Happy Valentine's Day!

Here's a little piece I wrote for the Apex Valentine's day competition. It didn't make the cut, so I decided to stick it here instead. I hope you like it.

Locks of Love

The men always came with scissors, some dull and stubborn with rust, others oiled and wickedly sharp, and one memorable pair golden and dainty, shaped like a stork’s beak. If Acantha was feeling generous, she’d comb out her silky beard and let them take what they wished. Some wanted more. The polite, comely ones she sometimes took as lovers, but for those who would take their pleasure by force, there was the toadstone. Let them hop back to their women, hoping for a kiss to restore their humanity.

The boy had shears. The poor thing trembled so hard Acantha thought he’d faint.

“Come, boy. You’re letting the ghosts in.”

The boy yelped and swatted at the wraith playfully winding its bony fingers around his throat. With an indignant howl, the wraith dispersed into wisps of mist.

“Close the door. For goodness’ sake! I know what you seek.” Acantha separated a few tendrils and beckoned. The boy’s hands shook so that she had to steady them, and the shears left a ragged, ugly mark. “There, go. Good luck.”

The boy stammered his thanks and stumbled out, leaving the door wide open. Acantha closed the door and smoothed the shorn ends into her beard. It had no magical powers that she knew of, but somehow the men who came to her succeeded in wooing their ladies nonetheless.

The men would come with their scissors, and she would oblige them.

 Saved her hours of composing insipid love spells, at least.

Terribleminds Challenge: Random Flickr Photo Challenge

Yay, the Terribleminds flash fiction challenge is back! This week we took inspiration from a random photo on Flicr. This is the one I picked. Here we go...

Winter’s Child

The day was so cold that breathing felt like inhaling tiny needles, snot froze in your handkerchief, and smiling hurt your teeth. Any sensible person would have given up on running that day, but not me. No, I had decided to run 5k, and 5k I would run, even though I couldn’t feel my legs by the second lap around the park.  My iPod died after ten minutes, which didn’t improve my temper any, but if I had been blaring my music, I’d never have heard the child.

I didn’t recognize the noise at first. A high giggle sparkled over the snow like champagne, as if some snow-sprite had stepped out of a fairy story and decided to spy on me from the barren branches of the old oak trees. I stopped, trying to place the sound. There it was again.  I followed it to the soccer field, not yet frozen for ice-skating, and looked around. A large, green dumpster stood on my right, rust flaking off it in long strips. I spotted something red on the ground behind it. The snow creaked under my sneakers as my footsteps marred its pristine perfection.

Cautiously, I approached, creeped out against my better judgment. The park was deserted, the blue twilight fast fading to darkness. I suppressed a shudder and told myself to stop being silly. Someone might be in trouble, and who knew if anyone else would come this way before morning?  Time to act like an adult, for once.  I set my jaw and strode on with a confidence I didn’t feel. As I came closer, I saw a red blanket. On the blanket sat a child, its skin as white as the winter’s snow. It looked like a two-year-old, maybe younger, and it wore only a woolen scarf for a diaper. It giggled again.

“Hello? Anybody here?” I called and looked around, but there was no answer.

How could it have survived the cold? The outdoor thermometer had shown twenty-eight degrees below zero when I left, and my fingers were numb even with two pairs of gloves on. I’d need to get the child inside, maybe to a hospital. How long had it been there? Who would leave a child in the snow like this? Of all the irresponsible… I looked around, but no mother appeared.  I bit my lip, debating whether I should call the police or an ambulance, but decided it would take too long. My house was only five minutes away, and my first priority was getting the child somewhere warm.

“Hi there,” I said, dropping to my haunches. “Where’s your mommy, then?”

The toddler only smiled, its eyes glinting black under the streetlights. I wrapped it in the blanket and lifted it up. The child felt surprisingly heavy, and its skin was cold as marble.

“Upsy-daisy! You’re coming home with auntie Ada, and then we’ll call the nice ladies at social services, okay?”

