It came suddenly. A sharp cold pain. Like an icicle slicing its way into her chest.
Emma didn't turn around. She didn't need to. She knew what waited for her.
Tap, tap, tap.
Emma shuddered. She wrapped her shaking fingers around the hot mug. Tighter, tighter. The mug slowly coming off the table before she released it suddenly. Barely noticing the clatter it made as it hit the table. Her head dropped, coming to a rest when her hands covered her ears. She pushed. Trying to block out the sound. Trying but not succeeding. She didn't want to look. She didn't want to see the horror that waited at the window. She couldn't stand seeing one more...
She turned. Giving into the irresistible urge to see it. To know for sure.
Tiny skeleton fingers gripped the edge of the window sill. A child's solemn face peered in at her. Translucent skin overlaying the grinning skull beneath. It's half rotted eyes fixed on hers. Those terrible fingers tap, tap, tapped on the window again.
A hand reached down to gently grip the tapping fingers. Warm, pink and solid. A face came into view. The mother calmly scolded her already dead child.
But she didn't know! She couldn't know. Not even the children knew.
Emma sat transfixed, watching the drama play out. Only she knew. Only she could change it. That was her burden. To find and stop the murder, before the awful vision became a reality.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Saturday, July 21, 2012
Excerpt from Escaping Destiny
Katrina sneezed.
Beratles, horrible flowers people gave to sweethearts on anniversaries or Valentine's Day, seemed to be everywhere. People planted them outside, gave them in pots and kept them in vases. Katrina's lone allergy was to these irritating blooms. This afternoon, hundreds of them waved in the breeze, their almost wooden bases clunking together. The too sweet smell drifted toward her and she sneezed again. I hate beratles, she thought.
Birds sang in the trees beside the road and leaves rustled. School had just let out for the year. Freedom, she thought, is a wonderful thing.
Her auburn hair whipped in the wind, stinging her face. She wore a lose fitting pastel yellow shirt with low rider jeans. The collar of her shirt kept fluttering up in her mouth; giving her a bland flavor of starch with a bitter after taste. She had chosen her own clothes for once, a rare treat. Mr. Godwin usually picked out her wardrobe for the entire week.
He's not my father, he's my jailer, she corrected herself bitterly. How will I ever escape?
Sweat trickled down her back. With a sigh she gave up the fight against the heat. She enjoyed the wind but also wanted to be comfortable. Flipping a small silver lever, a transparent shield formed around the spacer, enveloping it in a bubble. The air began to cool and sounds diminished. Her vehicle hovered a foot above the ground as it gently whooshed along the road. She'd once overheard someone say it looked like a wheel-deprived scooter. She'd built her first spacer five years earlier and now people couldn't tell between her contraptions and the real thing.
Katrina slowed down, putting the board on auto-pilot, tugging her report card from her jeans. All A's. She ran her finger down the list to make sure. Well, Mr. Godwin will be pleased, she thought and felt her nose wrinkle in disgust at the thought. She jammed the card into her back pocket and reached for the controlling gear.
Looking up, she saw a spacer coming at her and swerved. Her vehicle glanced off the edge of a ditch and flipped. She tumbled off and all thoughts of Mr. Godwin disappeared. The board rolled several more times before coming to a stop, its shield vanishing as it touched the ground. Katrina got to her feet and sneezed, withing beratles into the nearest black hole. She spat dirt from her mouth, pushed her hair behind her ears and trotted over to her spacer. She attempted to start it. It grumbled but didn't catch.
Great! This is just what I need.
The other spacer whispered to a stop a feet feet away and a young man stepped off.
Averting her eyes, she brushed at her pants. Of course it's a guy! The day wouldn't be complete without a little more embarrassment. Ignoring him, she opened up the small engine hood in the back of the spacer. Ouch! She flinched, let go and blew on her fingers. Steam billowed out, closely followed by a rank order of burning acid. It stung her nostrils. She wrinkled her nose, looking over the engine. A spark plug dangled, its base broken.
"Hello," the stranger said. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"
Do I look okay? she thought turning. He wore a dark blue tailored suit. It was a good fit, showing off the muscled body beneath. She couldn't help but notice the fabric matched his eyes. "Yes?" she said aloud, an edge of impatience creeping into her voice.
"Can I help with your spacer?"
Katrina narrowed her eyes. No way are you getting anywhere near my baby, she thought. "Haven't you done enough?" she asked instead, hands coming up to sit defiantly on her hips.
He looked her up and down and raised his eyebrows. "apparently, but my offer still stands."
Her face burned but she didn't back down. "I can fix it myself," she said. "I built it."
He shrugged.
Nice going Kat. When in doubt, be a jerk. She lowered her hands and looked around for her backpack. Crashing her spacer had been clumsy enough. But crashing in front of a cute guy? Humiliating. She sneezed again.
She finally spotted her backpack partly hidden by a clump of grass and walked over to retrieve it.
"Did you lose something?"
Why don't you lose something. "Did you need something?"
"Nope, just hoping I can catch a master mechanic at work."
Back facing the stranger, she rolled her eyes. Snatching up her backpack she shook it to dislodge the dirt and grass before trudging back to the downed spacer.
