No Reason to Whisper

This blog contains arbitrary collections of creative writing. These short stories are works of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locations are used fictitiously. Other names characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locations or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

[tokillabeastie]

No Reason to Whisper turned 12 today!

[noreasontowhisper]

No Reason to Whisper turned 11 today!

[noreasontowhisper]

Olympian

I was asked to fetch her from the garden that day. She had behaved, for the most part, and was allowed the privilege to spend some time in the vast estate’s garden, unsupervised.

The orange and apple trees were empty but for a few stray fallen fruits. Not being the strongest swimmer, there was little chance she would be at the small lake at the northeastern corner of the estate. I checked it anyway, and it was empty as excepted.

If she was going to be anywhere, it would bee at the center of the hedge maze. The tall hedge had flowers growing from it, bright and fragment this time of year. At its center, there was a decent sized fountain with an angel as the center piece. The overturned vase spilling clear water from the statue was her favorite part of the sculpture.

It would take some time, navigating the tall hedge, maybe getting lost a few times, but I would find her eventually. Bringing her back to the palace would be hard for the both of us. I did’t want to pity for her, for that would have been a great insult.

After a while of aimlessly wondering the leafy walls, I decided she had had enough free time. As insulting to her former glory as it was, I did pity her unjust confinement by my father. This pity treated to turn into anger the longer I walked. Thankfully, I soon reached the center of the maze.

Flouting in the fountain, her naked body was touched by the soft light of the afternoon sun. The paleness of her breasts peaked up from the water, her nipples erect. Eyes closed, arms out stretched slightly, she looked at peace. 

I approached her quietly, not wanting to startle her. Saying her name as softly as I would muster, I was pained to have to disturb such a peaceful scene. With my luck, however, I did end up startling her. It’s funny how you end up making a ruckus when you’re actually tried to be as quiet as possible.

It could have been my loud footsteps or my sorry excuse for a soft whisper that surprised her. She tried to sit up, but the lack of a solid surface under her sent into sudden panic. Disoriented, she struggled to keep her head above water. The look on her eyes as she desperately tried not to go under completely was one of terror. And rightly so, for she was not a strong swimmer.

Without hesitation, I threw my coat off, and jumped in after her. She might not have seen who I was because she tried to fight me off at first. Every times I got a hold of her, she would squirm and try to get away. I was starting to worry that she might drown her self tried to fight me off, but I eventually got us both above water.

Once we surfaced, she held on to me tightly. Gasping for air, she clutched at my clothes as if afraid of sucked back under. We just floated there for a moment, while she caught her breath. I was also afraid of startling her again. I didn’t think I had the strength to fight her once more.

It was her that made a movie to swim out of the fountain. Letting go of me, she gently floated towards the concrete lip of the structure. It looked like it took no effort from her, floating like that. The moment seemed to last forever to me, but it was just a couple seconds before she was pulling herself up and out of the man made pool.

She quickly dressed, but her clothes clung to her wet skin. Like a Greek statue, her features where clearly visible through the various fabrics. For a moment, I thought that perhaps the great masters of old got a glimpse into the future, into this very moment, and modeled their beautiful pieces of art after her. She would have fit right in with the great statues of Athena or Aphrodite.

A part of me I hadn't known existed ached just then, for she was promised to my eldest brother.

[noreasontowhisper]

With All My Heart

“I’ve never seen you in civilian clothing.” With a spoonful of oatmeal halfway to my open mouth, I froze. That had never occurred to me. “Don’t get me wrong,” she said as she took a sip of orange juice, “men in uniform are just…” Evelyn closed her eyes and took a deep, audible breath through her nose. The expression on her face was one of delight. Like someone smelling roses given by a lover. Turning her head to face me, an immense smile broke out on her lips. I had only seen such a smile on her once before. We were on furlough in a port city in Iucrov. She had had a couple drinks under her belt and George had just dared her to sing for the whole bar. Evelyn climbed on a chair and began to belt out Sinatra’s “Fly Me to the Moon”. It was during the end of the instrumental break that her smile appeared. It seemed to bloom with the blaring trumpets just before she came back in with the song’s bridge.  I felt lightheaded as her smile irradiated the bar. The next morning, as I watched the rising sun hit the flaming skull tattoo on her back, I wondered if it had been the alcohol, and not her smile, that had made me feel lightheaded. Now, a broken blood vessel in her left eye made the gray of her iris appear pale. A bruise had begun to form around the cut on her left cheek and her bottom lip was fat from the split in it. The sky blue hospital gown and white sheets made her look pinker than she really was. Her dark hair was longer than I had ever seen it. Long enough to earn a demerit from the C.O. if she’d been a man. The feeling of lightheadedness began to settle over me and I realized I had been staring. Spoon in mid-air and mouth wide open. “You alright there, Doc?” Evelyn put an overflowing spoonful of oatmeal into her mouth. Swallowing after a couple hasty chews, she said “You look a bit red.” My head swam and an urge to lean in and kiss her swelled in me. But all too suddenly, a wave of shame crashed into me, washing away all my prior sensibilities. These feeling, silly and childish, where not those of a war hardened soldier. “You’re too hard on yourself, Dexter.” Her voice was low and even. The oatmeal gone, she took a long drought of orange juice. “You’re allowed to love.” I cursed my inability to keep my face from betraying my emotions. Unable to meet her eyes, I focused on the shaky hand slowly placing the half empty glass on the bed tray. Perhaps it wasn’t my awful poker face, but the fact that Evelyn knew me too well. It’s said that an unbreakable bond is shared by those that endure war together. Her right hand, the only hand she had left, reached out to hold my face. She slowly caressed my left cheek with her thumb and I instinctively let my head rest in her palm. A warm feeling enveloped me as she spoke, and I wept. “And more importantly, you’re allowed to be loved.”

