Challenge #66

The challenge for this week is to write a story based off of the letter T. You may integrate tons of words with  this letter into your story, or focus your story on a word that starts with this letter.

If you would like to join us for the challenge by submitting your own short stories, poems, or art, please do! Just e-mail us at inkedfeathersfink@gmail.com so that we may showcase your work for Fan Friday!

See you all on Wednesday!

Soleness

             The echo from the last cry of the second to last man on Earth left me alive. And it wasn’t just from the adrenaline of having killed him myself after watching him feed off of my daughter. I hadn’t been strong enough to protect her from the beast a man can become, but I avenged her. She didn’t live long enough to find a man like me. She lived long enough to see beasts and monsters. She was the last human female, and I was the last human male. Everyone else might call themselves human, but they are beasts.

            My hands, covered with his slimy brains and thick blood, trembled as I realized I was all that was left. I was the last man on this hunk of rock, surrounded by beasts and monsters, left to live and die any way I saw fit.

            Raising myself onto my feet, I looked at the beast’s body. Blood crusted brown fur covered the human-like body, along with torn and holy clothes that must have been decades old. It’s sandals were worn down and had previously been sneakers, bits of leather and bark held them together and tied them to his feet. His skin was black, and that wasn’t because of his natural skin tone. That was the dried blood, bile, mud, feces, and whatever else their kind didn’t wash off from years of not bathing. They preferred to drink water than bathe in it, just like they preferred to take lives than raise them.

            Leaving the corpse of his daughter, or what was left of it, in the cave that they had used for shelter, leaving the beast behind, leaving everything behind, he found himself looking into the silent night. Its stars were multiple and glamorous, like his hopes for his daughter. The night was silent, like his daughter is now. The night was dark, like his heart.

            He let out a howl, one that sounded ferocious and agonizing. The sound a gladiator would make when thrusting his sword into a fellow gladiator in one last move before death would claim him. Like a father who lost his daughter right in front of him. Like a wounded wolf before he fell to his demise. It was long, and low, and it had been his last bit of humanity that he had inside of him. He was alone, he was the last, he was the sole survivor of a world gone mad.

Stars

Some say that the sky was born in a storm of stars. Some say the stars are something left behind from the gods that once ruled. Some even say that the stars are a song that the sky sung long ago and it was so beautiful that it still exists every time the wind blows. I have never seen the sky or the stars, but I’m sure they are as beautiful as a piano playing in a silent room.
                My name is Sadie and I live in a small house in San Francisco, the great city of hustle and bustle as some might call it. I’ve been blind since the day I was born and even though the stars have been described to me a thousand times I still cannot picture them. My imagination is pure, unfiltered and completely black and white. I have no concept of color because no one can describe color for me. But I don’t really care about color, or seeing the streets of San Francisco rather than hearing them. All I really wanna do is lay on the grass and look up at the stars. I want to feel what it’s like to look up at the vast sky and know that we are just a small piece of the universe. I’m twenty-two years old and I’m tired of being blind, and I’ve made it my mission to see the stars. I’ve told people this plan and I can hear it in their voices that they think I’m crazy, but they only give me sympathy. What else can they do? They have never been through what I’m going through so all they can do is pity me. My name is Sadie and I’m going to see the stars someday.

