Challenge #80

Hi! Hello!

The challenge for this week is to write a story that takes place after moving into a new home!

If you would like to write a story for Fan Friday, or share something artsy with us, please do! Just e-mail us at inkedfeathersfink@gmail.com!

Two Week Hiatus?

Hello all!

As you may have noticed, this week did not get an update. Unfortunately, that's because we suck at life. Anyways, the reason we did not post anything this week is because one of us is on vacation and the other had no internet for a little while. The one who is on vacation will be on vacation for next week as well, so we will not have a challenge next week either.

Hopefully we will be back and typing away soon!

Never Home Again

            Zane held his gun close. Four bullets left, and he was nowhere near home. The Greybacks were crawling all over the place, they had won. At least that’s what the word around the Redbelts hold. The Blue Kings, the Yellowbreasts, and the Greenheels had all been taken down. The Redbelts and Brownsleeves were all that were left to hold the land against the Greybacks.

            In seven hundred years, the Greybacks had never been able to take The Crossing at Meraksh. That was the only thing keeping the world from burning to ash. And then, four years ago, Ambassador Axsen blew up the blockade and allowed the Greybacks to come in. He had been promised all of the shiny jewels a man could ever need, only problem was that dead men have no needs, and a dead man was what Captain Holt, of the Greybacks, had made him.

            Zane had left his home, Astoria, to fight and protect it. He was under Redbelt Law, so of course that was the army he joined ranks with. The Redbelts believed in arson and martial arts. ‘Fists of Blood and Fire’ was their mantra, and Zane’s hands were scared from the use of his GPG’s, or gun powder gloves, as they were formally introduced as at the Armory Brigade’s Decade Brawl. The only place weapons were allowed to be tested on others with no repercussions. Prisoners on Death Row were used, and the survivors of the Brawl were automatically enlisted in their proper militaries.

             Maybe if they had had these brawls every year, instead of every ten years, there would be better weapons, at least that’s what Zane thought as he made his way from one burned building to one crumbled to almost sand building. Astoria was a sea city. Sand, glass, and stone were what the building were made of, and walking around in the city made it seem more like an industrial city, like a Greyback’s home city.

            Four bullets left. If Zane made it to his family, there would be one bullet left over, if he didn’t, he would at least have one left for himself so that a Greyback wouldn’t turn him into a mechanical walking corpse. That’s what the Greybacks did, that’s what they specialized in. ‘Bodies of Metal and Steel’ was their mantra. And they knew just how to use their tech to make the dead walk and fight for them. Zane had seen them at work, the night he had fled to find his family.

            That was two nights ago, and he knew the only way to get out of this war, was to get away from the Greybacks, and that death was the only answer. Getting onto Bastille Street, Zane saw what was left of his colored glass windows reflect the fires in the city. He saw his doors blown open by what looked like a cannon. He had stopped in the middle of the street, staring. He didn’t notice his dead robotic twelve year old daughter come up behind him, raise her saw blade arm, and come down towards his head. But he did see his dead robotic mother walking towards him, head split open and tilted toward the air, a howl-like alarm sounding from what had been her mouth, as her arms lifted in the air and her fingers extended with wires to draw him in, to become part of the Greyback army.

Safe Amongst The Strangers

                They could feel the reverberation of the bombs hitting the ground. Shaking the tunnel so hard that dust and tiny pieces of rubble fell onto their heads. The sound of planes flying just over them filled the girls with fear. They sat together in hiding, two orphans in the middle of a war. They had nowhere to go without fearing for their lives. The rat-tat-tat of guns sounded closer and closer.
                “Penelope, I’m so scared.” Leslie whispered. Leslie was practically Penelope’s sister. They had already been through so much together and now they had to go through a war. Leslie had tears filling in her eyes making her green eyes look so vivid in the dark. Penelope grabbed Leslie’s hand and held it tight. “I am too Leslie.” Penelope said. They sat together with their hands intertwined; not knowing what would happen to them. They just wanted it all to stop, they didn’t want to die like this.
                In the distance they could hear another bomber plane. Penelope’s heart beat faster the closer the plane came. She had the sudden realization that this was it. The bomb from this plane would descend on them and they would be dead. It filled Penelope with so much fear that she began to shake violently. Leslie’s eyes became wide with the same realization and she began to cry even harder. Penelope kept shaking, closing her eyes hoping that it was close off the rest of the world. She wished she was somewhere else, anywhere but here.
                In a flash everything was quiet. She opened eyes to a small blue room, and panic filled within her.  “Leslie?!” She screamed, sitting up from the bed. She walked around the room wondering where she was. “LESLIE?!” She yelled again. Suddenly a women came bursting in through the door. She was dressed in odd clothes and her face was filled with concern. “Jenna sweetie are you okay?” She asked. But Penelope was frantic as she looked around. She had just lost her friend and she had no clue where she was. As she turned away, she caught her reflection in the mirror on the wall. A gasp escaped her as she stared at her reflection. She was wearing the same weird style of clothing as the women, but her body was not her own and neither the face staring back at her. She was not where she used to be, in the middle of a war in 1940, She was not who she was supposed to be. 

Challenge #79

Hello Everyone!

So the challenge for this week is to write a story that takes place during a war! The war can be fictional or nonfictional. It can be something, huge, or something small (like a war against worlds, or a war against friends). It's up to you!

