I can't type much right now. Too busy with 2009's NaNoWriMo. Finally broke 18000 words tonight and it's time for bed.
Enjoy the story!
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*********
Days later, good Jonathan was performing his usual street ministry. A well-dressed businessman had paused to talk. Brittleby was expounding the need for more gentlemen to become involved in what was happening around them, on the human level. “The Word of God isn’t only for the poor.” That’s when he noticed her, standing across the street watching him.
As Brittleby’s face drained of color and his chest tightened, the businessman asked if he needed assistance. An ambulance, perhaps? He waved the man off, claiming he’d not eaten yet that day, and withdrew to the coffee shop behind them.
Once seated, with a strong, dark cup before him, he chanced looking across the street again. There stood Meg all right - long blonde hair, voluptuous body. He felt his blood stir again at the sight of her, before he caught himself. Chastisingly he muttered to himself, “ Meg’s dead. Remember? You killed her. Drowned her in the bathtub.” He raised his head to stare defiantly back at her vision. She was gone.
*********
As the month passed, Brittleby got used to seeing Meg’s face staring at him from off the street. He usually responded, after the initial paleness passed, but simply turning his head and looking elsewhere. Seems this wasn’t the appropriate method for dealing with the problem. Meg Saunders had no intention of simply disappearing from Jonathan’s life. She started showing up at the soup kitchen as well.
The first night it happened, our good Father was busy handing out bread to the indigent. He looked up, and there she was, only three people back in the line. Dropping the platter to the floor with a loud clatter, Brittleby joined it. Collapsing on the spot. While someone ran off to call 911, another helped him to a nearby chair, loosening the top buttons of his shirt collar as well. Eventually recovering his composure, he looked around for her, only to see a toothless old man standing where she’d been just a moment ago. Where had the man come from? Brittleby was sure he’d not been there earlier....
The volunteer staff insisted he go to the emergency room “just in case.” While an EKG showed some elevated heart activity, the doctor on duty assured him all was fine. However, he might want to get a routine physical just in case and especially if the good preacher was suffering these weak spells on a regular basis. The community would suffer terribly if something happened to a man like Jonathan Brittleby.
*********
Apparently, she’d learned the value of the shock-factor, for her next appearance was in his home. In the john to be exact. Meg stood behind him as he relieved himself, effortlessly watching over his shoulder. And he was sure she had been smirking.
Finishing up, he sank down onto the toilet, crossing himself. He was being haunted! The silly tart actually thought she could haunt him. He began giggling at the notion. The giggles progressed to a hearty chuckle and the next thing he knew, tears were streaming down his face as his laughter flew out of control.
Showing posts with label Friday-fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friday-fiction. Show all posts
Monday, November 16, 2009
Friday, November 6, 2009
Friday Fiction - Divine Visions
I'm hping you enjoy this little ghost story. I had the most fun writing it.
Divine Visions
Jonathan Brittleby was a man of god. Just ask his parishioners. He could often be seen out ministering to the sick, downtrodden, and needy, seeking to bring them into the fold of God. Any given night might find him out on the streets of Ravenford, talking quietly with anyone who cared to stop and listen. And in his spare time, Father Brittleby helped organize and maintain the First Street Mission’s soup kitchen, feeding the community’s poor. Father Jonathan Brittleby was a real pillar of the Ravenford religious community all right.
One of his favorite projects was ministering to Meg Saunders. He spent at least three nights a week working with her, more if he could manage it. Meg was his refuge from the trials of saintly perfection. And then she had to go and get religion, ruining everything. The minute Meg found God, she began questioning her all-too-physical relationship with the good brother. And then, adding insult to injury, she threatened to “tell all” in one public confession of sin.
So he did the only thing a righteous man could. He killed her. Drowned her actually. Couldn’t have the little bitch blabbering things the public didn’t need to know. He did it one night when they were together, soaking in that old claw-footed bathtub. Meg brought the subject up again and he’d just shoved her under, holding her there while dispassionately watching her struggle.
Afterwards, Brittleby’d wrapped the body in a tarp and tossed it in the trunk with some cement blocks and rope. He headed out to Lenore State Park and dumped poor Meg in Pym Lake. Suitably weighted down, she’d make excellent fish food and take forever to find. The holy man grinned to himself and patted the wrapped corpse’s rump, “Consider it your baptism, Meg.” He continued, laughing at his private humor, “Hell, I’ll even say a few words as I send you off.” And thus was Meg buried.
