most of his face and arms seem more severe than normal. The darkness even pulled back slightly when he spoke as if it understood how dangerous the man before it was. “I’ll see you in a few minutes. The others are still in solitary.”
With a confident smile plastered to his face, he walked straight into the dark fog before him and made his way toward me. One down, three remaining allies to collect from this prison. I pulled my mind back to my body as Jensen came through the missing front door walking at a leisurely pace. If it were anyone else I would’ve thought they were over confident, but he knew my attachment and respect for him.
“Hello, old friend.” He said coming to a stop just beside me. “The darkness finally obeys you.”
It was a statement, not a question. I was still smiling, and it spread wider in response. There was nothing to say at the moment. It would only be a few more minutes before the others were free and I could address them all when they came.