Saturday, August 15, 2009

Fiction Fridays: The Dark Stranger

Please work with me here. I want to try something new where every Friday I post some new fiction for you to read. I know it's technically Saturday, at least in the Eastern timezone, because my computer is telling me that it's now 1:48 am, but since I haven't been to bed yet, my brain still claims that it's Friday. Close enough.

This is the second installment, or snapshot, in my Miranda series, which is growing at a snail's pace. I posted the first one back in December, but it was written before Drama Queen was born. I think, honestly, that this is the weakest of bunch, but you can let me know what you think. I'll post the third bit next Friday. And hopefully, I'll be able to keep this up, posting fiction for you to read on every Friday. (No promises during NaNo, though.)

Enjoy. And please, leave me some feedback. I know I've got followers, so tell me what you think. Otherwise, I'll get all lonely and depressed.....*pout*

The Dark Stranger

His silent call washed over her.

Follow me.
Follow me, Miranda
I can end your pain, stop your suffering.
Follow me, Miranda.

Drawn forward by those steady grey eyes, and the sililant whispering of his words in her mind, Miranda stepped forward into the alley, barely aware. A third of the way down iron steps snaked upward, into the night. He paused at teh base. Waiting. Slowly, she ascended, drawn onward by that impenetrable gaze.

From the roofop, they stood looking out over the University's Common Green, Grey Chapel towering in the background. October's half-moon cast its silvery color over all.

"My poor, Miranda. You've suffered such pain." His hand caressed the side of her warm face as she turned, fitting her head to his cool palm. A soft sigh was his only answer.

"Would you like me to ease your pain, Miranda? Hmm? Remove it entirely, giving you the rest of oblivion? Or..." Pause. Grey eyes searched her face intently, "would you like me to give you a new life?" His hand slid beneath her hair to the soft skin of her neck, drawing her into him. Her hands, resting on his chest, detected no heartbeat singing beneath her touch. "Which would you wish of me, Miranda? You've only to ask...but you MUST choose."

"Please, end it..."

With infiinte slowness he leaned over her. Lips brushed mouth. Cheek. Neck, where he hesitated briefly. Miranda barely registered the pain as he sank into her flesh. Hands clutched at his shirt. She cried softly. Struggled briefly, futily. Finally she collapsed against him. The roaring, pounding heartbeat all that was heard. A lightheadedness threatened to consume her.

Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.

Gradually the hammering subsided as other sounds seeped into her awareness. Breath's soft ragged whisper. The gentle, sucking sounds at her neck. Miranda could feel his hand, holding her in place. His arm around her waist more intimate than any lover's sweet embrace.

Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.
Thump, thump.

Miranda's heartbeat became fainter, fading towards nothingness as she fought against the dark curtain drawing in around her. Muffling her senses. She struggled in vain, blackness overtaking her, pulling her down. Down towars death.

The man lifted his head as she collapsed completely into him. Holding her upright a moment more, he contemplated the look of serenity on her face. Once more caressing her cheek with the back of his hand, he sank to the rooftop, drawing her onto his lap. Ah, Miranda, not it's time for you to choose. I wonder? Will you come back to stay with me awhile? The stranger bent over her again, grey eyes scrutinizing. A gentle kiss. Quickly biting his wrist, he lowered it to her death-parted lips. Come to me, my Miranda.

Copyright, Melinda M. Knowlton Fulk, 28 May, 1998


Chris said...

M: enjoyed reading this! (Been a long time since I've read your work.)

As before, your writing is very evocative of tone, mood, setting: I can almost see it. But I wonder, is what I'm imagining what you are intending? I think my mind is connecting the dots that you have laid down, and you could probably provide a little more specific texture/detail (what clothes are they wearing, more senses: mist in the air, smell of the street, any colors in the landscape, size of buildings) However, having said that, the action moves fast and flows easily, so I hope my suggestion doesn't mess it up by slowing it down!

(I'm not a writer, hope this is useful!)


Tryllyam said...

Chris, I love your suggestions. If the word count ever gets expanded past where it is now, some of that will have to be included. It'll make the store so much the richer.

As for not being a writer, well, I've been reading your blog for awhile now. Besides, I was so far away from even considering that I'd one day call myself a writer when I did these bits and pieces. There's got to be plenty of room for improvement!

Thanks for the comment!