Divine Visions
Jonathan Brittleby was a man of god. Just ask his parishioners. He could often be seen out ministering to the sick, downtrodden, and needy, seeking to bring them into the fold of God. Any given night might find him out on the streets of Ravenford, talking quietly with anyone who cared to stop and listen. And in his spare time, Father Brittleby helped organize and maintain the First Street Mission’s soup kitchen, feeding the community’s poor. Father Jonathan Brittleby was a real pillar of the Ravenford religious community all right.
One of his favorite projects was ministering to Meg Saunders. He spent at least three nights a week working with her, more if he could manage it. Meg was his refuge from the trials of saintly perfection. And then she had to go and get religion, ruining everything. The minute Meg found God, she began questioning her all-too-physical relationship with the good brother. And then, adding insult to injury, she threatened to “tell all” in one public confession of sin.
So he did the only thing a righteous man could. He killed her. Drowned her actually. Couldn’t have the little bitch blabbering things the public didn’t need to know. He did it one night when they were together, soaking in that old claw-footed bathtub. Meg brought the subject up again and he’d just shoved her under, holding her there while dispassionately watching her struggle.
Afterwards, Brittleby’d wrapped the body in a tarp and tossed it in the trunk with some cement blocks and rope. He headed out to Lenore State Park and dumped poor Meg in Pym Lake. Suitably weighted down, she’d make excellent fish food and take forever to find. The holy man grinned to himself and patted the wrapped corpse’s rump, “Consider it your baptism, Meg.” He continued, laughing at his private humor, “Hell, I’ll even say a few words as I send you off.” And thus was Meg buried.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Oops!
I lied. Divine Visions didn't start last Friday. And it's not starting this Friday either. We'll aim for next Friday and let it carry Friday Fiction through November (hopefully) while I'm busy writing for NaNoWriMo. THIS Friday I'm going to share something written quite recently - last month, in fact - that's set here in Athens County. Not only is it set here, but it's also, at least partly, a true story.
Consider it my little treat for all of you. And if you like, and would like to hear more ghost stories here in Athens, just drop me a line in the comments and I'll see if I can't hook you up. Athens County is, by some accounts, one of the most haunted places in the world. Go figure....
Consider it my little treat for all of you. And if you like, and would like to hear more ghost stories here in Athens, just drop me a line in the comments and I'll see if I can't hook you up. Athens County is, by some accounts, one of the most haunted places in the world. Go figure....
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Friday Fiction: The Aeterna - Part 7 - The End
Divine Visions starts next Friday. It's probably the best fiction I've written in a while. Certainly the best I'd written at the time it was penned. I really hope you've enjoyed this one enough to look forward to Part 1 of the story of the mad cleric.
Melinda
Stretching out his right hand towards Ethan, he nudged the protruding stake, sending fresh waves of pain coursing throughout her body and calming her weak struggles, uttering a satisfied chuckle when he heard her agonized moan. Ethan, sweat glistening upon his forehead, reached for the binding rings. The young man could see the panic in the woman's eyes. Perhaps Pernicies had been correct about gaining his freedom. Concentrating, he began working the bands off, moving with cautious precision. They had to be removed at exactly the same time or it wouldn't work. After witnessing the recent brutality, he didn't want to find out how failure would be rewarded.
Venia fought the engulfing panic and pain. Finally focusing the meditative techniques she had worked long to perfect, she banished the endless agony to some far corner, to be dealt with later. The mortal couldn't get that ring off or all be permanently lost. Gathering her remaining strength, she prepared to shove Pernicies forward. Timing her move for the last possible moment, she hoped to push his ring back upon is finger by the momentum of his fall. Either way, it would destroy the vital timing of their plan, probably allowing her band to fall free from her finger. With her band removed she would be free to deal with them in her true form, capable of draining Pernicies enough to subdue him for the time being. It might even save Thomas's life as well.
Ethan paused at the final joint on their fingers, taking a deep breath to steady himself for the last, crucial part. So intent was he upon his task that Pernicies look of alarm was entirely lost till too late. He crumpled into a heap, victim to the candlestick Thomas held unsteadily in his hand.
Venia threw her weight towards Pernicies shoulder's, overbalancing him and forcing him to collapse on top of Ethan. Tilting her hand down, the ring fell off, freeing her from the agony of her body. Pernicies paled at the anger emanating from her ethereal form. He felt the attack creep up from his shoulders into the base of his skull as Venia vented her rage, exploding his world into a collage of pain-induced colors. Screaming, he fell into merciful unconsciousness. She was far more merciful than he would have been. But then, that was her nature. Merciful grace.
