Ghost in the Window

This was an empty place, no one came by anymore and the dust piled up. Occasionally she would see an animal trying to make its home in the abandoned hallways but more often than not it was just her and the spiders.

Sometimes she wished to leave, to go out into the world and see what there was in the sunshine. Instead, she would look out of the dust and grime covered window or look at the motes that floated down through the beams of light that managed to make it through.

Trapped forever as a lost soul, she was.

image: Wikipedia Commons, in the public domain as part of the Historic American Buildings Survey

Inspired by a prompt from the Light and Shade Challenge.


The Silence

“Are you certain of this?”

“I have checked my calculations at least 10 times. There is no other way to go about this.”

There is a moment of silence as their eyes meet for what is likely the last time. A breath and then she is hugging him with everything she has. It’s not a strong hug, she has never been a strong woman and even after all that they have gone through, the physical trials as well as the emotional ones, her body has remained thin and waif-like. She will never be a big woman, it’s more than just her genetics, it’s her spirit. She will stay small until the day she is no more.

“I will miss you, my feathers.”

She nods, but keeps her silence. She will never see him again and he has done more for her than even her own family.

He finished drawing the runes and symbols around the pentagram as she sat placidly in the middle. Candlelight gave him just enough illumination so that he could see what he was doing. The windows had been heavily shuttered and barred from entry and the single door as well. If they had been able, they would have bricked and mortared all openings as well.

This was their only chance to get this done and they didn’t want to be interrupted.

Interruption of the ritual would kill them if they were lucky enough.

Either way, it was unlikely that he would survive the outcome of this endeavor.

All rituals needed some kind of sacrifice.

It was something he was willing to do for someone who had tried so hard to help him.

(It never occurred to him that this was her plan all along. After all, all the old tales warn you about trusting anything non-human for a reason.)

(He didn’t see her smile and if he had, he would have thought of it as sweet and not malicious.)

This was inspired to it’s finished state by the Spooky Writing Challenge. Give it a glance even if you’re not feeling like taking part this year.

Stuck In Stasis

It was different this morning, though she didn’t know why it should be. It wasn’t like there was any change in her circumstances, any word that something might change and not just in the future but at all.

The days dragged on, she hadn’t bothered keeping track of them from the first and so had no real idea of when it had happened.

(If she had wanted, she could have asked the police, they kept track. They would be surprised if she asked simply because most parents counted the days themselves and needed no reminder.)

She woke in the morning, went through the motions of surviving-

(-not living, living implied that you actually did something to make it look like you weren’t morosely waiting for the die you died-)

-trying to make it look to anyone on the outside like she would be able to survive losing her only daughter.

(That they knew about. The knowledge of her many, many children was sparse, not even their sire knowing how many there were.)

Sometimes, very rarely, she would feel the impulsive urge to just end it all. To cut what little she had left of her daughter out of her life and move on.


She couldn’t.

She couldn’t leave this life and try for another until she knew, knew whether her daughter was still alive somewhere or dead and waiting to be found in a ditch.

So she would stay here and wait for word, whether from the police or from her daughter or even from the ones who had taken her. She didn’t care how long it took.

It’s not like she would die waiting, not with what she was.

Inspired from the prompt from Three Word Wednesday this week. It’s been a bit since I did a prompt from here and I found I missed it.

This is the sort-of sequel to an older work of mine, Won’t Leave You Behind.

He Found Her

Sometimes things don’t go as you want. Sometimes things do go as you want.

And sometimes…things go even worse.

He wanted everything. His hunger was too great, he wanted all that existed, all that had existed and all that would exist. He would never be full, of that it was certain.

He had grand plans and ideas, but no power with which to start them. Everything he tried his hand at failed or if there was a return, it was too little to make much of a difference. He traveled the world as much as he could, trying to find something, anything, that would make a difference and give him the power he craved. He searched for magical items, for creatures and even for the gods themselves.

He didn’t find the gods, what he found was, instead, something far more great and yet so small.

He found a phoenix.

“You are alone here.”

She nodded slowly, not sure where he was going with this. She had never seen him before, had never seen anyone like him really.

“Are you a…a..human?” she asked hesitantly.

He smiled slowly, though he was careful not to show any teeth. “Yes, yes I am. Would you like to learn more about humans?”

She frowned, “No, my brother has always told me to say no.” she smiled impishly at him for a quicksilver moment, “But I have always wanted to tell him boo and do so anyway. I’ve heard so many different things about humans!”

He held out a hand to her, “Then let me show you.”

Written for this week’s Trifecta challenge:

It’s our last Halloween-inspired prompt of 2013, and we can’t wait to see what you’ve got in store for us.  Please remember that we are looking for the third definition of our prompt word.  Please also note that we need the word exactly as it appears below.  No tense changes allowed.  Good luck!


1 (interjection)
used to express contempt or disapproval or to startle or frighten

2 (noun)
a sound that people make to show they do not like or approve of someone or something

3 (verb) to show dislike or disapproval of someone or something by shouting “Boo” slowly

Won’t Leave You Behind

There are many tales in the world about gods and goddesses, about creatures and heroes and, of course, about monsters. But what about the ordinary people? They, too, have many tales, perhaps more than all of the others put together, but amongst them are some of the most vicious of monsters.

