Writing-prompt

Cinderella Castle – Photo inspired short story

Cinderella Castle

I’ve had a crazy couple of weeks, but I finally managed to carve some time to write and visit my online friends. The following story is inspired by the above photograph. It was taken by a friend, Jarno Willemarck, in the French part of Belgium (he’s not allowed to give exact location). He titled it Cinderella Castle, so I’ve used that (you know how I struggle with them anyway!) I hope you enjoy.

Cinderella Castle

Garrett timed his movements to the haunting whistle and wail of the breeze through a barren landscape. The old house was a ghost of her former self, the old girl about ready to collapse and spill her secrets.

Let’s raise a toast to our freedom.

The voice, floating to him on the wings of times past was followed by the remembered echo of breaking glass. Pausing from the pursuit to gain freedom from his bindings, Garrett’s gaze fell on the table he had carried into the room at Fiona’s request almost fifteen years ago.

He took in the solitary glass, its twin littering the ground by the exit after Fee’s explosive declaration.

Here’s to a taste of freedom and the chance to blow this godawful joint.

The words echoed around the room, ghosts pulling at his memories until she appeared beside the table, her unruly gold curls bouncing as she moved, her graceful body bowing as she raised her glass and hurled it at the closest wall.

The wine they had been drinking had splashed back at her laughing frame, droplets of crimson soaking into the simple cream tunic she wore.

Garrett’s muscles bunched in response to the memory and he saw glimpses of his former self rushing to lift her from harm’s way. His Fee rarely wore anything on her feet, and he had been possessed by a need to protect her from further pain, a need made sharper by the sight of the growing patterns on her dress. Patterns that reminded him of the times the dark rich colour had been evidence of the beatings she had taken.

Let’s do what we should have done years ago and cremate the bitch.

His eyes closed as the soft, vulnerable note to her voice. It wasn’t real, but here, where memories were being drudged up with the filth in the room, past and present merged.

To centre himself, Garrett pulled on the wrist attached to the radiator, and the scrape of metal on metal screeched in a pitch that rivalled the wind.

Fiona had been talking about the house, though neither of them had truly blamed the ancient walls for the atrocities that took place here.

Still, they had tried to burn Gillingworth Manor to the ground. The scent of petrol and red-hot flame rose up to scorch his nose, trapping him with the sounds of burning timber. This room had been among the few that had survived their wrath, and it hadn’t gone unscathed.

When he glanced around, he saw the scorch marks on the ceiling and the debris scattered across the floor like pieces of his past. The rough bite of fabric scratched across his bare chest as the heavy curtains shivered in the breeze. They were darker than they had been. Garrett remembered them blooming as green as the walls, before water had soaked into the fabric and sealed in the house’s weary screams.

It had once been an opulent space, the furnishings a mask for what true horror took place behind the scenes.

Garrett raised his free hand to wipe the sweat from his face. He flinched in pain as the grime from his fingers caught in the open cut on his left cheek. The opposite eye was swollen shut, perhaps the reason his vision was so hazy and his mind flickering between the then and now montage to showcase his predicament.

The bruises across his torso added insult to injury because he swore if he took a snapshot the they would be an exact replica of his first foray into the room.

As though pressing a button to play a soundtrack to his misery, the punch of flesh against flesh echoed around him. He might have dismissed the thud of a body hitting the floor as a painful memory if it hadn’t been for the vibration that shook his bones.

“Fee.” His voice came out on a rasping breath, like the fire had been real again and he’d inhaled too much smoke.

Fiona stepped into the room carrying twin batons and a frown that could make a hardened criminal search out his weapons. She wasn’t bare foot now. The ghost of the girl she had been evaporated in the presence of the fierce woman she had become.

Dressed in black, from her boots to the cap she wore to tame the curs, Fiona looked like a fallen angel. He was afraid he was hallucinating until she spoke.

“What did I tell you about taking side gigs. You never go anywhere without backup.”

Despite feeling repentant for his stubborn actions, Garrett grinned at her. The cut on his lip seared fire across the skin and he knew the fresh flow of blood must have made for a macabre smile, but he didn’t care. They had been searching for Gillingowrth Junior for five years and he was certain his Fee had just made mincemeat out of the sick fuck.

She would never have been taken unaware, as he had been, but then she had always been smarter than him. He’d always followed her. Into the army, the security firm, he would follow her into hell itself.

It took her less than a minute to free him and then she was pulling him to his feet. He swayed until she caught him, and again when she pressed her lips to his.

