Friday Fiction Flash #41

Amy C at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie atTink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you publish your Fiction Flash  on Friday - 350 words, give or take.

Woo- hoo,  a sci-fi story coming your way!!!

Eden Project by Anachronist

Like almost every evening, Cara was standing on the balcony and admiring the sunset over the Earth. It was her only addiction, that sight which made her smile while tearing her heart apart. She couldn't believe the best part of humankind have willingly abandoned such a jewel and moved to an artificial planetoid, known as Eden. If they asked her, she would call it rather Hell. She knew she should be glad - she was the priviledged one, you had to be very influential  and wealthy to get a visa and a ticket. Plenty of her friends have envied her that opportunity and said openly so; at first she also considered herself rather lucky. Still, she couldn't help missing the Earth every single day.

The villa of her husband was situated right on the shore of an artificial ocean called the Cerulean- a prime location here, on Eden, as it would be anywhere else - but the view made her even sadder. She remembered the Pacific Ocean she used to swim in with her parents and her little sister. The Cerulean was certainly cleaner and less dangerous than the Pacific, fully controlled by computers and meteorlogists, swarming with fish and crustacea long gone and forgotten in the Earth's polluted waters and yet...it lacked something important to her. It didn't feel right. She never swam in this one, she simply couldn't force herself to immerse in those alien, artificially blue depths. She didn't trust them.

Tonight her husband was attending a party organized by one of his important friends. Cara, as usual, excused herself from it, claiming she was having a really bad headache. Bad headaches became her weapon of choice since she arrived to Eden and her husband didn't seem to care enough to investigate them further - usually he just nodded, told her to take a pill or consult a doctor and went his way. It suited Cara fine. When he was present she felt obliged to pretend she was cheerful and happy with her lot, like a good, dutiful wife should be. It took a lot of energy and effort, the whole pretending act, and she betted she wasn't good enough to fool anybody but he seemed satisfied.

Suddenly her portable assistant buzzed on her wrist and blipped delicately. She got an instant message, most likely from her husband. He usually texted her if anybody important at the party cared to mention  her name or asked how she was doing - pure courtesy but it would be rude not to answer. She mentally told the screen to activate and stream.

This time it was a VIM - video instant messaging. She saw a dark face of a stranger. He was young but looked pretty haggard, with five o'clock shadow and bruised, half-shut eyes. The man blinked several times, as if unsure whether he should speak or not. For a moment she was certain the server made a mistake and connected a wrong call but then the man asked: "Cara Serena Tomlinson? Nee Bartolli? Born in San Francisco, USA, the Earth? Wife of Roger Aidan Tomlinson?"

She nodded silently. So it was neither a coincidence nor a mistake. Hardly anyone of her Eden acquaintances knew her second name, her place of birth or her maiden's name for that matter. This man was very well-informed. His next question made her dizzy with excitement.


"Do you want to return to Earth?"


"Who are you?" she asked after a while, her throat painfully constricted. 


"It doesn't matter. Answer, please - do you want to return or not?"


"Yes I do", she told him, feeling as if she was getting married for the second time. Meanwhile she sent a mental probe to her assistant asking for the ID of her interlocutor. The device blipped and shown the unexpected message: ID withheld. The man on the screen smiled while observing her shocked face. Only the highest government officials were granted a possibility to hide their ID if they wanted or needed to. Still he was far too young and looked too scruffy to be one of them.


"Don't bother about finding out who I am. Perhaps it is possible but, with all due respect, also completely out of your league and out of the league of your little toy. If you want to return to Earth..."


"I thought it was impossible. Everybody has to sign a 'non-return' clause before the departure," she interrupted hastily. The man smirked. One of his incisors was missing, making him look a bit like a pirate.


"It is possible but illegal. Still plenty of people have already returned. Of course the data are kept secret if there are any data collected at all. Now then, if you really want to return we must cooperate. In my next stream I will tell you what you should do to earn your ticket. Goodnight Mrs Tomlinson. I'll keep in touch."


The connection ended. She looked back at the Earth, feeling happier than she thought possible even a few moments ago. Soon she will return where she belongs. Home.

Friday Fiction Flash #40- Saturday edition ;)

Amy C at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie atTink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you publish your Fiction Flash  on Friday - 350 words, give or take.

It's been ages since I wrote a flash but this week's pic was so nice and dark that I decided to give it a try:

"Farewell, My Lovely One" by Anachronist

"NEVERMORE" - that's all he wanted to be written on his grave. No name or surname, no dates, not even the simplest eulogy. Why? It was too late to ask but she was sure even if she had asked before he died he wouldn't have explained. Obnoxious, conceited, irritating, beloved man. She sobbed with grief every time she thought about him and the sudden illness which ravaged his body and finished his life prematurely. She was visiting his grave day and night, hoping for some relief and finding none, just crouching by that cold marble gravestone with the mysterious caption: "NEVERMORE" and crying her eyes out.

One night she was sitting by the grave, feeling cold and empty, unable to move, hugging herself and crying hard, when she heard a strange noise. An animal? Some graverobbers or other criminals? Drunkards? Young Goths proving that they were braver than their friends had ever imagined them to be? She didn't care much but the noise was quite disturbing. She raised her head and looked in that direction. It was full moon so she had no problems with noticing a bulky shape walking on two legs,  rather squat and hunched. It keened pitifully.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice husky from hours of crying.

