Tag Archives: writing

October 31

Posted on by

Fictober, Prompt 31 – “Take me with you.”

Original fiction, dark fantasy.

Warnings: none.

Night had fallen, though the last lingering echoes of sunset still lightened the western horizon, a break in the trees showing thin clouds streaked bloody red along their undersides. The road led that way, shadowed by mostly bare branches. Wind whispered through the boughs, rustling the remaining leaves as October came to a quiet close.

There was a figure on the road ahead.

I hesitated, unsure both of my own decision and of what he might say, but in the end it didn’t matter.

I hurried forward, and gradually allowed my steps to become more audible on the packed earth of the road. Startling him would not make him more likely to agree.

“Wait,” I called, when I was close enough, keeping my voice low but not trying to make it sound human, as I had before. There was nothing to hide any more. “Wait, please!”

He paused at this, as he had not paused at my footsteps. I wondered if his hand was on his dagger under his cloak. I would not fault him if it was.

He turned only slightly, just enough to look at me over his shoulder, whatever he could see in the deepening dark.

We stared silently at each other for a long moment, my words suddenly sticking in my throat. This was the- the most astoundingly forward thing I had ever done, which seemed strange, given what I was, but was nevertheless true.

“Well?” he asked, patience running out, his tone wary but not angry.

My courage (a strange thing to suddenly need) rose slightly. The past weeks had been a mess, but he had not left until it was settled, and if he was not truly angry now…

“Please,” I said, finding my voice, “take me with you.”

He jerked in startlement, eyes going wide. “What?”

“Please,” I repeated, finding that all my former arrogance had flowed away, sometime in the preceding days. I hadn’t realized it then, but could tell the difference now. “Please, take me with you.”

As he continued to gape at me speechlessly, I realized that I could not have astonished him more if I had tried. He had expected any request other than this one. I felt myself curl in a little, suddenly sure this had been a mistake. If it was so unexpected—

Just as I was about to step back, he turned fully, the astonishment on his face shifting into something else, something lighter, something like

“You—” he hesitated himself, just briefly, then continued, “You would want that?”

I nodded, not daring to move otherwise.

“But isn’t this your- your territory, or something? Don’t you have to be here?”

“It is,” I confirmed, “or it was. We— It is better, usually, to be settled somewhere, to have an anchor, but…”

But this was no longer a place I wished to be settled, I did not say. He seemed to understand anyway.

“But it is not a necessity, and sometimes it is good not to be so tethered to a place,” I continued, voice low again. “Sometimes our anchor can be— Can be a person, if they so agree.”

Confusion and the last of his hesitation fell away from his face, leaving him open and smiling as he had been for most of his time here.

“I didn’t think you would want to leave,” he confessed, and then nodded firmly. “Yes. If you’re wanting to come, then please, come with me.”

Relief, another sensation I had learned only recently, flooded me.

“I will,” I told him, and reached out.

He reached back, linking his hand with me, and then we continued west along the road together. The night deepened around us, no more lingering light of sunset. The hymns of the October wind took on a darker, eerier tone, and the forest on either side was neither empty nor silent.

But together, we would fear no road, and no future.

Happy Halloween! The “hymns of the October wind” line is lovingly borrowed from the song All Hallows by Aviators, which is a great Halloween song.

That’s it for Fictober for this year, and many thanks to @fictober-event for running it!

October 30

Posted on by

Fictober, Prompt 30 – “Don’t ruin this.”

Original fiction, fantasy/fairy tale. Part three of three of my weird take on Cinderella. Part One (Day 28) and Part Two (Day 29).

Warnings: none.

Mother and Lorena were immediately obsessed with the notion that one of us might catch the Prince’s eye, especially when the ball was being held for the purpose of finding him a wife.

I feigned as much enthusiasm as I could.

Ellie and I did not speak about it.

She wanted to come, and the phrasing of the invitation would certainly allow for it. I might have been able to put in a word with Mother (there had been some whispers, during our usual social rounds, wondering what had happened to the household’s third daughter), but I did not.

I told myself it was because we had already agreed that I shouldn’t champion Ellie’s cause to Mother, just in case.

My motives were not so straightforward as that, but Ellie did not actually ask.

We did not kiss anymore, but still sat next to each other on the few nights I could manage to sneak down to the kitchen.

I told myself it was enough.

—

“Stepmother,” Ellie’s voice came hesitantly from behind us just as the carriage was pulling around. “Could- Could I come to the ball as well?”