The child looked at me, its dark eyes full of mischief, and grabbed at my collar. At least it wasn’t crying. I started jogging home.

#

After I had bundled the kid in an old sweater, way too large, of course, I called the emergency number. All the lines were busy. I scratched at a stain on the tabletop and jiggled my leg furiously up and down, trying to stay still. Damn it, damn it, damn it. I kept one eye on the child as I tried again. The kid pulled itself up against the sofa and toddled over to the coffee table. It burbled as it grabbed an orange from the bowl with wobbling hands. Relief dispersed the frantic, panicked energy gathering in my limbs. The kid was playing and not crying, so maybe it wouldn’t drop dead on me in the next few minutes. Redial. Still busy. Suddenly the child took on a fierce look of concentration like only little children can. Frost spread from its fingers, and, slowly, the orange froze. It grew too heavy for the child to hold and fell to the floor with a thump, ice crystals scattering all over. I dropped the phone.

“What . . . ”

The child took a few steps, wobbled, and fell. I caught its arms by reflex. It clambered up, using my knee as a support. My legs began to freeze, and I couldn’t move. The child climbed into my lap and stood up, placing both hands on my shoulders. Frostbite crawled over my chest and froze the air in my lungs. I couldn’t feel my hands anymore.  The child pressed its cold nose to mine and giggled, revealing teeth sharp as icicles. My heart gave a last, sluggish beat as my eyes froze through. The world turned into cool shades of ice and frost.

I stood, my limbs strong and smooth and cold, and held the child close. It felt warm against my skin.

Together we walked into the fierce midwinter’s night. 

Merry Christmas!

To everybody celebrating Christmas today, have a good one, and happy holidays to those who don't.

My friend Heli asked for a story for Christmas, and here it is. I don't think she'll mind that I shared it with you guys, too.  So this one's for you, Heli. I hope you like it.

Ghosts for Christmas

  

The ghosts arrived promptly at midnight, Earth Sector Three time.  They crowded around the table and examined the offerings set out on it, ignoring the young woman and toddler asleep on the bed in the corner of the room.

Granny Sanelma pushed her tarnished spectacles onto her forehead and brought a gingerbread cookie close to one eye for closer examination.

“This isn’t right, not right at all,” she said, giving the cookie a prim sniff.

Aunt Terhi rolled her eyes, making her cat-eye glasses slide down her nose. “Stop showing off, Grandma. Just because you can move objects--”

   Old uncle Talneli dropped the ghost of a raisin bun he had been gumming. “But she’s right. Worse than cardboard, this is. In my day we used to have proper Christmases, fresh straw on the floor, salted ham, creamy rice porridge with plenty of butter . . . These youngsters have no respect for tradition.”

“Not even a Christmas tree!” Granny Sanelma said, dropping the cookie to the floor. “And just one candle. Oh, I used to have dozens and dozens of them, and the ice lanterns . . . “

“What is this place?” Aunt Terhi asked, examining the strange, humming walls of the room. “There’s no kitchen, and what are all these blinking lights? Just look at those overalls. Do you suppose they’re some kind of pajamas?” She peered out from between the half-closed curtains.  They were of a heavy, slippery material, like the dresses she used to wear in the sixties. “How strange. Granny, can you open these?

When Sanelma slid the drapes open they both gasped.

“Stars! Stars everywhere! What is this place? Oh, I feel faint,” Sanelma said, backing away from the porthole.

Jasmin appeared, her surly teenage face twisted in a scowl. “Jeez, you’re old.” She strode over to the porthole and snapped her ghostly, grey gum with a loud pop. “We’re obviously in space, you old retards. Haven’t you seen Star Trek?”

Sanelma pulled out a fan of black lace and sank on something resembling a couch, fanning herself with quick, trembling movements.

Aunt Terhi still looked out the porthole, staring into the void. The velvet darkness fascinated her, invited her to fall towards the distant suns like silver sparklers in the deep. She forced herself to turn back to the others.  She was the responsible one; she should take charge. “You mean we’re not on Earth anymore? How will we get back?”

