Category Archives: Flash Fiction

RP pt.2 A walk amongst the Dead

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This is a Role Play I am currently working on for the Bloodletting game. I play both characters involved. They have a love/hate relationship pretty much. If you are interested in seeing just what the Bloodletting RPG is all about, check it out at Bloodletting.org.  If you decide you want to sign up and feel like getting one of my characters a little bank for it, use the following links:

(Addison) http://www.bloodletting.org/other_pages/registration.php?user=149254

(Genesis) http://www.bloodletting.org/other_pages/registration.php?user=151855

Keep in mind, Genesis is a Lycan, and Addison is a Slayer, though was a former vampire. She’s the weird one of the two.

Part Two:

Genesis:

Genesis winced when Addison yelled about the smell of the place. Great. Sound drew these things, and here the little idiot was, screaming and ranting. She wanted to smack her crewmate in the head. Well, she always wanted to do that, but this was a justifiable reason.

As the dead thing approached and Addison moved to her feet, pulling out the creepy black sword of hers, Genesis took a step away. She didn’t want to accidentally touch it. She knew what it did to people.

She then shot a look of complete annoyance to Addison for her comments.

“Someone, whoever brought and dumped us here, took my weapons. All of them. Even found my hidden ones.” She said, her eyes scanning for higher ground. “And no, I cannot shift into my Crinos form. Gods, do you ever think things through?” She snarled.

She grabbed Addison by the back of her shirt, slowly leading the dark haired woman back with her, her eyes still taking in the structure of the building to find a defensive position.

“I can’t shift. These are zombies. I can’t bite or scratch at them. They are infected, be it viral, bacterial or even fungal. Me biting into them is sealing my own death…well…at least to become one in their ranks. And with no weapons, come on, let’s face it, I am the weaker of the two of us here.” She growled the last bit, completely disgusted at having to rely on Addison in any way.

Her foot kicked something that rolled and glimmered faintly. Genesis inspected the item, wary of picking it up. She could use it, however. A long piece of pipe, about the length of a baseball bat. Upon further inspection, she found signs that someone had already used it in the precise manner that she had planned. As a weapon against these things. A good smash in the head to splatter their brains.

This discovery only led to more questions in her head. Was this some sort of ‘proving ground’? Were people dropped here to feed the zombies? Were they here for someone else’s entertainment? Like an old gladiator tournament with the reanimated, hungry corpses?

If that was the case, someone was watching somewhere…her hazel eyes scanned for cameras. She didn’t see any obvious ones. No little blinking record lights. No newer or out of place looking wiring.

The moans of the dead were getting closer, however. She had to turn her attention back to them. The numbers were gaining.

“Okay Addison. You at least have your sword. I have a pipe. From what I gather, we are not the first to be dumped here like this. Now this poses the question as to who wanted this, why, and …why us? I mean, were we random, or chosen?”

The first of the zombies neared her and she swung the steel pipe like a baseball bat with all her might. A sharp metallic clang knocked the head off the dead thing. It not only knocked the head off, it dented it, warping the brittle bone, weathered skin and greyish black brain and blood over the end of the pipe. Genesis had to shake it off before sizing up her next zombie.

From the corner of her eye, she could see Addison was having no problem. It was even slightly disturbing that the other woman was smiling and singing a song of some sort…

 

Addison:

Cold blows the wind to my true love,
And gently falls the rain.
I never had but one true love,
And in greenwood he lies slain.

Addison swung her sword with skilled precision. Each arch, each sweep of the blade sung in her hand. Quite literally. The black blade pulsed with a tune only Addison could hear, and with it, she sang along merrily. It was a morbid little tune, but Addison sang it beautifully amidst the splattering of zombie flesh and bone.

I’ll do as much for my true love
As any a young girl may.
I’ll sit and mourn all on his grave
For twelve months and a day.

She watched out for Genesis, who, for not having any of her favorite toys, all her wonderful little guns, was doing a smash up job, literally, with the old piece of pipe she had found. The questions Genesis had posed to her were interesting ones, indeed. Who wanted them here? Was this a planned event for the two crewmates? A test of skills? An execution? Addison snorted. It would take more than zombies to bring her down.