I’m sitting at home reading a book by brail, it’s about Greek gods. The smell of my mint tea floats in the air around me and fills my lungs with peacefulness. Today is my birthday and every year I’ve made the same wish when I blow out my candles. “I wish I could see, and the first thing I wanna see is the stars above.” I say this mantra every single time and twenty-two years have gone by and nothing has changed. But something has changed in me this year, a determination I’ve never felt before. I’ve come to the realization that if my wish doesn’t come true this year, that I give up. That’s why my determination is so strong. I hear my roomate’s keys in the door and I close my book, waiting for her to come into the room. The door opens and closes and I can hear her clicking the lock into place.
“Sadie?” She calls my  name. “In here!” I reply. Her footsteps creak on the hardwood floors as she walks into the living room.
“How was your day?” I ask as I cautiously reach out my hand toward my tea cup.
“It was…interesting.” Our old couch creaks as she sits down.
“What happened?” I ask taking a sip of tea.
“Well, we have a new doctor and he’s like super weird. Everyone has started calling him Strange Sam.” She says.
“Strange Sam? That’s an interesting nickname.” I laugh.
“Yeah, but it really fits him. Okay listen to this. So I was talking to Macy the other day and she was telling me a little about him. Apparently this is his tenth job and I guess he’s moved around a lot. Macy also told me that the reason he’s had ten jobs at different hospitals is because he always quits after something mysterious happens.” I’m so intrigued that I scoot closer in my chair towards the couch.
“Go on.” I say.
“So I asked Macy what kind of ‘mysterious things’ happened. Apparently all the patients that he’s treated have made full recoveries of their ailments and soon after that he quits the job. I didn’t believe her at first and then she showed me all these newspaper articles of people who had stage four cancer being completely healed, another story talked about a disabled man being able to walk again. I couldn’t believe it! So everyone thinks he’s some kind of witch doctor. Isn’t that crazy?” She says. Something on my face must change because she stands up and comes closer to me. “No, Sadie listen it’s probably just a hoax okay?” She says, but I get up from my chair and grab my cane. “Sadie what okay, shit I shouldn’t have said anything. Sadie wait!” I start walking toward the door and I can hear her behind me.
“Izzy, what if it’s true!! Don’t you get it? Screw birthday wishes, what if he heals me and I can finally see the stars.” I tell her. Her hand is on my shoulder now. “Sadie, what if nothing happens and you get yourself worked up for nothing? You can’t keep doing this to yourself.” She says. But I can’t let it go, Strange Sam is my only hope.
“Izzy, please just introduce me to him. I have to at least try. Please Izzy, it’s my birthday!!” I know it’s low using my birthday as a way to get her to do something, but I have to do this. “Fine!” She sighs.
“But you owe me one for going all the way back to freaking work!”

                I follow closely behind Izzy at the hospital. The antiseptic smell of the hospital makes me want to gag. “Okay listen I’m just going to pretend I left something in the office, and then hopefully you’ll get to meet him. But I don’t know what you expect Sadie, it’s not like he’s going to touch your eyes and just heal you or something.” She says. I don’t say anything, just keep walking beside her as I tap my cane in front of me.
“Okay we’re here.” She whispers. “Oh hey Sam, uh I think I left some papers in here, but I’m not sure.” She says. I stand there awkwardly in silence.
“Oh and this is my roommate by the way, Sadie this is Sam. Sam this is Sadie.” She says. I reach out my hand, hoping that it’s close to where he’s sitting. Suddenly I feel a warm hand grip mine.
“Nice to me you Sadie.” He says. His voice is deep and beautiful and I can only imagine what he looks like. “Nice to meet you too.” I say letting go of his hand. I laugh at myself thinking that just touching him would help my sight come back. The sound of papers fluttering around the room as I assume Izzy is pretending to look for papers. “Well I must have left them in the car.” Izzy says. “Well bye Sam I’ll see you tomorrow!” She says, grabbing my arm and pulling me along. “It was nice meeting you!” He calls after us. “What the hell Izzy?!” I whisper at her.
“What?” She asks.
“You didn’t even give us a chance to talk!!” I say. “Also you didn’t mention that he was attractive.” I say.
“What-wait..How’d you know he was attractive? You don’t even know what attractive is..”
“I base attractiveness on people’s voices, and also he had really smooth hands and he smelled really good!” I say.
“Okay listen he was looking at you weird okay?” She says.
“Weird how?” I ask.
“Like….nevermind. Listen maybe you’ll get to talk to him again-“
“SADIE!” I hear Sam yell running up behind us.
I turn around and my cane hits him in the leg. “oh sorry Sam.” I say.
“It’s okay, listen my number is 425-0188. Give me a call sometime okay?” He says. “425-0188.”
He barely taps my shoulder and then he his foot steps leaving.
“….yeah he was looking at you like you were his soulmate..” Izzy says and I slap her arm.
“Okay I deserve that, but I just thought it would be weird if you dated the dude who you think is going to heal you!!!” I slap her arm again.
“Okay..okay..I thought it would be weird if you dated Strange Sam. I don’t trust that guy.” She says.
“You just don’t trust him because you don’t even know him!” I say and I walk off down the hallway.