[noreasontowhisper]

Mini Quiche or Reasons to Marry a Chef

A cold hand took mine as the elevator doors opened. Sticks of ice interwove between my fingers as we steeped out into the crowd. Everyone clapped, some awkwardly while holding champagne glasses. The air was a mishmash of countless expensive perfumes and colons. The people that greeted us was a sea of black bow ties and dark cocktail dresses. I imagined this is what a prom across the pond felt like, only the guests significantly more wrinkly.

Despite the ice cold hands, I could feel her pulse in her palm. It was obvious why she went into a career of writing, she had enough stage fright to go around a small school. The sea of people made her shake uncontrollably, which I hoped the crowd would mistake as vibrating with excitement.

Her checks went flushed as she struggled to get words out to thank the crowd. I instinctively gave her ice-cube of a hand a gentle squeeze, just a reminder that I was right there and everything was okay. She squeezed back, finally finding the words.

"Thank you, everyone, for coming tonight. I am truly honored, but I am probably the last person to deserve such a prestigious award." Being just barely laud enough for everyone to hear, she addressed the crowd magnificently. Funny what a little confidence can do for someone.

The rest of the night went by smoothly. We went around the party, talking to everyone, enjoying champagne and finger foods. Abigail did fine one-on-one with people. Confident, charming, sarcastically funny, she was able to be herself in small groups.

As the crowd died down and people went home, I was able to have a moment with my love alone. At the catering table, while picking out more finger foods, Abigail seemed to relax.

“Having fun, love?” I looked through the table of seemingly endless finger foods. Every food group was represented. Some were bite sized morsels of favorites. Others were new to me.

“Everything is better with quiche.” She reached over a platter of mimi sausages wrapped in a pastry and gingerly grabbed a mimi quiche. Taking a small bite, she smiled. “Better than yours.”

“How dare you!” I reached for one and took a bite. After years in culinary school and a couple summers in Italy, I knew a thing or two about food. I would be damned if I didn't admit it, she was right. 

"You need to work on your poker face, dear." Abigail carefully place the remainder of quiche in her mouth and closed her eyes, taking in the flavors. 

Sometimes I wondered what I had done to deserve such an amazing woman. Sometimes I wondered how Abigail hadn't won a Pulitzer earlier.

[noreasontowhisper]

A Hunting

Nights are the worst. Having to watch him sleep for an average of 7.34 hours per night is the most frustrating thing in the universe. He’s just so vulnerable when he sleeps. I have to fight the urge to sufacate him while he just lays there, unconsious for hours on end. But a deal is a deal. Quite frankly, I don’t know how he manages to sleep with all the tormenting. Every day, I try my darnest to fill his existence with freight and tourment, yet, he sleeps like a baby at night. I guess all the haters in high school were right; I do suck at everything. I mean, for crying out loud, I can’t even hunt a person right! All in all, being a melevalent spirit isn’t that bad. I never have to shave my legs or pluck my eyebrow. No more waiting in line or walking anywhere, you just flout. But he best part is not having to deal with people. People are just the worst. I was never really good at anythng when I was flesh and blood. Now I get to follow a jerk round and try to make his life miserable. I’m not really good at that either but I did get him to trip down a flight of stairs once. Still haven’t figured out how I did that, but boy was he pissed. Nights are the real strugel for me. Fighting the urge to kill him and figuring out ways to make the next day a fresh hell for him can take it’s tool. Even on a spirit hell bent on revenge. But like I sad, a deal is a deal. I am only allowed in the mortal world to torment, not kill. Satan made that very clear.

[noreasontowhisper]

No Reason to Whisper turned 4 today!

[noreasontowhisper]

Pudding

I had that dream again, the one where I’m being ripped apart. I feel as the claws sink into my chest, rupturing my lung. A decent chunk of my liver is sliced through like warm butter. My stomach burst, spilling warm gastric acid into the my abdomen. There’s a warm feeling in the center of my chest as blood pools where my lung should be. It’s not until I feel the muscles in my arm being torn apart at an awkward angle that I wake up.

