Short Story Saturday the June’th

Kris here,

Komona is the final, unintroduced character played by our lovely roommate Watson. She’s a lady of …..quality, and, mystery.

_____

 

Komona’s bleary eyes opened hesitantly against the bright sunlight. She draped the comforter back over her head and stretched warmly in the darkness, soaking in the silence.

Her client was supposed to have woken her up before he left for the day, but she couldn’t hear any sign of him from her perch.

Hmm.

She rose and dressed, using the full length mirror against the wall to fix her mussed hair. It’s not like she were late for anything, but it would be nice to get out of here before the streets filled with people. Sighing, she crossed the room to her shoes and, after some last minute glancing down the halls, took the nicer pair hanging by the dresser and replaced them with her own. If someone noticed, she’d have to give them back. If no one noticed, she had a new pair of shoes. No harm in trying!

“Oh yes. OH YES.” They felt like wearing a masseuse made of clouds to rub your feet after every step. Time to make herself  scarce.

Komona floated through the hallway and down the stairs, moving through the house like a whisper. No sound from the front or the back. She strained her ears, listening for sounds of life. As she approached the kitchen, she heard a muffled banging from below.

What was that?

She entered the bright kitchen warily, cautiously stalking over to where she’d last heard the noise. Something felt…off. Where was the noise from the streets? The housekeepers?  Finally getting a good look outside, she was shocked to see it was already mid-afternoon. How long had she slept! Had her client found the sleeping poison she hid and used it on her?

She yanked the small knife holding her hair in place and checked the secret chamber. It looked full?

Yes, something was amiss.

CRACK

She leapt over the island behind her as the wall under the marble counters slammed itself almost in half.

“Who’s there?!”

She grabbed a heavy knife from the block on the island and came back around to investigate. What in the-

CRACK

Komona stared into a pair of lifeless eyes, frozen by fear. The maid’s pallid face pierced her with a hungry stare, lacerations and gouges covering the rest of the horrific head. Where did all that blood come from?

“Are you…Are you okay?”

The angry older woman growled at her and flailed at the rest of the wall keeping her trapped in the cellar, splintering it to pieces.

Wide-eyed and fearing for her life, Komona flew from the kitchen and out the front door as fast as humanly possible. She slammed the door open and bolted into the empty streets.

Wait. Empty streets? Her mind whirled a mile a minute. She stowed the knife she’d been fleeing with into a bag. Probably for the best something terrible was happening, it would’ve gotten her arrested to run about the rich quarter with a giant knife at hand. She made for the gate – best to get home to stow her payments.

But the gate was closed.

“Why is the gate closed!” She said it aloud more to make a little sound in the creepy stillness hanging over everything than to get a response. The gatehouse was closed anyway.

“That’s what we’d like to know too, but there’s nobody around to ask.”

The slender woman nearly jumped out of her new shoes. She whirled to face the woman who answered. Strong and dour, with two holstered cats at her side. The woman glared for a minute, sizing her up.

“Where did you come from anyway? We’ve been looking all over for anyone still living. Any others locked up where you came from?”

Komona looked around the stout woman to see the old man and small girl she was traveling with. “No. I suppose you three are the first living people I’ve seen today too. What happened around here? Where is everyone?”

The trio took a few minutes filling her in. A plague cure, people littering the streets like rats, the deafening quiet smothering the city.

“Wow, a lot of things happened while I was asleep. Is it really Tuesday? I’m beginning to think I overslept more than I realized. What are you guys planning from here now with everyone gone?”

“Ah, they’re around here somewhere all right. Damned rich folk always have a contingency plan up their sleeves somewhere. What are you doing here anyway? Surely you’ve seen something. Colby-Jack by the way, these are Tess and Fenton. What’s your name girl?”

Komona introduced herself. “I’m a …messenger. I was. Messenging?”

Fenton cackled until he couldn’t breathe. “A messenger she says!”

“Well Komona, you’re welcome to tag along with us if you like, especially since everyone in the main districts seem to be dead.”

“Just as long as she washes her hands!” Colby-Jack smacked Fenton’s arm and he collapsed into laughter once more.

 

Short Story Saturday

Tina here.

I don’t know about all you guys, but I am freaking loving the retelling of the campaign I play with my friends. If you don’t know already…. I am the pervy shoemaker. This week I have been feeling pretty gross and under the weather. So, as far as my story goes, I don’t know that I can really do any justice to providing a story. But bet your sweetest honey I am gonna try! Be warned, I asked my son for the type of story I am going to write. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~MARK~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The flames flew high as Mark ran down the hallway to the last room. This apartment complex had been in need of some dire upgrades to keep this kind of thing from happening but in this part of town, upgrades were not high on the list of priorities.