                Sam and I have become really close, we talk on the phone almost every day and sometimes he’ll visit me for lunch. I’ve told him practically everything about myself and him the same, but I haven’t even brought up the ‘witch doctor thing’. I’m afraid that if I bring it up, it will make things weird between us. I realize that I’m really starting to like Sam, but at the same time I really want to know if he can heal me.
We meet up for dinner  at a café that’s close to my house so I don’t have to travel far by myself. I don’t like to walk at night because it’s even harder to get my bearings.
He gives me a little hug and then helps me find my seat. We talk for a while and then suddenly he says something. “Sadie, I never got to give you your Birthday present.” He says.
“Sam, you don’t even have to worry about it. That was like a month ago, it’s no big deal.” I say, but then he presses his lips to mine. It feels like my heart stops beating. His lips tingle against mine and I close my eyes anyway because I know that’s what you do when you kiss. His hand cups my cheek and the kissing becomes more intense and then suddenly it’s over. When I open my eyes I see his face.
I blink rapidly over and over again, but I can see him in front of me. I can see everything. My mouth drops open as I stare at him and he smiles at me. “Don’t panic okay? I just thought you of all people deserved to see the world. You’re beautiful Sadie.” He tells me. I look up at the sky and I see bright beautiful dots shining up above. It’s more than I ever dreamed it would be. “Thank you.” I say my eyes tearing up. “Izzy told me how badly you wanted to see the stars, and once I heard that my decision was made.” He says. I look at him, his face is so much more amazing that Imagined it to be. His eyes are a bright blue and I’m struck with the realization that his eyes are more beautiful than the stars will ever be.

               

Challenge #65

The challenge for this week is to write a story based off of the letter S. You may integrate tons of words with  this letter into your story, or focus your story on a word that starts with this letter.

If you would like to join us for the challenge by submitting your own short stories, poems, or art, please do! Just e-mail us at inkedfeathersfink@gmail.com so that we may showcase your work for Fan Friday!

See you all on Wednesday!

Remember

                Her hair was the color of rust, a deep dark orange that rippled down her back. A constellation of freckles dotted her face and shoulders. Her name was Rose, but I liked to call her Ro. She would laugh at me saying that Rose was short enough, no need to shorten it more. All I can remember is the memories we shared and that beautiful face. You see, Rose has been missing for four years now. She disappeared before our high school graduation. Most people think she was kidnapped or had run away. Some even think she was abducted by aliens. That last one is pretty farfetched, but we come from a very small and weird town. Which is why I know Ro ran away, it was too small for her and her free spirit. She would always talk about leaving here and finding an adventure somewhere. Like the wind, Ro wanted to go wherever she wanted and never wanted to be held down. I myself was ready to get out of the small town life and to get away from the memory of Ro. As much as I wanted to see her again, she was like a ghost now. I had other things in my life that I had to think of. I moved to Seattle to become a Journalist.
               

The day I saw Ro standing across the street was the day my life changed in unexpected ways.
She still had her long hair, but it was brighter now almost a strawberry blonde. She was still as beautiful as the last time I had seen her.  I stared at her dumbstruck; I even rubbed my eyes thinking I was seeing things. But there she was, Rose Virginia Harris. She was waiting for the bus, her eyes scanning up and down the street. “ROSE!” I yelled out to her. But she kept looking down the street. “ROSE!” I yelled again, louder this time. Still she couldn’t hear me. “RO BOAT!” I yelled the nickname I used to call her. Her head snapped forward, her eyes locking with mine. I smiled and wanted to so badly to just run across the street and embrace her. But she just stared at me confused. Before I could decide if I wanted to risk my life or not the bus came. She got on it without even looking twice at me. It made me angry and sad and happy all at the same time to know that she was alive and okay. But the odds of running into her made me crazy. I had to find her again and I had to ask her why she left, and why she didn’t take me with her.