“Ouch,” he whispered, making no move to step back.

“Stop being a baby. It’s just a scratch.”

He laughed at the words, ones she had spoken many times as a nod to their past. There was little that compared to the wounds inflicted by Rory Gillingworth.

“Can you walk?” she asked in a more serious tone, her pale brown eyes showing the first hint of concern.

“I’ll aim for a hobble and go from there.”

Her musical laughter bathed the room in a soft playful light, banishing every dark corner.

Using Fee for support as he’d been doing most of his life, he let her guide him from the room, confident he provided the same – the security of home.

The house would never be that, not for them, but someday perhaps it would be restored and filled with the kind of joy they had found in each other.


Thanks for stopping by

Mel

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Writers Quote Wednesday Writing Challenge – Waiting Game

This week for the Writers Quote Wednesday Writing Challenge (#WQWWC) the theme is Autumn.

The quote I chose is by George Eliot:

Delicious autumn! My very soul is wedded to it, and if I were a bird I would fly about the earth seeking the successive autumns. George Eliot.

There is something truly magnificent about autumn, and though we Brits don’t celebrate the holiday, it is a time for thanksgiving. For the glorious colours that explode to life, even in death. For the rich and pleasant smells, the wind on your cheeks, the fire in the hearth, and the warm drinks shared with friends.

I found myself inspired by the theme, so I created a few images to (hopefully) entertain you.

autumn-collage

autumn-pic

My inspiration for the piece of flash fiction has its roots in my current project. Eventually I will get back to my other works but, as you probably know, I have lived and breathed the Collective for the last six months. I went in a different direction, and used a goddess (of autumn), a completely new character who is surprisingly vocal considering she’s only been in my head for a day!

I’m considering a new series for the blog, and have been itching to find an opportunity to break the fourth wall – this might be it!

Waiting Game

There was a time when committing an act of hubris meant great suffering, and death. Not anymore. In Nearyon, arrogance and pride are applauded, and coercion will probably earn you a pat on the back.

Given the sorry state of affairs, I should not have been surprised that a bunch of upstarts who call themselves mercenaries for hire took me from my home. The kind who, if gathering brain cells was as easy as reaping a harvest, they should be filling their boots. And the worst part – aside from the fact they’re idiots – they take cues from a damn playbook. I mean, seriously, they should get it over with and set up their own club – HubrisRUs.

Okay, so maybe I’m a tad bitter because I haven’t figured out a way to escape, but still, my jailers don’t even have powers to speak of. No. What they have is powerful friends with the ability to dampen a god’s power. I should be flattered that they took extra precautions with me (I’m Thera by the way – in case you were wondering), and put me in a cell that is guarded against earth magic. Which kind of sucks, since my power links to the elements.

Still, I’m not completely defenceless. It took me three days to recover from the dampening spell, but it was worth the hours I spent plotting my revenge. The instant I came back online, I discovered a weakness (did I mention my jailers are idiots?) and, though I couldn’t pinpoint my location, I did manage to escape for a short time using astral projection.

I’m not going to lie, it didn’t exactly go according to plan. My sisters have the same ability, and give that they had been searching for me, the moment our connection snapped back into place they projected too. We sort of passed on the astral plane like ships in the night. It’s one way to find entertainment, I suppose. When you’re stuck inside a box it’s hard to find things to laugh at.

So, now it’s a waiting game. I can’t get out, but my sisters will find a way to get in, and together we will wreak havoc. As an added bonus, I will free all the other prisoners and we might even create our own playbook – 101 Ways to Exact Revenge. Not particularly inventive, but let’s just say I have a one track mind.


 

It didn’t really go anywhere, except as an introduction of sorts. It’s my first attempt at finding the right tone for the story and I wanted to keep it under 500 words. It’s a work in progress shall we say 😉

Thanks for stopping by

Mel

Thanks also to Colleen and Ronovan for inspiring us each week.

autumn

 

Feverish Part 3: Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes #9

Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes

This week, Ronovan challenged us to write a story based on the following sentence:

Ticks and tocks of essential time, sink the spirits lower than wine.

To find out more about Ronovan’s challenge click here.

I’m cutting it fine this week, and I have good news and bad news. The good is that I finally managed to finish the story! The not so good is that I couldn’t complete it within the suggested word limit. As it is a suggested limit I don’t feel too bad, although I did double the 500 word target!