The last door was registered to a Mrs. Karhu, an 80 something year old woman who had lived here for longer than anyone could remember. Mark checked the air flow under the door to be sure he wasn’t running into a bigger inferno and opened the door. The flames were not yet invading on this apartment that seemed to be stuck in the 1940s, but the heat from the rest of the building being on fire was making itself known.

“MRS. KARHU” Mark called out though his mask, then quietly listened for a response.

He walked toward the back and checked the other rooms. In the back bedroom was the old woman, dressed in her Sunday best and laying on the bed with a suitcase next to her. Sitting quietly next to her was a small girl with long white hair, who turned to look at the fireman as he marched toward them.

“We have to get you out of here!” He closed the door and opened a window to wave down the ladder truck. When he turned back around the old woman was gone along with her suitcase. Mark had not heard the door open or felt any of the things that might happen if they had with the windows open. “Where did she go?” The small girl just watched Mark move around the room looking in the bathroom and closet. The heat was increasing greatly and they were running out of time to escape.

Mark grabbed the small girl and headed to the window to the waiting firefighter. “I can’t find the old lady!”

“No time, your backed in, let’s go before the building comes down on you!” The firefighter hooked a harness to the girl and instructed her to start climbing down.

Mark took one last look around the room and went out the window.

Hours later and the fire had been quelled but the building had been damaged so badly that it could no longer stand on it’s own. With a small rumble and little fanfare, the building came down. Everyone was mostly accounted for and escorted to a temporary shelter as they got things in order. The little girl had been alone the whole time and when everyone started to part ways and find a bed the girl just stood there. Mark watched from afar and waited to see what would happen. The landlord had said that there was no record of the girl in their files and that the old woman had always lived alone as far as he knew.

The night wore on as the girl continued to stand in one spot and observe everything that was going on around her. Then at 3 am Mark looked over to see the girl staring right at him. Her eyes seeming to almost glow with a pale blue light.

“You must come back. They won’t move on.” An eerie voice called out. With that the little girl opened her hand and touched a small necklace.

The flames flew high as Mark ran down the hallway to the last room. This apartment complex had been in need of some dire upgrades to keep this kind of thing from happening but in this part of town, upgrades were not high on the list of priorities.

The last door was registered to a Mrs. Karhu, an 80 something year old woman who had lived here for longer than anyone could remember. Mark stopped. This – this was familiar. Had he not been here already?

The door swung open and an old lady and little girl were standing there holding hands. “Hello Mark.” The old lady ushered in the firefighter as if he was just paying a visit. Mark walked in and shut the door behind him. Suddenly the heat of the fire was gone.

“Mark dear, won’t you sit with us a moment?”

Mark looked around quickly, the carbon monoxide must have messed with their heads. “No ma’m, there is a fire and we need to get you two to safety now.” Mark made his way over to the windows in the living room and looked out. Outside it was a dark night with the city going on as it always had. Where were the trucks? The flames? The other rescued people?

“Mark, I think you had better sit down. Allow me to explain.”

Mark looked around and shook his head. Something was wrong. With long strides Mark reached the front door again and reached for the knob. However there was a strange little girl blocking the way.

“Mark, she doesn’t want you to leave. I think it would be best if you listened to us first.”

The man looked back at the old woman for a moment and thought about sitting down. This big suit was extremely heavy. He shook his head and turned to the door again seeing that the girl was now gone, he turned the knob and pulled it open.

“You must come back. They won’t move on.”

The flames flew high as Mark ran down the hallway to the last room. This apartment complex had been in need of some dire upgrades to keep this kind of thing from happening but in this part of town, upgrades were not high on the list of priorities.

The last door was registered to a Mrs. Karhu, an 80 something year old woman wh-, wait. This door. This woman. This feeling. Mark felt as if he had something crawling under his skin. He shut his eyes and upon opening them found himself sitting inside an apartment he had never been to before but seemed to know where everything was. Across from him sat an older lady who was pouring tea for three people.

“Mrs. Karhu?” Mark questioned.

“Hello again Mark.” the old woman smiled.

“What is going on?” Mark took off his helmet and sat it next to him.

“Well, it appears that you are expected.” The old lady smiled. “You see, I was one of those working class women. The few who never had a family because my job was my life. Well, my dedication and experience led me to be the best in my field. I started working for the government and well. Long story short, I met her.” Mrs. Karhu nodded to the little girl standing to the side.

Mark watched the small girl as she walked over and sat next to the elderly woman.