The creature approached with an unsteady gait.

"Don't you recognize me, my lovely one?"

She gasped. That voice - although distorted and strangely high-pitched, she would recognize it everywhere.

"Amadon?"

The creature half sobbed half laughed.

"Hello, my lovely one. Yes, it's me. Still alive but not exactly kicking. Shuffling rather. I did want to die this time. I really, truly did. I infected myself and everything was going just fine. Now take a look at me. All my efforts, all my sufferings - in vain. The only thing I managed to achieve is a new, ugly body of an ape or a miserable gargoyle. Not exactly fun, don't you think, my lovely one?"


She stood up in a flash, ran to him and threw her arms around his bulky torso, crying again but this time with relief.


"Don't you dare speak like that, Amadon. Don't you dare. I love you, no matter in what body you come, as long as it is still you inside."


"Bloody stupid, aren't you?" he murmured into her chest. He was a head shorter than she now.


She laughed - her first real laugh in months.

"I need your brains to survive - it's obvious. Never leave me again."

"It seems I can't, even if I wanted to."

"We are tied to each other. For eternity."

"It doesn't have to be like that, my lovely one."

"But I WANT it to be like that, Amadon.I want to be with you forever."

"Er...does my opinion count?"

Surprised by his question she stopped hugging him tightly and looked into his dark, shiny eyes.

"Wh...what? You are playing your games with me as usual, right? You can't possibly...Amadon I LOVE you! I will love you forever! Aren't you happy we are together again?"

He nodded, his expression suddenly very solemn and even a bit sad.

"Happy? Oh dear, such a nice girl but so stubborn and stupid. I tried to solve it in a honourable way - I really did. Luckily there is a cure for your kind of illness although there is no cure for me. Farewell, my lovely one."

She didn't feel the knife until it came out of her body. Then she was more dizzy than in pain; the night around her was turning a bit more darker with every second. Her breathing became laboured and shallow. Then she closed her eyelids. She was so tired and heavy and cold...When her body slumped to the ground she didn't feel anything anymore.

"As dead as a doornail, and so quickly" Amadon sighed. "In a matter of minutes. Some girls are lucky."

Friday Fiction Flash #38

Amy C at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie atTink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you publish your Fiction Flash  on Friday - 350 words, give or take.

It's been ages since I wrote a flash but this week's pic undid me completely:

Patricia was sitting on a hard, wooden chair which looked like a cross between a throne and a piece of furniture straight from a torture chamber - uncomfortable like hell, full of spikes and metal studs. Dark birds (ravens? crows? jackdaws?) were flying around her making a lot of racket and crapping on her lap and feet. She swore loudly when a piece of guano landed on her head as well. She wanted to stand up and escape those pesky birds but she couldn't move, as if she was glued to her seat. She looked up at the overcast sky. 'Dammit, it might rain any time now' she thought. Just her luck - she was wearing a sleeveless dress made of a very thin fabric (silk?) very low cut at the front and hardly anything else. It meant that if she was cold now, she was bound to be freezing pretty soon. And wet. A shiver ran down her spine.

She heard a murmur of voices and thought that finally some help might be coming her way but saw only an endless column of people with heads hung low, some of them limping, most dressed in bloody tatters. Slaves. Other people, riding horses and brandishing long, vicious whips, flanked the column.  She blinked several times hearing ominous swishes through the air and cries full of pain and horror. What was happening and what was she doing here? She made another attempt to move, once again failing spectacularly.

Somebody approached her from behind and whispered into her ear:

"We won, my princess. The darkness will rule forever and you'll marry me today as your father's promised."

She turned her head and saw a big, black raven with a human head sitting on the backrest of her chair. The head smiled nastily, showing blood-stained, sharp teeth; she screamed like mad and woke up with her mouth still wide open and her throat constricted with fear.

Next day Patricia threw away all her Goth wardrobe and accessories. She  couldn't look at them any longer. She dyied her hair brown, as close to her natural colour as she could manage, and put on a lot less of that  black and red eyeshadows than she used to. Even though she repeated in her head that it was just a spooky dream she didn't want to return to that chair, black birds and the darkness. Ever.

Friday Flash Fiction

Amy C at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie atTink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you publish your Fiction Flash  on Friday - 350 words, give or take.


 This week the prompt was posted a bit late so I consider it a perfect excuse to continue my story from the previous week, shamelessly ignoring the pic. It presents a fallen angel. Not my favourite fictional creature to say the least of it. You might understand my aversion if you look at..ehem...her:

I would have to murder her so let me continue the story of Thera Jones, a teenage girl who wanted to trifle with a handsome librarian and found out soon that a library might be not the safest place for such pranks. The first part you can find here.

Thera woke up. She thought her head must have swelled to the size of a watermelon; additionally it was stuffed full of barbed wire. The bad taste in her mouth reminded her of the stench of a burning rubber tyre on a hot summer day mixed with a rotten carcass of road kill...She swallowed and started to toss from side to side, trying to find a position in which her head would hurt rather a fraction less than more. After a while somebody put a straw into her smelly mouth. When she was drinking wonderful spring water she heard the voice of her mother.

"Easy, kid, drink and don't move; you will be ok soon."

Oh great. Was she at home? How did she get there? And what was her eternally busy mother doing by her side? Didn't she have any ward duty or something? As if she could read her mind, her mother added:

"You are in the hospital, Thera, but I will take you home soon. A colleague agreed to cover for me this evening."