Continue reading →

October 29

Posted on by

Fictober, Prompt 29 – “Why are we whispering?”

Original fiction, fantasy/fairy tale. Part two of three: link to Part One (Day 28).

Warnings: none, other than the usual implications of abuse in any take on Cinderella.

Our presentations at court did not go well.

Mother had insisted on the traditional peach-colored dresses for both of us, which looked all right on Lorena but terrible on me. I had not argued. Once there, Lorena could not stifle a case of nervous hiccups, and I stumbled in my curtsy to Their Majesties.

For once, I felt glad to be just one of many young women present. I did not say this – Mother would scold me for it.

“If only the Prince had been there!” Lorena wailed during the carriage ride home. “I’m sure I could have caught his eye.”

“There will be time for that later,” Mother said, but looked as though she agreed. “It is enough for now that you are both presented, and can properly accept invitations. It expands our social opportunities.”

I did not sigh, or wince. Fortunately, Lorena continued to chatter (as grating as her voice often was), so I could safely look at the window, watching the landscape pass.

It was a relief when we reached the manor, and more so as evening set in. I did not allow myself to think about why.

I had slept the past three nights, to make sure I wasn’t too tired at court, but tonight I took my books (and one extra) and crept downstairs to the kitchen once Mother and Lorena were asleep.

“How did it go?” Ellie asked once I had settled myself at the table and she had exclaimed over the new book I slid over to her.

I hesitated, then shook my head. “Badly. I stumbled. And I look terrible in peach.”

(I looked terrible in most things, really. More and more I looked in my mirror and was forced to acknowledge to myself that I was not pretty. Not hideous, certainly, but not pretty, no matter what Mother claimed.)

Ellie grimaced sympathetically. It made me feel a little better somehow. “It’s so many layers, isn’t it?”

I nodded. Then, feeling daring and guilty all at once, I said, “Lorena got hiccups.”

Ellie’s face did something strange, as if she thought she should grimace in sympathy again but actually wanted to laugh. It looked funny.

She was still prettier than I was. She was pretty.

Continue reading →

October 28

Posted on by

Fictober, Prompt 28 – “I don’t have to explain myself.”

Original fiction, fantasy/fairy tale. Part one of a probable three.

Warnings: none.

A voice from the door startled me: “What are you doing?”

I turned and regarded Ellie with as haughty a look as I could summon at half past midnight. “I don’t have to explain myself,” I told her, “especially not to you.”

It probably would have been more effective if my voice had been less stiff, if my shivering were less obvious. I had supposed that the extra layer and a warm shawl would be enough, but without a fire, the dining hall was cold at this time of night.

Ellie raised one eyebrow ever so slightly, then bobbed something that could be considered a curtsy and left, closing the door behind her.

I pulled my single candle closer, holding my hands near it for a moment to warm them. I knew that Mother insisted it was important for us to understand Mathematics, so that we could keep the accounts in our own households whenever we married, but numbers did not come easily to me.

With our days full of lessons and social outings, there was no extra time during reasonable hours for me to try and learn what came so much more easily to Lorena. I would not fall behind her in this, or in anything. I would not be a disappointment to mother.

Allowing myself to feel nothing except determination, I bent over my books again, determined to get this right.

—

When Ellie interrupted me again, two nights later, she at least had the decency to knock lightly first.

Of course, I had slipped into a half doze, worn out from our usual long days combined with shorter nights, so I startled anyway.

“What?” I snapped when she peered around the door, covering my frustration with anger.

She didn’t quite flinch back, but it seemed like a close thing. Then she straightened, and said, “It’s warmer in the kitchen.”

“What?” This time it came out bewildered. I blinked at her, my exhausted mind not following.

Continue reading →

October 25

Posted on by

Fictober, Prompt 25 – “Do you know what time it is?”

Original fiction, fantasy.

Warnings: implied but unspecified looming disaster.

The door creaked open behind me.

“Do you know what time it is?” she asked softly.

Groggily, I lifted my head from my arms, blinking in the guttering candlelight. “’m awake.”

She laughed, and I felt her hands settle on my shoulders. “That’s not what I asked.”

“Late,” I mumbled then head falling back to my arms. I had to get this spell right, or we would be in trouble—

“There’s time yet,” she reassured me, understanding my answer. “Come, get some sleep.”