“Mark, You are exceptional.” She paused waiting for him to watch her again. “You are like myself. Someone who is needed. We have something that is missing from people like this girl.” The woman patted the girls hands that were folded on her lap.

“Sorry, but, I don’t think I understand. I am a firefighter. I am needed during emergencies.” Mark stated trying to shake this groggy feeling.

“That’s right Mark, but you are also a leader. Waiting to emerge from your cocoon.” The woman smiled. Mark noticed a suitcase next to the couch. There was another one that looked just like the one he used for his sparce traveling. “Mark, they want  you to come with us.”

Mark looked back to the woman and saw that standing behind her were three other people, two men and a woman, all dressed as if out of the 1940s and watching Mark.

“Where?”

The old lady giggled, “No, Mark, when. We are needed in the future.”

Mark looked the people over and figured he was just dreaming. “Sure. Why not. Do I get a T-shirt as a prize afterward?”

The old lady smiled. “I don’t think you really understand but they take everything at face value, so your approval has been accepted and we will start the process to leave soon. Right Elanor?”

The small girl nodded. Mark laughed and picked up his tea cup.

The lady from behind the couch spoke up. “What age would you like Mark?”

Mark looked shocked for a moment at the monotone voice that came out without any feeling. “Age?”

The old lady stepped in again. “Yes, you can pick what age you would like to be when we get there. Technology is so amazing! I am going for 25!”

(To be continued)

Short Zombie Saturday

Colby-Jack wiped the sweat from her eyes for the millionth time as she removed two more crusty loaves from the oven. The morning rush was frenzied and she was doggedly determined to catch up for the lunch rush. Although, judging from the sun, it should’ve started already. She cursed and remembered the rude city watchman who’d told her to clear out a few hours ago. Did he put a sign or something on her door? Better investigate. That son of a…You have the presence of mind to tell someone off one time in a position of power and they-

Bodies littered the street outside her door. Dead eyes open, uncaring, staring into the abyss of the sun. Well this doesn’t seem like it was the watchman’s doing. She waved her hands in someone’s face for a moment, but there was no reaction. His eyes didn’t even twitch. She pulled him bodily away from her shop; she didn’t want to be disrespectful to the dead, but she couldn’t have these people dying all over her livelihood.

Colby-Jack spent a few minutes investigating the streets a few up and a few down from her own. As far as the eye could see, rivers of motionless citizens polluted the pathways, lying face-down and face-up, however they fell she assumed. She retreated back to the store to gather some supplies. If there was a plague after all, then she’d better get to that East church. She wrapped up as much bread as she could comfortably carry and stowed it in a travel bag, then attached leads to Parmesan and Cheddar. The two cats were not pleased to have been awakened, and meowed grumpily.

“Get on with it, you lazies. It’s not like you’ve actually done anything that would necessitate the need for a nap in the first place.” She briskly walked the streets, the two cats keeping pace easily. The streets were devoid of any moving body, so it was relatively easy going.

The further East she got though, the more she found herself being forced to step over the bodies as they grew more and more densely populated on the city streets. “Jeez I bet the rich people probably just all rode carriages, the good for nothing-” Colby’s eyes narrowed. She scanned her surroundings quickly, looking for splashes of color, or at least clean clothes. All the souls surrounding her now were dressed in tatters and smocks, workman’s clothing that was shredded and dirty as sin.

“Ohhhhh.”

She huffed once, turned herself right around, and marched West. “I’ll bet those cheeky bastards are beside themselves right now, sitting around and sipping iced wine or reading a book about working or something. Ugh!” Grumbling to herself more for the noise than any actual anger she felt, she made good time and found herself back at the city center before long. The rich folk were all locked up in a walled section of the city, but surely one of them needed a new baker while everyone was dying in the streets?

“What’s an ankle like you doin’ in a shoe like that, girl!”

Colby stopped short. “Ex..Excuse me?”

An old guy with a smaller pack stood hunched over in the street, examining her footwear.

“Y’got no arch support. Where’s the cushioning? Your shoes ain’t got no sole. Eh HEH HEH!” The old guy rubbed his hands together greedily while he chuckled to himself.

“Ugh, who are you?” Colby-Jack took a few healthy strides, taking care to hide her cats.

“Ol’ Fenton Shoemaester, at your service. I’ve got a 6 at my place with YOUR name on it missy, let me take you home right quick.” Grunting with oldness, Fenton heaved himself to his feet and started leading the way East.

Colby noticed they weren’t actually the only two walking around – she must’ve been more distracted than she realized.