As this is the third part, here is a quick summary of the previous installments:

Maddison Wood is a mercenary. She is also a powerful witch, and a member of the Enchanted League. When the Hympe King contracts a virus, and his people begin to get sick, Maddison agrees to help. Her partner in crime, a werewolf named Riley, located the source of the virus – a hympe who imprisoned himself in the shape of a tree (hympe’s are shapeshifters). The Hympe King is the only one who can free the prisoner but, due to an uncontrollable rage brought on by the fever, the team might not be able to contain him long enough for him to focus his power.

Feverish Part 3

Marcus and the siren twins made it in under thirty minutes. All three guards looked exhausted; their expressions grim, their shoulders hunched. Of course, they had the added weight of a king on their shoulders, since they were carrying Tobias – literally.

“We don’t have much time,” Marcus said, and his voice was heavy with fatigue.

Maddison made her way over to the group, with Riley on her heels. The tension was so thick, it was like wading through treacle. Jonas’ words sprang to mind; their commander and chief had a tendency towards the dramatics. Maddison could hear his voice in her head, like an echo of his earlier warning.

Ticks and tocks of essential time, sink the spirits lower than wine.

That mission hadn’t gone so well, and Maddison still remembered the bitter taste of their defeat. But they wouldn’t lose this time. She wouldn’t allow it.

“What’s the plan?” she asked Marcus. “Other than poking the bear and waking his ass up.”

Riley’s low rumble of laughter did nothing to ease the animosity. It was leaking out of Marcus’ pores and, since he ignored her question, Maddison took that as a zero in the ideas department.

By the time they lowered Tobias to the ground, Maddison was out of patience. She didn’t have it in her to argue protocol, or worse, debate over how they would handle Tobias’ condition.

She knelt beside him and focused her power. Her hair shot out, the braid controlled, and as lethal as a snake, her locks wound themselves tight around Tobias’ torso. When she had enough energy focused on her silken trap, she leaned forward to take Tobias’ hand until her fingers brushed the wide band on his finger. Maddison had given the ring to him for protection, to anchor him in the present. It had worked before, and she had to believe it would work again.

“Wake him,” she said to Marcus, and cut off his protest before he could utter a word. “We don’t have time to argue.”

Marcus didn’t like it, she could feel his anxiety, yet she knew he couldn’t deny her connection to his king.

Maddison closed her eyes, pushing out with her mind to find Tobias. ‘How’re you holding up, half-blood?’ she asked. It probably wasn’t a good idea to push his buttons, but it hadn’t stopped her before.

Every muscle in Tobias’ body locked, and she knew he was getting ready to fight the binds. ‘What’s happening?’

He sounded confused, whether from the prolonged sleep or the amount of power she was using, Maddison’ couldn’t be sure. ‘You’re sick, and the virus has put you in a perpetual bad mood, so you need to get a hold on that temper and help us out.’

‘I hurt you.’

Maddison felt her brows draw together, and for a second she thought her brain had scrambled too. Then she remembered he’d drawn blood during their fight; the first indication of the illness. ‘Yes, I still owe you for that one, but we’ll save the rematch for when you’re not feeling so cranky.’

“What’s happening?”

The question came from one of the twins. Maddison didn’t know which one, it took all her effort to hold on when Tobias began to thrash. ‘Stop.’ She directed a blast of power into the ring, and felt it heat beneath her fingers. ‘You need to focus your energy to use your gift.’ When Tobias’ body stilled again, Maddison forged ahead. ‘Your people are sick, Tobias. You have to help them.’

Tobias didn’t reply, but he didn’t move either. So she told him about the hympe who had imprisoned himself in the form of a tree, one of Tobias’ subjects in desperate need for an intervention. She didn’t tell him they were running out of time, or that the hympe was the key to curing him.

She wanted to sag in relief when she felt Tobias’ power dance with her own. He was reaching out, using his entire focus. She didn’t move. Maddison remained locked in place, ignoring the pain in her skull and the exertion of maintaining the connection.

Maddison had no idea that Tobias’ guards were using their skills to strengthen that hold. All three had linked to their king and were helping to ease his growing frustration.

Riley, whose animal half had detected Maddison’s distress, howled in warning. She felt his presence like a comforting hand on her shoulder.

She knew the moment Tobias freed the hympe from his self-induced prison, but there was no pull of relief this time. Maddison didn’t have it in her. Tobias was straining against her, the rage hitting her in great waves as he struggled to regain control. She felt their connection break when he tugged his hand out of hers, and fear ran along her skin.

“Put him out,” Marcus barked, his voice coming from somewhere far away. “We need to get them out of here. Now.”

