A Group of Authors Writing Stories for Your Entertainment
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Four friends
made the exciting decision to go camping one brisk weekend in October. The days
had grown noticeably shorter, and the nights stretched out longer, wrapping the
world in a cool, mysterious blanket. Beneath the pale, waning moon, they
carefully pitched their tents at a secluded site nestled deep within the thick,
whispering woods. The trees stood tall and shadowy, their leaves rustling
gently in the evening breeze. As the sun dipped slowly behind the towering
trunks, casting a dusky glow across the forest floor, the friends gathered
around their flickering campfire. The golden-orange flames danced and crackled,
casting playful shadows on their faces as their conversation naturally shifted
to chilling ghost stories and eerie horror movies, a perfect match for the
enchanting, slightly eerie atmosphere that surrounded them.
Gathered around
a lively, crackling campfire, the flickering flames cast playful shadows on
each other's faces as they engaged in a lively competition of storytelling,
each tale more imaginative and daring than the last. The night air was filled
with laughter and the scent of burning wood. When one friend rose from his
seat, announcing his need to seek a tree in the nearby bushes for a quick
bathroom break, the others called out teasingly, their voices echoing in the
quiet night, warning him to keep an eye out for Bigfoot lurking in the dark.
The laughter
quickly morphed into panicked shouts when a blood-curdling scream pierced the
night air. Moments later, a menacing silhouette materialized from the
surrounding darkness—a werewolf, its shaggy, matted fur catching and reflecting
the flickering firelight in eerie patterns. Startled and terrified, the
remaining three friends sprang into action, sprinting into the dense woods with
hearts pounding violently in their chests and breaths coming in ragged,
desperate gasps. The forest seemed alive around them, with branches and leaves
clawing at their clothes as they raced through the underbrush, but all they
could feel was the overwhelming grip of fear.
Fear gripped
them, propelling their frantic flight deeper into the dense forest. The
undergrowth whispered ominously beneath their hurried footsteps, shadows
stretching and merging in the pale moonlight. Suddenly, one of them stumbled
over an unseen root, a cruel twist of nature concealed by the cloak of night.
The forest echoed with a chilling crack, the unmistakable sound of his neck
snapping. The remaining two froze, hearts pounding in their chests, the reality
of the moment sinking in with a suffocating weight.
The werewolf,
relentless in its pursuit, suddenly stopped in its tracks and began to peel
away the mask that concealed its true identity. As the fur and fangs gave way
to the familiar face beneath, it revealed their lost friend—the very one who
had disappeared into the bushes earlier. His eyes wide with a mix of mischief
and regret, he shouted that it had all been an elaborate prank, a carefully
orchestrated joke meant to scare them out of their wits. Yet, what was intended
as harmless fun had spiraled into a disaster, veering horribly off course.
Gazing down at
his fallen friend, his chest tightened, making it nearly impossible to draw a
breath. “Oh my God, what did I do?” he cried, his voice reverberating through
the trees, returning to him as a haunting, miserable taunt. They clustered
around the lifeless body, their faces pale and eyes wide with shock, as though
time had frozen, abandoning them in a landscape of raw terror. “He’s dead,” one
of them murmured, the words slipping out as a mere whisper yet bearing the
heavy burden of a scream that echoed in their hearts.
The night
descended upon them, thick with an oppressive chill and a palpable sense of
dread. The darkness seemed to press in from all sides, wrapping them in its icy
grip. The prankster, eyes wide with panic and regret, dropped to his knees, the
frostbitten grass crunching beneath him. He clutched the victim's shoulders
with desperate hands, shaking him vigorously, trying to breathe life back into
the limp body. But the effort was in vain; the victim's form remained eerily
still, a haunting silhouette against the shadowy backdrop of the silent woods.
The others stood frozen in shock, their breath visible in the frigid air, their
initial gasps of disbelief slowly melting into quiet, anguished sobs that
punctuated the heavy silence of the night.
Tears cascaded
down their cheeks, leaving glistening trails as they fixed on the prankster,
their eyes wide and searching for any flicker of life. "Someone say
something!" he implored, his voice quivering with desperation, yearning
for words to fill the oppressive, deafening silence. "I didn’t mean it.
You all know I didn’t mean it, right?" His gaze darted around frantically,
his heart pounding in his chest, as the overwhelming gravity of the situation
settled upon him with a suffocating weight.
Erika M Szabo
Erika loves to dance
to her own tunes and follow her dreams, introducing her story-writing skills
and her books that are based on creative imagination with themes such as
magical realism, alternate history, urban fantasy, cozy mystery, sweet romance,
and supernatural stories. Her children’s stories are informative and
educational and deliver moral values in a non-preachy way.