I sighed, silently agreeing, but didn’t raise my head just yet. Obviously I wasn’t going to accomplish anything more without at least a few hours’ rest, but the delay rankled. We did have a little time, but…

Lifting my head again, I peered through the window as best I could.

Outside, ash was still falling.

Through the thick, clouded glass, you could almost mistake it for snow.

We had a little time, but not much.

Still, I rose with her gentle hands to guide me, and blew out what was left of the candle. The delay would be worth it if rest would actually let me accomplish something again. I followed her out into the main room and joined her in our bed. The fire was banked and low, but her warmth lingered under the covers, and she pulled me close gladly.

Fortunately, getting up had not woken me enough to set my brain racing, and I felt myself drifting off properly almost as soon as I settled against her shoulder, and even the last, niggling little thought was not enough to keep me awake.

Outside, the ash was falling.

October 20

Posted on by

Fictober, Prompt 20 – “That’s what I’m known for.”

Original fiction. Not really fantasy, medieval-ish setting.

Warnings: stabbing, violent death.

The tavern was crowded, and noisy enough to cover such private conversations as might occur around the edges of the room. I wasn’t surprised when a hooded figure slid into the booth opposite me, but didn’t allow the newcomer to interrupt my meal. The stew on offer at this place was tasty, and their ale above average.

Sometimes I regretted the work that necessitated my constantly being on the move, but it couldn’t be helped – not in my profession.

After a few moments, the silence grew awkward for my prospective client, and he shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. The hood slipped back a bit, revealing a strong jaw below light eyes and hair. Appealing enough, I supposed, if you liked that sort of thing.

I took another bite of potato and chewed, holding his gaze calmly.

“Are you Ligart?” he asked then, voice a pleasant tenor.

I swallowed the potato, said, “I am,” and bit a piece of turnip off my knife.

“They say…” he said, trailing off suggestively. When I did not volunteer to fill in this gaping conversational hole, he reluctantly went on, “They say that you…take care of problems.”

“That’s what I’m known for,” I agreed, and speared the last piece of meat left in my bowl.

Finishing the stew took up the time he needed to gather his courage again and lean forward to say, even more quietly, “They say that you take care of problems even when they’re people.”

Continue reading →

October 9

Posted on by

Fictober, Prompt 9 – “There’s no right side to this.”

Original fiction.

Warnings: threatened violence, non-graphic discussion of blood magic.

A steady stream of pleading and whimpers fell from the man’s lips as the guards threw him at my feet.

“Silence!” I snapped, and quiet descended, at least momentarily.

This was one of the men responsible for the theft. As if it was not enough that they had stolen from me in the first place, they continued to skulk around, as if waiting for more.

I paced for long minutes while my guards waited patiently, and my prisoner continued to cower. At last, I thought I could be calm enough to keep him alive. Pausing before the fire, I turned and strode back, allowing my staff to tap commandingly against the floor, the hems of my robes swirling dramatically around my feet. Since it seemed that intimidation might get me the answers I sought, then so be it.

“You have stolen from me,” I said, coming to stand before him. He flinched, deliberately bowing lower toward the floor and I sneered. “Sit up and pretend you are in possession of a spine, at least for the next five minutes.”

“What- What will happen at the end of five minutes?” He whispered, making some effort to straighten in spite of the manacles binding his wrists at his back.

“That remains to be seen.” He flinched again, and did not keep his shoulders from curling in. “Speak. Tell me why a thief dares to return to my lands.”

“I did not—”

“You wear the same colors and crest as those that did,” I cut him off. “Speak truthfully or I will not need the remainder of the five minutes to make my decision.”

“We were commanded so by the Voice!” His words now almost tripped over each other in their haste to leave his mouth. “Blood magic is forbidden, and he commanded that no such spells—”

“If it is forbidden,” I cut him off again, voice low and quiet, “then why do I find that your precious Voice also commands his men to use it? Why do I find that my spell has been taken from me to be used?”

Continue reading →

October 1

Posted on by

(Fictober seems like a good time to return from the metaphorical dead? We’ll see how this goes!)

Fictober, Prompt 1 – “I need you.”

Original fiction.

Warnings: implied blood sacrifice, implied murder, implied non-consensual surgical procedures (but nothing actually graphic).

“I need you,” she had said.

Arrogantly, or naïvely, or stupidly, or maybe all of those things, I had believed her.