The second Tobias stilled again, Maddison let go. She didn’t have any choice. She had expelled too much energy and there was nothing left to give. There was nothing left to keep her upright either. If it hadn’t been for Riley, she would have fallen on her face.

Riley’s arms were like steel traps around her, and she leaned into his strength. Maddison even allowed it when he nuzzled his face into her neck. It was a compulsion of the wolf, and a sign of the animal’s affection. Still, she didn’t humour him for long. Her hair flipped out like a cat’s tail and flicked him playfully on the head. Maddison felt his body shudder with a growl of laughter.

“Okay, fur-face, stop slobbering on me and let me up. Our job here is done.”

Riley obliged with a wicked grin. “What about Tobias?” he asked, as she straightened.

“His guards will serve up the cure, and then I’ll serve up an ass kicking for all the shit he’s pulled.”

The rumble of amusement came again, deep from Riley’s chest. “You do know that he’s a king, right. And he happens to rule the League.”

Maddison shrugged. “Somebody has to keep him on his toes.” Then, because she was still feeling a little weak, she rerouted her energy and looked across the clearing. “Let’s get out of here. Make yourself useful and find the nearest portal.”

“Try to keep up,” Riley said in a low taunting voice, and set off at a run.

The burst of challenge was just what Maddison needed. Not to mention the satisfaction of knowing Tobias would be well, and sparring with her again in no time.

***

Thanks for stopping by.

Mel

 

Feverish Part 2: Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes #8

Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes

This week, Ronovan challenged us to write a story based on an image (below). To find out more, click here.

boab tree.png

I mentioned last week that my story, Feverish, would be a two part tale, and that I would incorporate the new prompt. I did manage to weave in the tree, but I couldn’t complete the story without going over the word limit I gave myself (1000 words). That means it’s turned into a three part story. Hopefully, next week I can finish it, while incorporating a whole new prompt!

You probably need to read part 1 to follow the story, but here is a summary:

Maddison Wood is a mercenary. She is also a powerful witch, and a member of the Enchanted League. When the Hympe King contracts a virus, and his people begin to get sick, Maddison agrees to help. With her partner in crime, a werewolf named Riley, Maddison is searching for the origin of the virus. Riley drank a potion in order to search out the source. In his wolf form, Riley was able to pick up the trail and is on the hunt.

Feverish Part 2

If it hadn’t been for Fitz and his band of merry cats, Maddison would have lost her friend’s trail. In wolf form, Riley was fast. Too fast. And now he was burning off some seriously bad mojo, given the spell originated from a powerful god.

The wolves held back, keeping to the shadows of the mighty forest. Maddison knew they wouldn’t intervene unless one of their own was in trouble. Until then, they were merely along for the ride.

They found Riley a few minutes later. He was circling a large tree, a species foreign to Aronmyre and the Enchanted Forest. The base was large and swollen. It gave the strange impression it had split at the seams, considering the large opening at the centre. The upper branches, thick and heavy, reached up toward the sky like an offering.

The tree looked alien, so out of place, Maddison wondered why they hadn’t been drawn to it. It was like a homing beacon of discontent.

She could feel the sadness coming off the tree; it was in the air, in the land beneath their feet. When she glanced around, Maddison saw the others felt it too.

“Hey, wolf-man, what have we got?” she asked Riley as she approached. His responding growl surprised her. “I don’t have time for a wolfy chat,” she said, following his progress as he made another lap of the tree. “So I kind of need my friend back for the next part.”

Riley’s wolf usually recognised her. The animal responded to her voice, to her touch. But not this time. Instead of obliging, she got another low, threatening growl, and a flash of dark amber eyes.

Maddison watched him for a second, and then she grew tired of the show. She dropped to her hands and knees and waited out the next lap until they were face to face. Riley stopped, fur bristling, and lips pulled back in a snarl. She knew when he crouched, he was way past angry and had hit pissed off territory.

She ignored the aggressive posture and gathered power at her core. Maddison felt it build. It travelled up through her lungs and gathered in a pocket of air, which she blew directly in the animal’s direction. Under normal circumstances, it was a risky move. A sure way to get your head bitten off was to blow in the face of a wolf. But this was Riley, and it was no ordinary breath. It contained the same kind of energy she used to purge her system of foreign substances.

A second later Riley appeared in his human form. He moved forward, and touched his forehead to hers. Maddison allowed the gesture for a beat or two, and then sat back to look into his dark eyes. “What have we got?” she asked again.