My body almost instinctively sits me up right. The contents of my stomach travel up my esophagus, out of my mouth, and into my sheets. There really isn’t much to do but let it all come out. It’s not much, mostly stomach acid, an apple and part of a granola bar. I find it hard to keep anything down, even years after that night.

I try to think of something else. Charlie’s dog, my first kiss, or that time I passed out in the park. Anything to get away from the memory. Anything, just not that night.

Nothing sticks, so I end up getting up to change the sheets. Trying to go back to sleep would be futile, so I stay up going over patients’ files, reviewing previous sessions, looking for anyway to better help them.

When my eyes begin to sting, I know it’s time to officially start my day. I have to see thirty patients before lunch, and another seventy before the end of the day. Seeing at least one hundred patients a day is the only way I feel like I’m actually pulling my weight.

It’s only after my very light lunch that I remember my appointment with the mechanic. As soon as I remember, I regret having lunch. I’d had the usual handful of grapes and a class of apple juice, but Robert had insisted I have his pudding cup. I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed anything more in my entire life. It was, for lack of a better word, a mouthgasm. The experience as a whole would have been less embarrassing if Robert hadn’t stared at me the whole time I ate. The very last spoonful of pudding made my inner porn star moan accidentally slip. Everyone at the very full table laughed, but Robbert just looked away, face flushed.

Despite the small amount of food in my stomach, I felt like it was surely to come back up as walked into Billy’s office. I had to shake the embarrassment, but there was no doubt world of the incident had already reached Billy. As a man that didn’t hold anything back, he walked in to the little cramped office, laughing.

Balancing a tool box, a stack of papers, and the biggest mug I have ever seen, Billy walked into his office. “You sure know how to bust moral around this place, doc.” Like a magician, he managed to set everything down on his already cluttered desk, without dropping anything.

"I try." I shifted in my seat, embarrassed. Billy was a tall, slander man, with a bushy handlebar mustache. He reminded me of my great uncle Kevin, who was boxer. Billy wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone trow punches for a living. 

I rolled up my left sleeve, carefully. It’d been five years, but seeing the metallic sheen of my arm still took me off guard sometimes. It still amazed me how far prosthetics had come in just a few years. My prosthetic left arm started about six centimeters from my elbow. It was a perfect mirror image of my right arm.

Billy reached out and I placed out my hand on his. As he examined it, I was glad I couldn’t actually feel with the prosthetic. When I had gotten fitted for it, I was asked if I wanted mock flesh as the cover, but I declined. Even when top of the line, mock flesh looked and felt off. And beside, it would have to come off for routine check ups.

Handing my hand back, Billy reached for his tool box. I knew what was coming next and it made me stomach turn. On one hand, Bill held a small box with a cord coming off the top. At end of the cord was a long, smooth needle. It looked more like headphone jack than a needle.

"You want anything for this part, love?" He also knew what was coming next. "Pills, a hard drink, something to bit down on?"

"Just so it." I opened the panel on the prosthetic and tried to relax my hand. I took a deep breath and held it as Bill pushed the needle in.

A wave of pain shot through my arm and up my shoulder. Bill turned the needle 90 degrees and pushed a button on the little box. Sharp, hot pain seemed to pool where the prosthetic met my flesh. A quick pop later and my prosthetic was off.  

Instinctively, I leaned forward and just let my lunch come up. My theory on vomit is that anything good going down tastes equally bad coming up. I was use to the awful aftertaste, I just wished I had missed my shoes.

All Billy could do was laugh as he handed me a towel. I had no doubt this incident would be all over the camp by dinner time.

"Don’t worry, doc, I won’t tell anyone about this." He put on his glasses and sat down to inspect my prosthetic. "I wouldn't dream of hurting your chances with Robert."

[noreasontowhisper]

Coast

The aching in my knee woke me, the all too familiar pain leaking into my dream. It was more of a nightmare, the same one I’d had for months. There was only one thing I was afraid of now, and my unconscious mind wouldn’t let me forget it. Every time I closed my eyes, all I would see was her cold, dead eyes staring at me. 

It was late autumn, a light frost covered the grass, and there was an increasing chill in the wind. The sky was a shade darker with each passing day, like black mold growing in the sky. Already, the cold was noticeable during the day, and we had to bundle up during the night. I didn’t even want to think about what would happen if we got snow again. The last time the little white puffs came down here was a couple years go, but you just never knew anymore. The cold, wet precipitation would slows us down. 

Maxine turn over, her eyes barely opening. “Your knee again?” Not waiting for an answer, she rolled over on her stomach and reached for the icepack on the dashboard. 

I silently cursed myself for waking her, but she seemed to always knew when my knee was acting up. She had a sixth sense about it, she called it her superpower. More of a curse, if you ask me, it was a burden on her.

The pack touched my skin, the cold bit into my knee, sending a fresh wave of pain up my leg. The first couple second where the hardest, but Maxine knew how to comfort me. She let me squeeze her hand as hard as I could. I worried about hurting her but she assured me it didn’t bother her. 