Melinda
Stretching out his right hand towards Ethan, he nudged the protruding stake, sending fresh waves of pain coursing throughout her body and calming her weak struggles, uttering a satisfied chuckle when he heard her agonized moan. Ethan, sweat glistening upon his forehead, reached for the binding rings. The young man could see the panic in the woman's eyes. Perhaps Pernicies had been correct about gaining his freedom. Concentrating, he began working the bands off, moving with cautious precision. They had to be removed at exactly the same time or it wouldn't work. After witnessing the recent brutality, he didn't want to find out how failure would be rewarded.
Venia fought the engulfing panic and pain. Finally focusing the meditative techniques she had worked long to perfect, she banished the endless agony to some far corner, to be dealt with later. The mortal couldn't get that ring off or all be permanently lost. Gathering her remaining strength, she prepared to shove Pernicies forward. Timing her move for the last possible moment, she hoped to push his ring back upon is finger by the momentum of his fall. Either way, it would destroy the vital timing of their plan, probably allowing her band to fall free from her finger. With her band removed she would be free to deal with them in her true form, capable of draining Pernicies enough to subdue him for the time being. It might even save Thomas's life as well.
Ethan paused at the final joint on their fingers, taking a deep breath to steady himself for the last, crucial part. So intent was he upon his task that Pernicies look of alarm was entirely lost till too late. He crumpled into a heap, victim to the candlestick Thomas held unsteadily in his hand.
Venia threw her weight towards Pernicies shoulder's, overbalancing him and forcing him to collapse on top of Ethan. Tilting her hand down, the ring fell off, freeing her from the agony of her body. Pernicies paled at the anger emanating from her ethereal form. He felt the attack creep up from his shoulders into the base of his skull as Venia vented her rage, exploding his world into a collage of pain-induced colors. Screaming, he fell into merciful unconsciousness. She was far more merciful than he would have been. But then, that was her nature. Merciful grace.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Friday Fiction: The Aeterna - Part 6
You know, I didn't realize there were so many possible cliffhanger moments in this thing. I just can't resist dragging it out longer, although I had hoped to do the ghost story for October; however, this way I'll have that for November when I'm being insane during NaNo.
Melinda
Venia felt as though her essence were being ripped apart, reduced to subatomic particles, her neural network seared by the lightening rushing to every nerve ending. She heard screams of anguish, recognizing her own voice. In the background was the keening, fearful scream of Thomas: a mortal never meant to see this level of brutality. Her world collapsed into a kaleidoscope of anguish. While the pain would haunt her for centuries, given time, perhaps weeks, she would regenerate the physical damage. Pernicies grim, victorious grin told her that if he were correct, she wouldn't survive long enough for it to be a major concern.
"Now, Ethan." He beckoned to his mortal companion, unable to conceal the triumph evident in his voice. Meeting her eyes, he reached down for her right arm, holding it firmly anchored hand out, fingers exposed. "I thought of hacking off you hand for this next part, but it would probably be to much for that body of your's to bear, and I do so want you to witness your defeat.. Perhaps you'll survive long enough to see me devour your lover." He laughed as fear crossed her face for the first time in 4,000 years.
Melinda
Venia felt as though her essence were being ripped apart, reduced to subatomic particles, her neural network seared by the lightening rushing to every nerve ending. She heard screams of anguish, recognizing her own voice. In the background was the keening, fearful scream of Thomas: a mortal never meant to see this level of brutality. Her world collapsed into a kaleidoscope of anguish. While the pain would haunt her for centuries, given time, perhaps weeks, she would regenerate the physical damage. Pernicies grim, victorious grin told her that if he were correct, she wouldn't survive long enough for it to be a major concern.
"Now, Ethan." He beckoned to his mortal companion, unable to conceal the triumph evident in his voice. Meeting her eyes, he reached down for her right arm, holding it firmly anchored hand out, fingers exposed. "I thought of hacking off you hand for this next part, but it would probably be to much for that body of your's to bear, and I do so want you to witness your defeat.. Perhaps you'll survive long enough to see me devour your lover." He laughed as fear crossed her face for the first time in 4,000 years.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Friday Fiction: The Aeterna - Part 5
Thomas began to reply when the front door swung inward, revealing Pernicies and a young man. Standing, he turned to the intruders. "What the...I think you've got the wrong apartment." Pernicies crossed the room in one stride; the blow knocking Thomas against the far wall and leaving him stunned for several minutes. Food for later, the he thought. Ethan stepped inside and closed the door, waiting for his role in the affair.
"Why don't you just give up now and get out of here?" Venia growled at her eternal enemy. What had the bastard cooked up this time around?