Riley motioned to the tree. “That’s the origin of the disease.” He glanced at the bulbous base, which was at eye level, and then back. “Want to huff and puff and blow the thing down?”

She grinned as she got to her feet and held out a hand to him. But not before she waved a hand in front of his body and clothed him in a colourful pair of shorts. “Isn’t that my line?” Maddison asked, her attention back on the tree.

If the thing was in fact the origin of the fever, it meant it wasn’t a tree at all. It was a hympe and, despite Riley’s teasing, she had no idea how to return the hympe to its true form.

Maddison pulled one of the gold rings from her hair and threw it into the air. It expanded on descent, so it was a hundred millimetres in diameter by the time it hit the ground. She waved a hand, her lips forming a soft chant until a shaft or circular light appeared. A moment later Maddison was looking at Marcus, head guard to the Hympe King.

Her lips twitched when Marcus sucked in a breath. Not surprising when the glass chamber in front of him became a window to their location. “We found the source,” she said, forgoing the pleasantries.

Marcus’ gaze moved to take in the view. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes. You need to clear out before we arrive. I’ll need Tobias for this, and he’d perform better without an audience right now.”

She wanted to laugh. What Marcus meant was that Tobias was difficult to control in the throes of his fever and he didn’t want to clean up the mess. “So that’s it. We find the main player and we don’t get to enjoy the show?”

“It’s your funeral.” Marcus shrugged. “As long as you’re all aware of the risks and don’t get in our way.”

“That’s what I love about your, Marcus. You’re all heart.” Maddison waved her hand and the connection terminated. She moved to retrieve her ring, before turning to the group. “You heard Marcus. Our role here is done.”

Both packs began to disperse.

“You’re staying aren’t you?” Fitz asked, glancing around the clearing.

Maddison shrugged. “Whether Marcus likes it or not, it’s my job to help him contain the situation. I still work for the League, and Tobias needs me.”

Fitz moved when Maddison held up her hand to him. He pressed his palm against hers and bowed. Then he turned and went after his pack.

“After this is over, I want to discuss your wardrobe choice,” Riley said, frowning down at the yellow shorts. When Maddison shrugged, he turned serious. “What’s going to happen?”

“Tobias is the only one who can coax the hympe out of hiding, given his control over living organisms. Once he does that, he’ll need some of the hympe’s blood for an antidote.” Maddison thought of his rage the last time they met. “But he has no control, so I’m not sure Tobias can tap into the power he needs to pull this off.”

Riley nodded. “Whatever happens, I have your back.”

“Why do you think you’re here fur-face?” Maddison laughed when he snapped his teeth at her. “In the meantime, we might as well take a load off. We’re in for a bit of a wait.”

***

Thanks for stopping by.

Mel

Feverish: Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes #7

Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes

This week, Ronovan challenged us to write a story incorporating a minimum of three words from the following list: dog, cat, toy, fever, ski, fluffy, machete, purple drink. We were also encouraged to write a humour piece. To find out more, click here.

To keep the word count down, I decided to write a two-part story. The second part isn’t written yet, so I may be able to tie it in with the prompt next week (I’ll try my best).

I decided to use (as I often do) familiar characters for this tale, so here is a little background:

After the Demonic War, a battle which devastated the mortal realm, humans now stick to the world’s major cities. To even the score, and to protect those cities, hunters joined together to establish cells across the globe. Maddison Wood is part of an alpha cell within the north of England. Though a skilled fighter and powerful witch, Maddison can be brash, and unpredictable. She has a penchant for trouble, and is usually the first to volunteer in battle.

Feverish – Part One

Maddison was not having a good day. But then, truth be told, she wasn’t having a good week. It began with a virus, a virus with a ridiculous name – imp fever. She managed to burn the impish strain from her system, but not before she’d made a complete fool of herself. She had been nice. Nice. Some would say, even buoyant, like a teenager cursed with the happy vibe.

Granted, she’d been cured. Tobias Locke, on the other hand, had enough angry juice in him to start another war. If Maddison got the good mojo, the Hympe King drank from the wrong cup. His rage made him dangerous. So much so, his guards saw it necessary to keep him sedated until they found a cure. The fact imp fever was serious business to Tobias’ race, meant the Enchanted League were on high alert. It was the reason Maddison called a time out on her Watcher duties.

When it came to back up, Donovan, her sidekick extraordinaire, was as good as useless – given he was a hympe. The danger to her friend put a major crimp in their style. Donovan was so freaked out, in fact, he wouldn’t go near her, and that was after Maddison cleansed herself of the happy trip.