“Uh, thanks Fenton, but no thanks. There’s a bit of a situation happening right now in town, not sure if you’d noticed. Nobody with fancy clothes is lying around so I figured those guys are holed up behind their wall, living the high life. I’m heading that way so I’m afraid I don’t have time for shoes.”

Fenton gasped in reply to her sacrilege and opened his mouth to reply.

“Excuse me”

A sweet voice drifting over the breeze shut his mouth before his reply, however.

“Have either of you seen any of the officials around? I was hoping to get some information that might help the congregation at THE LORD’s church. Everyone is so sick, I’d heard there was a cure.” A young lady in the soft layers of a church’s apprentice approached tentatively.

Fenton’s eyes did some wandering while Colby spoke up. “Nay girl, I’ve not seen anyone coherent until this man here started talking about- GET AWAY FROM THERE!” The baker brandished a baguette, beating the old man’s grubby hands from the poor girls’ feet. “She’s been through enough without a wackjob trying to get her out of her shoes so early in the day, Mr. Shoemaester if you please!”

Fenton guffawed into the quiet streets as he allowed himself to be shooed away. “Now now baker woman, either we’re all going to die, or we’re going to be on our own for some time. It would be nice to have some comfortable shoes either way – wouldn’t it? Make ya feel better. Give you spunk! My place is right on the way to the rich folk, c’mon let’s swing on by and I’ll prove it.”

***

An hour later, the two women sat in his small sitting room atop comfy chairs.

“Old man, I’m a bit taken aback. It’s like walking on air.” Colby paced the room in the new boots, somewhat at a loss. “Did you have to put these giant holes in the sides though? It feels a might chilly to be wearing things like this around.” Glancing to the younger girls’ shoes, she wasn’t surprised to see it cover even less.

“Fenton they’re wonderful, how much do they cost?”

He waved the young lady’s hands from the laces. “Don’t be silly, don’t be silly! It’s the apocolypse, I wouldn’t dream of charging you. These weren’t for sale anyhow, I was just waiting to meet the right feet. What’s your name, anyhow?”

“Tess Prees, from the church of THE LORD by the north wall.”

“Lovely to meet you Tess.” Colby stood and moved to the door. “I was just on my way to make the rich people let me stay with one of them. If the cure is anywhere, it’s going to be holed up with those fools, not distributed to the poor people now conveniently as far away from the wealthy district as they can be. Don’t you agree?”

It did make more sense than the Vitsuata church handing out tens of thousands of antidotes for free. “I suppose you’re right. So you think they’ll listen to us though?”

“I don’t care, that’s where I’m going. Come along if you like.” With that, Colby-Jack whisked out the door, cats in tow.

“Okay sure, might as well try something.” Tess hurried out the door after her.

“Wait for me!” Fenton snatched up the sketchbook under his desk and shoved it into his bag as he rushed after them.

Shrt Stry Strdy

Tina Here

Well, It is here again. Saturday. Right after Friday. Like clockwork. Can you tell I have nothing much to say today? This post is late because I was working with Pflugerville Pets Alive at their adoption event and was bogged down with the task of playing with 16 puppies. It was so terrible, I loved every minute of it, doing it again next week. With that being said, I did boast a little about my writing so I guess I better put up or shut up.

So today will be a spooky one, since it has been awhile for one of those.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

The old wooden floors moaned at the intruder. The shadowy figure paused to listen. No other noises started up, so he continued toward the bedroom. Secure the parents, secure the kids, take the load, get the hell out of town. Simple job, rich family, easy money. The thoughts flowed out of him like a mantra. Really, he should consider himself more of a robin hood type. He was taking back the riches given to this blowhard normally given to the guys who hired him. Not that they would ever take responsibility for hiring him, but that was the norm.

Gliding down the hallway, he stopped at the sound of harsh breathing. His heart raced as he turned his head, fearing the worst. There stood a small boy, no older than 7. His light hair and dark eyes shadowed in darkness. His smile, however, was as bright as day.

Panicking, he almost yelled in surprise. The boy shook his head and smiled, leading the man down the hall. His hand was cold, and clammy. Like he had just washed them after a midnight pee. Did this boy think he was here to play? Why didn’t he alert his parents? The boy pointed to his room with the door slightly open. They continued to the room as the man thought of ways to secure him without alerting the parents.

The boy walked into a room that was decked out with all the latest tech gadgets any young boy dreamt of. He stood over the fish tank near the bed, watching with intensity. The man, true to his profession, searched the room for ways to secure the child. Something to mute his cries, something to hold him still. He had zip ties he could attach after getting him quiet. His eyes wondered the desk littered with game systems, a jar of money, action figures. Comic books covered the bookshelf with abandoned educational books. He spotted a closet that was slightly ajar, a jump rope leaking out the bottom like a forgotten snake. The man smiled as he eyed a basket of laundry with freshly rolled socks on top. Picking both up, he turned back to an empty room. The boy was gone.