The burden of taking care of me and dragging us both to the coast was great. She

might as well be carrying a ring to drop into an active volcano. Well, at least we didn’t have hordes of creates on our tails trying to stop us at every turn.

When the ice pack ran warm, she place it on the dashboard again, it would refreeze soon enough. After Maxine had cut me off the pain killers, the ice pack was the only thing that made the aching go away. I’m glad she cut me off, I was starting to feel depended on those pills. They took away more than the ache in my knee.

Maxine didn’t lay down for a while, she just sat up on the makeshift bed, hugging her knees. I wanted to ask her what was on her mind, but it went to dark places at night. There was something about the dark that made her face contort, like she was in physical pain. The pain wasn’t physical, I off all people knew what she was mulling over in her head and it was not something we could talk about so easily. I placed a hand on her cold, boney shoulder and tried to get her to lay down again.

“It will be winter soon. What if your knee gets worse with the constant cold?.” A tear rolled down her pale cheek. Knowing she worried as much as did about me made me feel guilty. She’d been taking care of me for months now. I should have been the one taking care of her, specially now. But we were both broken, in more ways then one. Physical, emotional, we both knew we wouldn’t last much longer with the stress.

I sat up too, ignoring the discomfort it brought my knee. “We’re close, we’ll be there before winter hits. I promise.” I was in no position to promise anything, but I wanted to be the one doing the comforting for once. The thought of salvation once we hit the coast was the only thing keeping us going. We had to trust her brother would be there.

Jasper, Maxine’s brother, had promised to be off the coast of Plymouth on the 17th of December. He was our way out of the country and into the safety of the U.S. Navy. Well, a mutinous U.S. Navy ship. Jasper, the captain of USS Nimitz, and a hand picked skeleton crew had committed mutiny. The USS Nimitz was sailing the word to pick up its loved ones. 

It had been Jasper who warned Maxine’s father about the upcoming events that changed the world. Her dad had built a military grade bunker under their home in Bristol in response to Jasper’s warning. We would be dead if Maxine’s dad hadn’t bee the over protective father he was. I just wish he had made it in time to be sharing the trip with us.

There was a lot of things I wished for. I wished my mom hadn’t been called into work that afternoon. I wish I had’t gotten into a fight with those jerk in that shop. I wish this whole thing wasn’t happening. But it was, and no amount of wishing would take it back.

Maxine turned towards me, hugging me. It was out of character for her. She’d always been the though girl growing up and I knew how hard it was for her to admit vulnerability. I guess that was one of the many reasons why I loved her so much, she just refused to admit defeat.

Hugging her back, tightly as I could, I kissed the top of her head. I feel asleep imagining what our life would have been if North Korea hadn’t grown a pair and nuked the United States, causing World War 3.

[noreasontowhisper]

Underground

I don’t often find myself alone with a woman. Definitely not on the tube at one in the morning.

She was already there when I got on and didn’t bother to look up from her book. A thick leather bound beauty with deep purple lettering rested on her hands, she seemed to be cradling it. She couldn’t be over twenty-five, but the care she took to turn the pages reminded me of my nan. A librarian for over forty years, my nan loved books and the people that wrote them. I tried to picture what my nan would have looked like at twenty-five but all I could see was the woman setting on the tube.

I took a seat, far enough away so as to not come off as a creep. Reminding myself not to be rude and stare, I tried to think about anything else. The weather, the crap coffee in the office, my current assignment. No mater how hard I tried to concentrate on something else, my mind kept wondering back to the young woman. Reluctantly, I took a peek at her. 

Anyone just taking a casual glance might think her plain. She had short, black hair pushed to her right. It looked messy, like she’d just gotten up. It had a shine to it, her hair, but a healthy one.Her cloths were simple, feminine, with a touch of class. A black skirt paired with a royal blue blouse and a dark gray blazer. She didn’t wear a coat, as if refusing to acknowledge that it was mid November in London. 

Shifting in her seat and crossing her legs, the end of her stocking peaking from under her skirt. Nude nylons with a black band at the top, they were held in place by a thin garter belt. The ends of which were covered with off white lace. She didn’t seem to notice and just kept reading, but I assume she must have felt a chill from the newly uncovered patch of skin. 

The focus in her eyes made me wonder what she reading. I couldn't make out what the purple letters in the spine spelled so I figured it was in a foreign language. That added to her overall appeal. I couldn’t help but wonder if that was what she did. Rode the tube at strange hours, hoping to attract a man’s interest only to drug him and take a few organs from him.

My job had made me paranoid, that had become apparent. The one thing that had really stuck with me from training were the words of a fellow colleague. “Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they’re not after you.” He was right. In the business of spying for a major world power, no one could be trusted, but that didn’t stop me from sleeping with her.

[noreasontowhisper]

Prove It

I got her note in the middle of a meeting. It wasn’t signed but I knew the handwriting well. Only when she wrote private letters to me did she dot her i’s with checkmarks, she was clever that way. The wording also tipped me off, short and to the point with just the right amount of coldness. We were having a lover’s spat, or at least that how I sugar coated the situation.

