Title: For Always
She stumbled away from the fiery wreckage that was her life after she met me. Does she realize that it wasn’t until me that all her real problems began? I suppose it didn’t matter whether she did or not; at least it shouldn’t have.
“Rathe…” She moved her hand towards mine. Elsa remained staring in the opposite direction still thinking, still processing, and still deciding whether she should run or stay.
I couldn’t contain myself any longer I had to say something, anything. “Don’t leave.” Squeezing her hand I knew then I never wanted to let her go.
Whether that meant the end for either of us; I didn’t care.
She was mine.
“For always?” Elsa turned her head. Hope filled her opal eyes.
“Until the end.” When that would be I didn’t know but, for the first time in a long time, I hoped as she had hoped that it would be ‘for always’.
155 words
@theglitterlady

From The Ashes Arisen

She stumbled away from the fiery wreckage of the only relationship she’d ever known. She supposed, in terms of the indignities suffered by countless billions of people, she was being dramatic. Or was she?

After three gut-wrenchingly long years of abuse and debasement, she felt she’d been seared to her inner core. She’d been scoured clean of joy, of laughter and, possibly, of hope. She thought herself less a person than an object. She had no sense of self-worth because objects were simply…things... to be done with as their owner saw fit.

She’d been with him since she was 15. He had money. He had a car. He had plans for the future that included her. What she’d come to find out about, when it was too late for her to run, were the things he had that weren’t apparent but were quite concealed.
He had a wicked coke habit and an uncontrolled drinking problem. He had a mean streak a mile wide and very hard fists and feet. He was sexually sadistic, leaving her body scarred to achieve his gratification. He had so very many undesirable aspects she could scarce believe she’d ever found him appealing.

She believed she’d seen the worst he had to offer when the most disturbing feature of his twisted nature emerged. It was a rare occasion when he’d deigned to take her out somewhere. Even now, she flushed recalling the reason for his largesse. The night before, he’d sodomized her so enthusiastically she’d required a trip to the E.R.

At the restaurant, she’d made the, unwitting, mistake of politely smiling at the male server. She’d learned how very bad an error that had been when he had her securely behind closed doors.
It is an unfortunate truism that truly dysfunctional personalities rationalize their behavior with the specious belief everyone around them is every bit as dysfunctional as they are. He’d accused her of being a whore using her wiles to try and seduce the lecherous bastard server. Then, the beating began.

He’d beaten her before and she’d been astonished by the severity of physical assault he was capable of. Those beatings were as nothing compared to the harm he inflicted upon her that night.

He’d finally left her alone and gone to sleep, secure in the knowledge she was both too cowed and too crippled to do much of anything while he slept. As in so many other ways, in this he was wrong.

It is also a truism that no matter how beaten down an animal may be, somewhere within them remains the call to be free. She heard the call that night. First crawling, later stumbling, she left behind her all she’d been in the desire to be something more.

Emotionally burned she might be and, yet, from those ashes would arise a wondrous phoenix with the power and the right to fly proud and free. She spread her wings that night and flew away gaining speed and strength as she flew.

500 words @klingorengi

He stumbled away from the fiery wreckage, his thoughts in a snarly mess.

Fifteen years had passed since the last time he’d seen her, and she’d been so happy, so carefree. Now, she was a broken mess, an angry broken mess.

His heart clutched in agony as he remembered how she’d looked; her pale blonde hair against her chalky-white face. She had a constant worry-wrinkle on her forehead, one he wanted to remove. But how could he? He wasn’t allowed to tell her anything.

“She needs to remember before she can cross,” he’d said.
He remembered the words, but his heart had gone deaf.

He watched her all day, keeping an eye on things. The nurses and caretakers were all made from the same vicious material, and he wanted to throttle them all.

Their eyes met in secret, and he realized she knew he’d been watching her.

His heart-rate picked up speed and he swiftly darted from the corner he’d been standing. He was allowed to talk to her, just not say anything revealing. Could he do that? Talk to her and not mention their past?

It took all night, but come morning he’d decided. He would go up to her, talk to her, and find out if she really was the broken mess she looked to be.

He waited in the cafeteria for her to show. She didn’t. He became increasingly worried as the room emptied, and eventually he was called to the office. He hated this place, the pretend-job he had to hold, and this world.

“You’re re-assigned to the nightshift. They’ll tell you what to do,” the boss-lady said, and then he was whisked down a corridor.

He felt the same strange tug in his soul that he’d felt the first time he’d arrived here. He looked through a small window on one of the doors, and there she was.

She was on the floor drawing. It was an intricate piece, but he couldn’t see what it was. Something inside him took over, curiosity perhaps; if so it was a perverse one.

He opened the door before he had a chance to change his mind, and she seemed to expect him.

“Hi Brenna. I thought you’d never show up,” she said.

Shock nearly floored him, both her words, and the drawing. She’d drawn him entering the room, with her on the floor drawing. It looked like a perfect picture taken of this exact moment.

