He tried getting comfortable, but something didn’t feel right. The fire smelled funny, for one thing, and his book was sticky. Tilting it towards the firelight, he saw the cover, and his hand were wet with red. He looked into the fire, and saw his wife’s eyes staring back.
All around the table, people were on the ground, crying silently, hoping to go unnoticed. The young man spread out on the table had no such luck, and his screams filled the air as Bree and Dan began to feed.
“I’m just saying, it wasn’t a good idea,” Josh tried again. “Those pants and that shirt? No. Just, no.” He glanced over as a car passed them. The woman driving had one hand on the wheel, and the other… “Seriously?” Josh muttered.
“What’s wrong?” Amy took her eyes off the road long enough to give him a questioning look.
“That woman.” He waved a hand at the car pulling off onto the exit ramp, disgust clear on his face.
“What about her?”
“Let’s just put it this way: she was not paying attention to the road.” He glared when Amy just laughed. “It’s disgusting! What if that’s a rental car? She’s getting her…stuff…all over the gear shift!”
“Like you haven’t done something like that behind the wheel of a car,” Amy said, still snickering.
“Mmhmm. Lies will get you nowhere, little man, and I know all about you and Ryan.”
He tightened his grip on his sword and shield, edging a step closer. The rabbits turned their beady eyes on him, and he remembered his clients claims of the Killer Rabbit of Caerbannog breeding with the local bunnies. He had thought they were kidding.
After the near deafening roar of the mack truck, the silence of the dusty desert road was a blessing. A ramshackle old house stood against a backdrop of the mountains in the distance. Somewhere between the house and the mountains, a dust storm had brewed.
I pulled the hood of my jacket up, and tied the bandana over my mouth and nose a little tighter. If what the lady at the bar told me is true, the answers I seek are in that little old house, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let a bunch of dust and wind get in my way of uncovering the truth.
“I said no, Jim.”
Mike’s hand came to rest on Ben’s shoulder. Ben looked back at him. A long moment later, his shoulders slumped. “Fine. But this is your last chance, Jim. I’m serious.” He glared back at his husband. “And you stop taking his side. Seriously, what the hell?”
It’s late – this is the challenge from last week – but it’s here.
“Are you sure this is the right place, choti bahana?” Sarika cé Surya asked. “I’m not sensing anyone.”
Ash turned her attention away from her scrying plate to watch her sister twirl a makeshift staff around her body. Two hours ago, it had been a shovel. (“For disguise purposes,” Sarika had claimed.) Twenty minutes later, the wood had abruptly cracked, dropping the head to the ground behind them as they walked on.
“I’m positive.” Ash sent her vision higher. At the edge of her Sight, the city loomed, neon lights bright against the dark of the surrounding buildings – she could almost hear the honking of cars and chatter of people. Where she and her sister were though, huddled in the dark of the tunnel, all she could see was treetops and the road – empty for miles in both directions.
“I don’t get it.” Her shoulders slumped. “I followed the directions exactly. This is the tunnel the Healer is supposed to be at. It has to be.” She dissolved the thin sheet of ice she was using as a scry plate, letting the ice melt and reform around her wrists as bracelets. “Why isn’t she here?”
(Thanks for the Hindi translation, Alex!)
They told me to put it down. So I did. Now I watched as the train rumbled down the track, taking them – and it – further away from me. I wonder: did it ever occur to them that I was holding onto it for their sake? Oh well. They’ll figure it out soon enough. In the meantime…
I buy another ticket, slipping onto the next train going the other way. The more distance between that….thing…and me, the better.
Jacob stopped and tugged the snow goggles off his face. After a week of planning, two days of traveling, and twelve hours hiking, the small box in his backpack getting heavier with ever step, he had finally reached his destination. Swinging the rucksack around to his front, he dug out the box, tracing the lines of his mother’s name carved into the side. He thumb caught the metal latch, and the box opened.
It was time to say goodbye.
This is what happens when you give me a writing prompt that just SCREAMS “write me!”
Dialogue only. Thank you Nikki for the prompt.