Hospital? How come? Thera started to remind herself the events that led to her being taken to a hospital for the first time in her life and simply couldn't remember anything. Then she thought about her book and the library guy...ok, so she was supposed to go there and somehow weasel out of paying a fine but whether she succeeded or not she didn't know - it was like a black curtain. Gosh, she even didn't remember if she talked to him or to somebody else...great, first the hospital then a memory loss, perhaps even a brain haemorrhage or paralysis...her panic rose again and she started moving restlessly  her limbs just to prove herself she could.

Somebody opened the door to her room and entered inside. Thera opened one eye and focused on a man in a white overall. Her mother started to thank him for coming - apparently it was a doctor. He brought a handful of papers  and handed them to her mum, still flustered and babbling her thanks in a less and less cohesive manner. Thera has had enough. She sat on her bed. The effort made her dizzy but it paid off -  her mother finally went silent. The doctor looked at her.

"Great to see you are feeling better, Miss Jones. Could you tell me what happened to you at school?"

"No, I can't. I don't remember anything apart from the fact that I wanted to return a book to the library."

Thera tried to keep her voice as matter-of-fact as possible. She was a bit ashamed of her mother. The doctor eyed her thoughtfully.

"What did you eat for breakfast, young lady?"

"Breakfast?" Thera almost snorted. "I don't eat breakfast, sir. Bad for my stomach"

The doctor cocked one brow. Thera couldn't fail to notice that he was quite handsome. Men, even in a form of handsome doctors, can be so disgustingly dumb, though...

"Bad for my stomach - it makes it less flat, you see. Distended. Bloated. Flatulent. Unaesthetic," she explained in a patient tone of  somebody who must spell slowly the simplest truths and do it in a respectful way.

Now her mother was blushing.

"Thera how come you failed to mention to me your little...er...breakfast problem?" she asked before the doctor had time to react.

Thera gave her an insolent stare.

"Tell me mum, do you eat breakfast?"

Her mother blushed deep crimson and couldn't find the answer for a moment or two. The doctor looked at Thera again, clearly amused by the whole scene.

"Oh well. From now on, however, Miss Jones has to eat her breakfast and perhaps also wear more loose-fitting clothes to hide that ugly, bloated stomach of hers. The results of her blood tests seem to be in perfect order so I suppose it was just a temporary indisposition. But if she faints again we will have to keep her in hospital bed longer and examine her more thoroughly."

In your dreams, thought Thera, smiling angelically. She was definitely feeling better.

Image by dhobern via Flickr

***

When they got home, Thera's mother took an officially looking sheet of paper out of her bag and signed it.

"Here," she said, handing it to her daughter with a smile, "your parental consent form. I never knew you liked books so much to apply for a two-month library internship. To tell you the truth the librarian looked surprised as well but I must say I am glad. A good decision. Let's hope you are finally getting wiser."

Thera almost fainted again. Her memory returned.

Friday Flash Fiction

Amy C at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie atTink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you publish your Fiction Flash  on Friday - 350 words, give or take. Here is the picture posted this Monday:

I am still a bit ill but the devil in me couldn't have missed such an ocassion...which means I am definitely better. ;-) Oh well, judge on your own.

Thera knew she had to return that book to the library. It was already like two weeks overdue. She was sure she would have to pay a fine even though that new, totally hot and as hunky as hell intern librarian clearly fancied her. She smirked remembering his chocolate eyes with long, velvety eyelashes which measured her up and down. Or his wide shoulders. Or elegant hands with long, slender fingers. Other girls talked about him as well. Like 24/7. Ok, let's try some damage control - with him being on duty she definitely stood a chance.

First the right make-up - not too much but enough to emphasize her assets. Then the right clothes. She put on a rather tight blouse and the shortest hip skirt she could find, both items taken straight from her younger sister's wardrobe. The kid was smallish but fortunately plump enough to wear the same size. Almost. And Thera attended the same school so their uniforms were similar...Finally dark brown stockings, matching the skirt and ending right below the hem. They must have been a good choice - every male passing her had his eyes glued to her legs. Some of them frowned, some smiled, other wolf-whistled but nobody was left indifferent. On the other hand most girls looked right through her as if she was made of glass. Great. She knew that look only too well - in the humble opinion of other females she was too attractive to live -the most sincere compliment another girl can pay you without actually saying a word.

Thera entered the library like a model would enter a catwalk - ramrod straight, swaying her hips, pouting her lips. And froze. The hunky specimen of librarian male hotness was nowhere to be seen. Gone to a gym or being on a date? Hiding somewhere in a corner? Powdering his perfect nose in the toilet? She looked around. Nobody. Thera cussed but luckily not too loud. An elderly woman wearing bejewelled spectacles emerged from behind one of the shelves and met her gaze. She felt her chances dwindling to zero. Where did that ridiculous old crone come from? Oh right, from behind the shelves...

The old crone appraised her shortly and smiled.

"Hello my dear. What can I do for you?"

Die, just die, you are so old nobody will notice anyway...thought Thera viciously.

"Er...hello, Mrs...Ms...well...hello, nice to meet you and I want to return a book..."

The woman smiled showing dainty, sharp teeth.

A pretty lousy smile, cheap dentures...commented Thera in her head.

"It's Mrs. Raffle and nice to meet you too. Please, give me your name and put the book on the desk."