“Center of bush labyrinth, excuse yourself when most convenient.”

We might not be talking, but she knew were I would be. My father had been dragging me to royal meeting since we got back from the front to get me use to my future duties but I didn’t need to be there. I didn’t think I needed to be there, my place was with my wife, but my father insisted on getting me ready. One might think he was dying some time soon.

Waiting for an opening in the dull conversation about changes in the uniform color, I got up. “If you’ll excuse me, my wife needs me right away.” As soon as the words had left my mouth, I knew I would never live them down. It didn’t matter really, my reputation was sound and I was sure the likes of them would understand. They all had families and talked highly of them, after all.

I hear thing in the likes of whip sound and laughter, but I didn’t care. Even my father put forth a comment about how I let my wife wear the trousers in our marriage. He’s one to talk, he prohibited women from wearing trousers five years before I was born. And the sad bit was that no one really opposed him, it was already a well common practice in our society. I didn’t think much of it either, women looked wonderful in skirts and dresses. My opinions had changed since my marriage, and I was determined to change things once I came into power, but in quite some time from now.

The labyrinth was conveniently place on the other side of the estate. It was immense and seemingly endless. That was yet another thing I didn’t give much thought into before, but she loved the damn labyrinth. I would get lost chasing after her in the walls carved out of bush, but once I caught her, my reward was sweet. I guess I must have stopped thinking about the way and just let memory guide me to her because I suddenly found myself walking into the center of the bloody labyrinth.

All I heard before a seemingly huge fist came knocking into my face was someone call my name. I lost my footing from surprise and landed on my hands and knees. I was a little disoriented and couldn’t quite place the face I’d seen before the punch.

“Get up.” The voice was almost a whisper this time, cold and hard. I didn’t want to obey, but I knew I had to get up and face my attacker. I took my time getting up. Still being a little out of it, I hoped my delay would show defiance, but I mostly just needed time to pull myself together.

As soon as I got up to face my assailant, another fist came crashing into my jaw, knocking me down again. I’d gotten a good look at the individual throwing the punches and couldn’t stop myself from laughing. With each hardy laugh, a wave of pain shrouded my face. I could feel my left eye begging to swell, it would most likely be all sorts of colours in the morning. Hell, it would probably swell shut for all my luck.

“Let that serve you as a warning, Ezra, to never lie to your wife again.” Her breathing was quick and shallow, her cheeks flushed, and her knuckles bone white. I’d always known my wife would be a great queen some day, and she knew just how to prove it to me.

[noreasontowhisper]

Winter Holiday

There, behind the opened fridge door, she stood, ready to start her day.  She was wearing her favorite dress, a purple, short thing with white pock-a-dots. The color and texture complimented her pale complexion without making her look sickly. I once thought that was her whole appeal, the paleness of her skin made her mismatched eyes pop, like an old mustard stain on a white dress shirt.

That was the other thing about her. Her left eye was green while her right was blue. She’s been born like that, but everywhere she went, people would ask if she wore contacts or had an operation. She didn’t mind her eyes, she minded the people that told her about the, like she wasn’t already aware. “Your eyes are two different colors!” she would mock the people that would walk by and shout the obvious statement at her.

I honestly thought that was all to her; her eyes, her pale skin, and her short temper. I thought this for far too long. I know it’s stupid, to think so little of someone you spend the majority of your life with. That just the type of person I was, ignorant and self-centered. I take comfort in knowing almost all teens are just that, and that it was normal of not to really notice my sister.

Closing the door to the fridge, Isis held a small yogurt container and sat at the kitchen table. When she noticed me, me gave me one of the trademark crooked smiles. “Are you going to see me off at the station, or are you finally going to start packing?”

Isis was heading back to Oxford. I wouldn’t see her again until summer holiday, and who knows if she would bring a bloke back to meet her family. I knew she wasn’t that type of girl. She was focused on her studies, but I of all people knew all too well that men are manipulative pigs. Dean wouldn’t be happy about it either, but he wouldn’t be upset in the same way I would be. Yes, he was Isis’s big brother too, he loved and cared for her, but I felt something more.

Just so we’re clear on things, Dean and I are twins and Isis is our adopted sister. No real incest is taking place in this story, even if that’s what it looks like from the outside in. Isis and I are not blood related, but we did grow up together, so there’s that. I guess that’s not as bad as actual incest, but it still felt wrong. 

It didn’t feel wrong for long, thought. “Run away with me, Isis.”

[noreasontowhisper]

To Actually Care

Sitting at the edge of his bed, she slowly pulled up her stockings, thinking about what she was doing with her life. Final semester at community college, a shit job at ToysRUs, and still living with her parents, sometimes life overwhelmed her so much she thought about just leaving. All she really wanted was to pass her damn finals and get that scholarship. Maybe then she wouldn’t have to worry about tuition when she transferred, but David made that a bit difficult. He meant no harm, but she completely forgot about reality when he was around.