“I remember you,” she said, and then she stood up.

Her eyes were sparkling green, and something inside him melted.

“And I remember you,” he replied, stretching his arms towards her.

It won’t be long until we can cross now, he thought, and then he kissed her worry-wrinkle.

@ChessnySilth
Word Count: 455

She stumbled away from the fiery wreckage, and hoped once again that he had miraculously survived. She could still smell his cologne – deep and musky with a hint of spice. He always knew when she was around, he could sense her somehow. Was that his specialty? Could he negate the specialty of others, or just sense that someone was there? No. He definitely hadn’t seen her. He had been trying to get her to give herself away with sound or movement. It had almost worked – cornered in the room, intoxicated by his scent, and overwhelmed by his proximity – She had been so close to reaching out and touching him.

Then Raptor had entered the room, or Marcus as the man called him. It was odd to think of him having a real name – Raptor fit him so well. She wished Raptor had said the man’s name, but it would only add to her already overactive fantasies, so it was probably better she didn’t know. She had practically sprinted out of the room and then out of the building, pushing the button as she exited. Probably too soon – her leg was starting to tell her that it had been injured now that the adrenaline was wearing off – but Raptor had escaped every other time she had blown him up. It was uncanny.

She finally fell to her hands and knees two blocks away. It was then that the agony in her leg overcame rational thought. Only reflexes kept her dragging herself away. She had to get to the pick-up point. She dared a look down at her leg and wished she hadn’t. It was bad. She whimpered. Definitely too soon.

She could smell him. Was she dreaming? She looked around and he was crouched in the shadow of the building to her right.

“I’m here to help. Please. You’re hurt. Let me help.”

How did he know she was here? She was still invisible. And, oh, she wanted his help. She didn’t know if she could go on.

“Please. I know you’re injured. I just want to help.”

He was just trying to get her to give up her position. He worked for the enemy. He wasn’t to be trusted.

“This isn’t some trick. I promise I won’t hurt you. You need help.”

How did he even know that?

“There’s a trail of blood! I don’t even know how you’re still conscious. Please! Drop your invisibility so I can help.”

He was right. Her brain was getting fuzzy from the loss of blood. He must’ve been able to sense her indecision because he crawled forward with his hand outstretched. Let herself die, or put herself in enemy hands? She looked up into his eyes and couldn’t think of him as her enemy anymore – Raptor, yes…this man? No.

She phased back in to the visible world.

His smile broke like sunshine over her. “You’re as beautiful as I imagined…and you’re going to have to trust me.”

“I don’t even know your name.”


@lissajean7
500 words

Burning Evil
By Lisa McCourt Hollar

Hannah stumbled away from the fiery wreckage, a blast of hot air searing at her back as one more explosion erupted. Falling to the ground, she looked back at the home she had shared with her family for the past seven years. She and Don had bought it and moved in right after their wedding. No Honeymoon… she was already eight months pregnant with John and not in the mood for travel.

Around her, people screamed, pointing at the house and gasping in horror. John, whose seventh birthday is tomorrow, stood at the window, engulfed in flames. Someone put their arms around Hannah, trying to pull her farther from the inferno, but she yanked free and stood, watching her son. The same person that had tried to pull Hannah away now yelled at her that she shouldn’t be seeing this, as if she could just look away; as if she could avoid the outcome of what she had done.

John had always been a willful child. At first Hannah had thought it was because he was a boy. Her own brothers’ had been obstinate, so she wasn’t worried. If she stuck to her guns, eventually he would become the obedient child she knew he could be.

His behavior got worse and over the years she had shed many tears over his behavior. When she found their dog dead, John standing over the body, she knew he had killed him. When the neighbor’s cat disappeared, she had no delusions that he was innocent. When little Katie Thompson went missing last week, she had hoped he was. Then she found Katie’s underwear under John’s mattress. She wanted to deny it. She asked John about them, but he didn’t answer her, pretending she wasn’t even in the room.
She showed the underwear to her husband.

“Hannah, John could have gotten those anywhere; don’t go borrowing trouble assuming they belong to Katie.”

“But Don, they have her name written in them.”

“Maybe he found them.”

“We should call the police.”

“Didn’t I just say not to go borrowing trouble?”

Hannah relented and kept quiet. A few days later, a smell led her to their basement where she found Katie. John was there with her…doing things to her body no seven year old should be doing to anyone’s body, let alone a corpse.

Don still wanted her to be quiet.

“They will take him away Hannah. Do you want to see our son put behind bars? They treat seven year olds like adults in cases like this.”

“But Don, he’s sick. He needs help.”

“He needs us, Hannah.”

She didn’t know how John knew, but she was pregnant again. She’d found the pictures in her room that he had drawn, Mommy with a swollen belly and a knife sticking out of her. Another of a baby, its arms ripped off and being devoured by Johnny. He was evil and now, watching her son burn, Hannah knew she had done the right thing.

Word Count: 497