Davina Guy (AKA David W. Thompson)
“Damn
girl, pick up the stupid phone already! Or turn down the volume – I’m tired of
hearing it ring.”
Julianna
rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and glanced at the alarm clock by her bed. God, I’m so tired! A full day of exams
with only a twenty-minute nap to recover wasn’t cutting it.
She
pulled herself across her bed and picked up her phone. Lorelei. She considered fabricating an excuse to steal the reward
of a few hours of sleep, but with the next ring, she sighed and answered the
phone.
“Hey
Lor, what’s up? Is everything okay?”
“I
guess it’s nothing a full-frontal lobotomy wouldn’t fix.”
“Oh,
come on. It can’t be that bad… let me guess, Mom again?”
“Well,
yeah, Mom. Who else? She’s batty, Jules, and battier than normal, I mean. I’m
at my wit’s end. She waits for me to fall asleep and goes sneaking out to the
woods like before, doing her magical incantations or some shit, I don’t know.”
“Is
she taking care of you? You know, during your moon cycle.”
“Taking
care of me? Hmm… yeah, if you consider keeping me locked up down there for two
days as taking care of me! Then, when she comes down to the basement, it’s like
she doesn’t even remember I’m there. She made me miss my Senior Prom, Jules!”
“All
right, I’m coming home. It’s good timing with spring break; I just finished my
exams. I miss you anyway, and you don’t need to be alone and having to deal
with all that. I’ll leave in the morning and should be there by mid-afternoon.”
“No,
you don’t have to do that. I was hoping maybe you could talk to her. She might
listen to you, and I don’t want to get her upset.”
“Seriously, Lorelei? You know, the two of us
mix like oil and water. I’ll be there. See you in the afternoon.” Julianna hung
up before her sister could argue further and dialed the gym. Frank Matheson,
the owner, was a good guy to work for. He wasn’t happy to hear she’d miss
leading her classes, but Frank seemed to understand at least. Like everyone
else, he had enough family issues of his own.
Julianna
slipped into yoga pants and a halter and faced her kickboxing bag. She threw a
round kick followed by an uppercut and a long series of jabs. Her Yorkie Xena
whined from the bed as Julianna completed her routine.
“It’s
okay, Xena, I’m not mad at you, baby.” Julianna scratched her behind the ears.
She pulled on her slippers and went to the kitchen to tell her roommate, Amy,
of her plans. Amy was at the sink, elbow-deep in pots and pans.
Oh boy, I will be a guinea
pig for another bout of experimental recipes. Cooking and new food fads
were Amy’s antidotes for depression.
“You
need to get dressed, Julianna. I’d kill for your beautiful copper skin, but you
don’t have to flaunt it, princess.” Amy flipped her perfect blonde curls out of
her eyes.
“This will work for around the apartment, I
think.”
“At
least put on some decent clothes before everyone gets here.”
“What?
Who?”
“Come
on, Julianna. Did you forget the guys are coming over tonight? And you tease me
about being a dumb blonde.”
“Crap,
I did forget, but I’m going to have to be a party pooper. Sorry, but something
has come up, kind of a family emergency, and I need to drive home tomorrow.
I’ll hang out for a bit, but I really must turn in early tonight.”
Amy
scrunched her lips together and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.
Great, Amy’s pissed, but
tough, it can’t be helped. The mental release of a party might be exactly what she needed, but
all she felt up to right now was sleep, and she dreaded what faced her at the
end of her journey tomorrow.
Julianna
quickly showered, dressed, and spent time on her research paper before the
doorbell rang.
Jen
and Deborah arrived together, early, of course, and Amy put them to work
arranging the appetizers. Everyone looked up when Amy’s treasured cuckoo clock
began announcing the hour from the living room. Julianna knew they were all
thinking the same thing.
“Where
do you suppose they are?” Jen asked. “I swear, if John and Katie are late, the
world will literally end!” In mid-cuckoo, a knock sounded on the door. Deborah
cackled in delight when the newly “coupled” couple entered the kitchen.
“We know you guys too well,” Deborah said,
still giggling.
“Well,
I’d hope so. We’ve only been best friends since freshman year.” Katie gave each
of her friends a hug. “At least we aren’t all finishing each other’s sentences
like you and Jen do.”
Amy laughed. “Yeah, I think I need some new
friends. It’s a rare weekend when we aren’t all hanging out together at some
point. But speaking of which, I invited two new guys I met on campus tonight. I
think you’ll like them.”