"Now, dear." Pernicies gave her a feral smile. "You know I just can't stay away from my eternal partner, the beauty who bound the beast." He stepped towards her, arms out in a placating gesture of embrace. She stepped back warily as he gave a toothy grin, beginning a deadly game of cat and mouse. Glancing at Thomas, her eyes begging his trust and forgiveness, she began inching towards an open window. Whatever Pernicies game was, he would follow her to continue it, leaving the mortal safe.
"I don't think so, lovely. Wouldn't want your boyfriend to miss seeing the party, now would we?" Without warning, Pernicies sprang forward, the stake now evident in his hand. Caught off guard, she moved to dodge his thrust, taking the wood left of center in the abdomen. "I thought about using a plain old hunting knife, but the stake seemed so much more...appropriate. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Why don't you just give up now and get out of here?" Venia growled at her eternal enemy. What had the bastard cooked up this time around?
"Now, dear." Pernicies gave her a feral smile. "You know I just can't stay away from my eternal partner, the beauty who bound the beast." He stepped towards her, arms out in a placating gesture of embrace. She stepped back warily as he gave a toothy grin, beginning a deadly game of cat and mouse. Glancing at Thomas, her eyes begging his trust and forgiveness, she began inching towards an open window. Whatever Pernicies game was, he would follow her to continue it, leaving the mortal safe.
"I don't think so, lovely. Wouldn't want your boyfriend to miss seeing the party, now would we?" Without warning, Pernicies sprang forward, the stake now evident in his hand. Caught off guard, she moved to dodge his thrust, taking the wood left of center in the abdomen. "I thought about using a plain old hunting knife, but the stake seemed so much more...appropriate. Wouldn't you agree?"
Friday, September 25, 2009
Friday Fiction: The Aeterna, parts 3 and 4
Sorry about last Friday. I was 1)sick and 2) working past a deadline. Here's the continuation of the story. I'm noticing some editing issues, but I'm leaving it as is. This was written a good while ago and I've learned much since then.
Melinda
The morning sun found her out on a daily run, the distance doubled in the last few weeks. All of her training routines had been increased. Past experiences taught her to take advantage of the forewarning the ring allowed her. She needed her "mortal" form at its peak physical and mental condition. Running along the river, she thought how to best tell Thomas the truth. The weight of the ring nearly resembled lead. Putting it off became an unaffordable luxury now for Pernicies had found her once more. Maybe I should tell him nothing, merely disappearing from his life. Sigh. Damn, I know I can't do that because he doesn't deserve better. Even if it is for his own good. Aye! My fondness for these mortal humans will probably be my undoing one day.
The strained silence weighed heavily on dinner that evening. Thomas, noticing her preoccupation, attempted to break through, but met continual failure. Not once did she mention her day, or inquire about his. No lighthearted banter. Few smiles. "This is it," he muttered. "My favorite meal and so preoccupied I could be naked and not be noticed. Must be important, but I don't think it's the old 'you're a great friend, but...' story. This is like eating by myself just before the executioner arrives."
"Thomas?" Venia's tentative voice cut into his ruminations. "There's something I need to tell you." She saw the look of comprehension cross his face. Boy is he in for a surprise. "No, darling, it's not whatever it is you're thinking."
"Well, if you don't know what I'm thinking, how do you know it's not what you're about to tell me?" He teased her, trying to get a smile to break her tense countenance. Normally it would have worked, but she was too keyed up tonight to play along. Damn. Pernicies is close. The ring feels like lead.
"I know it's not what you're thinking because it's not something that would occur to you." Taking a deep breath, she continued determinedly on. "Thomas, I'm not human"
"Right. You're telling me that actually you're some space alien in disguise, here preparing for future world domination?"
"Damn it, Thomas!" Nerves made her short-tempered. Boy am I screwing this up, she thought disgustedly. "Oh, never mind. I'm making a mess of this." Deep sigh. "I've got to go away for awhile. Maybe a few days. Maybe a few weeks. It's someone from my past...and I really don't want you anywhere in the middle. Look, we can discuss this when it's finished..."
Melinda
The morning sun found her out on a daily run, the distance doubled in the last few weeks. All of her training routines had been increased. Past experiences taught her to take advantage of the forewarning the ring allowed her. She needed her "mortal" form at its peak physical and mental condition. Running along the river, she thought how to best tell Thomas the truth. The weight of the ring nearly resembled lead. Putting it off became an unaffordable luxury now for Pernicies had found her once more. Maybe I should tell him nothing, merely disappearing from his life. Sigh. Damn, I know I can't do that because he doesn't deserve better. Even if it is for his own good. Aye! My fondness for these mortal humans will probably be my undoing one day.