He met her there. "Let's start over. I really am sorry..."
"Katrina," she supplied after his expectant pause, eyes down focusing on the inside of her bag.
"I'm sorry Katrina, I didn't mean to run you off the road."
Kat pulled out a pair of gloves and a small tool, dropping the bag onto the ground without acknowledging his statement.
"If I may offer a suggestion," he said. "You need an encobarge. I can patch it for you, at least until you get one." He took off his jacket revealing a white dress shirt, and promptly began rolling the sleeves up.
Kat finally stopped fiddling with the spark plug and looked up. "I'm sorry, maybe I wasn't clear. I don't need your help."
He bent closer toward the engine.
She grabbed his arm wincing at the inevitable blank stains that would remain once she let go and pulled him away from her spacer. "What's wrong with you?"
He looked down at his arm. Darn, he smelled like peppermint.
"So are you some kind of compulsive expert, trying to cause accidents just so you can show off?" she blustered, covering up her guilt as she let go of his arm. Yep. That was going to stain.
"Fixing yes. I'm sorry it's my first at the causing. And I apologize for insisting but you really do need an encobarge."
"Thank you, I am quite aware of what it needs," Kat said, turning away from him again to finish unscrewing the spark plug.
"Fine," he said brushing at his sleeve then sighing. "So what do you think it needs?"
Kat glared at him and grabbed her backpack off the ground. She withdrew a spark plug, and held it in his face. "This," she said, tossing the damaged piece back into the bag. After a few more slight adjustments she righted the spacer the stood on top, tapping the start button. She heard the machine sputter then felt it lift to hover a few feet off the ground. She smiled then bent down to grab her backpack.
"Encobarge huh?" she asked with raised eyebrows.
"Wait," the young man called as she began to leave. "What's your number?"
She grinned and sped away.
Beratles, horrible flowers people gave to sweethearts on anniversaries or Valentine's Day, seemed to be everywhere. People planted them outside, gave them in pots and kept them in vases. Katrina's lone allergy was to these irritating blooms. This afternoon, hundreds of them waved in the breeze, their almost wooden bases clunking together. The too sweet smell drifted toward her and she sneezed again. I hate beratles, she thought.
Birds sang in the trees beside the road and leaves rustled. School had just let out for the year. Freedom, she thought, is a wonderful thing.
Her auburn hair whipped in the wind, stinging her face. She wore a lose fitting pastel yellow shirt with low rider jeans. The collar of her shirt kept fluttering up in her mouth; giving her a bland flavor of starch with a bitter after taste. She had chosen her own clothes for once, a rare treat. Mr. Godwin usually picked out her wardrobe for the entire week.
He's not my father, he's my jailer, she corrected herself bitterly. How will I ever escape?
Sweat trickled down her back. With a sigh she gave up the fight against the heat. She enjoyed the wind but also wanted to be comfortable. Flipping a small silver lever, a transparent shield formed around the spacer, enveloping it in a bubble. The air began to cool and sounds diminished. Her vehicle hovered a foot above the ground as it gently whooshed along the road. She'd once overheard someone say it looked like a wheel-deprived scooter. She'd built her first spacer five years earlier and now people couldn't tell between her contraptions and the real thing.
Katrina slowed down, putting the board on auto-pilot, tugging her report card from her jeans. All A's. She ran her finger down the list to make sure. Well, Mr. Godwin will be pleased, she thought and felt her nose wrinkle in disgust at the thought. She jammed the card into her back pocket and reached for the controlling gear.
Looking up, she saw a spacer coming at her and swerved. Her vehicle glanced off the edge of a ditch and flipped. She tumbled off and all thoughts of Mr. Godwin disappeared. The board rolled several more times before coming to a stop, its shield vanishing as it touched the ground. Katrina got to her feet and sneezed, withing beratles into the nearest black hole. She spat dirt from her mouth, pushed her hair behind her ears and trotted over to her spacer. She attempted to start it. It grumbled but didn't catch.
Great! This is just what I need.
The other spacer whispered to a stop a feet feet away and a young man stepped off.
Averting her eyes, she brushed at her pants. Of course it's a guy! The day wouldn't be complete without a little more embarrassment. Ignoring him, she opened up the small engine hood in the back of the spacer. Ouch! She flinched, let go and blew on her fingers. Steam billowed out, closely followed by a rank order of burning acid. It stung her nostrils. She wrinkled her nose, looking over the engine. A spark plug dangled, its base broken.
"Hello," the stranger said. "I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"
Do I look okay? she thought turning. He wore a dark blue tailored suit. It was a good fit, showing off the muscled body beneath. She couldn't help but notice the fabric matched his eyes. "Yes?" she said aloud, an edge of impatience creeping into her voice.
"Can I help with your spacer?"
Katrina narrowed her eyes. No way are you getting anywhere near my baby, she thought. "Haven't you done enough?" she asked instead, hands coming up to sit defiantly on her hips.
He looked her up and down and raised his eyebrows. "apparently, but my offer still stands."
Her face burned but she didn't back down. "I can fix it myself," she said. "I built it."
He shrugged.