                Two days had passed since I’d seen Rose across the street from me. In those two days I had used all the skills I had a journalist to find her. I thought it was going to be easy since I knew she was in the same city as me, but it was the exact opposite. Every lead I had fell through, and the more I tried to figure out about Rose Harris, the less and less I really knew. I had called all my connections asking them if they knew someone by her name or if they knew someone by her description. Nothing came up and it seemed as if she was indeed a ghost that I had conjured up. It was becoming frustrating, and I was about to give up until I went to my favorite bookshop. It was a small little place that you almost wouldn’t be able to find if it was for the simple sign that said ‘BOOKS’ hanging above it. I would go their whenever I was feeling stressed and try to find another copy of Catcher in the Rye. It was my favorite book and I liked to collect old copies of it. One of the characters from the book, Jane Gallagher, kind of reminded me of Ro.   
                I walked in taking a deep breath and inhaling the beautiful scent of musty old books. “Good morning Mike, any copies come in yet?” Mike looked up from his newspaper. “Nope not yet. Hey good article in here by the way.” He complimented me. “Pfft that little old thing? It’s not even good enough to be in there.” I said. I was always my own critic. “Well I’m going to look around anyway.” I said and walked to the back of the store. I always started in the classics section before making a complete circle in the store. That’s when I saw her. Her nose was stuck in another favorite book of mine, To Kill a Mocking Bird. It felt like a couldn’t breathe. I was so close to her, but my feet wouldn’t take me any farther. I stood there awkwardly, hoping that at some point she would look up. But she kept on reading, hooked into the story. “Uh..Hi.” I stammered. She looked up then. “Hi.” She said and then looked back down to her book. “Rose..” I said. She looked up again at me. “Yes? You look kind of familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?” She asked. Before I could answer she spoke again. “Wait! You’re the one who yelled at me from across the street.” She said standing up. “You…you called me something.” She said. She stepped closer to me and once again I was mesmerized by all the freckles that dotted her face.
“Ro, it’s me. You don’t recognize me?” I asked. She squinted her eyes as if it would help her remember.
“Mmmm…sorry I don’t.” Was all she said. It was like a punch to the gut, I felt like I had to throw up.
“It’s me..Zachary.” I told her. Not even a hint of recognition flashed across her face. She was either lying, or had no idea who I was.
“You don’t remember me? How could you not remember me? We…we grew up together. I was your best friend.” I said tears starting to form in my eyes. I turned away trying to get my composure together. I never cry, not in front of anyone or by myself. Rose looked down sadness crossing her face.
“I’m sorry, but I don’t have any memory of when I was younger. I have a brain tumor and it’s slowly taking away any memory I have left. I really wish I could remember who you are, but I just can’t.” She said. The words brain tumor rang in my ears.
“Brain Tumor? Oh Ro…I can’t believe it. I’m so sorry.” I said.
“Why do you keep calling me that?” She asked.
“What? Calling you Ro? It’s what I used to call you when we were kids.”
She gave a little laugh before saying, “Well isn’t Rose short enough already?”
And just like that, it was like old times again. We talked and talked and I tried to fill her in on lost memories. I tried to ask her about her disappearance, but even that is a mystery to her. She tells me that the doctors aren’t sure yet if the tumor is life threatening, but they are working on trying to get rid of it. I stare at that beautiful face and make sure that I remember it forever, hoping that I will be able to see it in the future times to come. 

Reteller

            The long, gangly, grey haired and wrinkled, parchment colored old man sat crookedly on the slab of alabaster stone in front of the clan’s fire. His eyes were clouded over, their grass like hue lost to the world for more years than there are fingers and toes. His clothes, sand colored rags, hung on him like drying clothes on a branch. He was Riok, the historian. He was about to impart a story told to him by the previous historian, and so on and so forth for generations, all the way back to the times of glass towers and iron beasts.