“Fresh
meat?” Katie winked at Julianna, who shot a look in Amy’s direction (what Amy
called her evil eye: one eyebrow hooded, and the other raised), but Amy
responded with her sweet, innocent little girl smile, complete with matching
dimples. Two guys. Wonderful. That means
one for Amy and another one that she intends to fix me up with.
Amy
responded to the knock at the door and returned with a blond-haired man
attached to her arm. She introduced him as Shane. He was tall, six foot or so,
with a tight, well-built body, obvious even under his sports jacket. Julianna
assumed he worked out and wondered why she had never seen him at her gym. He
looked good, even if he was overdressed for a college party. A freshly pressed
shirt and tie completed his dressed-to-impress ensemble. He smelled of money.
Hell, I bet he even irons
his socks. No, his maid probably does that. She
stared at his earring, a gold crescent moon, an odd decoration for a man’s ear,
but then, she didn’t like earrings on men, or on women much either for that
matter. Maybe that was the one thing she was old-fashioned about. Julianna
preferred the strong, silent, rustic type, a real Marlboro man, but who knew? A
different kind of man might change her luck.
As
Shane got acquainted with the six friends, Julianna’s gaze swept over him from
his head to his brightly polished shoes and he unconsciously paused here and
there. It was a shame she had to bail on
the party tonight; it might have been fun. It had been so long since she’d had
a break from her hectic life. She shook
her head. No, not tonight. Julianna
consoled herself knowing how nice it would be to be home, at least to see her
sister, and Lorelei needed her.
Julianna
answered another knock on the door, and a sweet candy-like scent teased her
nose. She did a double take when Chase Graves, one of her classmates in a few
courses, strode in.
He had
emerald green eyes, dark wavy hair, and chiseled good looks. No doubt, young
women were swooning over him before he even sprouted whiskers, although it was
difficult to picture him without his well-groomed handlebar mustache. Chase
wore his usual – tight-fitting jeans and a plaid flannel shirt that couldn’t
hide his trim and muscular body. He made casual look so hot, so male. In short,
he was definitely her type, at least regarding appearances.
Chase
reached out and wrapped his arms around her in an awkward hug.
“It’s
good to see you again, Julianna.”
Her
mind drifted back to the classes they attended together and their coffee dates
soon after. They started as fast friends. Then over dinner one night, he
started acting possessive, relationship possessive. In all honesty, Julianna
didn’t trust her feelings around him, even after their short acquaintance. She
had even fantasized that someday, if the family curse was broken, she could get
used to having him in her life. He seemed to know every button to push on her
heart – and body. Therefore, she no longer let herself be alone around him. Sex
had been off the table. Her body warmed at seeing him, but she pushed the
thought away. She couldn’t allow herself that, not with the secrets in her
family closet.
“I
only want us to be friends,” she’d told him after a weekend of soul-searching.
“Very
good friends, I hope. What about friends with benefits?” He flashed a
white-toothed smile.
“I
don’t believe that’s even possible. Friendships like that either become much
more or end altogether. I don’t want either one.”
“Then
we are at an impasse because I want, no, I need, more.” His green eyes locked
with hers before he walked away.
Julianna
saw him everywhere around campus after that, always with a woman or two. She
ignored him, and the more she did, the more effort he expended in the pursuit,
the more he flaunted his female “friends” whenever she was near. Was he ever
interested in her as a person? Were they ever really friends, or did he play it
up as a ploy to get in her pants? She did the math, and it added up. He had
played her. He wanted another notch on his belt, and the harder a woman was to
get, the bigger the challenge, and that realization hurt. If he’d been honest
with her, she might have considered being one of those notches!
Amy
greeted her latest guest and introduced him to everyone.
“We’ve
met before,” Chase said, looking at Shane.
Julianna
noted the hostility passing between the two men. “So you guys know each other?”
“Yeah,
we go way back.” Chase’s nostrils flared.
God, men and their childish
machismo,
she thought.
Xena
strolled into the room and headed to her corner bed until she heard Chase’s
voice. She ran toward him, jumped up on the couch, and propelled herself into
Chase’s arms.
“Hey,
Xena, there’s a good girl,” he cooed in her ear.
Amy
pulled Julianna to the side. “Okay, so I spotted you and Chase together in the
library, and…”
“We
weren’t together, he just sat there. I didn’t invite him.”