Well, heard what I wanted to hear, at least. I had believed the implication, just as she had known I would, and it was only the implication that was untrue.

She was not, in the strictest sense, a liar.

We were planetside, deep underground to escape the inhospitable surface, which had made sense enough at the time. But now I couldn’t trust anything that I had seen on the way down, since the viewports could easily have been manipulated to show whatever she wanted me to see.

This lab was definitely real, though. As was the operating table I was strapped to with metal cabling, and the humming generator, and the tubing, and the instruments she was laying out next to me, their edges gleaming sharp under the too-bright overhead lights.

“Hush now,” she soothed, eyes distant as she scanned what looked like a mix of technical specs and spellwork on a datapad, not really looking at me. “You wanted to help me, didn’t you? And you will.”

Continue reading →

Fictober End

Posted on by

It feels really weird not to be writing a story tonight, after a successful month of doing Fictober. It’s a relief, in a few ways, but also weird.

It’s a relief because I’m pretty wiped out tonight, and it’s good to not need to thing about writing just now. I’m taking tonight off, but hoping to keep up the general momentum of writing something every day.

It’s a relief because I felt like I was on the verge of running out of good ideas.

(But it’s also a relief because I kept not running out of ideas and now I have…too many new stories to write. So. There’s that.)

I’m really glad that I did it, and I feel good about having managed to do at least a little something every day! Some were definitely better than others, but that’s okay. I’m leaning towards doing it again next year, especially if I’m able to flesh some of these new things out in the meantime.

Congratulations to everyone else who participated! There were some great stories, and I’m going to go back and get caught up on some things because some nights I ran out of energy to read much once I had my bit done.

Thank you to fictober-event on Tumblr​ for running it! It was a lot of fun.

October 14

Posted on by

Fictober, Prompt 14 – “I can’t come back.”

Warnings: none. Sci-fi.

“You have to come back,” he pleaded.

“I can’t come back.”

“You can! The Head Instructor said she’ll let you in again, and you haven’t missed too many lessons—”

“Let me rephrase: I won’t come back.”

“You’re way ahead on flight time, of course, and she said— Wait, what?” He stuttered to a halt, staring.

I looked back calmly, not caring to repeat myself again.

“But you— You have to! If you don’t graduate from the Academy no one will ever hire you!”

“That seems unlikely,” I pointed out. “Just because many space pilots train here doesn’t mean they all do.” I turned back to my packing. The cadet rooms in the Academy were tiny, streamlined and industrial. I hadn’t bothered to accumulate many personal items beyond the necessities; only a few small presents from my twin, always a tiny balm for our continued separation.

Xue continued to gape at me from the doorway. “But— Well, even if that’s true, it’s going to make it a lot harder for you to get work!”

“I know.”

“All you have to do is promise to be more respectful to the Instructors from now on!”

“More obedient, you mean.”

“Well…” he hedged. I wasn’t sure why he was still trying to convince me; he knew me well enough after two years to know that I wasn’t going to accept such an argument.

“But, your family,” he tried next, hesitantly.

“I’m sure my brother will be upset, but he will understand.” He was the only family I was speaking to, these days, and he certainly would understand. He’d be joining me, if he were here.

Xue was silent for several moments then, while I finished packing my bag and my one small trunk. I stripped the sheets off the bed and sent them down the laundry chute, and made sure that the computer terminal was wiped clean of my data. My handheld was in my bag, and then all that was left to do was to shut down the lighting, step out into the hall, and close the door behind me.

He followed me out, then asked quietly, “What will you do?”

“Work, first,” I responded. “Until I have enough for a small ship of my own. After that?” I mused over the question as we headed down the dim hallway. “I think there’s probably a faster way to make the run between Chi’dong and Binyun.”

“But no one’s ever done that run in less than five days!”

“This certainty that we know everything there is to know about known space is most of why I’m leaving,” I told him sternly. “The run that is used now can’t be done in less than five days. I think there’s a faster run along a different route.”

“But that’s dangerous—”

I stopped dead in the corridor, turning to face him and cutting this latest protest short.

“Good-bye, Xue,” I told him. “Thank you for your concern, and for keeping me company. But dangerous or not, it’s my flight to make.”

He opened his mouth on what was probably going to be another automatic protest, then closed it. He frowned, but when he spoke again it was to say, “You’re welcome. Good luck.”

I nodded in thanks and continued alone.

Luck wasn’t going to have much to do with it.