            “The history of our people,” he began, “starts and ends with the sun, the glorious halo above us that heats our backs as we work and warms our faces in winter. It was said that we worshipped it, and spilled blood on alters to appease it. Harvests were plenty, the earth was full of emeralds and golds and sapphires. And then a new messiah came, and when we worshipped Him, blood was spilled in wars and feuds to make others believe in him. The earth continued to go on in its own little peace as rubies were added to its hoard. And then? And then we stopped believing.

            We started to think of ourselves as gods, and the earth became black. As black as this rock I sit on. I was told, by my predecessor, that the world we live in now, is because we defiled the earth and we mined all the jewels of life out of her. We covered it in alabaster and rubies. We took her sapphires and emeralds and golds and silvers. We took and took and took until she caved in on herself and our creations turned on us.

            Our machines, our chemicals, our creations that we gods had built in defiance of Him poisoned us as the earth caved in and swallowed us whole.”

            Riok looked into the eyes of his successor, holding him by the shoulder so he knew he was looking into the child’s eyes. They sat in their cavern, a caved in and sculpted place that their clan had made centuries ago.

            “When you leave this place. You will see the things that I have spoken of. You will smell it. You will understand everything I have taught you once you go above. And when you come back, you will have your own history to account for. A history to retell many times to the clan as it thrives, until you are as old as I am.”

            The boy nodded, making sure Riok felt his head move in the gesture of understanding, and took the bundles of histories from the old man’s side. He would have to research them, remember them, and add his own accounts someday. And when he came back from the above world, he would be a man, and he would understand that the earth was not to be trifled with. It would not be a mistake to be repeatedly throughout the ages.

Challenge #64

The challenge for this week is to write a story based off of the letter R. You may integrate tons of words with  this letter into your story, or focus your story on a word that starts with this letter.

If you would like to join us for the challenge by submitting your own short stories, poems, or art, please do! Just e-mail us at inkedfeathersfink@gmail.com so that we may showcase your work for Fan Friday!

See you all on Wednesday!

Questionist

            Quinn looked up at the blue sky in wonder. He focused on the hue and wondered aloud at it. How much there was of it and how it was so high up. He knew it was very high because he could not touch it. Nor could his mother, father, the birds, the trees, or the buildings, it was just so high up above the world. It was not part of the world, just like the clouds that swept across the sky like dust motes in the air.

            “Why is the sky blue?” He questioned his mother, who was pushing the stroller lazily along the sidewalk home.

            “Hm?” His mother responded, having spaced out on what she should do when she got home first. Should she make dinner, or should she feed the dog? Should she wash the dishes? Should she put Quinn in the tub for a bath?

            “The sky! Why is it blue?” Quinn peeked over the right of his stroller, than to his left to try and catch his mother’s eye to make sure she was listening.

            “Oh, I don’t know. It just is.” She didn’t know the answer and she was too tired to make one up. She was now wondering which would be the quickest meal to make because she was too tired to actually make something from scratch.

            “Why is the sky so high?”

            “It just is.”

            “Are the clouds part of the sky?”

            “Yup.”

            “Why aren’t they blue?”

            “Because they’re white.”

            “They’re not white when the sun goes down, or up. Why is that?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Can you live in the sky?”

            “Nope.”

            “Oh.”

            Quinn sat back in his stroller and frowned at his chubby little fingers. He would have liked to live in the sky. He would have liked to find the answers to his questions.

            “Does daddy know why the sky is blue?”

            “Maybe. You should ask him when he comes home tonight.”

            “Okay. What’s for dinner?”

            “How about Macaroni?”

Quiet

The world was quiet around her as Charlotte drew her last breath. She gazed up at her killer, trying to figure out who he was and why he would do this. He dropped her body to the cold ground and took off into the night. Charlotte's lifeless eyes stared up at the clouds above. As the blood seeped from her fatal wound, snow began to fall. The world was still, as quiet as ever as the snow around Charlotte turned red.