Panicking that the boy had gone to wake his parents, he ran out the door, almost bowling over the boy looking up a set of stairs that had been hidden behind a door. The man grasped empty air as the boy dashed silently up the stairs. Swearing at all the saints he remembered, he took off up the stairs. Cursing his luck and this kid. Cresting the stairs, he saw the child looking at a wall. The boy smiled and walked out of sight. As the man gave chase, he stopped short at the edge of the pool of blood. Mother, Father, Sister and Brother all embraced on an old couch in a loving family pose, mussed hair and pajamas worse for wear. Upon further inspection, he saw the father and mother were bound. Sister was leaning on the mother’s shoulder. The boy sat holding a jump rope. The man looked to the jump rope in his own hands only to find a crowbar, dripping with blood.

Dropping the crowbar to the floor, he looked up to find them all staring at him. Smiling like he was a photographer, about to snap a picture. He took a step back into something solid. Turning his head slowly to keep the family in view, he noted the door was now directly behind him. The one from down the stairs. The man whipped back around to find the boy in front of him again, offering the jump rope. The man shook as warm liquid trickled down his leg. He noticed the rope burns around the boy’s neck. Looking back to the family, he saw they were all looking angrily at the boy. He looked backed to the smiling child with the jump rope. Terrified, he found the other family members had now risen, standing much closer, as if coming for the child. The man couldn’t blink, couldn’t move. Suddenly, he felt tight. The boy had his arms wrapped around his waist. The man glanced at the boy’s smiling face, while the boy wrapped the rope around him. His eyes darted to the family, frozen even closer. Reaching for the child, as if to snatch him.

With that, the man was pushed backwards, and just kept falling.

Police lights flashed against the marbled main entrance to the beautiful home. Four body bags were taken out by gurney and loaded up, on their way to the morgue. The police stood by and watched large men in smocks buckling the last latch on the stranger they found hanging over the bodies, speaking gibberish.

“You know, I’m almost keen to believe him.”

“What, that they set him up? That they fought over him? Or that the boy was saving him?”

“Nah, that he was breaking in here to steal stuff, but that they stole from him.” After a sip of coffee, “Seems to me that alive or dead, they stole his sanity.”

Huffy laughter followed as they followed the muzzled and bound perpetrator out of the house.

Short story saturdays, Z(ombie) style

Kris here,

Remember that one time a long time ago when I wrote the start of what I wanted to make a little mini-series of? The guy with the friend and he was sick, and his friend, well, ate a guy? Yeah that one. Forget all about it! I mapped out a story pretty far, but I wanted to write a different story instead and since it’s about zombies too, well that’s too much zombie. It doesn’t work in stories like in real life; you can’t swarm a reader with zombie stories to eat their brains.

So here’s a different story don’t even worry about it. I stole found a cool idea for a Pathfinder (TTRPG) game and I went for it! Now I’m going to write about it in a hopefully entertaining manner, though even I’m not 100% sure how the story will go.

_____________________

THUD

Fenton Shoemaester nearly jumped out of his skin as something plowed into the other side of his front door. He hastily stowed the sketchbook full of ankles he’d been rifling through and went to the door.

“Yes?”

Dark rimmed eyes gazed through him, the heavy man on the porch breathing heavily a moment. “Kind sir, I need to buy a pair o’ shoes to wear. Do you have any in hand?” Heaving for air, the ragged stranger wheezed into the front sitting room and sat against the wall.

“Oi lad, sure I can cobble something up for you quick enough, how’s about a week from today?”

Those dark eyes widened in alarm. “Can ye do it any faster? My old pop’s funeral is to be today I’m afraid. Passed sometime overnight-” Stopped briefly by a fit of coughing, he spit blood onto the floor and continued. “He passed sometime overnight I’m ‘fraid, the whole family is in a state just like me. We have to do it while we still have the strength. We can’t just leave him in bed for weeks like old ma!”

Lip curled as he eyed the mess, Fenton thought quickly. “Aye, I suppose you’re about what, a seven? A nine? I bet I’ve something I can use to get rid of you with. That you can use I mean.” The old man perused his storeroom for several long minutes during which he desperately hoped the man survived. Finally, he found the pair. “Here we are good man, I believe these will suit you just fine. I take 2 silver for the pair or if ya only got one leg, you get half off! Ah ha! Ahahaha!”