Jasmin was busy digging through the drawers that slid out of the wall. “I don’t care.  I don’t want to go home. Just look at this stuff.” She held a maroon jumpsuit up against herself, making her face appear even paler than it was. “This is so rad. I wish I had my iPhone.”

Maybe Jasmin was right? What harm would there be in exploring a little? Terhi sat next to Sanelma and tried to help her calm down. “Come, let’s have another look. It’s beautiful out there.”

“No. I am staying right here.” Sanelma crossed her arms, tucking the fan into her armpit.

 “What about them? You always want to get to know the relatives.” Terhi pointed at the woman and child.

Sanelma’s expression softened and she smiled, revealing a pearly-white set of false teeth.  She bustled over to the bed. “Oh yes, my great-great-great-grandniece and her son.  Your lot were always too adventurous for their own good, Taneli.”

Old Taneli’s face scrunched up like he had just bitten into a lemon. “At least my relatives are here now, the last of us. Looks like your line’s died out. Maybe they were too careful. Died of boredom, I gather.”

“Why you old coot--”

“The child looks just like you, Taneli,” Terhi said, trying to stop the argument. She smoothed a lock of hair off the child’s reddened cheek.

The toddler stirred, opened one eye, then the other, and yawned. Watching the ghosts curiously, he slid off the bed and crawled towards them.

“Now look what you’ve done!” Uncle Taneli croaked, backing away as the boy approached, brandishing his gnarled cane at the toddler.

“He’s kinda cute,” Jasmin said and tickled the boy’s nose with her black feather boa. The boy giggled and then crawled toward the table, where he proceeded to tug at the tablecloth.

“I remember Christmases at your mother’s house. You used to do that, too,” Terhi said, smiling at Jasmin.

“You could have stopped me. That’s how I got the scar on my shoulder.” Jasmin pulled down the sleeve or her lacy top and revealed three shiny, round scars like teardrops.

“Oh yes, you pulled down the candle.”

“The candle! We gotta stop the kid. Fire’s really dangerous in space!” Jasmin said.  She grabbed at the kid, but her hand went right through him. It happened a lot when she was too excited or nervous to concentrate.

“Sanelma, get him!” Terhi yelled. What would happen if their last relatives died? Where would they go to celebrate Christmas? Or would they be stuck in their graves forever? An eternity without anyone to talk to. She’d take Sanelma’s complaining over that any day.

The candle wobbled, and wax spattered on the cross-stitched tablecloth. Sanelma struggled to pick up the child, but she couldn’t. Jasmin screamed.  Puffing like a steam engine, Old Taneli stood at the other side of the table, brow furrowed in concentration. Just as the candle toppled, a swoosh of cold air blew over it and the flame went out.

“That’s done it, Taneli!” Terhi said, almost fading out of sight with relief.

A blob of hot wax had fallen on the child’s cheek, and he pawed at it, getting wax on his fingers, too. He began to wail. The woman on the bed started awake. “Tani? What is it?” She rushed over to the child and picked him up. Frowning, she wiped the cooling wax off his cheek. “Oh, sweetie, what did you do? Let’s get a coldpak for that.” The toddler’s soft curls stuck to her spiky, red hair.

The toddler’s wails abated as she pressed the coldpak to his cheek “You’re okay, hon. Mommy’s sorry. No more candles.” She gave him a gingerbread cookie, an astronaut with a smile of pink frosting.  Slowly, she walked to the porthole and grasped one of the curtains as if to close it, but then let it fall. ”Do you think they’re eating ham and rutabaga casserole by now? Or opening the presents?” She smiled at the child in her arms, but the smile was tinted with sadness. “You don’t even remember her, but I bet your grandma is really missing you. I wish she were here; I wish they all were.” She pressed her hand to the porthole. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”

The ghosts gathered around her, exchanging glances.

“Guys? I’m glad to spend Christmas with you,” Jasmin said.