And when twelve months and a day had passed,
The ghost did rise and speak,
“Why do you sit all on my grave
And will not let me sleep?”

Addison raised her sword high, bringing it directly down the middle of a zombies head. The frighteningly sharp blade slicing in and back out again with ease, like a hot knife through butter. She took note that Genesis was looking for higher ground. Probably a good idea, since she only had the steel pipe.

‘Tis I, ’tis I, thine own true love
That sits all on your grave
I ask one kiss from your sweet lips
And that is all that I crave.

The zombies seemed to be coming in from one direction of the warehouse. How they were getting in, Addison didn’t know. Nor did she know how many. All she knew for certain, was that the bodies were starting to pile up, and it reeked to high hell in the place. And the noise. While she and wolf-girl were quiet, well, other than her singing, the zombies seemed to focus in on the chorus of their own. How many more would be joining this party?

My breast is cold as the clay;
My breath is earthly strong.
And if you kiss my cold, clay lips,
You’re days will not be long.

Suddenly a zombie was charging her. This one was fast. It didn’t lumber like the others. Fresh. A fresh made zombie. They were usually pretty spry. Addison swung her blade upward, decapitating the foul thing, and though its body crumpled on the spot, its head was still very much active. Its slimy teeth and dead eyes locking on to Addison, mouth chomping at her. She sunk the tip of her blade cleanly through one of its blue-grey eyes.

Go fetch me water from the desert sand
And blood from out the stone.
Go fetch me milk from a fair maid’s breast
That young man has never known

She upped her awareness. One fast zombie only meant more would come. This seemed to be a grab-bag mix of the reanimated. She hoped one of the faster ones didn’t make it past her. Genesis wouldn’t have too great of odds with just the steel pipe. A freshly made zombie had hard bones, tough skin. And were much more avid in the endeavors to eat the flesh of the living.

How oft on yonder grave, Sweetheart
Where we were wont to walk—
The fairest flower that I e’re saw
Has withered to a stalk.

She inched her way closer to wolf-girls position. For any animosity between them, it would look pretty poorly if she let the other woman get eaten. Fun to watch, perhaps. But poor form, indeed. She took her eyes off the coming zombies for just a moment, to help Genesis find higher ground. They needed a chance to formulate a plan of some sort. If she were alone, Addison would have just ‘seat of the pants’ed it.

When shall we meet again, sweetheart?
When shall we meet again?
When the oaken leaves that fall from the trees
Are green and spring up again.

Addison concluded her song when the blade did. She gave a bow to the oncoming zombies, all slower moving ones it seemed, and turned to Genesis. They had managed to put a good bit of distance between themselves and the dead things. Addison indicated with a nod of her head to Genesis.

“I think I’ve found you some high ground. If it will hold us…” She said, motioning to a suspended platform. She grabbed the other woman’s arm and made way for the platforms broken stairs. She looked to Genesis with a smarmy smile. “So, how does it feel to be nearly useless?”


RP pt 1- A walk amongst the Dead

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This is a Role Play I am currently working on for the Bloodletting game. I play both characters involved. They have a love/hate relationship pretty much. If you are interested in seeing just what the Bloodletting RPG is all about, check it out at Bloodletting.org.  If you decide you want to sign up and feel like getting one of my characters a little bank for it, use the following links:

(Addison) http://www.bloodletting.org/other_pages/registration.php?user=149254

(Genesis) http://www.bloodletting.org/other_pages/registration.php?user=151855

Keep in mind, Genesis is a Lycan, and Addison is a Slayer, though was a former vampire. She’s the weird one of the two. 😛

Part One:

Genesis:

She woke up, her head groggy, her eyes seeing stars and there was a strange buzzing in her ears. She took mental inventory of her body situation. Toes wiggled, fingers flexed. She turned her head from side to size. She took in the smell. Damp, rank. Gross. Decay and rot. An undercurrent of sea water. Salt in the humid air.

Genesis finally became more aware, her eyes clearing. She sat up, finding herself on a cold, wet concrete floor. The odors in this place were incredibly overpowering. The stink and stench.

She stood slowly, taking another inventory of herself. Someone had taken her weapons. Her handguns were gone, holsters and all. The knife in her boot was gone. Hell, even her lighter was gone from her pocket.