Blearily the other groped his pockets and fished up two silver coins, not even a courtesy laugh the whole while. Another fit of coughing later and he shut the door with an old pair of shoes in hand. Fenton snatched up an old rag ready to be thrown away from a dusty corner and tossed it at the mess on the floor. “There better be plenty of young ladies needing shoes this season, I swear. This shop will be the death of me!” Growling and grumbling to himself, the old man hurled the filth into the early morning streets to be washed away by the river of people that would break through in a few hours.

Noticing the clothier next door to him was sitting on her porch, Fenton invited himself over and took a quick peek down. Ah, that leather-and-lace affair he’d crafted up for her some years ago. Perfection! “Hello Claudia, little early isn’t it?”

“Ah, Mr. Shoemaester it is good to see you. I sleep warmly in my down blankets these cold nights, but a man come and does not read my ‘go away’ sign. He ask me to make a suit for a pittance by this afternoon! Pshaw I tell him, I have nothing for you here, begone! I think he carries a dark sickness in him and I do not want him infecting the spirits of the lace.”

“Oh yeah that would be a real shame. Lace is hard to make! He came over to buy shoes a few minutes ago too and I felt the same way. I didn’t want him in there taintin’ up the soles ya know.”

Claudia slowly leveled her gaze at Fenton while he guffawed himself right off the porch. “Mr. Shoemaester, it is good that you have such a source of laughter. It is a pity you cannot share this with the rest of us.”

The geezer sauntered back over to his shoe shop wiping a tear from his eye, waving goodbye to his old friend until next time.

 

*********

 

“The LORD hath delivered unto ME… a message, my people! A message for YOU! He doth guide me the righteous path of…RIGHTEOUSNESS I say, to protect all of you! All of you powerful common folk who come into his house. I recognize each of you, let me tell you. I know everyone, and we love each of you dearly. Myself that is, and THE LORD above!”

Tess wiped the droplets of sweat from her brow as she finally finished sweeping the nave. How oddly silent it was today. She paused a moment to listen to the sermon before stepping to the front porch to beat out the broom. She could never fathom how dirty the inside of the church could be after being cleaned once a week. Surely someone must be tracking dust in purposefully?

“Miss, can you help my dear mum? She is unwell!”

She was jerked from her daydream by an older woman standing over an elderly woman laying against the steps to the church. “I worry her time has come, but we weren’t able to reach inside the church in time. Might you help me get her inside?”

Tess took a step down the stairs but halted. She’d been caught up in her reverie a few minutes before and had missed the bodies lying in the streets. Glassy eyed and staring to the heavens, young and old alike sat against the close-knit buildings or just lie uncaring in the streets as far as the eye could see. “Dear woman, I’ll gladly help. I’ll lift her arms and chest, be sure her feet don’t drag or catch on the doorframe.”

Grunting and heaving ensued. The old woman was surprisingly heavy and the two women had trouble just lifting her to the top of the stairs. After a moment, a new voice joined the fray.

“‘Allo madams, might I lend a hand here?”

A strong youth fitted in hard leather and bearing an unlit torch strode in from a side street. He hefted the semi-conscious old woman onto his shoulders easily, setting her inside on a pew near the door.

“Thank you so much for your assistance kind sir.” Tess curtsied and retrieved the broom leaning against the outside of the door.

“My pleasure miss. I’m making the rounds this morning anyway. His Lordship has called for all citizens to make their way to the Eastern church of Vitsuata with all haste. As you’ve noticed, there’s a plague spreading through the city, and the Vitsuata alchemists have devised a cure I’m told. That’s what his Lordship told us all anyway. We’re to gather near the east church to be given the cure. Please inform the Father while I continue my rounds.”

“Of course officer, I’ll let them know right away. Thank you!” Tess escorted the young guard back outside and saw him off, then returned to the marble pulpit at the center inside.

“Dear father, I don’t wish to interrupt you today but I thought you ought to know, -” She delivered the guards’ words to the priest atop the stage and told him her own observations outside earlier.

“So a plague is it? That must be what’s wrong with the crowds today Tess. I was sure of it, not a single cheer for the LORD has been risen today. That hussie of a god Vitsua must be responsible of course, why else would they offer a cure? Bah!” Father Maximus wrung the sweat from his long beard and then used it to wipe his face. “I should have known those good for nothing leeches would cause problems one day, I must obtain an augurie before we leave the safety of our home. Tess, protect our flock!”

With that, the sturdy old man whisked himself to the basement.

Short Story Saturday – Alma 3

Tina Here again with a short story for Saturday.