“Well,
I could see how he looked at you from across the room, but I knew you weren’t interested
anymore. I’d love to hear that story sometime. Anyway, after checking out my
books, I walked over to your table, but you were gone, so I asked him over
tonight. He’s so damn hot, but is it all right with you? I mean… well, you
aren’t into him, right? He’s fair game? If he and I were to …”
“He’s
all yours, Amy. Rock his world, girlfriend!” Amy was right about one thing,
though, Julianna thought. Chase was hot enough to make a woman sweat just being
near him, and suddenly, her old desires raced through her body, electric,
tormenting her. She had almost forgotten how tantalizing he was. No! If and
when she needed her itch scratched, Shane’s chances for a no-strings horizontal
thrash were more probable than Chase’s. Shane might at least be honest and
appreciative afterward, but a night with Chase would be a seduction built on
lies, cheap and tawdry, and just another check mark in his little black book.
Amy
gave Julianna a hug and a quick peck on the cheek. “Thanks, Jules. Shane’s a
good catch, too. I know he’s a little stiff initially, but I heard his dad’s
filthy rich, and he only has one brother.” She winked at her, and Julianna
rolled her eyes.
Julianna
made nice and enjoyed the conversation over light appetizers. She had a few
drinks with her friends, both old and new. Chase flirted with all of the girls,
even Jen and Deb. Either he hoped they were switch-hitters, Julianna thought,
or else he lacked a lesbian notch on his belt, but she still felt his eyes
following her whenever she moved.
Julianna
thought of how people often grow into their names, but the name of the
sluttiest girl she had ever met was named Chastity, and she knew a skinny,
nerdy kid who went by Hunter…but Chase? His parents nailed it with his name.
Shane
bantered with the other guests but hung on Julianna’s every word, making it
clear she was the one he was interested in. When her glass ran low, he was
quick to top it off. He was attentive and a perfect gentleman, perhaps too much
so. She wondered how he would look in a flannel shirt and jeans – maybe even
under her flannel sheets!
“Hello?
Julianna?” Shane broke into her thoughts.
“I’m
sorry, I was daydreaming.”
“Penny
for your thoughts?”
“I’d
have to give you change.” She laughed. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”
“Your
necklace, it’s beautiful. I love turquoise, always have.”
“It’s
the goddess Diana, the huntress,” Amy interrupted. “It’s Julianna’s one
concession to fashion. You will rarely see her without it.”
Shane looked up from the pendant to Julianna’s
eyes. “A woman who looks like you needs minimal ornamentation.”
She
smiled. “Why, thank you, Shane. It was a gift from my father, who’s passed, so
it’s special to me. Besides, turquoise is the essential adornment for all
Native American women.” This guy is quite
the flirt. At first glance, he seemed way too prissy for her taste, but
there was another deeper element to the man, like when a book doesn’t match its
cover. She felt a primal draw just as she felt when she was around Chase.
In
a hurry to get to bed or because the drinks helped her relax, Julianna sucked
them down and felt lightheaded. She asked to be excused, gave the explanation
of her family needing her at home, and said her good nights. She went to the
kitchen for a glass of water, and Shane followed. He slipped up behind her and
placed a hand on her shoulder. “Julianna?”
She
turned to face him. “Yes?”
“I
had a great time tonight, and I’d like to see you again soon. You said your
family lives in Morton, and mine are in Ramsey. Do you think I could give you a
call while you’re home? I’m going home over the break too, so maybe we could
have dinner together? We are practically neighbors.”
“My
father said all mountain folk are neighbors, especially West Virginians. Look,
I’m sorry to cut it short, too, Shane. I’d like it if you called. Just don’t
tell Amy. I’d never hear the end of it.”
They
exchanged phone numbers, and Shane hugged her. He bent over for a quick peck
goodnight, and her arms circled his waist in return. A quiver moved down her
spine as his lips touched hers and settled at her core. She could feel the
muscles of his chest pressing against her breasts through the thin cloth.
Julianna was greedy for a human touch, preferably a human male’s touch, and
suddenly, this wasn’t just a casual kiss between two new friends. She hugged
him tighter and he lifted her to the counter. She felt Shane’s hand slip under
her blouse and stopped it before it could continue its advance. Oh God, not this . . . not tonight.
“No,
Shane. Stop… I – ”
“Oops,
sorry, am I interrupting?” Chase asked from behind them.
“I
assume that’s a rhetorical question.” Shane flashed his dark eyes at the other
man. Chase glared back, did a slow about-face, and left. Shane turned back to
Julianna, tried to step between her legs, and again snaked a hand beneath her
blouse.
She
grabbed it before it reached her breasts and brought her knees together. “Stop.
I like you, Shane, but… stop. I’m not very used to alcohol, not to mention the
fact that I just met you or that all my friends are here. There’s no way this
is happening.” She tugged on his arm, and he withdrew his hand. “I’m sorry.
Good night.” She hurried off to bed.