He walked into his room, a pack of Ho Hos on his left hand, wearing the pair of TARDIS blue boxers she’d given him for his birthday. David’s hair was a tangled mess, far longer than he had kept it in high school. Sitting on the bed next to her while opening the plastic package, he have her a hard look.

“Leaving so soon?” he failed to hide the hurt in his voice. He bit into the pastry, but didn’t chew it. It just sat in his mouth.

Olive guessed there was an upside to dating a stoner; he always had good food in his house. She took the Ho Ho that was still in the plastic and bit into it, savoring the outer chocolate shell, trying to remember the last time she had one of those little pastries. She honestly couldn’t remember, but perhaps it was before her brother moved away.

“I have to study for finals.” Olive finished the little roll of cake, trying not to feel guilty about leaving. She really did have to study, specially for her damn Statistics class.

“Statistics is a bitch.” David still had a mouth full of Ho Ho and his words come out a little slurred. The chocolate had melted and all that was left on his mouth was soggy cake. He swallowed and the Ho Ho was like water going down his throat, but it felt heavy in his stomach.

“Stop reading my mind, David, it creeps me out.” Olive turned to look at him, giving him the most sincere smile she’d given anyone in her life. It was truly remarkable how much he knew her.

Olive’s smile seemed to cheer David up. He’d always loved her smile, even back when they were just bodies in high school.

“Can I drive you home?” he shoved the rest of the Ho Ho in his mouth and swallowed without chewing.

Olive got up, putting on her sweater, “You’re going to choke some day if you keep doing that.”

“Will you cry at my funeral, Olive, if I choke on a Ho Ho?” David got up and started looking for his pants. Their whereabouts seemed to elude him.

Olive looked at him in amusement as he looked for his pants. They were on the bed, where he’d taken them off, but for some reason she thought might have to do with his gender, David could not find them.

Sitting on the bed again, she graved his pants and waved them in front of his face. “ I will cry at your funeral if you choke on a Ho Ho, David, for that is to actually care.”

[noreasontowhisper]

Runaway

Blood covered hands placed the oversized headphones above Amelia’s ears. She looked through her iPod for a something loud to drown out Oliver’s voice. It wasn’t his fault, Amelia knew that, but that wouldn’t stop her from taking her anger out on him. He was just doing his job, after all, no matter how useless it seemed to her.

Stumbling over a bloody album cover, she knew post hard-core would do the trick. If anything was going to drown out the world, it would be some poor sap screaming about how life would be better or how some bitch broke his heart. Amelia turned up the volume up as far it went soon as she hit play. High pitched screamed words filled her ears. Her hearing was shit already, and she figured a little more damage wouldn’t really be noticed. 

Satisfied with the sappy wailing, Amelia made her way from the lavish bed she slept in every night. Witchcraft: A Complete Guide was sitting on the night stand next to the bed. Despite her bloody hands, she picked it up and opened it to a random page. Chapter 15; Casting a Proper Curse. A tinny smile spread across Amelia’s face but she wouldn’t let it fully bloom. Not with the task at hand. Maybe of she pretended to read for long enough, Oliver would get the hint and leave.

“Come on, Amelia, isn’t that the opposite of what you’re trying to do?” Oliver could hear the music coming from Amelia’s headphones, but nonetheless, he didn’t raise his voice. “This is counterproductive and silly.” He picked a spot on Amelia’s bed that wasn’t covered in blood and sat. “You’re getting blood everywhere! At least spare the book by whipping your hands.” Oliver leaned in, hopping the movement would attract her attention. “Your arm must be killing you. Please give up this silly tantrum and rest.” He leaned in a little closer and took Amelia’s headphones out. He was determined to reason with her, make her see this was no way for her to act.

Amelia pushed herself towards Oliver, wrapping her bloody hands around his neck, sending them both towards the ground. She used all the strength left in her to dig her thumbs into his throat. Staring straight into his eyes, Amelia sat on Oliver’s chest and squeezed. Her stare was cold and unemotional. She wanted to know what it felt to take a life. Using the pain that shouted in her arm as motivation, she began to squeeze harder.

“Hit me!” she screamed. “Defend yourself!” her voice went up an octave. “I will kill you, you useless twat!” her eyes began to water.

Oliver’s eyes were bloodshot, watery, but they never left hers. He was determined to see this through.

“Do something! Do anything, damn it!” a single tear rolled down her face.

Even now, as the girl he’d vowed to protect with his life was now strangling it out of him, he didn’t move. Oliver intended to honor the vow he had made before King Robert, his court, and most importantly, to Amelia herself. If he was to die, he preferred it to be by his mistress’ own hand. Oliver knew Amelia’s temporary moment of insanity was just that, temporary. It was her way of dealing with the bullshit that was commonly known as her father’s reign.

He kept looking her right in the eyes and mouthed “It’s gonna be okay”.

Amelia let go of Oliver’s throat, got up, “You don’t know that.” She walked to her bed and sat. “You don’t know anything.”