 

Last time I started off with a telling of my childhood horror. The gateway to my weirdness if you will. Now, I was unsure if I should continue that line or work on something else, and if something else, what? Well Kris suggested that I continue the short story I had started before. Alma. Looking to generate a ‘Doctor Who’ mixed with Sherlock, I wanted a female who knew a lot about a lot of things but she wasn’t quite hip to how the world worked in general. With that I posted two Chapters, loosely called chapters as I just took them to mean single post pages. I think I would like to take this story up again. So, if you haven’t seen 1 and 2, I will link them below then start on 3. I hope you enjoy and I would love any feedback you see fit to share!

 

Alma 1

Alma 2

 

Ro’dan looked around with amazement. The small plain looking doors held behind them a grand amazing place. Pictures, statues, figures and random boxes here and there sprinkled the little library. The room was built with full ceiling to floor bookshelves that seemed to replace the walls and held little knick knacks and stuffed full with books. Ro’dan couldn’t help but spot all the things around the room that just might slip into his pockets. However, he was struck with the feeling of her quick hands and deft strength that had caught him before. Not to mention the odd behavior after making him swear to leave the place whole. He still wasn’t quite sure it mattered but he picked out the 5 small items that he felt might sell quickly and for nice pocket of change. After having marked his targets he switched to become the charming young man just inraptured with this odd mousy girl.

 

Alma strutted into the library and focused her eyes on the far side of the room, making a brisk pace toward the built in fireplace to place an object into a box and lock it with a small key then place it around her neck. She stayed facing the mantel for another moment before she took a breath and turned around. Ro’dan turned his sweet eyes toward her and smiled.

 

“Ah so we got a learned girly here eh? Well how can this poor street boy help ya?” Ro’dan started to walk around the library touching this or that. Picking things up and looking at them then placing them back, careful to make sure they looked just as before he picked them up.

“Oh, well I guess that would be the term used now. Yes, Learned. I am mostly taught by my father and mother but as you see we had no shortage of knowledge at our fingertips. As far as how you can help, I am in need of some more practical application skills.” Alma followed his hands with each object and watched how he looked at them. Ro’dan raised his eyebrows in mock shock. “OH, not in the arts of cutpurse or anything that might fetch legal troubles as such. More in, well,” she paused a moment. “General people skills. You see, I found that my father had plans for me to expand his research and I would love nothing more than to do that, however, as a woman and one that grew up alone for the most part, I am not as skilled in being coy or conventional.” She let out the rest of the breath she had been holding to use as her speech.

 

Ro’dan laughed. “You want a go boy. Someone who can hype you up and teach you how to fool people into trusting you.”

 

Alma shook her head solidly, squeezing her eyes shut as she did, only for a moment. “NO, they get fools to trust, not real people whom I would want to associate with. I need someone who knows of the world to be my experience. I need a partner. So, “ She opened her eyes and smiled, “I would say you are being given a new life choice. I need someone I can trust to look out for me as they would themselves. I need you Ro’dan. I have been watching you for months.”

 

Ro’dan stopped picking things up and looked at her. “Your mental. How did you know what my name was?”

 

Alma smiled, “You took no notice of me in my various looks or costumes. I picked you out from your crew because of your kind heart and choice of targets. Just as I know you would only pick 5 things to take from here because although this office looks rich and full, the rest of my house is sparse and you fear taking too much from me when this is obviously my only care in the world.” Ro’dan’s face watched her carefully as she made her way around the room. Touching the spots that were now void of objects that had once been there.”I even joined your crew for a big job one day. We didn’t talk or anything but I was able to see how you were treated and how other treated you.”

 

Alma walked over to Ro’dan and got uncomfortably close to him, her face smiling into his. “I picked you because I knew that if I could prove myself and earn your trust, you would be loyal to a fault and I would never have to worry.” Alma then slid a small object into his hand and backed away.

 

Ro’dan looked down and opened his hand to reveal a small pearled comb. Tears started to slip out of his eyes. Alma backed away slowly but kept talking. “He said he wasn’t there, but he was. I could feel your guilt at accusing him of such a crime but, you felt in your heart that he was lying to you. I went in search of his things. Something you would never do. I found that, in a hidden hole in his bed, along with other small trinkets that seemed to be long to other women. This was on top.” Alma’s voice lowered and became almost a whisper, “I knew you would never find out unless I told you and even though you had thoughts that he was not telling you something, you would never leave his side again. Even if to protect another girl from harm.”

 

Alma was quiet as she watched Ro’dan grasp the small comb and hold it to his chest, letting the tears fall freely now. He looked up at her with anger in his eyes, not at her, but at the lies he had been told.