The strained silence weighed heavily on dinner that evening. Thomas, noticing her preoccupation, attempted to break through, but met continual failure. Not once did she mention her day, or inquire about his. No lighthearted banter. Few smiles. "This is it," he muttered. "My favorite meal and so preoccupied I could be naked and not be noticed. Must be important, but I don't think it's the old 'you're a great friend, but...' story. This is like eating by myself just before the executioner arrives."
"Thomas?" Venia's tentative voice cut into his ruminations. "There's something I need to tell you." She saw the look of comprehension cross his face. Boy is he in for a surprise. "No, darling, it's not whatever it is you're thinking."
"Well, if you don't know what I'm thinking, how do you know it's not what you're about to tell me?" He teased her, trying to get a smile to break her tense countenance. Normally it would have worked, but she was too keyed up tonight to play along. Damn. Pernicies is close. The ring feels like lead.
"I know it's not what you're thinking because it's not something that would occur to you." Taking a deep breath, she continued determinedly on. "Thomas, I'm not human"
"Right. You're telling me that actually you're some space alien in disguise, here preparing for future world domination?"
"Damn it, Thomas!" Nerves made her short-tempered. Boy am I screwing this up, she thought disgustedly. "Oh, never mind. I'm making a mess of this." Deep sigh. "I've got to go away for awhile. Maybe a few days. Maybe a few weeks. It's someone from my past...and I really don't want you anywhere in the middle. Look, we can discuss this when it's finished..."
Friday, September 11, 2009
Friday Fiction - The Aeterna, part two
It's just a little bit this week. When I wrote this, I wasn't think of breaking it up into serialized little bits...
The Aeterna, part two
Making her way home, she down glanced at the ring placed there millennia ago. The magus performing the ceremony paid for it with his life, knowing, as Venia had, that it was the only means of containing Pernicies’ appetites. Pernicies never forgave his duality twin her betrayal, but could do little about it. The rings kept them bound to their solid, human form while dampening many innate abilities. Feeding off the life 'essence' of the mortals was still essential, but their victims survived, merely sleeping off the effects. After Thomas knew of her true state, he could remove the ring, releasing her for short periods of time. She smiled. It would be good to truly stretch for the first time in a hundred years.
The Aeterna, part two
Making her way home, she down glanced at the ring placed there millennia ago. The magus performing the ceremony paid for it with his life, knowing, as Venia had, that it was the only means of containing Pernicies’ appetites. Pernicies never forgave his duality twin her betrayal, but could do little about it. The rings kept them bound to their solid, human form while dampening many innate abilities. Feeding off the life 'essence' of the mortals was still essential, but their victims survived, merely sleeping off the effects. After Thomas knew of her true state, he could remove the ring, releasing her for short periods of time. She smiled. It would be good to truly stretch for the first time in a hundred years.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Friday Fiction Teaser
Here's a quick teaser for the latest Friday Fiction beginning this week. A bit melodramatic, isn't it? I promise the rest of it is much, much better. Now to go figure out how to break it up into a couple of bits for posting.
The Aeterna
Prelude
Pernicies paused, power surging through his being. His power had grown alarmingly, all but completely consuming the current victim. Soon I will come for you, Venia. You will have no where to turn. I will be free of this wretched curse you've forced upon me.
The Aeterna
Prelude
Pernicies paused, power surging through his being. His power had grown alarmingly, all but completely consuming the current victim. Soon I will come for you, Venia. You will have no where to turn. I will be free of this wretched curse you've forced upon me.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Friday Fiction: First Feeding
Here it is - early! Now I have to decide what to share next...
First Feeding
“Keeley? “ Miranda grabbed his arm, clinging in a desperate attempt to keep from collapsing as the wave of hunger – of need – tore through her being. “It hurts,” she whispered, choking as another stab of pain hit. “I’m so hungry.”
“Go. Feed.” Keeley gave Miranda a gentle nudge down the darkened alley. Stumbling forward several feet before collapsing near a dumpster, hunger ate away at her like acid on precious metal, her throat and mouth as dry as the rustling fall oak leaves.
Shuffling sounds signaled someone approaching from the far end of the alleyway. A vagrant. Maybe a drunken college student. Fear bubbled up inside to mingle and churn with the hunger already tearing away at her. Then Keeley’s words echoed in Miranda’s head: The only thing in this alley more dangerous than you is me. Calming somewhat, she huddled into herself, too weak from pain and hunger to do more.