Quinn sat up in bed in a pure state of panic. The dream she had just had seemed to real not to be true. She sprang from her bed, hitting her knee on her nightstand. The house was silent as she ran down the hall to her parent's bedroom. "MOM!" She screamed. Her mother's eyes flung open, while her father bolted up in bed. "What's wrong?" Her father asked. Quinn began to cry, the dream still fresh in her mind. "My..My dream." She cried. Her mother got out of bed and hugged her. "Another bad dream?" She asked. Quinn nodded as her mother comforted her. "It wasn't just a dream, it happened. I could feel it. It happened." Quinn sobbed into her mother's shoulder. "No, honey it was just a dream okay? You're gonna be okay. I'm here." Her mother soothed her. But Quinn could still feel a heavy weight on her chest, as if a knife was plunged deep in her heart.    
                The next morning Quinn sat at the table eating her breakfast as her father watched the morning news. The weather report had just finished and it looked like the city would be getting two more inches of snow that night. Quinn took a bite of her bacon when the news of a body had been found in the snow that morning. It was the body of twenty-three year old Charlotte Copeland. The reporter didn't go into much detail, but Quinn almost choked on her bacon. Her heart began to beat in a frenzy as they showed a picture of Charlotte and it matched the same face she had seen in her dream. She knocked over her juice as she fled from the table. "Quinn? Quinn what's wrong honey?!" Her mother asked as she ran after her. But Quinn kept quiet, not saying a thing. As young as she was, Quinn was smart and she knew if she said something her parent's wouldn't believe her.

                Quinn had kept her secret ever since. She was sixteen now and she had premonitions almost every month. Things she wished she could stop before they happened, but she couldn’t tell anyone. They would just think she was crazy. She let everyone believe she was the quiet sad girl who sat in the corner. Then one night she had a dream. A tall boy with dark brown hair and brown eyes was standing near the subway tracks. He was looking down at the ground. He took a deep breath as the train came closer and closer. Finally he jumped.
                Quinn woke up screaming. Her parents were used to her “night terrors” by now, but they had never heard her scream so loud before. “Honey are you okay?” Her mother had run into her room.
Quinn was crying so hard her body was trembling. “Oh my god Quinn, honey are you alright?” Her mother had never seen her in so much shock before.
“He just jumped, he just jumped.” She kept saying. Her mother hugged her and tried to calm her down.

“I have to stop him.” Quinn said suddenly. “Stop who sweetie?” Her mother asked. Quinn jumped from her bed and began changing. “Quinn what are you doing it’s the middle of the night.”
But Quinn didn’t listen. She put her pants and shoes on and ran past her mother. Her mother tried to chase after her, but Quinn was too fast. She grabbed her dad’s car keys from the counter and her jacket and ran out the door.
                As she drove she tried to remember her vision and which subway station it was. She parked her dad’s car at the meter and ran down to the subway station hoping it was the one she was looking for. All these years she had kept quiet, doing nothing, but something inside her told her she needed to save this boy. She didn’t know why he was so special, all she knew was she had to save him. She almost fell jumping from the last step. Turning around the corner her eyes scanned the crowd looking for him. But he was nowhere to be seen. She looked back and forth remembering his dark brown hair, and then she remembered that he was tall. Within minutes she spotted him walking toward the subway platform. Quinn ran as fast as she could toward him and before he even stepped closer to the edge she tackled him to the ground. The collision was painful, but Quinn was happy she had saved him. “What the hell?” He asked, pushing her off him.
“You can’t do it, I had to stop you.” Quinn was practically out of breath. She was hunched over, her nightgown was halfway tucked into her pants and her hair was a mess. “What..what are you talking about?” The boy asked, but Quinn could see the guilt in his face. “Please, you don’t have to do it okay? I had to save you. You were the first one, I had to save you.” Quinn tried to plead with him. The boy walked over to her, and stared into her eyes. “You’re different.” He said. “You’re different like me. You can see things before they happened.” Quinn almost fainted hearing him say this. He knew, she didn’t know how but he knew. “Yes, I know because I’m different too. I can sometimes hear people’s thoughts. It was getting to be too much, I was…I was going to jump. But you saved me.” He hugged her. Quinn’s emotions went wild. She was confused and happy, but she hugged him back. This random stranger she had saved was just like her, and finally she didn’t feel so alone anymore. 