“Me too,” Terhi said and hugged her. Taneli patted her shoulder, and Sanelma gave her a stiff one-armed hug.

 Silent, they stood around the mother and child.

At last, they could feel morning coming, a tugging in their stomachs. Young Tani waved at them as they disappeared.  

   

Terribleminds Challenge: X meets Y, The Horror Edition

It's time for another Terribleminds challenge. We're smooshing two randomly selected concepts together again, and I got Back to the Future meets The Shining. It's supposed to be horror, but mine turned out more science fiction-y. I was in a bit of a time crunch, so I incorporated my Novoed course plot assignment into this as well. For that, I'm supposed to have a source of interior and exterior force impacting the characters. It had to be under 1,500 words, so this is a bit on the short side for the Terribleminds one, but, oh well... Hope you like it:)

Time After Time

Wide-eyed people rush past me. Desperation drives them forward, even though there’s nowhere to run. A child clutches a toy bear with one button-eye missing. She holds my gaze for a moment, her liquid eyes dark and solemn. The air is filled with smoke and terror and the sound of screams.

Time to go.

I hurry past the couple necking like there’s no tomorrow. There isn’t, for them. A boy sits in the middle of broken glass in the display window of a sweets shop, eating bright fruit candies from the chocolate castle resting on clouds of cotton candy. I leave them all to burn. This isn’t my first apocalypse. I can’t save them. Or I could, but I might inadvertently destroy the entire history of the human race in the process. So I won’t.

Then my heart freezes. I see a familiar shape. A figure, right hand missing from below the elbow joint, face badly burnt. A sonic blade hangs from its hand. How does it always find me? This time I had three whole weeks before it turned up. I don’t know what it wants; only that I can’t let it catch me. I turn tail and run, just like all the others.

 I round a corner, looking for the rusty iron grate blocking the way to the alley where I left the Icarus.  I hear explosions behind me and jump the grate, fumbling for the entry sequence. I glance back, and the figure approaches, an island of calm in this fiery hell. 54-indigo-doom, I think. For a moment I’m afraid I’m in the wrong place, or that the ship has left me to die, but then a door shimmers into being on a nearby recycling unit. I dive in and it seals behind me.

My heart hammering, I fumble with the safety straps, break a nail and curse. After sealing the doors I pull the control helmet on, lean back on the couch and finally allow myself a small sigh of relief. It can’t get in. I’m safe. Well, at least from my shadow. The apocalypse outside is another matter. 

The command module feels like being in a womb. I like enclosed spaces. That’s probably why they chose me. The cooling systems whir into action, their hum comforting and familiar. I see the map on the MindsEye screen and pick a destination at random . Anywhere but here.

The hum turns into a high-pitched scream.

We fade.

We land on a nice pseudo 18^th century beach on one of the Outer Colonies, Triton’s Bounty. I bury my toes into the sand and watch the sunset. It looks exactly like the fires on Iago. I dig a few derms from my pocket, slap on one marked ‘whiskey.’ It’s not the same as the real thing, but it might relax me enough so I can sleep. The image of my shadow intrudes, its amorphous, shiny burns and the sonic blade. The sour stink of terror and smoke.

No.

I won’t be getting much sleep tonight.

I crawl back inside the Icarus and try, anyway.

The next morning I’m grumpy and hung-over. I activate the MindsEye, check my instructions. Daedalus wants me to return to Iago, find out why their sun flared like that. Fine.  I’ll do it, but not today. I’ve got a time machine, for gods’ sake. There’s no hurry.

My derms run out after a week. It takes me another one to kick the shakes, but I do. Then, and only then, I program the fade to Iago, one day before the flares and the flamestorm. I figure that’s my best chance of finding something. I watch a few vids via MindsEye as I wait for the Icarus to finish its scans. Everything looks fine. A healthy, yellow sun, barely a third into its lifespan. I decide to come back tomorrow.