“Are you ready to do this thing or what?” Riley asked, stepping through the portal without waiting for a reply.

Riley was the best tracker Maddison knew, but he didn’t relish the thought of hunting in the Enchanted Forest when a third of the hympe population were dropping like flies and they had no idea what plethora of emotions would permeate the air.

Maddison stepped through after her surly friend, prepared now to see Aronmyre for the first time. Tobias’ kingdom was the jewel of the Enchanted Forest. Not that she would ever tell Tobias how much she loved his land. She would rather drink aiscline juice, which tasted as bad as it sounded.

Today she didn’t get to appreciate her surroundings. For one, she stepped into a potential minefield of teeth and testosterone. The sheer number of wolves and panthera in the same place, at the same time, had to equal trouble.

“What the hell is going on?” she demanded, when Fitz, a lieutenant and one of the feline changelings stepped forward.

“We’ve been summoned by the League,” Fitz said, holding out his hand.

Maddison rolled her eyes when Riley growled beside her. Based on the tension in Riley’s body, she knew she was pushing it, but Maddison didn’t care. Her hair whipped out and the braid wrapped around Fitz’s hand. He was a tactile creature and he needed the contact. It was the best she could give.

“Talk, cat,” Riley said, in a voice so low and rough, Maddison sensed he was losing control of the wolf.

“We need to find the original source of the virus, and to do that we need to track. Unfortunately there are so many contaminants in the air, due to the number of sick, the League figure they need all the help they can get.”

“You can all go home now. I’ll find the threat.”

Maddison had to bite down hard on her lip to prevent the grin. She turned to Riley with a blank expression. “Feeling confident, tiger?”

His eyes flashed at the provocation. “Really? In a valley full of cats, you’re going with that.”

She ignored him and turned back to Fitz. “How did you get the pack to-” Maddison sucked in breath as light exploded across the clearing. “You have got to be frigging kidding me.”

Orion Reece appeared with his usual fanfare and, apparently, he didn’t have time for games. All in the clearing had frozen in their last position, making them temporary statues. All except Maddison and Riley.

“Hmm.” Orion turned in a full circle, taking in his surroundings. “It really can rain cats and dogs!”

Maddison stifled a laugh, and Riley growled. Understandably, he took issue; it was not the first time Orion labelled him a dog. “Easy, wolf-man,” she whispered. Then turned on Orion. He might be a god, but he didn’t impress her. Much. “If you’re here to ask a favour, we’re kind of busy.”

“Woody.” His tone was conciliatory, and this time Maddison wanted to growl. He used the name to get a rise out of her. “I’m here to help. Why must you be so defensive?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What’s it going to cost?”

Orion’s smile was slow and cunning. “I haven’t decided yet. But you need my help, and it’s a price you can pay, so stop with the bitching.” He waved his hand with a sorcerer’s flourish. A glass appeared in his hand. “Drink this,” he said, holding it out to Riley.

“You expect me to consume an unidentified…” Riley’s gaze dropped to the glass. “Purple drink, a concoction which you plucked from the air?”

“If you don’t accept my help, the king won’t make it. Another two hours and his current mood swings will be permanent.” Orion shrugged. “Personally, I think it’s funny to watch him rage out, but I’m guessing others don’t agree with me.” His eyes were on Maddison now.

“I’ll drink it,” she said, bored of the game. Maddison knew Orion would never harm her, and if Tobias’ life was truly in danger, she would take the risk.

“You can’t.” Orion sighed with exaggerated patience. “This is a onetime deal, so decide. The magic requires an…adequate tracker.”

Before Maddison could argue the point, Riley grabbed the glass and downed the liquid. She watched with unconcealed fascination as her friend exploded into wolf form and took off across the clearing.

When she turned back to Orion he was gone, and the world around her came unstuck. Maddison ignored the confused look on Fitz’s face, but touched a hand to his arm. “Riley has a lead. Let’s go.”

She didn’t wait for an answer, she ran after Riley and hoped Orion wasn’t playing one of his sick games.


Thanks for stopping by.

Mel

Chicken: Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes #3

Friday Fiction with Ronovan Writes

Created for Ronovan’s weekly writing prompt challenge. For more details click here.

airplaine

“Jesus Christ, you can’t play chicken with a plane. For god’s sake, Sadie. Have you lost your mind?”

This from a girl who races the Snaefell Mountain Course for kicks. Seriously, the deadliest racetrack in the world or, if not the deadliest, certainly up there in the top ten, and she accuses me of being crazy. At least I had two extra wheels and an obstacle free track. If you didn’t count the private jet in our path, and the fact we were on a runway facing a relative giant. Okay, so maybe she had a point.