The stranger continued approaching. Miranda could smell him now. Knew him to be a drunken vagrant by his smell. What’s more, she could feel him, sense his breathing, feel his heartbeat, as he advanced upon her. Smell the lust beneath his curiosity.
“You ok, girl? Do you need some help?” His questions dancingly grated upon her nerves, distracting from the delicious sound of the living blood pulsing through his veins. Her insides wrenched into a tortured knot, forcing a cry from her parched lips.
The stranger reached out, gently brushing the hair back from the side of her face. “Let’s git somewhere warmer…” Maybe warm each other a bit. She saw the unfinished thought play across his face, nearly as obvious as the spoken word. Inside, Miranda struggled with her emotions. Her hunger. Her rapidly departing humanity.
She looked up then, into his rich brown eyes. “No., she gasped, eyes resting finally upon his throat, almost in a caress. “I need…you.” Her arms came up to encircle him, parody of a lovers’ embrace as the vagrant chuckled over his unexpected fortune. Suddenly, Miranda’s sharp teeth pierced flesh, at first missing their mark. She held him firmly during the shocked struggle, hunger making her strong. Finally….the vein.
Like good hard liquor, his blood burned her throat and belly, spreading to warm her veins. Slowly the pain eased away, replaced by a languid fullness underscored with pleasure matched only by Keeley’s embrace.
Miranda drank until her belly was full and the fire from his lifeblood filled her veins. Then Keeley was there, pulling her back from the fading beat that had recently pounded so loudly. His arm about her shoulders, pulling her close, the two of them walked off in the night.
For the moment, she was content.
Copyright, Melinda M. Knowlton Fulk, Jan. 2005
First Feeding
“Keeley? “ Miranda grabbed his arm, clinging in a desperate attempt to keep from collapsing as the wave of hunger – of need – tore through her being. “It hurts,” she whispered, choking as another stab of pain hit. “I’m so hungry.”
“Go. Feed.” Keeley gave Miranda a gentle nudge down the darkened alley. Stumbling forward several feet before collapsing near a dumpster, hunger ate away at her like acid on precious metal, her throat and mouth as dry as the rustling fall oak leaves.
Shuffling sounds signaled someone approaching from the far end of the alleyway. A vagrant. Maybe a drunken college student. Fear bubbled up inside to mingle and churn with the hunger already tearing away at her. Then Keeley’s words echoed in Miranda’s head: The only thing in this alley more dangerous than you is me. Calming somewhat, she huddled into herself, too weak from pain and hunger to do more.
The stranger continued approaching. Miranda could smell him now. Knew him to be a drunken vagrant by his smell. What’s more, she could feel him, sense his breathing, feel his heartbeat, as he advanced upon her. Smell the lust beneath his curiosity.
“You ok, girl? Do you need some help?” His questions dancingly grated upon her nerves, distracting from the delicious sound of the living blood pulsing through his veins. Her insides wrenched into a tortured knot, forcing a cry from her parched lips.
The stranger reached out, gently brushing the hair back from the side of her face. “Let’s git somewhere warmer…” Maybe warm each other a bit. She saw the unfinished thought play across his face, nearly as obvious as the spoken word. Inside, Miranda struggled with her emotions. Her hunger. Her rapidly departing humanity.
She looked up then, into his rich brown eyes. “No., she gasped, eyes resting finally upon his throat, almost in a caress. “I need…you.” Her arms came up to encircle him, parody of a lovers’ embrace as the vagrant chuckled over his unexpected fortune. Suddenly, Miranda’s sharp teeth pierced flesh, at first missing their mark. She held him firmly during the shocked struggle, hunger making her strong. Finally….the vein.
Like good hard liquor, his blood burned her throat and belly, spreading to warm her veins. Slowly the pain eased away, replaced by a languid fullness underscored with pleasure matched only by Keeley’s embrace.
Miranda drank until her belly was full and the fire from his lifeblood filled her veins. Then Keeley was there, pulling her back from the fading beat that had recently pounded so loudly. His arm about her shoulders, pulling her close, the two of them walked off in the night.
For the moment, she was content.
Copyright, Melinda M. Knowlton Fulk, Jan. 2005
Friday, August 21, 2009
Friday Fiction: Miranda's Choice
We're back from our visit with my grandmother, and no internet. The no internet part is actually pretty refreshing.
Here's the next Miranda Snapshot, as promised. Please, keep reading through next week, as I think the first and fourth installments are the best. And then, a ghost story, or perhaps something else supernatural...