Looking at the staples running down her forearm, she cursed herself. “How did you know I’d use the south gate?”

Oliver coughed, but didn’t try to move. “Give me a little credit, your highness. I’ve basically been your shadow for the last three years.” His voice was hoarse and every word out of his mouth felt like hot coals down his throat. “I was bound to pick a few things about you here and there.” Oliver shot a weak smile to Amelia.

She avoided Oliver’s gaze as she spoke. “I guess you’ll have to find a new job. I hear the stable needs a new hand.” She tried to be funny but it sounded force. Almost pained. All she could do to hold back more tears was focus on her arm. 

Amelia and her father had made a deal. It wasn’t much, and she would ultimately have to yield to his will, but it gave her some “freedom”. She could run her own life, even if it was just for three years. Once she turned eighteen, Amelia had to marry.

Running away went against she’d been brought up to believe. One must always honor their promises, her father had always told her. Honer was for knights, kings, but not for her. Not for a woman. King Robert needed to keep his promises, even if it meant selling his only daughter for political gain.

Oliver got up, slowly, and sat next to Amelia. He no longer cared if the spot he chose was bloody. “Get some rest, Amelia. You can clean up tomorrow.”

“He arrives tomorrow.” she hadn’t bothered to look at him. She climbed under the bloody covers and waited for Oliver to leave so she could at least cry comfortably.

Sir Oliver of His Majesty’s Royal Knights never left Amelia, Princess of The Empirical Constellation of Chase. She was forced to sob quietly until day break.

[noreasontowhisper]

Her Spirit

Artificial lights. Dimmed. A twin bed with silk sheets. All that’s missing is the beautiful damsel. Too bad she’s not use to the finer things in life. No, she sits in a corner of the small room, a pensive look on her face. She doesn’t look a day over 18 because she isn’t.

Dr. Quinn unlocks the door separating the ancient beauty and herself. The beautiful damsel rises to her feet, the motion smooth, as smooth as the silk sheets.

“It’s okay,” Dr. Quinn’s voice is small, “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The damsel smiles, “oh, really?”

“Okay, bad choice of words.” The doctor comes in the room and shots the door behind her. “Well, I could hurt you, if you decided to make a wrong move.”

“UV lightbulbs behind the phosphorescent ones. Impressive.” the damsel moves to the bed. “What really took me back were the sprinklers. Holly water. Next you’ll be pulling back your lab coat to reveal a wooden dagger attached to your hip.”

Dr. Hellen Quinn smirks. “Maybe we made a mistake. You’re way to retro to be the real thing.”

Hellen doesn’t have to blink before the other woman in the room appears in front of her. The doctor isn’t impressed with the woman’s ability. She just takes a step back and reaches for the syringe in her pocket and a pair of gloves.

“It wasn’t my intention to offend you, miss?” Hellen snaps the gloves on, looking at the woman right in the eyes.

“Names are powerful things, Dr. Quinn.” The women seems to materialize on the small bed. She runs her hands seductively over the sheets. “You can call me Bobbles for now.”

“Is that your stripper name?” Dr. Quinn doesn’t try to hold back a laugh. “Bobbles? Even a stripper wouldn’t sink that low!”

Both women shared a laugh. Bobbles was a ridiculous name.

“Your kind’s been out in the open, as much as they can be, for decades now. What are you so afraid of?” Hellen sits next to the woman and rolls up her sleeve.

The women wasn’t wearing much when she got picked up. A black t-shirt with a washed out print of Jack Skellington and some very old pair of tan capris pants. She wore not jewelry, asides from a neckless of two intertwined leaves. Her hair is short and a shade of black that could have a name like “Nightmare Sleek”. No make up, but her face is flawless. The perfect model of this century’s idea of beauty.

“Old habits die hard.” The women doesn’t even flinch as Dr. Quinn pierces her pale skins to draw a blood sample.

“This doesn’t have to be harder than it already is.” Hellen finished up and rolls down the woman’s sleeve again.

The ancient beauty looks straight ahead as she talks. Her worlds hard, her tone harder. “You mean it can get worse than the chemical scrub down.”

Wearing a white uniform that can only be described as having it’s roots in the janitorial design, the woman looks at the doctor. “I don’t say another word until I get my leaves back.”

“Good, I need to take this to the lab anyway.” Dr. Hellen Quinn gets up and walks towards the door. Before she slips out, she whispers ever so softly. “don’t go anywhere now.”

A sinister smile spreads on the woman’s face, knowing she has her job cut of for her. She might as well have fun if she was being processed.

“I couldn’t imagine you having my spirit in stock, could I?”

Hellen stopped short of closing the door. She picked her head back in, “I don’t know. Do you have expensive taste?”

The beautiful, ancient damsel leaned back on the bed, silk entangling in her fingers.

“Underage virgin. Redhead if it’s not too much to ask.”

[noreasontowhisper]

Remember

I don't remember meeting her. I remember her brilliant green eyes, her crooked smile. Her love of horror movies and roller-coasters. 

