Fiction Friday: Lessons fom Kitty #trdc

Red Writing Hood

Your assignment for this week’s prompt is to write a piece that begins with the line, “I could never have imagined” and ends with the line, “Then the whole world shifted.” We’re going to stick with the 600-word limit this week.

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“I could never have imagined…” Emilia’s voiced trailed off softly and she turned her widen eyes to Kitty.

“Oh, yes lass, I speak only the truth as told to me by my grand mum and her grand mum before her.” Kitty’s heart shaped face was earnest; her sparkling green eyes gave no indication of mischief. “They go by a great many names; vampyre, witches, spirits, lycan. They are all of these and none of them at the same time, magical creatures, for sure, lass. They have walked the earth since the beginning of mankind, protecting human souls from the baobhan sith. My mum says their rightful name is Chthonian. They survive by feeding on the life force of a human soul while the baobhan sith devour the soul itself.” She turned her attention back to folding the rough bed linens while Emilia thought over what she had said.

“Feed on the life force? How? What does that mean?” Emilia scrunched her dainty eyebrows in consternation.​ “Do they look into your eyes and steal bits of your soul though them?”

Kitty rolled her eyes and sighed, “Blood, Emilia. They drink blood, but they don’t kill people and they don’t steal bits of your soul. They feed off your soul’s life force, it regenerates in your blood.” She set the sheets aside and turned, hands on hips. “And you wouldn’t know if it happened to you. My mum says if you wake up remembering you had great s-, uh, a great evening with a strange gentleman, you’d been drunk from.” she nodded, as if affirming her own words, and her fiery curls tumbled free from her braid.

Emilia picked at a thread as she carefully weighed her words. “Kitty, how would you know if someone was a Chthonian?” she raised her hand and stroked the side of her neck without realizing it.

Kitty’s laughter tinkled though the empty hall, bouncing off the dreary gray stone walls. “The only way you could know is if they told you.” she tipped her head slightly, in that bird like way of hers. “Or, if you had the Sight. Do you? Have the sight, I mean?”

Emilia shook her head vigorously and tugged another quilt from the pile. She laid the quilt across her lap and ran her fingertips over the elaborate stitching; following along the dragon’s neck, the gold thread gave way to red thread creating a burst of flames from its open mouth.

“What sight? Kitty I don’t understand half of what you say! You’re telling me there are men running around drinking women’s blood and killing them!”

“No, no, no. The Chthonians don’t kill, they just feed off of humans to survive and look for their soul mates. The baobhan sith are the ones who kill people.” Kitty visibly shivered, even speaking of the baobhan sith frightened her, as if she might evoke their wrath by speaking ill of them.

“Suppose this is true, and I’m not saying I believe it,” she cast a knowing glance towards the tiny red head. “What would they want with the likes of me, the Chthonians? Couldn’t they use their magic’s to lure any lass of their choosing? They could have a fine lady, or a princess even!”

Kitty shook her head impatiently, “Ye aren’t listening. They have to follow their destiny, their fate. They are seeking the other half of their soul, their ​mo anam cara.” Emilia gasped and dropped the heavy quilt she’d been folding.

Then the whole world shifted.

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Feel free to critique this! I love all your help and support!

Dream A Snowy Dream Of Me #trdc

This week, The Red Dress Club asked us to imagine this, “You are trapped (alone or with others) in a single location during the fury and/or aftermath of a blizzard of historic proportions.”
This is a scene from my WIP, The Guardians of the Chthonians. I am totally open to critiquing!

Rashu crouched behind the bushes silently cursing his luck and rubbing at his irritated skin.He’d managed to rub nearly every bare area of skin on the offensive roses and the near blinding pain was only now slowly fading. What the hell was going on? He’d noticed right away that she was wearing the amulet, but his relief was short lived as he realized he didn’t feel anything from it. Had the spirit infused in it worn off? Was that even possible? He didn’t think so. He thought if only he could touch her life force he could feel something but he had been interrupted by…Tiago. Dammit. He jumped up and sprinted in the direction he’d seen the seen the irritating Manx heading.

“Muriel, who was that man?” Emilia stood with her hands on her hips looking quite flustered.

“Girl, did I not send you out for herbs? Where are my herbs?” Muriel thundered approaching her threateningly. Forgetting about Rashu and Tiago she turned and fled back to the dusky gardens.