 

“You have my attention now miss.”

Short Story Saturdays again part dos

Kris here,

I had an idea for a story this week and was thinking of how I could tell it without throwing 5000 words at my dear readers, when I realized that hey – Tina’s made some two part posts before, maybe I can do that. I’m trying out a few different techniques than I usually use, so feel free to leave comments with any suggestions and I’ll incorporate it into the next one. Let’s call it, Best Friend Surprise.

___________________________

“This is how I die…” Emon held a hand out to his best friend, Delilah. Watching her hover over his prone figure as the world faded to black.

Then suddenly, he was freezing.

“Nooo! I need that!”

He Feebly waved about before helplessly slumping to the floor.

Delilah giggled while she dragged the stolen blanket over the heap of Emon at the foot of the bed. “You’re such an emo, I bet you don’t even have a sore throat. You’re not fooling anyone drama queen. Get up, let’s go.” She rifled through the nearby dresser and tossed a few articles of clothing at him on the floor. She took special care to land the underwear on his head, laughing all the while.

“No I’m a zombie, quick, get out of here before I eat your head.” The young’s arms flung themselves in opposite directions and then lay still. He let himself embrace the tired aches washing over his body for a moment. Cold droplets showered his nose. Jerking open without permission, his eyes locked onto the glass of ice water hovering precariously to one side directly above his body.

“No.”

“If you won’t get up, I’m bringing the shower to you young man.”
***
Two blocks away, Cassandra heard wails of agony drifting in the wind. “It sounds like Delilah used the ice water again. What a delightful young woman.”
***
About ten minutes later, a Jeep both smelling and colored of lavender drove by, carrying the two teens to their destination.

“The least you could do would be to wave to your mom, jeez.”

Emon lay his chair back and covered his eyes. “But I’m blinded by the light, how should I know who’s out there? Probably just another runner in-”

“Don’t you dare talk to me in song quotes!” Delilah reached over and tickled the young man while he was trying to fall asleep.

“Aah!”

“Get your lazy butt out of my car, we’re here.” The two shuffled into the clinic to wait their turn.

“Emon Drudgehurn?”

“Go get ’em tiger, I’ll wait here.” Delilah began to leaf through a Highlights for kids magazine and waved him off.

Dragging his feet across the waiting room, Emon waved at the waiting nurse. “Hey Mrs. Shannon.”

“Emon, I hadn’t seen you this week. I was beginning to worry. What brings you in today?”

He allowed the gentle teasing to pass and described the symptoms as they navigated to a room. “And it all started last night about an hour after a mosquito bit me. I think it might be yellow fever. Or Malaria!”

She chuckled a moment in return. “We went over both of those last year, you know what the symptoms should be. It sounds like you just caught a cold to be honest. They take a few days to manifest. You probably caught it over the weekend; any parties, grocery trips?” She spent a few more minutes convincing the youth that he was going to survive. “I want you to go home, stay hydrated, get some rest. If you see your mom before I do, let her know I really appreciate her advice; my garden is absolutely blossoming!”

Emon grumbled his thanks and made his way back to the front. “I would’ve still been in bed if Delila-OOF!” His arm went numb as he crashed sidelong into the wall under a heavy body. The two rolled over each other before he was pinned to the floor.

SHH! It’ll hear you!”

He struggled to wrestle the heavy stranger off of him, but the man was strong. “What are you doing get awa-M HMM MM.” He yelled through the thick hand clamped down on his mouth, but to little effect.

“There’s a man-eating monster about son, you better keep quiet or you’ll bring it down on both of us.”

There was a heavy silence between the two as Emon grasped that something indeed seemed very wrong. The normal sounds of the clinic were completely gone. The two men inadvertently stared at each other, listening to a pair of stumbling footsteps shuffle their way closer behind the door. Then the footsteps stopped. is heart jumped a mile as cold droplets showered his nose from above. His eyes focused on the cold sweat rolling down the older man’s face. He wasn’t sure which of them was trembling, but his vision was shaking uncontrollably.

“Wha-”
SMASH

The thing door exploded inward off the hinges, showering them both in glass. The large man emitted a squeal of terror and the body in the doorway hurled itself at them. The three rolled around the floor in a tangled mess before Emon scrambled clear of the mix. He bolted straight for the door, but hesitated. If there was a way to save the man who’d tried to save him…

Emon turned back and his blood ran cold. Glassy, dead eyes stared hungrily through him as bright red rivulets ran freely down her face. He watched in horror as Delilah took another bite of her newest prey.