"Thera Jones."

Stuff yourself with it.

"Oh dear. Miss Jones, could you spell your first name for me, please? There seem to be at least four different students called like you but I am sure the spelling will clarify everything."

Oh dear? Do me a favour...

"Yes, of course. It's T-H-E-R-A."

"A nice name. I'm afraid the book is overdue and you will have to pay a fine, pretty name or not. Unless..."

"...unless?"

UNLESS?

The librarian reacted immediately, as if she waited for that simple word. She grabbed Thera's hand and pulled her closer without missing a beat.

"Unless you agree to volunteer and work here for twenty hours after your classes. I think you might be the right person but to be completely sure I must see your reflection in our mirror - as simple as that. Do step behind the counter and follow me, my dear...yes, take this book of yours with you if you like and please, don't pretend to be shy, with such clothes on nobody would believe you anyway...this way please, just stand and watch."

Dazed but curious, Thera followed the library woman. Soon enough she was positioned before a large mirror, over two meters long and at least two meters wide. Why library people needed such a thing at all? It was their working place not a freaking changing room in a...Thera looked and froze for the second time. Her reflection didn't look right. Her back was on fire and her both hands emitted kind of blue thunderbolts. The most surprising thing, though, floated above her head. A fire crown. Good heavens. Somehow she didn't feel flattered. She knew she was hot but a fire crown seemed to be a bit over the top...surely there were prettier girls who deserved it, even in this school...

All of a sudden the hunky librarian guy she had hoped to meet and wrap around her little finger joined her. Or rather joined her reflection in the mirror. He put his arm round her waist, smiled and said:

"She will most definitely do, my lady."

Thera fell to the floor in a faint.

Friday Flash Fiction

Amy C at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie atTink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you publish your Fiction Flash  on Friday - 350 words, give or take. Here is the picture posted this Monday:

I am a bit ill so it will be a very quick flash and unrelated to the previous story. I am sure some people are grateful for that ;).

Peace and quiet. Finally. The storm which had broken seven days ago and raged ceaselessly over the island quieted on the eighth day in the morning. Exactly as she had predicted. Too bad nobody wanted to believe her. They never listened. They had to die.

The bodies of people and animals, houses reduced to heaps of debris, furniture, everyday objects and tools - all of it was swept into the sea. The island was clean and naked because even most of bigger plants weren't able to withhold the raw force of the storm, apart from several young, pliable tekka trees which grew around the temple. She was sitting beneath one of them, exhausted but alive, with last flowers she could find in her hand. She positioned herself exactly in the middle of the circle, looking at the shiny, silvery full moon and the sea, so beautiful, now, aquamarine and enticing, its surface almost smooth with just little cute wavelets. A beast pretending to be a tame, playful kitten. She knew plenty about the deception. People used to prentend around her a lot. She smiled.

Knowing the future and also your own fate had good and bad side. Disadvantages were insignificant but  numerous and painful, like small sharp stones in your sandal. If you were a gifted seer you had to be careful while speaking to the others. People usually didn't appreciate the truth, especially if they could do nothing to change it. As a born seer, she had been compelled to tell only the truth. Accordingly, she had been meeting with ridicule since she started to remember anything.

Women on this island were known as chatterboxes but she rarely indulged in such luxury, even as a child.  Still people resented the fact that she knew more about them than even themselves. They used to throw dung and stones at her. They used to call her names, spit with disgust at the mere sight of her, turn around and walk away as soon as they got a glimpse of her white robe. She never had friends and didn't know her own family - her mother disowned her right after the birth, horrified at the mere prospect of bringing up a seer. Even her fellow priestesses avoided her company as if she was a leper. Her presence, although forced by gods, was barely suffered. She scared visitors away; as a result the whole temple has been impoverished. Nobody liked being made poorer.

 One big advantage was the lack of sorrows; if not for the voice telling her two steps in advance, assuring her the ordeal was temporary only, she would have ended her life many years ago. However, when you are sure what will happen, there is no need to choose your options or dither about anything. She knew she would be taken, collected like a sun-ripened fruit after the end of all life, by a divine messenger from the sea. She knew there would be a disaster of massive proportions and then she will be rewarded. She tried to warn others against her better judgement - in vain. What has to happen, will happen. Now she knew she should wait - just a little bit longer. The moon seemed to smile at her - finally one friendly face around.

Friday Flash Fiction

Amy C at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie atTink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you publish your Fiction Flash  on Friday - 350 words, give or take. Here is the picture posted this Monday:

I know I was supposed to write something hot but such a pic simply exclues it. I’d like to take a rain check. In fact I yield, Blodeuedd can be named the queen of the hotness (but I might be back!) In my flash get some action instead.


The tree hunting hut belonging to Lord Dreane was not difficult to find when you knew what to look for. The door was cleverly hidden behind a boulder but fully approachable and without any lock. Lilian expected one cramped room- two at most- the size of an average closet, dark, damp and full of dead leaves. Instead she saw a big tilled corridor with several doors leading to, it seemed, a suite of rooms and a kitchen. The walls were adorned by paintings in vivid colours and several skylights, positioned clevery above, made the whole area well-lit and cheerful. Lilian started looking curiously at the pictures and soon enough she took a particular fancy to one of them. It showed a red-haired woman in royal blue dress standing with a knight at the edge of  a precipice. Below an army was marching in single file; dark small figures with flags and banners. The woman had a big broadsword hanging from her belt. Could it possibly mean she was a warrior? Why did she still wear a dress?