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Emilia walked to the door and ventured a peek out into the snow glistened night. The landscape was crisp and white as far as she could see, which wasn’t far considering the heavy flakes that were whipping and whirling.The branches of the nearby trees sagged under piles of snow, looking as though they were ready to drop their cumbersome weight to the ground. Other shapes surrounded the blackhouse, but under the guise of snow she couldn’t tell what they were. As she pulled the heavy wood door further open the wall of snow behind it, up to her hips, began to tumble into the warm house. A pale hid slid over her shoulder and firmly pushed the door back in place.

“What are you trying to do, catch your death of cold?” Tiago’s breath slid down her back, the warmth of it enveloping her as she turned in his light embrace. At the sight of him the amulet burned gently against her chest and his eyes, looking like the stormy sea, glanced at it knowingly.

“Tiago, what are you doing here?” she racked her brain trying to figure out where exactly “here” was and what she was doing here. She looked around the small house and saw her mother’s knitting basket, full of unspun wool. Over on the low table her father’s wood working tools were laid out meticulously. And she realized she was home.​ She hadn’t seen her daddy’s home since…

“What’s wrong?” Tiago whispered, seeing her lovely eyes glaze over, tears threatening to topple over her dark lashes.​ He ran his knuckles gently across her jaw and she jerked away. She took a deep breath and felt her strength coming back.

He shrugged his shoulders and saunter back to the fire. “I found you out in the woods, you said you needed to find a map or note?” He looked back her and this time she shrugged. “I can’t figure out what could be so important that you would risk being out in a blizzard like this alone!” The anger in his voice surprised her, she figured he’d be just as happy if she did die, lost in a snow storm.

“What do you even care?” she yelled back, her voice going shrill.​ “Why don’t you just leave? It’s not like the storm is any danger to you.” She spat the words at him, feeling all her frustration and all her unrequited feelings rising in her like bile.​ “I’ll be just fine here by myself until the storm passes!”

He turned, his eyes ablaze and rushed at her. She thought she should be afraid but all she could think of was his fists, unclenched, buried in her hair and his chest heaving with anger pressed against her. And then he was there, she was pinned against the wall with his hard lean body pressed against hers. She couldn’t breathe, but not because of his weight.

“Stupid, stupid girl.” He muttered before crushing her small mouth with his. She resisted him at first, then shivered as he ran his hand softly up her arm and gripped her ebony hair firmly, tipping her head farther back. He ran his tongue across her bottom lip and she sighed softly.​ He took that as invitation and kissed her deeper. There was an urgency, a quiet desperation in his kiss and she returned it until her knees felt numb and she could only form one coherent thought.

“I love you, Tiago.” She whispered against his warm, sweet breath.

“I love you too, Em.”

Suddenly, Emilia was waking up, in her now familiar bed at the castle Dunnatar.​ Wiping the confusion from her eyes, she let the emotions of the dream sweep over her and buried her face in her pillow to muffle her sobs. Raising her head her red rimmed eyes landed on a piece of stationary propped up on her bedside table. She snatched it up and read the scrawling hand writing and fighting a sickening feeling of de ja vu.

Dearest Emilia,

I beg that you will give me but a few minutes of your time. I have much I need to explain to you.

All my love, Rashu

The handwriting was hauntingly familiar, it reminded her of a note or map that her father had kept in her mother’s hope chest. He would often pull it out and gaze out it for a long while. He would smile to himself and nod his head, then place it back again.​ She had to find that note.

You can read more excerpts form my WIP here:

In His Pouch

Fiction Friday

Confrontation

These are just peeks and are in no particular order!

The Red Dress Club: Confrontation

Image via Wikipedia

Rashu approached the willow trees quietly. She looked like a wood nymph standing there among the weeping limbs. She let out a soft sigh and he saw her lip quiver. In her soft grey grown she nearly blended into the early morning mist, and her hands fluttered at her waist nervously.

“Emilia…” He reached out to her, longingly, but let his hand fall to his side. “Please just let me talk to you. I have to find shelter soon.” He looked towards the horizon, willing her to understand.

“What do you want from me Rashu? Why won’t you leave me be? One minute you’re attacking me in the gardens, the next you’re trying to help me with my chores. Every time I turn around I feel as if I’m tripping over you and searching for Tiago.” She looked wistfully into the distance and sighed again. He felt the warmth of her breath across his skin and he locked the sweetness of it away. A small memory for him to bask in later.