Her head ached. Apparently, from the feel of things, someone had managed to get the drop on her and bash her in the back of the head. She didn’t feel any other injuries other than the knot on the back of her skull, and the bruise to her pride that someone had gotten the better of her.

Her ears perked suddenly, to a sound in the room. More than one sound. However, one was close. A groaning of someone else in a little pain, following by a slew of cursing every swear word in the book. The voice was female. Southern drawl. One guess who it would be.

Genesis let her lip curl into a snarl for a moment, keeping herself silent. The other noises made their way to her sharp Lycan ears. Groaning, though different than what she heard before. This was deep, guttural. Groaning and moaning, occasional hissing noises. What the hell?

And she couldn’t for the life of her get that stink out of her nose. Rotten meat. Pungent and putrid. Utterly disgusting and offensive to her sensitive nose.

Genesis tried to orient herself to her surroundings. Concrete floor, old, cracked. Steel beams and mesh cages here and there. Stronger cages of steel as well. She looked upward, finding the walls and ceiling were metal. It would seem this was some sort of cavernous warehouse. Maybe a slaughterhouse? And where was it? Was she in Sydney? She couldn’t discern a regional location due to that god awful stink in the place.

She took two steps forward, where there was a little shaft of light shining into a puddle. The tangy metallic scent of blood then drifted to her nose. The puddle wasn’t of water, but of blood. Old blood, yet not yet congealed. Perhaps the humidity in the air was preventing it from drying up.

She shook her head from those thoughts, moving in the direction of the more feminine groan and lovely woven use of swear words.

She stood before a huddled ball of tiny woman, curled up on her side, holding her head, muttering and cursing still. Why her? Why ALWAYS her?

Giving the woman a look over, she seemed to be in the same predicament as herself, however, her weapon of choice was still with her. She had heard that it couldn’t be removed from her person unless she willed it, so Genesis assumed that rumor was true.

Well, at least one of them was armed.

Noise from the far end of the building echoed. Groaning, moaning and shuffling. Someone or something dragging their feet.

She nudged the other woman lying on the cold concrete with her foot. “Get up…we have company…”

 

Addison:

Addison was not a happy camper. Someone had approached her and clubbed her with a baseball bat. Thankfully, the woman was hard headed. She managed to fight. That had only served to earn her more of a beating with the aluminum bat.

Then someone had the audacity to try to take her sword from her. That had actually been funny, as the moment it left her person, her attacker, or one of them, became violently ill as the sword itself went into self-preservation mode to be reunited with its mistress.

Addison grabbed her sword back up, and was about to unsheathe it to dispatch her attackers, hoping to lop off one head at a time, but was rudely interrupted by a sharp pain in her neck. A sharp painful pinch. Just as the world started fading to black, she saw her attackers, wearing ski masks, draw back a little, one with a nice big syringe in his hand. Fuckers had drugged her. Dammit all.

She woke to a throbbing behind her eyes, and the bile in her stomach rising at the damned stink of this place. She tucked herself into a ball to escape the stink and nurse her pains. Her sword hung across her back, its vibrations warning her of dangers, yet she shushed it for now.

Then there was the nudge at her side and a familiar voice. Oh, lucky day. Wolf girl was here. She loosened from her fetal position and sat up, legs sprawled in front of her. She rubbed her head at the temples with her small hands.

“Ow.Ow.Ow. What the hell, wolf-girl? AND WHAT IS THAT SMELL??!!” She bellowed through the annoyance of pain.

Her nose couldn’t be rid of the smell. It was overpowering to the sense. And then she felt the movement around them. Something not human. Demon? She wasn’t sure at this time. Her sword was screaming at her however. Its steady pulses of energy urging her sore body to move.

She looked up to see the wolf-girl, Genesis, staring off into the shadows. Where were they even? The structure was large. It echoed. It was filthy. There was a tinge of salt water in the air. The sea was close.

Then the noise began to hit her ears. The slow shuffle. The drag of something against the floor.

The low moans.

Addison blinked the last of the fog from her eyes, moving to stand next to Genesis, drawing her cursed sword.