-Who's that woman? Who painted these? - Lilian asked her sullen and silent guide without turning her head, her eyes simply riveted on the graceful, feminine silhouette.

Mark shrugged and scowled at her.

-Dunno, seems to be some elven rubbish left behind or other shit.

Lilian gasped. He never dared swear in her presence before. It was plain rude and it couldn't be tollerated.

-What did you say, you oaf ? When we return I will make you wash your mouth with a lot of soap, then you'll learn how to answer a lady when she condescends to ask you a question.

- You are not a lady anymore.

-What?

Painting completely forgotten, she gaped at him for a long stunning moment which felt like eternity. He was just smirking, happy with her reaction. Finally she recovered sufficiently to ask:

- Explain yourself, Mark. How come I've stopped being a lady to you all of a sudden?

-You consort with freaking vampires, that's why. I saw ya two strolling in the park. Talking, holding hands, kissing maybe. Soon enough he will drink your blood and drag you to his lair and do...other things as well.  You are not a lady, you are a vampire slut to me, that's what you are.

Anger always made her more clear-headed and now Lilian was very angry. She knew instantly how to react. First she slapped his smirking face time and again, then she clenched her hand into a tight fist and slugged him hard straight into the stomach. He certainly didn't expect a punch. He spluttered, doubled over and kneeled on the floor, fighting for every breath. Lilian gave him her best condescending look and hissed:

-That was for the cussing in my presence and for your general lack of manners. Next time you think of calling me that appaling name think also about this: if I earned it just for strolling with Henri and talking what name you deserve after spending the entire night in the arms of that Lara? You pathetic, spineless, whinnying slug!

She kicked him in the ribs to drive her point home, then turned from him, her back ramrod straight, her head held high like that of a real princess, and entered the first room on her right; she could hear her father's voice coming from the inside. She could be a warrior woman as well and it seemed it was time to look for her broadsword.

That's how I imagine Lilian ;)

Friday Flash Fiction

Amy C at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie atTink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you publish your Fiction Flash  on Friday - 350 words, give or take. Here is the picture posted this Monday:

When Lilian returned home her father was absent. Again. She asked the first person she happened to meet - Mark - where he could be and that insolent boy just shrugged and scowled at her. As Henri was no longer by her side to make her composed she felt it keenly even though she knew Mark's state was not his fault. A scowling Mark was still an abomination, especially that she had a very good idea why he was scowling. It was all her fault, after all. What's more Lara was no longer at the manor - all the vampires all of a sudden seemed to have an urgent business somewhere outside. There was just one place she could go and find more information - the kitchen - and one person who knew or thought she knew more than all Dreane servants combined together - Jenkins, the cook. 

Jenkins smiled at her kindly, gave her a mug of hot chocolate and a bun fresh from the owen. Lilian ate ravenously before she decided to ask about the whereabouts of Lord Dreane.

"Why, my dear, of course I know where he went. Everybody knows. His secret tree hunting hut, where else? He took Roze with him of course and I am sure they are very busy right now, smoothing out all that vampire business. Would you like more of that chocolate? Or maybe a dish of soup?"

"No, thanks Jenkins. I would like to know where that tree hut is. Could anybody show me the way?"

"I suppose our Mark would be more than willing to help and he knows that place pretty well. Mark, come here, you are needed my boy! Do not pretend you are not behind those cupboards now, you know I can see your nose and one of your shoes very clearly! You will lead Miss Lilian to the tree hunting hut Lord Dreane has got from these nice faeries."

Before Lilian could suggest anybody else or say anything at all Mark emerged from behind the cupboards, a bit dirty and still very sullen but nevertheless definitely present. Jenkins gave him a mug of hot chocolate as well, laughing at his childish attempts to hide and then making a fuss when she noticed the state of his clothes and the general lack of cleanliness. Lilian didn't comment on the fact that she had asked Mark about her father previously without success, focused on her chocolate and dark thoughts swirling in her head. How come the nicest person around, somebody who exchanged plenty of information with her getting close to nothing in return, was a vampire? Without Henri she would have been devastated by Mark's attitude and even more ignorant than now. These thoughts made her finish her drink rather quickly, take Mark by his elbow and direct him firmly but without a word to the door. She had to talk with her father and he was her map and compass.

Friday Flash Fiction

Amy C at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie atTink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you publish your Fiction Flash  on Friday - 350 words, give or take. Here is the picture posted this Monday:

Lovely old trees... a perfect place for a relaxing walk...and my story continues .

Whenever she felt agitated, angry, sad or confused, Lilian always went for a walk. Dreane Manor was surrounded by a vast park which turned into an old forest right outside the fence; she felt there at home, knowing every path and every bigger tree. As nobody had time to hear her out right now, she decided to go outside and transform her pent-up irritation into a brisk walking, breaking from time to time into a jog. She knew it would bring her a peace of mind and a clearer head. She didn't expect any company but the company arrived.


When entering the forest she glimpsed a slender silhouette approaching her fast. She thought it might be one of manservants running an errant but she was wrong. Henri the vampire joined her soon afterwards, as quick as a wind and as silent as an owl. One moment he was just a dark shadow in the background the next he was standing right behind to her. He bowed slightly and she answered with a curtsey - it would be rude not to acknowledge his greeting. Her father invited him to their house and he approved of him after all.