“That’s because you’re looking for the wrong Chthtonian. Don’t you know that by now? Don’t you know who we are? Sit with me, just for a little while; I want to tell you a story.”

He saw the uncertainty flash through her eyes right before she settled on the fallen log beside him. Again he tried to file away every detail his hungry senses could absorb. He noted the softness of her small hands against the gnarly tree trunk and the swish of her skirts around her ankles. The scent of her ebony hair; lavender and musk, hung around her like a halo.

“Emilia, this story starts a long time ago. Long before you met Tiago and I. This time.” He pushed on before she could pose any questions. “I know that Kitty and Tiago have told a great deal about the Chthonian. And I’m sure Tiago told you that you were my Mo Anam Cara?” He glanced sideways at her. Her wide eyes had gone even wider and her delicate mouth hung open in a most unladylike way.

She turned slowly and he braced himself for her denial. “What did you do?” she forced each word through gritted teeth, standing and towering over him like an angry hummingbird. “Tiago told me that you had a secret, that you had a secret and you would find a way to use it against him. So, that means that you did something, something that broke our bond and you’re going to try to blame it on him.” He had never seen the lavender of her eyes darken with rage and it confused him.

“You knew? You knew we were soul mates and you pushed me away? Why?” He tried to hide the hurt but it was hard, he was wearing down, it had been so long since he had just held her. His arms felt emptier than they ever had. He was losing hope and ruining any chance of getting her back.

“Let me start over, please?” She didn’t meet his gaze but tipped her delicate chin slightly and he took that as her assent. “Let’s skip the beginning and just get to where things started falling apart. It was just a couple days after the Queen had released your memories. I was over in the next town; I was guarding a young woman named DeeAnn. She is, she was, Tiago’s Mo Anam Cara.” He stopped, letting his words sink in, she stiffen beside him, but said nothing.

“She was sleeping. And,” he stopped again, overwhelmed by the guilt he still felt, even after everything Tiago had put him through. “She was sleeping and I was walking the perimeter of her cottage. Suddenly you flooded our bond with fear, terror and I panicked. I failed to trust my brothers and I acted without thinking. I left her sleeping and when I got to you, you were so upset, you kept going on about the women in green and I stayed with you until you were calm. I should have sent your Guardian to DeeAnn, or trusted him to guard you and stayed put.” He looked to see her reaction, expected her to be as disgusted as everyone else had.

“Are you telling me that your “race” is so inflexible, so uncaring, that they took away your soul mate simply because you left your post? That’s the most ridiculous thing I have ever-”

“They took her, Emilia. They took DeeAnn. Those women in green? They were the baobhan sith. They tricked me and lured me away so they could get to her. I don’t know what they wanted with her. That’s why our bond and all your memories were erased. It was because my actions caused another Chthonian to lose his Mo Anam Cara. I cause our entire race to lose her. That is why Tiago has this enormous grudge against me. He’s using you; he’s going try to hurt us. To get back at me.”

“There is no us,” she spat at him. “You’re wrong!” Her chest was heaving, her face red with anger. “He loves me!” She turned to run away but her grabbed her arm and pulled her back. Even with tears glistening in her eyes she was smirking at him. She looked pointedly at his hands on her arms and it slowly dawned on him. He didn’t feel anything other​ than the creamy smoothness of her skin.

“When Tiago touches me? I feel the blue lightening under my skin, coursing through my veins.” The blood drained from his face and his eyes darkened with understanding. Mo Anam Cara.

And with that she was gone.

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This contribution to The Red Dress Club’s Red Writing Hood meme is a scene from my WIP: The Guardians of the Chthonians: Book 1. Our prompt this week was to write a piece of dialogue. I’m going to call this one a fail because I am far to detaily to stick to dialogue. But I tried!