“Fucking zombies…” She muttered, just as one became visible. And then another, and another. These were old zombies. Slow moving. Yet, every bit as deadly as the newer, freshly bit and turned zombies. Those would probably pose a problem for the pair.

She looked over to Genesis, giving her a sharp poke to the side. “Get your guns out. Remember…head shots. OH! You can go all wolf-tastic on them!” She said enthusiastically.

She drew her sword and set to the ready. Let the fun commence.

 

More parts will be posted over the next few days! Thanks for reading!


Demons Delight: A short story

This is from a 3 word prompt. The 3 words being:

1. zephyr
2. touch
3. Face

The zephyr of warm air washed over his face, giving him pause to smile. It felt wonderful. Life was good. It could only get better from here.

That is, if his flock never discovered his secret. Such a primal beast he was. A devil, a demon, from what books would describe.

He had learned to blend in. Look and act human. His base instincts were still there, but he taught himself control.

There, in the labyrinth of tunnels in the city, the homeless, runaways, the discarded humans seemed to accept him as one of their own.

He started providing for them. They needed food and water. He provided those things.

Of course, you couldn’t make an omelet without breaking a few eggs. He used this new community he had integrated himself into. He stole from those he killed. In turn, he pawned the items for money. He needed to be able to blend in with the world above, as well as below. He had to look respectable by society’s standards.

He tried not to harm those under his care. He hunted those above ground instead. The wealthy. He did so in a way that the police would not give much thought to.

As he sat around the fire one night, a small human child came to him, sitting on his lap. She placed her hand on his face. A soft touch. The gentle touch of a defenseless child.

He smiled to her, pulling a piece of meat from the makeshift spit, blowing on it lightly to cool it before handing it to the little one.

He was making a race of cannibals. They didn’t need to know that.

They just needed to look into his face and see their god.


The Price: A short story

This is from a 3 word prompt. Yes, it may seem familiar. It is based on a scene from the movie ‘Practical Magic’, however, it is very different, and goes quite a bit more into depth on things.

So, the 3 words are:

1. start
2. trick
3. Jump

She looked at the time, and then her eyes moved over to the woman sitting across from her. “The sun is just below the horizon, the moon is ascending. It’s a good time to get to start, if you’re ready…” She said to the elder woman. She wasn’t much older than herself, maybe 10 years at most. She supposed maybe that was a decent age difference. Did the woman feel comfortable coming to someone younger than herself? Wow…that was kind of stupid. This woman probably wasn’t comfortable coming to her at all.
Circumstance brought her here however. A pain. An ache.
She stood, looking to the woman who had set her tea cup down on the coffee table. “Come with me ma’am.” She said softly. The woman stood and followed, out into the greenhouse.
She went to gather materials. The elder woman looked around in wonder. There were several songbirds hanging from dainty little cages and various glass aquariums containing fish, snake, frogs and reptiles.
And the plants! So many varieties. All in good health, and the blooming blossoms so fragrant in the air.
“Ma’am, if you would?” She said softly. In one hand she held a bowl of blossoms, leaves and soil. In the other, one of the bird cages containing a dove.
The trick of this all was to use everything fresh. Dried ingredients just were not as potent. Too many made that mistake.
The woman was sitting on a wicker loveseat, part of a patio set. Before her was a coffee table that had a sheet laid over it. A steaming tea pot and a cup also sat there.
She brought everything to the woman, placing the birdcage down and grabbing hold of the teapot. She placing in the blossoms, dirt and other various items, rubbing them through her hands as she placed them in the boiling water.
The woman watched intently. She didn’t hide her dislike of the younger woman, but the need for her services outweighed everything at the moment.
She couldn’t help but notice this. She could feel it. She gave an internal shrug. The woman was paying her, and paying her good. They all did.
“I need for you to drink this, please. The full cup.” She said to the woman, pouring her the content of the steeping teapot. The woman gave a disgusted looked. That wasn’t ‘tea’. It had dirt in it. And who knows what else.
She needed this though. She did as told, chugging the hot liquid back. As she did this, the younger woman reached into the birdcage and took hold of the dove.
“Now, say out loud what you wish for and then plunge this needle into the dove’s heart.”
The elder woman’s hands were shaking. She took the needle and nodded.
“I don’t want to love him anymore. I don’t want him to love me. I don’t want anyone to ever love him again.”
She forced the needle into the breast of the dove, piercing its heart. Its feathers flapped and it made a bit of noise, giving the woman pause to jump back in her seat. Then the bird seemed to drift off and die.
The woman looked to her questioningly.
“It’s done. Now, take this bird home and bury it in the Southeast corner of your garden.” She instructed.
Near the brink of tears, the woman nodded, wrapping the bird up in a cloth provided as she slipped a wad of money out, tossing it onto the table. She said nothing more. No thanks. No show of gratitude.
What the elder woman didn’t know, or didn’t understand, was that there was a price to be paid that went far beyond mortal currency. She would get what she asked for, however, this man would live a full happy life in his solitude. He would enjoy it, rejoice in it. The woman however, would find no other love at all in her life. She would compare all other men to him, though she would not feel love for him. Or anyone, ever again. She would die alone and miserable and a far younger age had she not brought this upon herself.
She showed the elder woman out, returning to her greenhouse to clean up. She placed the wad of money in her pocket.
Tomorrow night would bring someone else to her door for a spell, hex or curse.