If you would like to join us, by submitting some of your own work for Fan Friday, please do! Just send us your own creation (short story, art, poem, whatever) via e-mail to inkedfeathersfink@gmail.com.

See you all on Wednesday!

Fever

            The grocery store was closed by the time I reached it. Camila was craving something cold, and the store was closed. She had her tea cup clenched in her hands when I left, she had been begging me, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to return home without something cold for her to drink. The only thing I could think of was yerba mate, it was her favorite thing to drink now-a-days.

            Ever since she had bought the tea set at the market, she had cravings for that tea that made it almost impossible to stand being around her. I love her, I always will, but right now it is so hard to be around her. When she gets her cravings, it is like she has become possessed, especially because she always drinks it out of that one damned cup.

How do I know it’s the same cup? There is a small crack on the bottom of the cup. It looks like a small spider web moving from the bottom of the green cup to the small flower sculpted handle. And once, when I tried to take it away from her, she hit me over the head with it, hard. I bled a bit from the hit, but the cup stayed intact. And I was in shock, she still looked at me like I was being a bad excuse for a human being, and that she had done nothing wrong, but it frightened me.

And now I make sure to stock up on yerba mate. The house has always been filled, until today. Today, I did not realize that she had been drinking the tea non-stop. I did not realize she had devoured the build-up I had. So, at around midnight, when she asked, I was afraid. And with the stores closed, I fear going home. In the distance, I can hear the pops of the cars starting and driving off, and I wonder if I can catch a taxi and have it take me to the boarder. I wonder if I could flee to Chile, or Brazil, or maybe Mexico.

Somehow, I find my way home, and I can hear her screaming, and throwing things, and I wonder how this happened. I can only remember the young woman we bought the tea set from, telling us how her grandmother had gone crazy just before she had died. How she had refused to drink yerba mate out of a gourd or a more traditional form, because she was afraid that if she drank it out of anything else, that she would forget who she was.

I’m afraid for my wife, I’m afraid for myself. I walk away from the house, I start to run, and I don’t stop until I reach our church.

Bella Espía

                This wasn’t Caterina’s first time being tied to a chair. Except the last couple of times were more for pleasure than pain. Her arms were bound behind her, tied tightly with rope that dug into her wrists. Her ankles were bound as well along with her midsection. They were making sure that she wouldn’t be able to escape, or worse that she wouldn’t have a free hand to kill them with.
Her face was bruised some from the fight to contain her. But she smiled, knowing that her contender looked much worse than she did.
                “Caterina, here we are again.” Across the table from her stood her ex fiancé Adolfo. Caterina hated him more than anything, but she couldn’t help thinking how handsome he was.
“Ah the Noble Wolf is here to interrogate me huh?” She asked, using his code name. He grimaced before pulling out a chair and sitting down.
“Caterina, we are done playing games. I need to know what you know!” He slams his hand down on the metal table, but she doesn’t flinch. Caterina has seen and done many things as a spy, she is good at what she does. Out of all the things that scare her, Adolfo doesn’t even come close to being on her list.
“Vaffanculo.” She cusses at him in Italian. He scowls before standing up once more.
                He grabs a tray from the other end of the room and brings it back. A teapot and two cups sit on the tray. They are white with little blue flowers spread across them.
“Would you like some Tea?” He asks her, smiling. All pleasantries back in voice.
“No thank you.” She says glaring.
“Oh no my darling, I insist.” He says pouring tea into the cup. He slides it in front of her.
“And how you expect me to drink it?” She asks.
“Oh I don’t expect you to drink it.” He says before grabbing the cup and throwing the hot tea on her face. She screams out in pain, thrashing in her chair. Her face feels like it’s about to melt off and she can already feel welts forming.
“Now tell me what I need to, or I will pour you another cup of tea!” He says. Caterina fights the tears that form in her eyes. “Figlio di Mignotta!” She once again cusses at him in Italian. He tisks at her before once again pouring another cup of tea. She braces herself for the pain that’s about to come.
                The tea burns her cheeks and she again thrashes in her chair, screaming out. The pain is only more intensified. “Caterina, you don’t have to do this to yourself. You can stop all this nonsense now if you just tell me what you know.” He says blowing on his own tea before taking a sip.
“You know Adolfo, you are right. I don’t have to put up with this nonsense.” She says smiling up at him. She grinds her teeth to help stop herself from once again crying out in pain.
“So the great Caterina just gives up like that then eh? Alright spill it darling.” He says.
She waits a minute before speaking. “Oh but I don’t have to.” She says. Suddenly Adolfo starts coughing, grabbing at his throat. His teacup falls to the ground and shatters. His eyes are wide and his veins are bulging as his face slowly starts to turn blue.
“How-How-“ He gasps as he falls to his knees. Caterina breaks free from the rope that she had been cutting with her nail.
“I have friends in many places Adolfo.” She says looking down at him. “Burn in hell darling.” She says watching him take his last breath.
                She works quickly removing the rest of the ropes that bind her. She only has a couple minutes before they come to do a checkup. She grabs the gun that resides on Adolfo’s hip and looks at the broken teacup on the floor. A smile forms on her lips as she thinks of the Arsenic that lines the teacup. A wave of Adrenaline fills her as she thinks that she could have gotten either cup, but she was lucky enough to get the one with poison. So is the life of being a spy in Argentina in the year 1932.