 

Stream of Conscious: Guilt

I know, I know! A second post? I almost never do that! But the truth is, I coerced Fadra to follow me back on Twitter weeks ago with a promise to participate in her linky, which I really do love. I actually thought of it as I was study my psychology book and the phrase “stream of consciousness” came up. Then I was all, oh crap! So here I am!
The truth is, this happens to me more than I’d like to admit. I commit to a lot of things. And I want to do them all. I also want to do them well.
I am currently homeschooling my daughter and it has taken a turn towards unschooling, really. And for that I have been feeling so guilty. And then? She took some testing at the school this week. After 3 months at home with me she had the highest scores in her class!
I love this blog. I aim for posting every day. But I don’t want to just throw crap on the screen. So some days I don’t post. Then I feel guilty, like I’ve let you down and you won’t love me anymore. But then I come back and post and? There you are with your sweet comments and twitter love. Huh.
And that book I’m writing? It’s slow going because I don’t always have time. And then I feel guilty. But after I sit down and write or edit for a while. I feel wonderful becasue I remember it is my story and it’s not going to disappear. It already lives in its own special spot of my consciousness like a really awesome supernatural memory. Or something like that.
And school? I have guilt because I sometimes have to choose priorities. Like this week I’ll need to cut out of class to take LeBella to the drs. But then I get an email from my instructor saying he understands. No worries. But homework is still due on time.
Times Up.

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This was my 5 minute Stream of Consciousness Sunday post. It’s five minutes of your time and a brain dump. Want to try it? Here are the rules…

• Set a timer and write for 5 minutes only.
• Write an intro to the post if you want but don’t edit the post. No proofreading or spellchecking. This is writing in the raw.
• Publish it somewhere. Anywhere. The back door to your blog if you want. But make it accessible.
• Add the Stream of Consciousness Sunday badge to your post.
• Link up your post below.
• Visit your fellow bloggers and show some love.

A Second Serving Repost from Jennifer Wylie

I am so happy that Jen volunteered to supply a post for my little blogcation! After reading this post I am truly intrigued and working my way through her past posts! I hope you enjoy this as much as I did!

Echoes of Darkness

I am suffering. Slowly being torn apart, breaking.

There is nothing I can do. Nothing but simply watch my world crumble to pieces around me. Nothing but watch you slowly continue to change, becoming someone I don’t know, someone full of such frightening darkness and hate. I don’t know when it started. I can’t recall when the changes in you began. I do know the why; so many little things, and big things, have happened to turn you against the world, against me. They weren’t my fault, or yours. Things happen, as they tend to do. We can’t control everything, even though we sometimes try.

I wish you would let me help you, but I am nothing to you now, merely an Echo made centuries ago to do your bidding. Before the darkness descended upon you I had been more, almost the human I once had been. I know you didn’t love me, not like I have loved you, but once you at least saw me as a person, not as the thing I have now become.

You were my beautiful Immortal, my creator, my master, my everything. There had been a time when your beautiful eyes looked upon me warmly, twinkling with laughter and happiness. Now they regard me coldly, so full of anger and rage and darkness I am forced to look away. Once your hands had touched me gently, though you didn’t love me, you had accepted my love. You had at least cared for me. I avoid those hands now. Rarely do I materialize into solid form around you, not since they had touched me with such violence, such mad fury.

I can not bear the changes which have come over you. The hatred inside of you has driven you into madness, of that I am quite certain. I couldn’t stop it. I don’t know how to bring you back. This tears me apart, being unable to help you, being hated by you.

Leaving is not possible. I have considered it, I don’t know why. I am bound to you, while you live, at your call I must always come. I could leave your side when I am not needed, at least in theory. Yet I have always been with you, always. I don’t know how to live without you. I can’t live without you. You have always been, and always will be, everything to me.

I don’t know what to do. I will not leave. Staying is destroying me. I don’t know what to do. So I will continue to suffer your cold eyes, your dark, wicked smiles. I will look away from the evil deeds you do, from the darkness you are bringing to the world. I will not stop you. Though I also will not help you. You know this, which is part of the reason you hate me. Still you use me as you can, I cannot prevent it. You made me this way when centuries ago you took my dying breath and bound me to you. I am immortal, but an echo of what you are, of the human I once was. I am nothing. I am everything. I can not die, yet am dying. Your darkness and hate are smothering me, destroying me.

I can only hope it will end soon, my agony, my dark despair. Someone, someday, will stop you. Your Immortal life will be extinguished. I will be free of you then. If I survive. If I don’t give my life trying to save you from them. If I don’t break apart into nothing first.

Until such a time comes I will stay always beside you, loving you, suffering, breaking apart. I do not doubt the agony of it all will eventually destroy me. Then again, perhaps you will one day tire of torturing me.

Perhaps you will destroy me yourself.