Nice going Kat. When in doubt, be a jerk. She lowered her hands and looked around for her backpack. Crashing her spacer had been clumsy enough. But crashing in front of a cute guy? Humiliating. She sneezed again.
She finally spotted her backpack partly hidden by a clump of grass and walked over to retrieve it.
"Did you lose something?"
Why don't you lose something. "Did you need something?"
"Nope, just hoping I can catch a master mechanic at work."
Back facing the stranger, she rolled her eyes. Snatching up her backpack she shook it to dislodge the dirt and grass before trudging back to the downed spacer.
He met her there. "Let's start over. I really am sorry..."
"Katrina," she supplied after his expectant pause, eyes down focusing on the inside of her bag.
"I'm sorry Katrina, I didn't mean to run you off the road."
Kat pulled out a pair of gloves and a small tool, dropping the bag onto the ground without acknowledging his statement.
"If I may offer a suggestion," he said. "You need an encobarge. I can patch it for you, at least until you get one." He took off his jacket revealing a white dress shirt, and promptly began rolling the sleeves up.
Kat finally stopped fiddling with the spark plug and looked up. "I'm sorry, maybe I wasn't clear. I don't need your help."
He bent closer toward the engine.
She grabbed his arm wincing at the inevitable blank stains that would remain once she let go and pulled him away from her spacer. "What's wrong with you?"
He looked down at his arm. Darn, he smelled like peppermint.
"So are you some kind of compulsive expert, trying to cause accidents just so you can show off?" she blustered, covering up her guilt as she let go of his arm. Yep. That was going to stain.
"Fixing yes. I'm sorry it's my first at the causing. And I apologize for insisting but you really do need an encobarge."
"Thank you, I am quite aware of what it needs," Kat said, turning away from him again to finish unscrewing the spark plug.
"Fine," he said brushing at his sleeve then sighing. "So what do you think it needs?"
Kat glared at him and grabbed her backpack off the ground. She withdrew a spark plug, and held it in his face. "This," she said, tossing the damaged piece back into the bag. After a few more slight adjustments she righted the spacer the stood on top, tapping the start button. She heard the machine sputter then felt it lift to hover a few feet off the ground. She smiled then bent down to grab her backpack.
"Encobarge huh?" she asked with raised eyebrows.
"Wait," the young man called as she began to leave. "What's your number?"
She grinned and sped away.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
Unsure
Andrea stuck her hands beneath her legs nervously and scrunched deeper into the small plastic chair. She curled her hands slightly, digging her nails into the unforgiving plastic. Thank goodness she was here alone for once. No one could see, no one cared how hard this was for her.
"Good luck," whispered the girl next to her as she rose and went into the interview room.
Luck. Andrea thought. That's all I need. It wasn't that she was ungrateful. Good intending people often just made a mess out of everything. Perfectly laid plans waylaid by someone trying to help. Huh. Luck.
This is the last time she'd let River talk her into one of these things. The last one was bad enough. At least they waited until she was out of the room before exploding with laughter. It's not like these interview actually went anywhere. Thanks but it's not what we're looking for, began the typical answer. If she heard back at all. So what's the point? In some ways she still felt like a gawky teenager going on a first date.
Who do you think you are? She admonished herself silently. Like I'm going to change the world.
Maybe, came the soft response. Maybe someone somewhere actually cares about this stuff. You don't want to take a chance. You don't want to miss it.
She sighed and withdrew her hands. Slightly red and tingly from the blood rushing back. Well, that's that. Even if she was alone in this, even if no one, anyone ever listened, she still had to try. There was no other choice. She couldn't shut it out. Even if she wanted to try, which she didn't. Not really.
"Andrea Chase?" called the interviewer.
Andrea reached down and grabbed her things. She stood up, straightening her back as she went and glanced to her right. She hesitated. "Good luck," she whispered and strode past the waiting woman into her future.
"Good luck," whispered the girl next to her as she rose and went into the interview room.
Luck. Andrea thought. That's all I need. It wasn't that she was ungrateful. Good intending people often just made a mess out of everything. Perfectly laid plans waylaid by someone trying to help. Huh. Luck.
This is the last time she'd let River talk her into one of these things. The last one was bad enough. At least they waited until she was out of the room before exploding with laughter. It's not like these interview actually went anywhere. Thanks but it's not what we're looking for, began the typical answer. If she heard back at all. So what's the point? In some ways she still felt like a gawky teenager going on a first date.
Who do you think you are? She admonished herself silently. Like I'm going to change the world.
Maybe, came the soft response. Maybe someone somewhere actually cares about this stuff. You don't want to take a chance. You don't want to miss it.
She sighed and withdrew her hands. Slightly red and tingly from the blood rushing back. Well, that's that. Even if she was alone in this, even if no one, anyone ever listened, she still had to try. There was no other choice. She couldn't shut it out. Even if she wanted to try, which she didn't. Not really.
"Andrea Chase?" called the interviewer.
Andrea reached down and grabbed her things. She stood up, straightening her back as she went and glanced to her right. She hesitated. "Good luck," she whispered and strode past the waiting woman into her future.
Stephanie Hoffman
04/18/2009
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