Baby Talk: A short story

A first sentence starter. Its a little morbid. It didnt come out as I had planned, however. This one, in time, may need for a rewrite for me to be completely happy with it.

Who would have poisoned all these innocent children?

That was the big question on her mind. She looked over the decayed remains of 21 children, ranging from age 5 to 10. Some were more decomposed than others, but they seemed to have died in groups. Killed, poisoned, and then placed into a mass grave.

A dog had found the grave in the forest. He’d gotten away from his own on one of the walking trails and started digging and barking in the small clearing. Once a little hand was dislodged from the earth, the panicked owner called 911.

21 little children. She identified the poison in the bodies, their last meals and all relevant findings.

That couldn’t reveal the killer or the reason, however.

This had been happening over the course of years. No suspects, no ‘persons of interest’. It was frustrating. And if it was frustrating for her, she could only imagine what the detectives and officers handling the case felt.

She had not yet started identifying the bodies. The detectives and officers were compiling missing children lists, pictures and dental records.

Who would do such a thing to innocent little children? Did they have such confidence that the bodies would never be found, or linked back?

She took a breath, sighing out. Back to work. The dead had to reveal their secrets to her.


Grit: A short story

Another three word prompt, the three words being:

1. throat
2. road
3. Attack

**As a side note, I’ve completed my word count goal on Camp NaNoWriMo! YAYS! However, I will continue to write daily and post at least two short stories a night. I also have dug through some of my old Role Play and will post some of them up for you all in story format. Coolness?
On with the story…

Sand. Sand everywhere. It was up his nose, in his throat, scratching at his eyes. He looked out at the road before him. Such a desolate wasteland, or so it would seem. He had to be sure there were no prying eyes and no possible way these bodies would be found, even if on accident.
The desert seemed the perfect place.
It’s not like he ever intended this to happen. It wasn’t his fault in the least. He was the victim here. The attack against him left him with no choice but to defend himself and what was rightfully his.
However, the attack, and the timing of it, sent him into a blind rage. He really had no intent of killing the three men. He only wanted to send them back to their boss with a clear understanding that such annoyances wouldn’t be tolerated.
He was so coked out of his mind though. He lost control. He put his badge away and let the monster out. He beat the men mercilessly, and it would really look bad to have these sorts of men turning up dead in a police officer’s home.
No one on the force knew what he was doing, and he had to ensure it stayed that way. He had been preparing for retirement. He turned a blind eye to things and he got kickbacks. His retirement from the force was nothing compared to what he had already saved.
Yeah, so it was wrong.
No one was perfect.
He surveyed the area one last time before moving around to the back of his car, popping the trunk.
Yeah, no one would find the bodies way out here.
Desert lands and dirty cops.