After all, if you choose to act a certain way than it could be said to be far more true than something acting a certain because they were born to do so.

There are things in this world, monsters and creatures and beings that could be called gods. They are not true Gods as they are far from immortal and even if they are close enough to that you must be capable of Life Creation in order to be a True God. But that is not the focus of our story.

Our story is about what stands between those things that are believed to be myths. For though we consider these things to be nothing more than figments of our ancestors imaginations or their poor attempts at understanding the world around us. What we don’t realize, what we seem to forget is that they do exist. Maybe not in the way that the stories say, but you know what’s always bandied about by the press.

There’s a kernel of truth in every lie.

Between those ‘myths’ and the rest of the population are hunters. They come in every shape and size and they don’t always work together. They use different tools and have different reasons for why they do what they do, just like anyone else in law enforcement. The difference is whether or not they are actively working with said law enforcement or working vigilante style. But, again, this isn’t completely what our story is about. Our story is really about one instance in particular between hunters and those ‘creatures’ they fight.

This is where our story begins:

There once was a little girl who wasn’t quite a little girl. She was little, yes, and she was female, yes, but she wasn’t what you think of when you think of the words ‘little girl.’ She is, in fact, only half-human.

Her mother is a ‘creature’ that hunters fight and kill should they ever come across her. Her kind are not always dangerous to humankind, but when they are it’s like Mt. Vesuvius erupting all over again for the first time. There weren’t many of her left known to mankind. This didn’t matter too much as she isn’t a main character in this story. This story, as I said, is about a little girl, not the little girl’s mother.

At one point during the day, the little girl, who we shall call Molly, was taken from her backyard. Her mother had been in the house working on dinner and had heard Molly’s short scream, but both Molly and her abductor were gone before she could reach the backdoor. Molly’s mother didn’t scream and she didn’t cry. She moved as quickly towards the phone on the counter to call the police before stopping and letting it drop limply to her lap.

She wasn’t even certain the police would be able to help, but she took a breath and reached for the phone once again anyway.

We’ll leave Molly’s mother there, in her kitchen, with a phone in one hand and the other clutched tightly to the armrest of her chair, knuckles white.

Molly, on the other hand, was sitting quietly in a chair with her own hands pulled tightly behind her back. Her shoulders were strained, but not enough to be too debilitating. Her captors must know what would happen should she become overly frightened or angry. She was frightened, but not angry and without the extra oomph that the volatile emotion would give her, her half-blood status made her vulnerable and unable to tap into what birthright her mother’s kind had granted her.

“What are we going to do with a half-breed? They’re practically useless unless they really believe in what they’re fighting for. There’s no time to condition her to what we want either, she’s too old.”

“What do you mean she’s too old? Look at her! She can’t be more than six years old! There’s still plenty-”

“You are a fool if you think the age she looks like is her actual age.”

The voices moved away from her door and she was tired and hungry and thirsty and wanted her mother. Another voice spoke up from slightly behind her.

“Don’t worry kid, we’ll get out of this.”

Molly turned her head as far around as she could and saw a man tied up to a pole stuck int he concrete ground slightly behind and to her left. She didn’t know who he was, but it was clear that he had taken at least one beating recently. What little of her birthright she could access like this told her that he was trustworthy.

“How do you know, mister?” she asked, her voice shaky.

He tried to smile at her, but failed in looking cheerful even if his eyes were full of faith.

“I’ve got people who’re coming for me. We won’t leave you behind.”

She nodded in response but didn’t say anything as the two voices came back and entered the room.

“I should think that they won’t leave you behind,” one sneered, obviously having caught the end of their little talk. “I should think that they’d do to you what they’re planning to do to us once the ‘back-up’ actually arrives.”

“If they ever do arrive.”

The man behind her was silent, but the scent that wafted off of their captors told her all she needed to know.

“I wouldn’t mind.” she stated simply.

There was a beat of silence as those in the room blinked. She had startled them; the creatures that had captured her hadn’t thought that anyone of their ilk would ever welcome a hunter in their presence, never mind being fine with being killed by them. Her fellow captive had stilled; he hadn’t expected her to be anything other than human, but he, too, was slightly startled with her calm acceptance of death at such a young-seeming age.

For she was young, maybe not as young in human years as she looked, but for her kind she was still very young.

“Mother always told me to seek out a hunter if I needed to be safe.”

“They would not keep one like you safe.”

Molly smiled, “But they would make sure that the real monsters who would come after me would never fully get me. I would be safe in Death’s arms.”

“Monsters like us, you mean.” one spat, looking angry.

“No,” Molly smiled as serenely as she could, “Monsters like the human who sired me.”

“Not even a crossroads demon can bring back an extinguished phoenix, my child.” her mother whispered.

Written for this prompt:

This was a great prompt! Thank you bluebutterfliesandme for inviting me to take part!

Here are links to other participants:

Brenda –