Miranda’s Choice
Miranda slid into sleep, heartbeat exploding in her ears and echoing in her mind. Thump-thump, thump-thump; the only sound she heard. Leaden limbs drew farther down still, deep into the velvety comforting abyss. So this is what it’s like, she thought. The comfort of death’s embrace. First brief pain, then the mellow darkness. I should have done this long ago. Might have spared myself more grief.
An unnoticed gasp escaped her parted lips. The dark man - stranger no more - shifted position slightly, the better to support her. She was aware of this. She was also aware too of the slight pricking at her neck; the result of his movement. It all became more inconsequential as she gave herself up to the enveloping blackness.
Down. Down she sank like falling into a pile of autumn leaves. Willingly Miranda went, eagerly seeking blessed release from her life’s drudgery. The hammering within her mind increased. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. It was growing slower, second by merciful second.
But life is a stubborn thing, struggling to continue even when unwanted. Miranda’s will leapt to life, urging her to fight the coming night. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Her pulse echoed, growing louder. Fight, damn you! Fight! It whispered fiercely in her ear. Fight or death’ll have won. Fight, or life will have been meaningless. Fight, Miranda!
Survival broke through to her. She struggled in the arms of her deliverer. However, Miranda desired peace - rest- more than survival. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. The heartbeat began growing faint. Merciful release was sought once more.
Tangy moisture fell in droplets through her parted lips, striking her tongue. Something deep inside stirred, seared it’s way through the heavy blackness. Come to me, Miranda. The stranger’s call whispered. Come to me. Images began clouding before he darkening vision. Peter leaving her. Tabby, the cat, waiting dinner. Tumbling fall leaves. Those penetrating grey eyes. Her attention focused there. The vision held. Became stronger. Come back to me, Miranda. There’ll be no more pain. The eyes compelled - commanded - her attention. Her return.
Miranda struggled against that riveting gaze. She wanted her peace. Her rest. She deserved it! Darkness wrapped its cold comfort around her like a silken velvet cloak. And more sharp tanginess seared into her, hitting the back of her throat.
Please, Miranda, the grey eyes pleaded.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
Miranda paused in her descent, looking deep within those eyes. Perhaps they contained more than the mere command to live. She looked...and saw need. Desire perhaps. Whatever his gaze revealed upon the screen behind her closed lids, she began to struggle. To fight her icy suitor.
The stranger wrapped his will around her’s, melding them together, lending her his strength. She tasted more of the tangy ichor. Consciousness and need came as one. Tentative hands grasped his offered arm. A hungry mouth fastened upon his wrist, drinking deep of the offered nectar waiting there. His blood. Her blood. Strength -warmth- crept through her languid body. Miranda’s eyes opened once more, fire burning deep within them.
The stranger cuddled her close, smiling down at her. Letting her drink deeply from his wrist, before pulling it gently away. “Welcome back, Miranda. Welcome to a new life. One which you create. Control.” A grin split his pale face. “Perhaps you’ll share part of it with me.”
She nodded her ascent, as deep within her a hunger raged. Miranda smiled, feeling her canines extending. Elongating. They brushed her lower lip.
“I’m thirsty.”
The stranger’s - Keeley’s - laughter spilt out into the October air as he helped her to her feet.
Copyright Melinda M. Knowlton Fulk, 1997
Here's the next Miranda Snapshot, as promised. Please, keep reading through next week, as I think the first and fourth installments are the best. And then, a ghost story, or perhaps something else supernatural...
Miranda’s Choice
Miranda slid into sleep, heartbeat exploding in her ears and echoing in her mind. Thump-thump, thump-thump; the only sound she heard. Leaden limbs drew farther down still, deep into the velvety comforting abyss. So this is what it’s like, she thought. The comfort of death’s embrace. First brief pain, then the mellow darkness. I should have done this long ago. Might have spared myself more grief.
An unnoticed gasp escaped her parted lips. The dark man - stranger no more - shifted position slightly, the better to support her. She was aware of this. She was also aware too of the slight pricking at her neck; the result of his movement. It all became more inconsequential as she gave herself up to the enveloping blackness.
Down. Down she sank like falling into a pile of autumn leaves. Willingly Miranda went, eagerly seeking blessed release from her life’s drudgery. The hammering within her mind increased. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. It was growing slower, second by merciful second.
But life is a stubborn thing, struggling to continue even when unwanted. Miranda’s will leapt to life, urging her to fight the coming night. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Her pulse echoed, growing louder. Fight, damn you! Fight! It whispered fiercely in her ear. Fight or death’ll have won. Fight, or life will have been meaningless. Fight, Miranda!