Worth: A short Story

This little ray of sunshine is from a 3 word prompt. The three words are:

1. water
2. lake
3. Pleasure

Elizabeth looked out over the still water. The lake was beautiful this time of year, and with the hot temperatures and little breezes, the water was often like a perfect sheet of glass.
She’d come here, to her family’s lake house with a purpose.
As she sat out on the back deck overlooking the lake waters, she sipped a glass of wine, thinking over things.
How could she let everything get so bad?
She no longer had any friends. She had pushed them all away. She was too demanding of them. She thought they could meet her needs, but in the end, they couldn’t, or wouldn’t.
So she shut herself away from everyone.
Her family was dispersed all over the world. She couldn’t bring herself to talk to them anyway. When she did speak to any of them, be it her parent or siblings, she put on a happy face, joked and laughed. She didn’t want anyone to know just how ruined her life was.
Just how worthless she was.
She finished off her glass of wine, pouring another. That was the last of that bottle.
She was mentally preparing herself. Telling herself this was the right thing to do.
Solitude. It was all she deserved.
Oh, but how she longed for more.
That’s what her life was amounting to. Nothing but longing for something she could never have.
Elizabeth finished off her glass of wine rather quickly. There was no reason to keep putting this off. The sun was dipping down beneath the horizon.
She stood, feeling light headed. Yes, a little more than just a buzz. She was teetering on drunk.
She walked down from the deck onto the shore of the tranquil, peaceful lake.
There was no one around for miles way out here.
She picked up some heavy stones, placing them into the pockets of her summer dress.
She then waded out into the lakes waters. It felt good against her heated skin. Not too cold, but cool enough.
Deeper and deeper she went, until she could barely touch the bottom.
She could have done this by slitting her wrists. She could have taken a bunch of pills. She could have used her father’s handgun.
No.
She deserved the suffering that came with this action.
To drown.
There was a certain comfort in defeat. A pleasure.
As she step off the threshold of the edge into the deep, she didn’t even take a breath.
The rocked weighted her, the dress tangled about her legs, and her drunken state left her unknowing of which was what.
She allowed herself to be wrapped in the pleasure of death. She opened her mouth and sucked in as much water as her lungs could hold.
This, of course, kicked in the body’s natural preservation mode.
It was too late for that now. She had prepared too well.
Death came for her, offering her the sweet release she had long from her pathetic life.


Instinct: A short Story

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Outside the cabin, the wind howled through the trees, and the cries of the wolves could be heard in every direction.

She didn’t want this. She thought they would never leave their own territory to look for her. Now here she was, waiting for them.

It wasn’t easy being a naturally occurring lycan. Packs had structure and traditions. Naturally occurring lycans didn’t happen often, and when they did, packs formed to keep the pure blood…well…pure. They were the top of the werewolf hierarchy. Unlike those people bitten or scratched by a werewolf, naturals were not controlled by the lunar cycle. And they had more than just one form. There were at least four wolfen form they could take. The packs were highly protective. The males domineering.

She had broken all of that. She didn’t want to be there, with who they said she needed to be with, doing what they said she needed to be doing. She was past prime breeding age. She didn’t want that at all.

So she fled. She started a new life. A good life. She loved it.

And it was all coming to an end now.

The pack wouldn’t be denied.

She’d either have to give in, or let the transformation happen. Even in Crinos form, she was no match. She could take two, maybe three down, but there was at least eight out there. All males.

She closed her eyes and listened to the sounds of the forest outside the small cabin. She made peace with fate.

It was time to die fighting.


Home: A short story

This place is so beautiful. I’ve always wanted the country life. Well, it’s not really ‘country’, as in farmland and wide open spaces.
But it’s a peaceful place without many of the conveniences people have come to be dependent upon.
Out here, you can sit out on your deck and feel the wind in your hair. The sun rises and sun set are so damn beautiful.
I can’t believe I survived this long. I finally feel at home now.
And to make it my home, like any proper Lycan, I need to mark my territory.


Forethought: A short story

The stain will not come out. No matter how hard I scrub, no matter what cleaners I use. Hell, I even rented one of those steam cleaners from the supermarket.
What the hell am I going to do?
I know!
I’ll go get an area rug to cover it! Yes!
But…it’s in such an odd place…
Ugh… maybe if I get a big enough area rug, to cover most of the room, it will look okay, and not out of place.
At least I rolled his body onto a tarp before dragging him into the backyard.
He’ll make my garden bloom so lovely in the spring.


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