Sleep
found Julianna despite the flash heat Shane had stirred in her and the
incessant ramblings of her troubled mind. When she heard the creak of the
door’s hinges and Shane stepped inside, she knew she was dreaming.
He
pressed his muscular body against her from behind, spooning. One hand stroked
its way over her back to cup a breast, then took a lazy tour of other parts of
her body – kneading and caressing. His fingernails trailed up and down the back
of her thighs, and electric pulses coursed through her at each change of
direction. She sighed.
His hand continued its journey along her body,
always stopping just shy of more intimate places. It’s just a dream, Julianna. No harm done.
She
heard the rustle of his clothes, and his hands resumed their teasing caress.
Her body trembled at his touch, a sweet agony.
He
rolled her over, so she lay flat, and his magic mouth followed the path of his
hands. Warmth and tingling shocks flushed through her. She wanted him!
He
kissed her belly button, then he moved up and kissed the nape of her neck and
her lips and nuzzled her ear.
Her eyes flew open, and she quickly surveyed
her room. She felt like a child searching under the bed for monsters—but no one
else was there.
It
wasn’t her imaginary passion that woke her, and no phones were ringing, but
there were loud voices coming from the living room. When she heard a loud
crash, Julianna grabbed her robe and the baseball bat from the closet before
sneaking out of the room. Down the hall to the shared living room, she stared
open-mouthed at the scene unfolding before her.
Shane
got up from the floor, rubbing his chin, and turned to face Chase. They looked
like two battling bantam roosters with their shoulders squared off and chests
puffed out. Fire burned in their eyes as each tried to stare down the other. Oh God, this is just what I need: a drunken
alpha male showdown. Amy’s
treasured cuckoo clock lay smashed on the floor. She sat at the farthest point
of the couch, eyes peeking through her hands and mouth wide open. Their other
friends were nowhere to be seen.
“Never
fucked an Indian before…” Chase started but shut up when Julianna entered the
room.
Unbridled
fire rose to her cheeks. He didn’t want a notch on his belt for the number of
women he’d screwed but for the races he’d seduced. No wonder she was on his hit
list. Native American women were rare enough on campus. What a sick shit! “What
the hell is going on?” If you guys have a problem, take it outside. We don’t
need this crap in here. Are you okay, Amy?”
Amy
nodded, and both men looked at her like children caught with their hands in the
cookie jar.
“Sorry,
Julianna, I –” Shane started.
She
lifted her bat for emphasis, and she had no qualms about using it. Amy stirred
from her trance, jumped up from the couch, and placed a hand on Julianna’s bat.
“I’ll
take care of this, Jules. Go back to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I
don’t want to leave you alone with these assholes.” Julianna glared at the two
men.
“I’ll
take care of it. I know how to handle them. Get some rest. You have a long day
tomorrow.”
Julianna
retreated to her room, listened, and waited. At the sound of the apartment door
closing, she lowered her guard and fell into a blissful sleep.
David W. Thompson
https://www.david-w-thompson.com
David is a multiple award-winning author, Army veteran, and graduate of UMUC. He’s a multi-genre writer and a member of the Horror Writers’ Association, and the Science Fiction & Fantasy Writers Association. When not writing, Dave enjoys family, kayaking, fishing, hiking, hunting, winemaking, and woodcarving.
Lewis grinned at Sophie as a lock of her
blonde hair tangled in her candyfloss.
She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Hold
this, can you?” She passed the sticky, sweet mess to him while she searched for
a tissue to wipe her hair. As she did, he winked appreciatively.
“Surprised you can fit anything else into
those jeans,” he said, his eyes roving over her neat denim-clad rear.
She swatted his shoulder. “Enough leering!”
He laughed in that deep voice of his, and
she grinned back, her thumb automatically finding the diamond ring on her left
hand. He’d been so nervous when he proposed. She’d been so excited. It was
perfect. She hooked her arm through his and took back her candyfloss.
They walked slowly through the fairground,
not speaking. Sophie felt a bone-deep contentment as even their steps seemed to
match. The light flashed, the music blared from every stall, every ride, and
the smell of fried onions and beer floated on the midsummer air, but it seemed
muted as she walked in a perfect bubble of happiness with her husband to be.
“Fancy the big dipper?” he said, nodding
casually to the ride which soared metres above them, with cars full of high
screams. Sophie sniffed, her stomach rebelling against the smell of gasoline
and oil.
“After this? You’re having me on,” she
replied, dragging him towards a bin and throwing her half-finished candyfloss
into it with relief. It had been sicklier than she’d remembered. She saw a
small tent in a quieter part of the ground. Outside, a sign said, ‘Madame
Appolonia, fortune teller. Do you dare to seek your future?’
