End of the Day

She lay in the bed, exhausted but satisfied. The day had been hard. No, that was an understatement.

Today had been the worst day of her entire life.

But…

But today was also the best day, because the hope that would come from today’s actions outweighed the downsides of the cost.

At least, she hoped that it would.


This little snippet is all I’m up for today I’m afraid. I won’t be on here a whole lot. Too exhausted for much more.

The Grass IS Greener – SoC

She smiled at the others around her, glad more than ever that she had managed to excuse herself from the situation that her youthful folly had landed her in for so many decades.

In fact, it had been pushing close to a hundred years since she’d foolishly agreed to marry a man that had captured her attention as a young phoenix. The marriage had been horrible and a lot closer to her being a kept ‘pet’ that was used to create an ‘elixir of life’ for the man than anything else.

The woman shook her head slightly to clear away the cobwebs that such thoughts always caused and returned her attention to the young people that had come to visit her daughter and smied once more.

This was a much better life even if it was likely she’d outlive her own child.


Inspired by the prompt for this weekend’s Stream of Consciousness from one of the awesome people substituting for Linda.

socs-badge

Badge by: Doobster @ Mindful Digressions

 

Don’t Even Think About It

By hook or by crook.

There wasn’t much more she could do to hide. Her children were sent away, she’d never see them again. She’d make certain of it. She didn’t want to leave any trace of her magic where he might pickup on it and find the only bright things left in her life.

So she ran and ran and ran and tried her hardest to never even think about the varied places she’d sent her young ones. She didn’t think about how they might not be so young anymore. Some were sure to have grown up over the years and become adults. The time between worlds didn’t run the same, some went faster than others and some might not even move at all.

That was the trouble with dealing with her kind. Time and space and what is or isn’t were very hairy things.

That was why she had to run, because he had, had access to her abilities for so long. Too long. He had done truly monstrous things with them, but even he had not found the furthest reaches of them.

For that she was grateful, even if she could never find peace for herself, she knew that eventually he would run out. His time had not been stopped like hers, only delayed and he could not stop it again unless he found her.

She could not allow that.

Overhead the birds flew and played and had a breezy time, either not knowing or not caring of the troubles beneath them.


Most of this sat in my draft folder for a really long time. I was looking at it again for a bit when I also wandered over to Three Word Wednesday and saw this week’s words.

Keep Moving

After a while she just sort of melted into the floor.

No, must…keep…going…

She was tired and wanted it to be over, but there was still work to be done.

Sometimes people are broken. Sometimes they don’t want to go on. Sometimes they just want to lay down and let whatever they were running from catch them.

But…

Sometimes it’s not just themselves they’re running for. Sometimes they have to keep going even if it means a continuance of the cycle of pain and suffering and wanting it to just end once and for all!

She pulled herself back up, planting her feet underneath her on the ground and used the momentum from swinging her body up and into a standing position to propel herself forwards.

One foot…then the other…must…keep…going…

Blood Family

“What is the point of this?” he asked, his voice low and even. “Why did you come here?”

She looked down, but did not answer, not yet.

In her arms was a small child, pale all over save for his eyes which were a crimson as dark as her freshly spilt blood. The child looked back up at his mother, quiet and assessing, recording her image into his mind as if he knew even at his young age that this would be last he’d ever see of her.

Finally, she spoke, her voice as soft as the wind on a clear night.

“I need a place, a place for my son, where he will be safe and can learn and grow.”

The man in front of her was silent as he thought over her words, understanding what she was asking.

She did not know his name, did not even know the name of the place they were in nor the name of her child. It was safer this way, safer for the child as well as the one she was leaving him with. Names were power in more ways than most humans were aware.

She would give anything, pay any price for the safety of her child and the man knew it. A part of her was worried, worried about what the man would ask for, but another part of her, a small part that had long since grown silent in her own home, knew that her son would be safe no matter what here.

The ritual she had performed to send her here for this short amount of time had made certain of it.

