No more wiggle room

Sarah walked out of the tiny room feeling very exposed. This was supposed to be a cursory inspection. Instead she found illegal activity the second she walked through the door.

Four or five large men casually drifted her way to stand in front of her. Damn. She put her hands on her hips, fingers tickling the hilt of her gun, and tilted her head. "Well what do we have here?" She asked them. "Do you really think this is a good idea? Ambush a marshall and then what? You don't think they would send me here alone do you?" They did but who was she to tell them that. A few men shifted nervously. The leader crossed his arms and smirked. He was short, latino and buff. Too used to getting his own way, that's what his problem is, Sarah thought. The leader kept staring at her. With a jolt, she understood why. He was trying to seduce her. Or intimidate her. She would laugh if it wasn't so serious. "Look," she said. "I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll report back to my boss, let him fill out the paperwork and you won't have to go to jail. Sound good?" She looked into each man's face and waited for them to look away before nodding once, sharply. "Great. Y'all have a nice day." She started to walk past the small group when the leader stuck his hand in front of her chest. She sighed exasperated and rolled her eyes.

The leader looked her up and down. "You are going to have to do better than that little speech chica," he said.

Sarah was angry and scared, but mostly angry. She grabbed his arm. She twisted, hard until he bent forward. There he stood. Pushing against her. Resisting. She kicked the back of his knees. They buckled. He lurched forward. Almost there, she thought. She stepped on the small of his back. He went down. Almost too easily. She bent forward with him. Keeping him immobilized. It was all over in fifteen seconds flat. She pulled the handcuffs from her belt and slapped them on his wrists. Hard. "Now if there are any other objections?" she asked standing up. "I would be happy to address them." The other tough guys refused to meet her glare. "Hmph," she said. Then bent down and jerked the once fearless leader to his feet. "This," she said pulling him along behind her. "Is getting old."

An inside look

"Mama, Mama look!" Emma tugged on her mother's sleeve and pointed across the street.
"Sh, Emma, it's not polite to point at people."
"But Mama," Emma protested, squeezing a little closer. "She's dead."
Her mother's head snapped up and she looked around. No one had seemed to notice. Her mother grabbed her by the arm. Sharp fingers digging in deep. Relentlessly pulling, dragging until they were hidden behind a nearby tree.
"Mama," Emma protested, tugging at the iron hand. "You're hurting me."
Her mother took once last glance around before bending down to Emma's height. "Emma, you must promise me to never talk about what you can see."
Emma looked down. Scared at the harsh, stern tone.
"Emma." Fingers wrapped around her chin making her look up. "Promise me."
Emma nodded slowly.
The fingers tightened. "Promise!"
"I promise," she mumbled.
Her mother's shoulders slumped forward. Her hand dropped. "Good girl," she muttered standing back up. "Good girl."


Emma walked up the stone steps to her apartment door. The door swung open just as she reached the top.
"Hello Miss Emma," the small boy said brightly.
"Hello Eddie," Emma replied. She forced a responding smile onto her face. "How are you?"
"I'm going to the zoo!" he said excitedly. "Daddy's going to take me and I'm going to see the tigers and the snakes and maybe the sharks."
"Wow, that's pretty cool."
"Yeah. And Daddy said, if I was good, we would get ice cream and hamburgers, just us, just the guys," he finished proudly.
"Sounds like a lot of fun Eddie. Where's your dad now?"
"Well he's not here yet but he will be any time. He said to make sure I was ready by twelve."
Emma glanced down at her wristwatch. "It's only ten Eddie, aren't you a little early?"
"Yeah. I know. Mom said that too. But I don't want to miss him." Eddie looked toward the street, a long-suffering hope etched onto his face. "You don't think I will, do you Miss Emma?"
Emma tried to smile through the pain lodged in her throat. Eddie's childish face only masked the hard, bitter old man underneath. Cracks ran across his face where wrinkles would have been. His soul slowly leaking through. Grim and waiting. For someone who would never come. For the trip that would never happen. "No Eddie," she said turning toward the door. "I don't think you could."


Emma trudged up the plain stairs to her third floor apartment. Quickly, quickly! Then she was inside. All five locks bolted securely. Kettle on the stove coming to a boil. With a sigh, she sank down onto her couch. Feet tucked inside a light, fuzzy blanket. Arms wrapped close and tight around her.

Her mother had called it a bestowed curse. A chance to right the wrongs done to the young and the dead. She could see what would happen. What things could affect their souls. What aged the innocent and condemned the compassionate. When the lives of the young would fade or simply be stolen.

She had this curse since childhood. The first time she mentioned it to her mother it was about a beautiful young girl standing innocently on the sidewalk waiting to be picked up from the bus stop.  Five days later, they pulled her body from a shallow grave under the dog house in her backyard. Emma's mother didn't want her to see but they couldn't avoid it. The little girl looked exactly the same as she had that day by the bus stop. Eyes filmed over white. Flesh rotting off her fingers and face. Angry slashes to her skull and chest. One arm dangling, attached only by a stubborn tendon. Emma was shocked and sad to see the violence. Stark and visible for the world to see. No longer hidden away behind her beautiful mask of a face.