Survival broke through to her. She struggled in the arms of her deliverer. However, Miranda desired peace - rest- more than survival. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. The heartbeat began growing faint. Merciful release was sought once more.
Tangy moisture fell in droplets through her parted lips, striking her tongue. Something deep inside stirred, seared it’s way through the heavy blackness. Come to me, Miranda. The stranger’s call whispered. Come to me. Images began clouding before he darkening vision. Peter leaving her. Tabby, the cat, waiting dinner. Tumbling fall leaves. Those penetrating grey eyes. Her attention focused there. The vision held. Became stronger. Come back to me, Miranda. There’ll be no more pain. The eyes compelled - commanded - her attention. Her return.
Miranda struggled against that riveting gaze. She wanted her peace. Her rest. She deserved it! Darkness wrapped its cold comfort around her like a silken velvet cloak. And more sharp tanginess seared into her, hitting the back of her throat.
Please, Miranda, the grey eyes pleaded.
Thump-thump.
Thump-thump.
Miranda paused in her descent, looking deep within those eyes. Perhaps they contained more than the mere command to live. She looked...and saw need. Desire perhaps. Whatever his gaze revealed upon the screen behind her closed lids, she began to struggle. To fight her icy suitor.
The stranger wrapped his will around her’s, melding them together, lending her his strength. She tasted more of the tangy ichor. Consciousness and need came as one. Tentative hands grasped his offered arm. A hungry mouth fastened upon his wrist, drinking deep of the offered nectar waiting there. His blood. Her blood. Strength -warmth- crept through her languid body. Miranda’s eyes opened once more, fire burning deep within them.
The stranger cuddled her close, smiling down at her. Letting her drink deeply from his wrist, before pulling it gently away. “Welcome back, Miranda. Welcome to a new life. One which you create. Control.” A grin split his pale face. “Perhaps you’ll share part of it with me.”
She nodded her ascent, as deep within her a hunger raged. Miranda smiled, feeling her canines extending. Elongating. They brushed her lower lip.
“I’m thirsty.”
The stranger’s - Keeley’s - laughter spilt out into the October air as he helped her to her feet.
Copyright Melinda M. Knowlton Fulk, 1997
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Background on Miranda
(This drawing doesn't have a danged thing to do with the rest of the post. I just like showing off the girls' artwork. Monkey Girl did this piece of our family. That's her on the left, with her dog, Baby in front of her. Next is me, then Mr. Incredible with is arm around me. To the left of him is The Kate. That's her dog Jake in front. And on the far right is Drama Queen with her dog Rosie. She's holding a fish bowl with Goldie in it. Goldie has since gone to the big aquarium in the sky. She was an old fish. )
I don't have much time as sleep is calling to me, but I'm off to my grandmother's for a few days and wanted to explain a bit about the Miranda Snapshots before I go. "While Walking Home At Midnight" was originally written for a local ghost story contest. I knew it wouldn't win, as it's far from a traditional ghost, or spooky, story, but it got me to write.
I was pretty happy with the little story, written to the contest's very short word count guidelines. My friends seemed to be happy as well, until they got to the ending. My lovely ambiguous ending. I liked it that way. They wanted to know more. Pain and death were mentioned in connection with my name if I didn't tell what happened next. Being as allergic to pain as the next person, this worried me a bit, although I really didn't see a certain website providing friend driving all the way from New Jersey to make good on the threat. Still, ya never know with guys. So I had to figure out what happened next. And how I was going to write it.
Thus the "snapshot" was born. It was just a little slice of what was happening, kept to the same word count as the original story. This is why they are so danged short and rather lacking in those colorful details a certain pediatric surgeon mentioned in his comment. (Thank you, Chris, by the way. I really appreciated the feedback.) It would probably have a bit more depth with some of those details, but I was struggling to get what I was feeling onto paper. These little bits are good exercise for that. (I also just realized that I had about 50 more words to play around with, dang it!)
I'm the least happy with this snapshot and yet I think it's got some of the most emotion in it. I really like the fourth snapshot, which I'll share next Friday. It's the last one I wrote, just a couple of years ago. Will there be more? I honestly can't say. It's difficult to write a character that you don't know that well and, honestly, I've not gotten to know Miranda that well through the years. Maybe, now that these are getting posted, she'll climb into my brain and take it over for a little while, letting me know what makes her tick. If that happens, there will be more. Maybe this is what I'll do for NaNo this year - write more about Miranda. Hmmm, that's a thought. If this other idea doesn't pan out by November....
Thanks for reading.
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."
Tentative.
Trembling.
Searching.
"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
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."
Tentative.
Trembling.
Searching.
"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
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