"Mademoiselle? I hope I am not bothering you?" he asked shyly.


"Pas du tout, monsieur," she answered, proud of her school French. Henri simled but continued mostly in English.


"I noticed you were a bit perplexed while listening to your father in the study. You are new to all this, n'est-ce pas? "


Lilian half laughed half snorted, too agitated to care whether these sounds were actually ladylike. The words broke a metaphorical dam in her head and her outrage started flowing round her body like a strong current. She kept walking faster and faster as she talked but the vampire didn't have any problem with following her.


"Perplexed? Monsieur Henri, what an understatement! You know, not so long ago I was just a boring country miss living in a manor. Then I decided to do something stupid and the pandemonium started. First I was lost in that horrible book kept by my father in his secret library. Then I was saved by faeries, I saw a ghost of a girl in my park and right afterwards I was told that, because of my actions, we were at war with a vampiress called Lara. I didn't know these...creatures existed at all. My father is all of a sudden too busy to explain anything to me or talk to me at all. In fact the lowest of my servants seem to know more about the world around me than I do. Then that Lara arrives and she...gets rather busy with another vampire in one of the sitting rooms I helped to furnish and keep clean. My father kind of orchestrated all the event. Perplexed? I feel as if somebody took me to another country but never explained why because I was considered too stupid to understand. I've been treated like a mentaly retarded person, like an animal, and believe me, I do not appreciate it at all. I am so angry that I might actually hit somebody, even my own father, for doing it to me."


"Would it help if I offered you some explanation, then?" asked Henri quietly.


She stopped walking and turned to him.


"I guess it would. Why would you be so kind, monsieur?"


"Maybe because I could relate."


"Have you been kept in the dark yourself?"


Henri gave an almost silent chuckle and Lilian blushed. Bad choice of words.


" A double entendre, I know. Je suis désolée...I didn't want to offend you."


"No offence taken. What would you like to know?"


The question made her almost gag. She wanted to know so many things but she had to start with something simple. The first set of questions was formed even before she realized that it might be a bit too personal and revealing.


"Why is Mark so smitten with that Lara? What's wrong with him?"


Henri smiled but his smile turned a bit wistful.


"Lara...Elle est très belle, a striking woman. She drank his blood and formed a bond with him. He migth stop longing for her but it will take time. Don't be angry with him, it's completely beyond his control. A vampire's charm is not easy to overcome, believe me. Even vampires might have a lot of problems with it."


"Do you...did you...you was Lara's...well..."


All of the sudden Lilian blushed even more profusely. She couldn't pronounce the word "lover" in front of a total stranger, vampire or not, especially having a pretty good idea what had happened in one of the smaller sitting rooms in her manor. The conversation made her wanting to run away and hide like a child in a closet.


"You blush rather prettily," said Henri calmly. "Oui, I was her lover; in fact I was hoping to be even something more but malheureusement I was wrong. Lara was looking for servants and lieges, not partners. Néanmoins I know the feeling very well."


His honest response put her at ease quicker than any brisk walk would do.


"What does it take to build a vampire coven?" she asked, almost perfectly calm now.


"A good leader and four-five vampires at the beginning. He or she must have some charisma, be old and strong. The proper age is not enough, though, neither is the strenght. Other vampires must trust you, respect you and feel safe on your teritory. Lara had been deceiving me for some time but after a while I knew she wasn't the proper queen."


"What will happen to Lara now?"


"I think nothing bad. I suppose she is actually very lucky. Lawrence seems to fancy her and she might like her new position of a master's favourite better than she thinks."


"How do you create a vampire?"


Lilian felt perfectly at ease now, her previous embarassment completely forgotten. She was full of questions and she had somebody well-informed and willing to share his knowledge. The calm, peaceful manner of Henri influenced her mood. As they got immersed more and more in the discussion their jog turned into a walk and then into a slow stroll.

Friday Flash Fiction

Amy C at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie atTink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you publish your Fiction Flash  on Friday - 350 words, give or take. Here is the picture posted this Monday:

And here comes my totally fluffy story...

When Lilian entered her father's study Lord Dreane was in the middle of one of his famous long-winded speeches. She knew better than to interrupt him - she sat down at the back and observed other people present in the room. There was of course the butler, her father's most reliable helper; next to him sat Mark and two other young men, unknown to her; one black-haired and pale who, she tought, looked so foreign that he must have been Henri the vampire and the other with straw-blond hair and pale grey eyes. All of them were listening avidly and she had to admit her father's speech was quite interesting that time. It concerned their current problems with Lara the rouge vampiress.

"As you know, using my ghosts I've contacted Master Lawrence, who kindly accepted my invitation and is here with us, and other Masters as well; I've found out a lot of interesting info about Lara's past. It seems she's been very unlucky so far - her previous Masters were ruthless rakes, abusing her trust and selling her body to strangers for favours and money. Small wonder she is so eager to gain  independence. Unfortunately she doesn't have  necessary qualities to build her own coven which puts her in a very dangerous situation indeed - that of a lonely vampiress. You must know that vampires are basically social creatures - definitely more social than humans. If left alone for too long they get mad and become very, very agressive. As a result, they attack and kill their victims or even other vampires without any reason so sooner or later they have to be eliminated. It is called psy-rabies as far as I remember. I really feel responsible for Lara and our local Master Vampire hinted more than once he is rather fond of her too and he would be loath to let her fall ill and die. After making him swear that Lara won't be abused again we agreed that we must interfere on her behalf even if it means using some kind of force - letting her loose in London or elsewhere would be indeed thoughtless, cruel and irresponsible. Of course right now, being very agitated and...uhm...er...rather angry with me she might see the matters in a different light...anyway we decided to create a trap in my house. By the way please greet Henri, another vampire, present  here -  I will  keep him for the time being as my helper as he agreed with such an arrangement. Right... there is just one thing to be done - prepare our trap and wait. Actually I have a good idea of what kind of trap we should prepare but I will need some professional help..."