I know I lover her, more than rainy days and good books. I know she loved move, in her own way. I know we went on a first date, had a first kiss, and had sex for the first time, I just don't remember any of it.

I only have one memory of her. My favorite memory. Laying in the snow after making snow angles. Her red nose, her warm breath in the chilly January air. The way she looked at me, her eyes slightly covered by her bangs, which stuck out awkwardly from under her hat.

It took me years to remember the finer details of that afternoon after the pills. How her eyes got wide with surprise, and a bit of guilt, when she managed to hit me right in the face with a snowball. There's just so many pills that fill the space between that afternoon in January and right now.

I know I have to take them, but that doesn't mean I have to like them. Hate is strong word, but I hate the pills. Not only do they take my memories, burry them in the dark corners of my mind, but they make me feel less like me.

Even in the beginning, the pills covered me in a milky shroud. Covering everything, it makes it hard to think, feel, even breath. Everything is just a little harder when I'm on the pills. 

I'm all there, but the shroud makes it hard for me to show it. The pills keep my delusions away, but as a result, I'm trapped inside my self. No way of getting out, no way of letting the world around me know that I am here. Alive, whether my shell of a body shows it or not.

But in my mind, I try to remember the two great years I got with Gina before I was diagnosed with schizophrenia. Two years might not seem like a lot, but I know they're worth remembering. It would be easier to remember of Gina was alive.

[noreasontowhisper]

Sunrise

One thousand, two hundred and seventy five days after their departure, things started to change.

The headaches where the first things to show up. They were mild, and easily forgotten or overlooked at first. But they soon became blinding, head slitting aches that got worse as time progressed. It was like the pain caused by high pitched squeals. The slightest light would cause her horrifying pain. Blinding her for most of the day. Causing blood to throb in her head, like someone pounding at a heavy, wooden door with all their might. Eventually, she had to sleep during the day, under heavy covers, to avoid discomfort. She had to become nocturnal, like the beautiful owls her father had told her about in childhood.

On day one thousand, three hundred and five, while drinking water, something more horrifying happened. Drops of blood swirled in her glass. Blood filled her mouth, her jaw ached, and her teeth started to fall out. One by one, they seemed to just detach themselves from her gums. She could no longer eat. After the seventh tooth left her mouth, she wouldn't even open her mouth. All she could do was swallow her own blood. It was terribly hard at first, to swallow mouthfuls of blood mixed with saliva. And when a tooth come off, she had to swallow it as well. As repulsive as it was, the pain of moving her jaw was even more off-putting. The sharp, bitter pain would shot up from her jaw, into her face and down her throat. She imagined that was what drowning felt like.

Other things changed as well. Things that were unsettling in different ways.

Her breast began to swell. They were sore and would not fit in her old dresses. Her waist went in the other direction. It seemed to get smaller and smaller as the days passed by. She knew this was because she had stopped eating, but her stomach did not ask for food. It made no noise at all. And her hair did not dry out or became frail. As a matter of fact, it became thicker, darker, and it was as shinny as her mother's ever was. She grew pale, her skin seemed to take on a porcelain glow.

 On day one thousand, three hundred and sixty-five, new teeth started to come in. The new teeth were sharper than canines, and by this time, her gums had healed over. Her mouth began to fill with blood again, but this time, it was from teeth coming in, cutting open her gums, not falling out. And fortunately, this new pain was numbing, less off-putting than the last.

One hundred and thirty five days letter, her mouth stopped aching, her breast no longer felt swollen, and her stomach stopped shrinking, yet still didn't ask for food. She looked like a porcelain doll, now having to wear her mother's more elegant dresses.

On day one thousand, five hundred and three, as she waited patiently by the door for her parents, the moon light streaming through the window, playing with the dust in the house, she remembered something her mother had told her before she and her father departed. That day now seemed so long ago, she wondered how she could remembered anything at all.

"One last thing, Grace," her mother's sweet voice echoed in the empty house. "If we don't come back before sunrise tomorrow, don't wait for us. Just carry on."

No matter how hard she tried, how hard she concentrated on that day, she couldn't remember anything else about it. Just her mother, saying those unsettling things to her before walking through the threshold of their home, closing the door to never be seen again.

It took Grace one full cycle of the moon to even admit it to herself. She's lost count of the days since her mother and father left for the small town across the river to get supplies. 

She was sitting under the full moon when she finally said it out loud. "They are never coming back." A single tear streamed down her face and a long forgotten feeling arouse from the pit of her stomach. It started as a small seed, but it grew with a fevered hunger.

Hunger. That was the feeling growing inside Grace. Hunger, a hunger like she'd never known before. A hunger that made her break out in a cold sweat, made her heart pound in her chest. A hunger that fueled a fire in her veins.

It was then, under the full moon and the cool breeze, that Grace remembered her father's last words to her. She heard his cold, hard voice in her head. But there was something more to his voice. A warm smile after his words.

"Drown it in blood, Grace, but never, never, cross the river to feed"