Challenge #63

The challenge for this week is to write a story based off of the letter Q. You may integrate tons of words with  this letter into your story, or focus your story on a word that starts with this letter.

If you would like to join us for the challenge by submitting your own short stories, poems, or art, please do! Just e-mail us at inkedfeathersfink@gmail.com so that we may showcase your work for Fan Friday!

See you all on Wednesday!

Presbyter

            The votes were placed in a glass bowl in the center of the room. The last remaining elders in the campaign were surrounding it, waiting for their fate to be called out. One of them would be the leader, the teacher, the father or mother of the nation. One of them, would decide the fate of the world.

            Kellog was forty-seven. Five feet and eight inches, thick brown hair that was speckled near the ears with grey, he was not an imposing man at a glance. But, his eyes were failing him, and with that, he could see the truth in a man’s heart. He could see the lies they buried deep inside of themselves and, if he won, he would bring The Public to its knees with mandatory home screenings. Privacy would be taken away and The Courts would be obsolete under his undying gaze.

            Miller was fifty. She had long blonde hair worn down her back in a French braid, the white making it seem like sunlight. She looked like she was in her thirties, she aged well, and she was in perfect health. If chosen, the people of The Public would see a decrease in the amounts of deaths. Diseases would cure themselves at her touch, life expectancy would increase, death would take a vacation as long as she lived.

            Essex was seventy-three. He looked as frail as stripped bark. He looked withered and like a corpse. He barely ate anything, living with the idea that the old should wither away and the young should grow to become ripe and pleasant for the world’s betterment. If chosen, The Public would see the elderly wither. From ages forty-five and up, they would decay no matter what they tried to do to expand their life. The young would grow quickly and become strong, intelligent, and would make the world a better place. Maybe they would no longer need an elder to teach them the meaning of life.

            Last was Ai. Ai was fifty-four. She was a ripe old woman, round, swollen with pride and life just waiting to be released. She was energetic, limber, and spry. Even though she was round, she could move as fast as a dog chasing a bone. If chosen, The Public would find harvests always fruitful, everyone would participate in exercise routines every day, and power would be fueled by the environment, and not by manmade chemicals.

            The votes were in. The votes were counted. And then . . . The Public rebelled.

Prisoner

They found her, this girl who was supposed to be dangerous. She’s their prisoner now, or should I say ours? After all I am a part of this whether I like it or not. Today is my turn to feed her. The tray has scarce amounts of food on it. There was two pieces of bread, one piece of moldy looking cheese, and water. I walk into the room toward the thick iron doors that separate us. The small glass window lets me glance in. Her head is shaved so short and when she turns around I can see her eyes. When you see those eyes you can’t help but stare. Deep purple pits that see like whole galaxies exist in each pupil. She holds my stare for a long time before finally turning around and crawling to the corner of the room. She was like an animal trapped in a cage. I sigh wishing she wasn’t here, wishing I wasn’t here in this situation.
“Hey I brought you food.” I say into the tiny slot pushing in the tray. She doesn’t turn around, but just sits there in silence staring at the white walls.
“Please, you have to eat.” I say. She keeps staring at that wall in silence. I stand there watching her through the tiny window, thinking she’ll never move from that spot. But she finally turns around and stands up. She walks over to the door and I back up out of instinct. “You fear me.” She says with a thick accent, as if she’s still learning the English language. I take a deep breath before answering.
“I don’t know what I think of you…” She looks down at the tray. “Why are you doing this?” She asks.
My stomach goes tight hearing this. I want to say that it isn’t me, that it’s my family who did this. But I’m a part of this mess, and I can’t deny that. “I’m sorry.” Is all I can say even though I know it doesn’t help. She grabs the tray and sits on the floor slowly beginning to eat. I nod, glad that she finally took the food.
                I’m about to leave when she whispers something. I turn back around to face the iron door.
“What did you say?” I ask. She looks up at me and again I’m sucked into those deep purple eyes.
“You should fear me.” She says before going back to her meal. I quickly turn away and walk out of the holding area.