The kettle whistled.

She stood and walked over to the stove, shakily pouring a cup of tea out. Her mother had taken her on a trip to a state reserve a few months later. Just to get away from the media and the constant haunting face of the little girl. Her mother said it was her duty to help the masked ones before their real face showed what was lurking underneath. She said Emma was the only one who could.

That was exactly ten months before her mother disappeared.

Emma wrapped her fingers around the scalding mug. Red calloused fingers welcoming the harsh warmth. What could she do to help? Evil would prevail whether she was there or not. She didn't have some super power. There wasn't a villan to fight. There was just her and the brokenness. The never ending pain. How can you fight against something like that?


To be continued...

Ardra’s Beginning

Ardra sat beside the river watching the wind as it played with the leaves. Periodically it would stoop and tease the water into tiny ripples before dispersing across the long cattails. Yukiko, Ardra’s white tiger companion; raised his head briefly, and eyed the noisy river greenery disdainfully before letting his head drop to the forest floor again. Ardra stretched out over his back, arms tucked comfortably behind his spine, fingers playing with his ears, and let her mind drift.

She had come a long way since stumbling onto the druid’s hut. She had been stolen when she was 15; a young age for anyone, especially an elf. All she remembered about those first few years was sunshine and happiness. But all that changed.

Her kidnappers kept to the forest. Stealing food from nearby farms or cheating town’s people out of their money. They lived in the shadows those first two years. Each day a wizard or a mage magically stunted Ardra’s growth, keeping her small and desirable. Ardra escaped more than once; melting into crevices or ditches, rolling away with bound hands or tearing the rope on a tree’s bark. Each time the tracker brought her back. He was a human, more gifted than he ought to be. Always averting his eyes guiltily when she pleaded with him and disappearing quickly to avoid her punishment.

And then the day came when she was bought. The leader came in loud and swaggering, a packhorse full of gold and goods behind him. The slavers were merry that day.

Yukiko shook his head and gave a low growl. Ardra grinned and folded her long hands under her chin.

When night came the slavers smuggled her past the town’s tall wooden walls to a country estate. A short time later the solid brick castle walls signaled her arrival to her prison. She was shoved through a small door, arms scraping painfully against the frame into the darkness of the room beyond. The heavy bolt slid home with a loud thump, as soon as she was inside.

Her new masters were wealthy nobles; far enough away from court that they did not fear punishment for keeping an elf as a slave. She was given to the oldest son as a birthday gift. He was the same age she was, at least in years.  But there was darkness in him that even his parents could not see. He would taunt Ardra frequently with hopes of freedom only to snatch it from her at the last moment. He would corner her in a stone room where no help was to be found. That is, until the night of her escape.

Yukiko gave a sigh and stood up. Ardra fell backward with a small thump. Yukiko glanced at her, glared at the teasing wind which had taken to dancing in his fur and started walking back toward the hut. Scrambling up, Ardra slowly followed.

The son had locked her in a closet, licking his lips, eyes lost in lust, walking toward her slowly. His left hand held a knife, his right fumbled with his belt buckle. Ardra squeezed herself against the corner closed her eyes and prayed. A loud shout startled her eyes open. The wooden door had exploded with thorny vines and had thrown the son against the far wall, he moaned, only semi-conscious. Ardra darted forward and picked up the knife, holding it in front of her in defense. After several minutes when he didn’t more and the vines did not disappear she started sliding toward the door. As she got closer to the thorns the vines moved gently away, like lady’s picking up their skirts in a curtsy. Ardra whispered a thank you as she glided past.

From there things became easier and harder. The nobles refused to let the uppity slave girl get away, even if she was an elf and gave chase. Ardra remembered running, stumbling, falling through the forest. She also vaguely remembered the forest pushing her attackers back; always holding them at bay just long enough for her to keep moving forward. It was the forest that led her to the hut.

Ardra shielded her eyes and looked up at the brownish unassuming hut in front of her. It was almost invisible against the dark greens of the woods, unless you knew what you were looking for. Yukiko ambled inside and lay down with a huff. Ardra stopped in the field, arms wrapped tightly around her body.

The druid met her at the door. She hadn’t even realized it was a door until he stood in her way. He glanced down at the stork behind him with a questing look. The stork nodded once and the druid took off, pushing her into the hut as he left. The door slammed shut behind him as the wind began to pick up. Rain slashed at the windows. The stork paced.

The druid did not return until the next morning. The stork flew to him making concerned noises. The druid was injured, badly, and fell as soon as he saw Ardra. She ran to him and helped him into the hut.

After that things seemed pretty simple. The druid taught her what he knew and nature taught her the rest. The druid said she was chosen by nature to defend it, to preserve it. When he died she took his place.

It was shortly after his death that Yukiko came to her. At his arrival the stork flew away. She has never seen it since.

Ardra sighed and lifted up her hands. She smiled as the butterflies danced around her fingers and the flowers bloomed around her feet. The wind whipped up into a small cyclone around her then scattered across the field. There was one thing she knew for sure; she was finally home.