I didn’t tell her that. Instead I turned to the passenger seat with raised brows and sweetness in my tone. “You know Mother doesn’t like it when you use the Lord’s name in vain,” I told her, well aware Mother could hear our conversation and was probably laughing her ass off. “And you did that shit…twice.”

Anna threw her arms in the air, gesticulating her frustration – as is her way. “I tell you what. As you’re so determined to get us killed, why don’t I apologise personally when we meet her at the god damned pearly gates.”

To hide my smile, I dipped my head and worked the gears. “I’m pretty sure that’s blasphemous too.”

“Oh, give it a rest. The pair of you,” Mother snapped, her voice filling the car through the on-board navigation system; a sweet little upgrade from yours truly. What can I say? I’m a woman of many talents.

Julie Keesh, code name Mother because of her tough love and organisational prowess, is a woman you listen to. Everyone I know is afraid of her, and I mean everyone. Whoever you are, and whatever the assignment, when Julie is the voice in your ear, you pay attention. Incidentally, she’s also our biological mother; Anna and I are in the family business.

“And, when I said stop the plane, Sadie. I did not mean put yourself in its path.” Mother’s voice had dropped low, which scared me a lot more than the prospect of being flipped off the runway like a bug in an expensive Italian car. “This is not an episode of Fast and Furious, so get your head out of your ass and back in the game.”

Did I mention the scary part? The Keeshter, as some of our team call her, rarely minces her words.

“Copy that,” I said, aiming off the track to execute an emergency stop. “But just so we’re clear,” I continued, throwing open the driver door as I turned to grab the extrapolator; one of my all-time favourite weapons (yes, I designed it). “This is more Mission Impossible than Fast and Furious. I have much better tech.”

I heard Anna groan. “Guys, those movies are like a million years old. You’re killing me.”

This was a slight exaggeration, something else Anna is prone to do. The films are no more than thirty years old and they still rock. In my humble opinion. Not that I corrected my sister. I was too busy lining up my moving target, setting the parameters and, bam, I let her rip.

The missile sailed through the air, locked on and settled with a thud that was definitely in my head; like the sweet music of my invention. I couldn’t hear a thing over the roar of the engine, and Anna’s delayed whoop – which she yelled right in my ear.

A few seconds later, likely due to the fact all its systems had failed, the plane rumbled to a stop on the runway and I was back in the car.

“Go. Go. Go,” Anna screeched when we saw the plane door start to open.

“Are you going to tell us why we had to keep her grounded?” I asked Mother, then accelerated towards the elegant beast.

“That’s a need to know, my girl and, trust me, you do not need to know.”

Before I had the chance to respond, five modified SUV’s cut into our path and they were motoring. Whatever was in that plane, they didn’t want it getting out.

“Head back to central command. Your part is done,” Mother said with, it has to be said, a note of distraction. “Nice work.”

I turned to Anna, who shrugged in a non-verbal ‘don’t ask me,’ and turned the wheel to get the hell out of the there.

I couldn’t help looking back, the jet centred in my rear view mirror against a backdrop of clear, blue sky, and wondering what danger it contained within. Given that we were pulled from a major assignment, and given the barest minimum in terms of intel, it had to be bad.

“Next time, let me in on the plan before I start ranting like an idiot,” Anna said, pulling her feet up to rest on the dash.

“Oh, honey,” I replied, back to sickly sweet as I knocked her feet to the floor. “What would be the fun in that?”

***

Thanks for reading.

Mel

Mel’s Midweek Writing Menagerie #17

Mel's Midweek Writing MenagerieWelcome to my biweekly writing prompt series. The rules of the challenge are simple. Paste a link to your story in the comments or create a pingback so I can read and share your contribution. You have until the 28th of October to submit, before the next round begins. Here is the hashtag, should you wish to use it – #MelsWritingMenagerie. This month the theme will be centred around Halloween.

All entries are shared on Featured Fiction.

So, on to the next set of prompts. Grab the badge and write a post based on either of the following:

Option 1: Sentence Starter –

I’ve never known true evil, not like that, not until I looked it in the face and saw my destiny.

Option 2: Fanfiction –

Write a scene from your favourite show, film or book, which incorporates Halloween as a theme.


Thanks for stopping by.