She paused and nudged Lewis. “Let’s go in
here,” she said. “It’ll be a laugh.”
Lewis looked sceptical. “I’m not going to
waste ten quid for some fraud wearing red lipstick to tell me you’re going to
meet a tall handsome man and live happily ever after! I already know that –
you’re marrying me!”
“Oh, don’t be such a misery guts. Who knows
what she’ll say? My mum’s really keen on this kind of thing, she swears by it!”
Sophie said with a moue of disappointment.
He grumbled, but handed over the money to a
spotty youth outside the tent, who showed them in. As Lewis expected, it was
dimly lit with a faint smell of incense, and a woman with long dark hair and a
shawl was sitting in front of a low table. She stared at them with almost black
eyes, and Lewis felt a shiver of discomfort. He forced a smile.
“Hello, I’m Lewis and this is Sophie.”
The woman gestured to them to take a seat.
“You are engaged,” the woman said in a gentle voice which seemed to come from
the depths of her chest.
She saw the ring, Lewis thought. Sophie
laughed and congratulated the woman on her accuracy. The woman, who looked
neither young nor old, smiled slightly.
“What knowledge do you seek?” she said.
Sophie leaned forward.
“Oh, the usual. Will we have children? Will
we be happy?”
The woman’s face went blank and for a
moment she hesitated. “Give me your left hand.”
Sophie put out her palm and the woman took
it carefully. Madame Appolina’s hands were smooth and cool. “This is your heartline,”
she said, pointing to a crease at the top of her palm. “You have loved two men
in your life passionately, but one of the men has broken your heart. The other
has mended it.”
Sophie and Lewis exchanged a look. Sophie
had suffered from a callous break up. Lewis had comforted her, first as a
friend and then as she gradually recovered, the relationship had deepened to
love.
Lewis schooled his face. Some of this would
be cold reading, he thought. He was determined not to give anything away. Madame
Appolonia quirked an eyebrow as if she could read his thoughts. Turning back,
she curled Sophie’s fingers and looked at the lines and bumps of her hand. “You
are wilful and headstrong,” she said to Sophie, whose eyes widened. “People say
that you follow your own course, not that of others.”
Lewis stiffened. He’d said that only
yesterday. Sophie turned a little pale. Madame Appolonia continued in a soft
voice. “You wish to be a painter, creativity is strong in your immediate
future. You make decisions instinctively.” She turned those dark eyes to Lewis.
“It is you who are the rational one in the relationship, but you too
have an artistic yearning. You may study engineering, but you will always want
to be a musician.”
At this, Sophie gasped. “Oh, my God! That’s
so right!”
Lewis fought the urge to jump to his feet
and flee this dim, spooky space with the unearthly woman in it. But Sophie,
eyes shining, laughed delightedly.
“You really are good! Can you tell
us about our future together?”
A veil seemed to drop over Madame
Appolina’s eyes. She nodded. “I see a long and happy marriage,” she said
finally.
“And children?” Sophie insisted.
“Two. A boy will come first, the girl two
years later.”
Sophie clapped her hands and jumped to her
feet, laughing and thanking Madame Appolina, who simply nodded. Lewis, lost for
words, could only grab Sophie’s hand and push his way out of the tent.
Madame Appolina released a long breath and
closed her eyes. All was still, and then the ghost of her mother appeared in
front of the tent flap.
“Why did you lie?” the ghost asked. Madame
Appolina shook her head sadly, her vision of twisted metal and spinning car
wheels on a hot dusty road at the end of the summer seared on her memory. The
blaring sirens, the frantic paramedics. And then – silence.
She sighed. “They’re so young, so in love.
How could I tell them? Let them have their happiness a little while longer.”
The ghost of her mother nodded and faded
away.
Sara Sartagne
Sara Sartagne writes women’s fiction featuring brave women, often weaving love stories through the narrative. Her English Garden Romance series reflects her passion for gardening. The novellas are downloadable from her website. The Duality books combine contemporary and historical plots into award-winning standalone dual timelines. She lives in East Yorkshire, moving from London to a HUGE garden in 2019.
Erika M Szabo
Erika loves to dance
to her own tunes and follow her dreams, introducing her story-writing skills
and her books that are based on creative imagination with themes such as
magical realism, alternate history, urban fantasy, cozy mystery, sweet romance,
and supernatural stories. Her children’s stories are informative and
educational and deliver moral values in a non-preachy way.