Lilian noticed a ghost of a smile on Master Lawrence's face - he was the man or rather the vampire with straw hair. She also saw how excited Mark became at the mere mention of Lara and her visit. It made her very confused. She would say the boy was insanely happy at the mere prospect of seeing that monster again.

"My lord, will you need my assistance?" asked Mark grinning widely, all eagerness and zeal.

Lord Dreane eyed him and shook his head.

"No my boy, it is obvious you can't come close to Lara yet. This time I will ask for help my old friend and butler, Roze, who has been working with me longer and is far more experienced than you. Thanks for offering, though, I do appreciate. We will need all help we can get."

Lilian could see at once that Mark didn't appreciate that answer at all for a change - he looked like a deflated baloon now. She frowned. Wasn't he supposed to be just a little bit in love with her? Why wasn't he afraid of that horrible monster who treated him so cruelly?  Only questions, no answers...She noticed the dark-haired vampire glancing at her and blushed. The blushing made her even more angry with herself and, strangely, with Mark as well. She bit her lips. It seems everybody was right now too busy to take care of her curiosity. In other words nothing new. She sighed.

***

Lara was never one for strategic planning. When she played any game, cards or chess, she always tried to charm her way to victory. Usually, if the dress was sufficiently low-cut she succeeded nine times out of ten so she didn't see any reason why change her tactics. Her current situation was different, though. Lord Dreane was immune to vampire charms and she didn't know who else she might face in his manor. She also didn't have any backup plan or allies. It made her recklessly mad. Her prospects were bleak anyway so why bother with a backup plan or any plan at all? She did the first thing that came to her head - died her hair ash blonde, combed them and let them down, put the last clean low-cut dress on, went to Dreane Manor and knocked at the door as cool as cucumber. The door was opened by a butler. He looked at her impassively for some moments as if unsure how to proceed, and finally asked:

"Ma'am?"

"Good afternoon, my dear butler. I am lady Larissa Hawe and I am visiting friends in this area. Unfortunately my coach has been immobilized not so long ago. It seems one of the horses broke a leg, stupid animal. I sent the coachman for help but I am thirsty. Could you be so kind and offer me a glass of water?"

The butler didn't even blink. All was going exactly as predicted by his lordship - a lady arrived alone, dressed quite inappropriately for the occasion, and her story was as cock-and-bull as you could think of at short notice. It was her. He relaxed and smiled.

"Of course. Please, do come in my lady. Would you like some tea? Maybe wine? Or brandy? Such a horrible misadventure would have been a trial on anybody's nerves..." he was chattering pleasantly while ushering Lara to a comfortable armchair in one of the smaller sitting rooms.

"I think I will take some tea, thank you," answered Lara graciously.

 She sat down, preparing herself for a quick dash out of the room as soon as possible but, to her dismay, the butler didn't go out to bring her the cup but just ringed a bell. A maid entered the room, she was ordered to bring some tea and she returned with a tray in no time. "Very efficient service," thought Lara but somehow it didn't make her suspicious.

The butler, as he had been told earlier, stood all the time in a reverential pose next to the doors. As soon as the tray was put on a little table next to the armchair he poured Lara her cup and handed it to her with a polite bow. She smiled and took a small sip, preparing herself for bland, barely tepid mixture of tea leaves and water, usually served in England. To her utter surprise the tea tasted splendidly; in fact drinking it was a bilss. She continued until the last drop found its way to her mouth and the cup was empty. The butler filled it again immediately, without even asking her permission. She simply gulped it, not even trying to stop herself. It tasted like heaven and she wanted more.

"I never knew I was that thirsty. Could you pour me another cup, please?"

"Of course, ma'am," the butler poured her a third cup with a pleasant face, simply emanating sympathy and friendliness. She drank it as quick as the second one. A tingling warmth spread along her shoulders and arms, reached her chest and tights. She felt good, relaxed and cheerful, all her anger and sadness forgotten. At that point the butler ringed again and a cloaked figure entered the room. Lara recognized him at once - it was Lawrence, the local vampire Master. He bowed his head and asked:

"Lara, are you ready to give me your answer?"

Lara smiled almost despite herself. No-nonsense, straight to the point - she loved such a direct approach. Something stirred her memories, some dark thoughts and warning bells, but she couldn't focus long enough to remind herself what they were supposed to mean. Lawrence's scent was so enticing...it was similar to the tea she's just drunk. Sweet, lovely and desirable. She went closer to him even before she decided she wanted to do so, pulled as if by an invisible magnet. He extended his hand and she took it without any hestiation.

"Yes, Master Lawrence. Whatever you want," murmured Lara dreamily.

"I want you in my coven and under my protection."