I land in a different alley, this one in the equator region. I don’t want to run into myself, because that would be bad. I need more derms, and a shot of the real stuff, if I can find it.

The bar is on the sand, and I sip my drink as the sun sinks into the sea. The alcohol has a strange metallic tang to it, probably from the planet’s water.  It’s not whiskey, but close enough. I wish I could load the Icarus up with bottles, but they’re just too heavy.

I’m pretty drunk by the time the shadow turns up; it gets close enough that I can see its shiny burns. It smiles, a grimace that shows a flash of warped teeth. One of the women in the bar screams as it activates its sonic blade. I stumble out of my chair and stumble towards the door. The other patrons slow it down, and I make it outside.

I’m almost at the Icarus, but then I trip. The sand leaves a metallic taste in my mouth when I spit it out.  I turn. The shadow is upon me. I can smell the reek of its festering wounds. It mixes with the scent of roasting fish and lemon from a barbecue down the beach.

“Get away from me!” I scream and scramble backwards, the smooth sand not giving my feet purchase.

The shadow mumbles something, but I can’t make it out.

“Stop!”

It lifts the sonic blade. I can hear its song. Again, the thing tries to speak, but I don’t understand.

I roll away as the blade hits, but I’m not fast enough. There’s a blinding pain in my arm, then it’s just not there anymore. It’s a good thing I’m wearing three derms; they help to kill the pain. I can still function. Screaming, I kick at the thing’s legs. It falls. I struggle to my feet, clutching the seared stump that’s left of my arm.

The shadow thing cries something. I’m almost inside the Icarus, but I pause.

I think it said ‘murderer.’

I seal myself inside the Icarus and activate the emergency medical station. As the ship patches me up I try to think. It gets easier when the painkillers kick in.  What did it mean? I haven’t killed anyone, not really. I’ve left some to die, though.

Who did I kill?

Then the Icarus shudders. The emergency klaxon blares.

Hull breach imminent.

This ship can withstand almost anything, but somehow the shadow is tearing it apart. I try to activate the fade sequence. Thank the gods for the MindsEye. The ship chirps and whirs to life.

But something’s wrong. It’s unstable. The chronocore is going to blow. I use the emergency override to open the door. I’d rather take my chances with the shadow than wait for the explosion. We’ll both die if it doesn’t take off, so I order the ship to return to the last set of coordinates. Then I roll out.

The shadow comes at me. Now there’s no escape. It raises its blade.

I close my eyes.

Sand scatters on my face, but the blow doesn’t come.

I open my eyes only to see the shadow throw itself into the Icarus.

A searing blast of coolant slams into me. It burns. I stagger up, away from the ship.

Then they’re both gone.

I remember the last coordinates, somewhere in the star’s orbit.

After a few minutes, the flares start.

The sonic blade lies in the sand before me. I pick it up with my good arm. It doesn’t take me long to understand that I’m looping. Tears sear like acid on the burns, but I can’t stop crying.

I find the time machine parked under some palm trees like ferns. It isn’t difficult; I’m the one who parked it there. First, I go back to Tritons Bounty. Then I make a list of all the times I saw the shadow. I’m not going to accept this. I’m not going to chase myself. How ridiculous! I’m sure I can come up with a better plan.  I refuse to think of the billions who died on Iago. It’s not real. I can stop it, I know I can. That’s probably why Daedalus gave me another ship. I haven’t contacted them, and I’m not going to.  Too many variables already. I’m going to talk some sense into myself, but first I have to find me. It’s easy. I know where I’ll be.

I wear a hat and prosthetic when I go into the bar, but when I get there, I realize I needn’t have bothered. I see myself, passed out in the corner booth. Perfect. I help the younger me up, and grab her purse. Fortunately the bar isn’t far from the apartment.

It’s morning when she wakes. I hand her a glass of juice and slap a derm on her arm.

She groans.

“I know how you feel. Don’t be afraid, I’m not going to hurt you. We just need to talk.”

Sipping her juice, she nods.