Posted in Stories, Writing

Breaking Waters (Part 3 of 3)

Read parts 1 and 2

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Gwen heard the footsteps every night. They made her queasy. They paced in an unsettled pattern across the floorboards. Sometimes the faucet was turned on. There had come to be an unhealthy obsession with the flow of water. It made her shiver. She would pull the blankets high above her head, in hopes of blocking it all out, but she had never been good at make-believe, not even as a child. When other little girls were off gallivanting with knights in shining armour, she stayed behind painting pictures of what she saw before her. Even on canvas, nothing was created that wasn’t already there. Continue reading “Breaking Waters (Part 3 of 3)”

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Breaking Waters (Part 2 of 3)

Read part 1

• •

They wouldn’t even let her hold a funeral for him. They weren’t classifying him as dead; they wouldn’t release the body to her. She couldn’t even hold a memorial service for him because that would be illegal. He wasn’t dead to them, but he was gone from her, and no matter what they said she knew she’d never truly get him back. People kept giving her skeptical looks, sneering at her and asking what made Calix so special. Why should he be classified as one of the wanted? What was he to the world? Why not their loved ones who had passed? She always answered that she didn’t want this, but that only seemed to make them hate her more. She stopped leaving the house altogether. August came to see her, to tell her how the progress was going, but she never let him in. Continue reading “Breaking Waters (Part 2 of 3)”

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Breaking Waters (Part 1 of 3)

She sat in the living room waiting for him to come home. She could hear the clock ticking but she refused to look at it. The party would be starting in an hour. She was ready, her dress freshly dry cleaned and her hair done up in a French twist. She had been waiting all year for this party; it was the first event they were going to attend as a married couple, and now they were going to be late. He was supposed to be back fifteen minutes ago. She took a deep breath and dialed his number again, glancing nervously out the window. The phone answered, but she saw nothing but black on the hologram screen. She tapped the device, wondering idly if it had broken. She hated all this new technology; it never seemed to work for her. The disembodied voice of the dialing operator told her to please leave a message at the light. The screen flashed, and she repeated her previous messages. “Calix…” Continue reading “Breaking Waters (Part 1 of 3)”

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The Masks of Misfortune (Part 4 of 4)

Read Parts 1, 2, and 3.

Daisy soon began to cough as smoke filled the room.  Her eyes stung and she staggered forward.  She fell, and her hands and knees hit cold stone instead of the wooden floorboards she had been expecting.  She began to crawl, and immediately bumped into something.  It looked like a pile of clothing, but when she bumped it, it moaned and began to uncurl itself.  Daisy saw a girl with long black hair seated before a roaring fire.  She seemed undeterred by the smoke that was billowing forth from the pit.  The girl was crying.  She held something in her hands, and was poking with a stick at something else in the fire. Continue reading “The Masks of Misfortune (Part 4 of 4)”

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The Masks of Misfortune (Part 3 of 4)

Read Parts 1 and 2.

Daisy felt herself being grabbed from behind, and the scream caught in her throat.  She was lifted off the ground and spun around.  She choked out a loud shriek.

“Boo!”

“Harry!”  Daisy smacked him and he put her back on the floor, laughing.  “Not funny, not funny!”

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”  Harry shrugged, still grinning.

“Hmph!”  Daisy marched to the other side of the room. Continue reading “The Masks of Misfortune (Part 3 of 4)”

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The Masks of Misfortune (Part 2 of 4)

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A few days later, Tom and Daisy returned to the shop to pick up the masks.  They were surprised to find Mr. Fessip all worked up in a frenzy.  He explained how someone had tried to rob the store the other evening.  The front window had been smashed.  Things had been thrown around the store, and much had been broken but nothing taken; it was as though whoever it was had been frantically looking for something specific. Continue reading “The Masks of Misfortune (Part 2 of 4)”

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The Masks of Misfortune (Part 1 of 4)

You are cordially invited to attend

The Grayson’s Masquerade Ball

31 October 1853

 

“Have you received your invitation yet?”  Daisy waved the white card in Harry’s face and leaned against the table in front of him.  He shrugged dismissively.

“I don’t know; I can’t be bothered to read the mail these days.  If it’s important, someone will tell me.”

“You must have gotten it; Emma adores you.”  Daisy tilted her head, smiling.  Harry only shrugged again. Continue reading “The Masks of Misfortune (Part 1 of 4)”

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The Story of Lythulia (Part 2 of 2)

Read part 1.

 

Several days went by and not a moment was lost in starting on Poppy’s lessons on decorum and ruling and all other such things a princess might need to know. Poppy was a fast learner, and all of her teachers praised her for her natural skills and sense of etiquette and finery. “What a princess she will make!” stated each of them as she left their classrooms. But Poppy was not happy. Continue reading “The Story of Lythulia (Part 2 of 2)”

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The Story of Lythulia (Part 1 of 2)

Once upon a time there was a kingdom. This kingdom stretched out far and wide, from the tulip meadows of Tressor all the way to the purple oceans of Peppernick. This was the kingdom of Lythulia, and it was as grand a kingdom as you could imagine, and pretty too. The people of Lythulia were simple folk and led simple lives, but even simple folk deserve happiness, and unfortunately for the Lythulians, happiness could not come so easily to them.  Continue reading “The Story of Lythulia (Part 1 of 2)”

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Lynx

A piece I wrote a while back. The idea was condensed into a much shorter story than I had originally planned.

 

Imagine looking in a mirror and seeing a reflection that didn’t belong to you. Or try peering through a keyhole, only to find an eyeball staring vacantly back at you. How would you react? I think that must have been the way Lynx viewed the world every day – through a glass haze and a little hole. She went through her life scared of what she saw looking back at her. Continue reading “Lynx”