"Of course."

"Will you take an oath of fealty right now?"

"Yes, I will." Why shouldn't she? It sounded like such a good idea.

She kneeled and kissed his hand. He raised her and kissed her vulnerable, exposed neck. Warmed by the tea Lara craved more skin contact after that kiss. She looked straight into his eyes and attacked his lips in one ferocious and determined movement. While he was kissing her back quite enthusiastically, her fangs scratched his lips. A coppery, salty-sweet taste exploded on her tongue, making her moan with delight. It was the taste of her tea. Her tea had been spiked with the Master vampire blood. Strangely that revelation didn't make Lara angry, quite the opposite - she finally let herself melt into his arms, his body, and his kiss as if it was the most natural thing to do, then she started tracing his jaw with her tongue and bitting his neck. The blood she drew was delicious - ten times better than anything she had tried so far - and all of a sudden it made her mad with desire. Lawrence started to nuzzle her generous décolletage, leaving a trail of his own teeth marks. She began shedding her clothes. He joined her after a moment. They were so busy they didn't realize that the smirking butler went out, giving them some privacy. 'Mission accomplished', he announced quietly to Lord Dreane, waiting outside. Both men shook hands and smiled knowingly.

Image by Steve-h via Flickr

Friday Flash Fiction

Amy C at Romance Book Wyrm and Dottie atTink's Place have come up with the idea for a Monday Morning Flash Fiction challenge. Each Monday a new picture prompt will be posted and if you choose to participate - you publish your Fiction Flash  on Friday - 350 words, give or take. Here is the picture posted this Monday:

I don't know about you but as soon as I saw that girl I thought about defeated Lara the vamp...so my story continues...no, it won't be nice and fluffy.

Her initial rage passed and her throat simply too sore to speak, let alone shout, Lara decided to hide in her favourite tomb to think her situation over. That tomb, built some time ago for a local family of  rich merchants, was in fact  a small chapel . The main building featured an altar, two windows and some pews; below there was an underground crypt with coffins stacked in alcoves. It was kept more or less clean because the cemetery ward was paid for it extra. His duties also included bringing fresh flowers once a week and indeed, every Friday the tomb was adorned by a bouquet of wild lilies, marigolds or dog roses, depending on the season. Lara liked it here. It reminded her of a tiny village she was born, with a wooden church roughly the same size as this tomb. She has forgotten the village's name but she remembered the church as she loved playing there as a little girl.

Usually the tomb's silent atmosphere as able to calm her down and even make her cheerful. Not today. She felt cold and hollow inside as if somebody bored a hole straight through her chest. Everything was progressing so nicely until she met Lord Dreane. With two vampires and as many new candidates she could really think of some degree of independence. The boys loved her - she made sure of it - but it was too fresh a bond to survive her failure. Now she wasn't certain whether the rest haven't deserted as well, following the example of that wretched Frenchman, Henri. Nobody liked weakness and vampires could simply sniff it in the air for miles; it was ok if it concerned their victims but in a vampire they treated it, along fear, as the worst stench possible. Lara was being covered with that stench right now and no amount of fresh blood or perfume would hide it. The feeling of self-loathing filled her body and poisoned her brain. 

All of a sudden a big raven fluttered through the open window and sat on her shoulder. The bird ruffled her long dark hair and, although it didn't attack, she bent her head in despair. She knew what it meant - Lawrence, the local vampire master sent a messenger to announce a visit as it was his habit. Soon enough she heard soft steps and felt that somebody was standing before her. She didn't dare to look at him and he didn't bother with greetings or small talk.

"I came to inform you that your last vampire and all  your candidates asked me for protection. I granted it. Now they officially belong to my coven."

Lawrence's voice was very soft and low, nothing more than a louder murmur, but Lara winced with pain as if he whipped her.

"You are alone, Lara and let's face it - you are never going to build a coven for yourself. You are not the queen type. How many times have you tried and failed before, you stupid, stubborn, rapacious girl? I extend my hand to help you for the last time - join me and you might survive; on your own...well, I am sure you know very well what happens to lonely vampires."

Lara closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing. In and out, neither too deep, nor too shallow, as normal as possible, not indicating how deep she was thrown into panic by these words. Only after a minute or so  she felt well enough to continue the conversation. 

"Let me...let me think it over one more time, Master Lawrence," she whispered, unsure of her voice, too afraid that if she spoke louder it might crack and humiliate her even further. "Several hours won't make a big difference, will they?"

The intense, sickening-sweet stench of fear and weakness was envelopping her like a stiffling coat. She had never hated herself more - begging a younger vampire, a male vampire, for more time. 

Lawrence was silent for a long, painful moment.

"As you wish," he said. "My offer stands till midnight. Take it or go away as quick and as far as possible - your choice. I just want you to know I won't tolerate strays in my area."

She looked at him and saw compassion in his gray eyes. She hated compassion. She wanted to kick him for it but, being far quieter and clear-headed now, she curtsied instead. It wasn't the best of times for making more enemies. She decided to keep all her options open just in case.

"Understood. I would like to say...that's...very generous of you, Master Lawrence. Thank you for your kind offer. I do appreciate."

The vampire looked at her, clearly surprised by her meek response, bowed his head slightly, acknowledging her words, and was gone. She clenched her hands. She didn't know what her future would bring but she was sure that  Lord Dreane was going to pay for her humiliation very soon.