Mel

Mel’s Midweek Writing Menagerie #16

Mel's Midweek Writing Menagerie

Welcome to my biweekly writing prompt series. The rules of the challenge are simple. I’ve provided two options below, and there’s a handy link-up button at the end of the post, so you can upload your contribution and share it with others. You have until the 14th of October to submit, before the next round begins. If you prefer to use the pingback method, I’ll check out each link I receive. Here is the hashtag, should you wish to use it – #MelsWritingMenagerie. This month the theme will be centred around Halloween.

Before I get to the prompts, I’d like to share a link with you to a fanfiction piece written by Louise Findlay – a piece all you Doctor Who fans will definitely appreciate. You can find it by clicking on the following title:

The Gallifreyan Tearheart: Chapter 1 by Louise Findlay

All entries are shared on Featured Fiction.

So, on to the next set of prompts. Grab the badge and write a post based on either of the following:

Option 1: Sentence Starter –

Blood seeped from the wound; it snaked along the blade, dripped from the hilt and landed with a sickening plop on his shiny, black shoes.

Option 2: Fanfiction –

Write a scene from your favourite show, film or book, which incorporates Halloween as a theme.


Thanks for stopping by.

Mel

Mel’s Midweek Writing Menagerie #15

Mel's Midweek Writing Menagerie

Welcome to my weekly writing prompt series. The rules of the challenge are simple. I’ve provided two options below, and there’s a handy link-up button at the end of the post, so you can upload your contribution and share it with others. If you prefer to use the pingback method, I’ll check out each link I receive. Here is the hashtag, should you wish to use it – #MelsWritingMenagerie.

Before I get to the prompts, I’d like to share with you an entry from last week by Louise Findlay. To read the full, original post, click on the title.

The Epic Struggle to Grow a Plant (RED Fanfiction) by Louise Findlay.

“Frank, what is so urgent and why do you have a bonsai plant?” I asked.

I was his next door neighbour but we saw each other about once a week. I did happen to take up quite a few contracts that my sister passed my way though so I wasn’t home a lot. How Frank managed the whole domestic living thing I don’t know. I couldn’t survive in my house with nothing to do all day. Luckily I still retained a membership to the Contract Killers Society. Contract Killers Weekly was such a great magazine. I could brush up on my technique and it relieved boredom.

“I need some gardening tips” he said.

“Gardening tips? Since when were you a gardener? How am I supposed to know anything about plants?” I said in disbelief.


All entries are shared over at Featured Fiction.

So, on to the next set of prompts. Grab the badge and write a post based on either of the following options:

Options 1: Sentence Starter –

Dawn approaches, but the night still reigns. (Prompt provided by Louise.)

The sentence can be used anywhere in the story. The maximum word count is 1,000 words. The genre can be any of your choosing; either factual or fiction based. You may use art to interpret the sentence, or poetry if you wish.

Option 2: Fanfiction –

Write a death scene involving your favourite characters from television, film or literature.


Thanks for stopping by.

Mel

Mel’s Midweek Writing Menagerie #14

Mel's Midweek Writing MenagerieWelcome to my weekly writing prompt series. The rules of the challenge are simple. I’ve provided two options below, and there’s a handy link-up button at the end of the post, so you can upload your contribution and share it with others. If you prefer to use the pingback method, I’ll check out each link I receive. Here is the hashtag, should you wish to use it – #MelsWritingMenagerie.

Before I get to the prompts, I’d like to share with you an entry from last week by R. Todd. To read the full, original post, click on the title.

Voices by R. Todd

He paced the antechamber; tormented by the echoes of all who had come before him. Echoes of voices that warned him to get out, and get out now. His brow furrowed as he paced, rubbing his hands together, knowing that he should listen to the voices, but knowing full well, if it weren’t him that stopped this evil, then who would. No, resolution was not his strong point, but her had to make the stand. For them.

The sad part is, a lot of people would have thought of his gift as something special. After all, it’s not everyone that can hear the dead, what mysteries they held, what secrets they could reveal. Yes, many would think that he was lucky. Many would be wrong.


All entries are shared over at Featured Fiction.

So, on to the next set of prompts. Grab the badge and write a post based on either of the following options:

Option 1: Sentence Starter –

“Put your hands right there, and don’t move them until I tell you to.”

The sentence (dialogue) can be used anywhere in the story. The maximum word count is 1,000 words. The genre can be any of your choosing; either factual or fiction based. You may use art to interpret the sentence, or poetry if you wish.

Option 2: Fanfiction

If you could turn your favourite film into a television series, write the pilot episode or a story based on the pilot.


Thanks for stopping by.

Mel

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