Eva's challenge was to write a flash fiction story of less than 500 words, based on this picture:
THISTLEDENT MANOR
Isaac Dent moved Dilys, his bride of
ten months, into Thistledent Manor in 1742. The rambling old house was
bequeathed to Isaac by Alfred Dent, his grandfather. A once healthy and active
landowner, Alfred had succumbed to viral pneumonia prior to Isaac’s wedding. He’d
always cherished the special bond with his grandson. Isaac enjoyed fishing,
hunting and shooting, where he excelled. Venison was frequently served at the
table during the dinner parties held at the Dent house, courtesy of Isaac and
his prowess with a rifle. Alfred had loved to boast about Isaac’s skills.
During four hopeful years, a
complicated miscarriage left Dilys unable to bear children. Isaac saw her
despair; the haunted look and guilt in her eyes. He was broken. He was unsure
what to do to make Dilys smile again. Late one night as his wife slept beside
him, Isaac was awake and an idea formed in his head. He was going to fill the
house with orphaned children.
The Battle of Culloden had been fought
and many local men were killed in the bloodthirsty clash. Some of their widows
were dying of malnutrition as they struggled and kept food mainly for their
children. Within weeks, Isaac and Dilys had filled their home with eleven youngsters
- two babies and the remainder were between three and eleven years old. Dilys
was ecstatic and quickly grew to love each one of them, but she struggled despite
the help from the servants. Responding to their advertisement, an older lady,
Agatha McTavish, was soon taken into the fold as nanny and teacher.
After several months, Dilys noticed
four or five of the children had become withdrawn and sullen. She discussed the
matter with Agatha, who suggested it was the trauma of losing their parents.
Dilys acknowledged that there could be some truth in Agatha’s suggestion, but
continued to dwell on the matter, after all, the children had seemed happy at
first during Dilys’ love and nurturing.
Dilys continued to feed and settle the two babies after dinner each evening, leaving nanny to bathe the older children and tuck them into their beds. On leaving the nursery one night, she heard shouts and screams coming from along the passageway. There was an almighty crash and Dilys arrived at the open doorway in time to witness nine-year-old Angus McArthur’s spirit leave his body. His broken body lay naked and crumpled on the floor, blood pooling beneath his head. Deep red welts covered the skin on his back. Agatha stood over him. The whip in her hand dropped to the floor when she saw Dilys.
Isaac and Dilys moved away with their
‘family’ the following morning.
Thistledent Manor remains abandoned.
The villagers often hear shouts and screams, those of Agatha and poor Angus,
and the crack of a whip coming from the derelict, forbidding house.
Sadly, Dilys Dent never slept much
after the events at Thistledent Manor. Her disturbing dreams always ended with
Agatha’s face, a deep, bloodied gash across her throat.
Eva Bielby
Eva Bielby was born
in North Yorkshire in the Northeast of England. She has spent over thirty years
of her working life as a company accountant. Eva has a keen interest in
spiritualism/mediumship and has attended several workshops to develop her
skills further. During her quieter moments, Eva enjoys a cryptic crossword,
sudoku, and gardening.
The rucksack
was far heavier than she'd anticipated, the air fare exceeded her budget, just,
but Frances had already booked time off work, boasted about it to her friends
and bought a full colour guidebook.
It was
happening and she wasn't going to let her niggling lack of confidence stop her
this time, nor the reservations of her work colleague.
"You're
seriously going hiking with someone you met online?"
"It's not
like that, Tasmin, it's a reputable guide, with fellow hikers."
"But it's
off grid, right, as in, wild camping, carrying your own water, no toilet, that
kind of off grid?"
"Look,
Tasmin, I'll be thirty next month and I haven't even been on holiday abroad,
not once. You know what I said about this year, it's time to stretch those
horizons, seek out new experiences."
"Yes, I
get that, but I was thinking along the lines of trying the new Malaysian
restaurant, enrolling in a language course, looking for a better job, not using
behind a bush for a toilet in front of strangers and making one pair of
knickers last three days.”
Frances
couldn’t wait to tell Tasmin just how wrong she’d been. Having arrived in her
destination, they’d been walking three days. She’d been expecting to meet the
guide, Anya, plus two more hikers but when she got off the plane there was only
Anya to meet her. Her fellow would be hikers had cried off; a medical
emergency, a family funeral. Those things happen. But immediately Frances took
a liking to Anya. Her appearance was striking, her enthusiasm contagious. After
only a hour’s hiking across the windswept landscape, the air hot and dry,
Frances had easily forgotten the fresh blisters that formed, the weight of her
pack, the insects which bit her exposed arms.
On their third
evening, Anya chose a site next to a deep blue lake.
“We’ll set camp
here”, she said. “Make a fire.”