“Very well,” the man said, “I will take the boy and raise him as my own. I will never speak of you to him, never hint that he is anything but my own. You will not exist within his life if I am able to help it at all.”

She nodded to his terms. He understood and for that she would be forever grateful. Another of her family would be safe.

She hugged the child to her chest once more before handing him over to the man in front of her.

She disappeared without a trace, the blood that had been placed on the boy vanishing just as silently.


Written for this week’s Weekly Prompt from suzie81speaks: http://suzie81speaks.com/2014/04/27/weekly-word-challenge-family/

 

Sights and Sounds Bleed Through

The world was incredibly confusing. Every time she looked around the world was turning this way and that. Colors swirled this way and that, different patterns running as fast as a train at full speed, but also as slow turning as thickening caramel.

“Miss Hailey, are you all right?” someone asked.

She didn’t answer, she wasn’t certain that they were even talking to her. Their voice was unfamiliar to her. Well, every voice around her was unfamiliar. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing at this point. If she didn’t know the voice, there was a good chance that it wouldn’t end up with her head in a burlap sack.

The vertigo worsened and she saw the world tilt even more until she felt the cool and uneven texture of whatever was on the floor against her cheek. She pinched her eyes closed and felt hands brush themselves against her face and hair, carefully checking her temperature. They felt as cool and wonderful as the ground against her overheated body as it lay sprawled across the floor.

Several bodies huddled around her for a moment before they were ordered to move away. She closed her eyes once again, nauseated enough to not try and open them again.

The voices continued to speak around her and she tried to shut them out. They made the colors worse, like psychedelic pearls floating away from people’s mouths. how they managed to do this even when her eyes were closed was a mystery, but the pounding in her temples in response was certainly real, not fictional in the least.

She wasn’t certain what had happened next, because the colors and sounds proved to be too much for her. The darkness was a blessing in more ways than one for her at this point.


Written for this week’s FreeWriteFriday: http://kellieelmore.com/2014/01/31/fwf-free-write-friday-word-bank-9/

Also, this type of situation has actually  happened to me. I call it Dr. Seuss Vertigo and it is not pretty. The times it continues before black-out and/or sleep are horrible and not time-able by the person feeling it.

I Will Find You

If he had any kind of psychic power then he would have been able to tell that she was planning something that might actually work. As it was, he’d known that she wanted freedom. Anyone with the ability to want anything would know that she did.

(No one likes being held prisoner, not even someone who is in a gilded cage. His wife was held in a cage as far from gilded as you could get. She had no comforts, nothing and no one to really make any of this seem less than it was: enslavement as a living resource for whatever he wanted at the moment.)

He had worked very hard at making sure she would be unable to find the resources needed to escape. It was part of the reason that she didn’t often get to see anyone other than him. He didn’t want her to find sympathy amongst the servants and have someone to help her. He wasn’t stupid, he knew that most people, people who actually cared about the suffering of people they didn’t know, exist and that they would probably try to help her if they knew. He was very careful about what others knew and didn’t know about his wife and her situation. He had gotten where he was because he had known where and how to gather and disseminate information.

The point of the matter was, he hadn’t been aware that his wife, his darling and oh so dear wife had been able to escape. And in such a matter that he was finding it difficult to track her. Whatever she had done to send children away (and it had taken him an embarrassingly long time to figure out that was happening when he’d just thought that her boy had been trying to do a false pregnancy. Human women had this happen to them all the time) she had been able to use to escape for herself. He had been able to get a read on some of the children, but not a location, just that they did exist and were alive somewhere.

“I will find you, I will find you and as many of those pathetic little rats that you’ve hidden from me, my darling wife.” he snarled to himself as he paced the library like a caged animal, books open and strewn about him.

“You cannot run from me forever.”

Just because he could not predict the future did not mean that the power he’d gained was useless in hunting down what belonged to him. He would never stop looking.


Written for today’s Daily Prompt: https://dailypost.wordpress.com/2014/01/21/daily-prompt-future-3/