Three days later and it’s my turn again. I go down to the holding cell with the same food we’ve been feeding her since we captured her. I half expect her to be staring at the walls again, but when I get down to the cell she is at the door. Her purple eyes are practically glowing against the tiny glass window.
“I knew you’d be coming today.” She says. I clench my jaw and move slowly toward the door.
“Uh..here’s your food.” I say and slide it through. Her eyes travel down to look at the food and then back up to stare at me. I try to anywhere but her eyes, but I’m always drawn back.
“What is your name?” She asks me. I swallow and clear my throat.
“Noah.” I say hoping she didn’t hear the fear in my voice. Then it dawns on me that I don’t even know her name. We just call her the prisoner. “What’s your name?” I ask her.
She seems surprised, her eyes softening.
“I call myself Phoenix.” She says. I can’t help but look at Phoenix and see something beautiful inside her.
“Phoenix…they won’t tell me, but I have to know.” I start. “Are you human?” I ask.
She smiles at me and I can see that above her regular teeth are pointed fangs tucked away in her gums.
“What do you think Noah?” She asks me.
I knew the answer all along, but it was weird to hear the real truth and also to see it.
“You’re one of them aren’t you?” I ask her. She turns away from me and walks over to the tiny cot that serves as a bed. She sits down on it, staring again at the white walls.
I sigh before leaving her again.


Five days go by before it’s my turn to feed her again. My family is suspicious of me now, saying I spend too much time down there. But I have to know more about her. When I enter the holding cell I look through the tiny glass window and spot Phoenix in the corner of the cell, her skin is becoming more and more pale. “Phoenix.” I say. She looks up at me, and her eyes are rimmed with red as if she’s been crying. I didn’t even know her kind could cry. “I brought your food.” I say.
She slowly gets up as if it pains her to do so. She comes over to the door, but doesn’t take the food. Up close I can see her veins through her skin. The realization of what’s happening hits me hard.
“You’re dying in here aren’t you?” Another useless question that I can’t help but ask. I know the truth, I can see it on her pale face. “Noah..Please.” Is all she says before finally collapsing to the ground. I pound on the iron door. “PHOENIX?!” I yell. She doesn’t move. I turn and run up the stairs to the main building.
“The prisoner has collapsed!!!!” I say. My older brother is there at the monitor. He just stares at me like I’m stupid. “Yes Noah, we know.” Is all he says. “But, but we have to help her right?” I ask. My brother looks at me like I’m crazy. “Noah, we’ve been putting led her food this whole time. Her people never answered to our ransom so Mother and Father decided it was time to end her.” I just stare at him in shock. “But..she was our prisoner…she wasn’t supposed to die.” I say.
“They are all meant to die Brother. They don’t belong on this earth. Especially her, do you even know who she was?” My brother asks me. “Phoenix, that was her name.” I tell him. He laughs at me.
“Yes, Phoenix which if you shorten that to Nix translates to Princess in their language. She was Princess Lulana.” My stomach drops and I feel like my knees my buckle underneath me. “P-Princess Lulana?! The mass murderer?” I ask. My brother just stares at me. “Why do you think she was our prisoner? She was a danger to all Earthens, and even her own kind. She had to be stopped.” My brother says before turning back to the monitors. I know that I should feel happy that she is dead, that I should rejoice in the fact that we’ll be safe from her harm. But all I can think about is those beautiful haunting purple eyes. 

Challenge #62

The challenge for this week is to write a story based off of the letter P. You may integrate tons of words with  this letter into your story, or focus your story on a word that starts with this letter.

If you would like to join us for the challenge by submitting your own short stories, poems, or art, please do! Just e-mail us at inkedfeathersfink@gmail.com so that we may showcase your work for Fan Friday!

See you all on Wednesday!