Frances had
surprised herself by quickly picking up skills she’d never dreamed of,
collecting wood, getting a campfire to spark, and nurturing the flames. The
smell of smoke heralded the chance to massage her feet, absorb the stillness of
the air, enjoy the rugged landscape of boulders, the fragrant spruce, the water
before her a pool of the deepest blues. But most of all, Frances relished
listening to Anya, who would talk until the moon was their light, the air
filled with the sounds of the night. Frances had never sat by a campfire
before; she loved the smell of it, the sound, the sound of Anya’s voice, deep
and rich at times, haunting. The light of the fire warmed the colour of Anya’s
skin. Anya’s tales had been of her adventures, the people she’d met, the
legends which ran through the regions like seams of precious metal through
rock. Like a small child listening to a mother, Frances had been entranced by
her words, words which brought alive places she’d never been, people that
seemed so real they could have been sitting with them, sharing the hot tea
they’d brewed, laughing together. But that evening something had shifted, in
the way Anya had moved closer to the fire letting the heat of its flames glow
on her face, glint in her eyes. Her voice took on an edge of chill which made the
skin on Frances’ arms inadvertently shiver.
“They say the
water here holds a secret,” said Anya, sitting crossed legged beside the fire,
her eyes never leaving those of Frances.
“What kind of
secret?”
“The water
bears the souls of the dead.”
Frances shifted
her position on the ground. “You mean, someone died here?”
Anya looked out
across the water. She picked up a small stone that sat near her feet and
skimmed it across the lake; it skipped several times before disappearing into
the inky depths.
“Not everyone
who has walked this land leaves it. It is said the souls of three campers
remain here .The missing are not always found.”
“What happened
to them?” asked Frances.
“Their stories
have never been told,” said Anya “But their absence is still felt, appeals from
their families
still ardent, despite the years which have passed.”
Something moved
in the shadows beside them. A wisp of cloud moved across the face of the moon.
“But you
shouldn’t fear the wilds,” continued Anya. “We are born from the earth, we
encompass it, we are part of it and one day we will return to it.”
She eased
another log in place. A new spark ignited, a flare in the dark. The shadows
deepened across the lake. A cry of an animal rang out, its echo blown across
the water. A larger drift of cloud shrouded the moon. Frances wrapped a small
blanket around her shoulders.
“Do you know
who these campers were?” asked Frances.
“I’ve heard
their names. They weren’t much older than you. They came seeking adventure. But
some adventurers are misguided. I believe the youngest made the mistake of
coming alone.”
An uneasiness
tingled in Frances’ legs, rising up into her whole being. “Are you saying they
may be around somewhere?”
“They were
reported to have walked these mountains, these hills, trodden the ground we
walked today, yes. They too looked at these waters, smelt this air. These rocks
heard their voices, that moon looked down upon their faces. This land knows
their stories.”
“But haven’t
they been looked for, has this area been searched?” asked Frances, staring into
the lake before her.
“Why of course.
But no trace was found. Rain cleanses the rocks, time erodes details.”
“But what about
the lake?” Frances tucked the blanket up around her chin and shifted a little
further from the water’s edge.
“Oh, the lake
will never give up its secrets. Its waters run deep, too deep. This place is
too remote. You know yourself the gradient you’ve climbed, the twists of the
paths, the density of the trees, in places so close there is barely air between
them to breathe. No, the water will hold their souls, their truth.
Anya inched
nearer to where Frances huddled. Her mind flew to Tasmin, their banter about
wild camping. Frances wished she’d stuck to learning a foreign language. The
very ground beneath her seamed to tremble.
“Do you really
believe their bodies are in this lake?” Frances’ words seemed to shiver as they
left her lips.
“I know they
are,” said Anya. “But don’t worry, I see fear in your eyes. I am your guide. I
know this place better than anyone. I’ve swam in these waters, slept peacefully
beside it. Listened to its sounds, its whispers.”
Frances relaxed
her shoulders a little. The fire released a spark as Anya poked it. The embers
glowed white with heat.
“Soon you will
be joining them. You will become part of their story, part of the richness of
this land.”
Anya leaned
closer still. “But don’t worry, the water will hold you close, hold your secret
closer still. No one will hear you. Only the rocks. Only the moon will bear
witness and I will never tell.”
Only Anya heard
Frances scream. The clouds slipped in front of the moon and the surface of the
waters shivered.
Dawn Treacher
Dawn Treacher is
based in North Yorkshire, England. She writes in both adult crime fiction and
children's middle grade fantasy adventures. She is also an illustrator of
children's fiction, an artist and plush artist. She runs both a writing
critique group and a creative writing group and goes into schools to promote
storytelling.
