Mortiferum Aqua (Part Two)

Andy covered his ears as the dynamite went off. Dirt rained down around him and he peeked around the boulders he hid behind. Cedric, his partner, slapped him on the back in celebration, a little too hard. He rubbed his sore shoulder as they both walked over to inspect their handy work.

“It looks like one more round should do the trick.” Cedric beamed. “That’s even better than last time!”

“Yeah, it looks like you are right. You ready to place the next batch?”

“I was born ready.” Cedric couldn’t contain his excitement.

They placed the explosives and wound the fuses. Andy click open his lighter and touched it to the string. The sizzle started immediately and both men ran for cover.

The boom reverberated through the valley and Andy eagerly went to the hole. He waved his hand to clear the smoke and gaped at the sight in front of him. The chasm they worked hard at creating was filling with water.

“We must have hit an underground reserve.” Cedric grunted in disappointment.

“This is just great. It will set us back days.” Andy growled.

The smoke continued to clear to reveal the disaster. Andy hung his head, wishing their work hadn’t just doubled.

“Hey, what’s that at the bottom?” Cedric pointed.

Andy took a closer look.

His eyes widened and panic raced up his spine. Without thinking, he raced down to the bottom of the hole. He splashed into the waste-deep water and scooped the unconscious girl into his arms. He waded out of the water and started to climb up the steep incline. His soaked boots made it difficult not to slip and he toppled to one knee. Pain radiated up his thigh and he gritted his teeth. Looking down, he checked to see if the fragile girl had stirred, but she hadn’t. He feared she might already be dead, but he kept climbing.

Mortiferum Aqua (Part One)

The water rushed into the tiny cavern. Its cold tentacles hungrily gripped Gwen in its tight embrace. The roar pieced her ears and her screams died on her lips.

The water slammed her against the sharp edges of the wall. She felt the deep gash in her back. Warmth drifted down her legs. She knew it was her blood draining out. It pulled her once more. She sped farther into the dark caves. Her head smashed against the end of the tunnel. Water pummeled her until her lungs had emptied.

She repeatedly gasped for breath, but couldn’t get enough air into her starved lungs. The empty space in the cavern continued to shrink. Before long, she would run out of air to breathe. Hot tears dripped down her cold cheeks. She knew she was about to die.

She took one last gulp of air as the water streamed over her head and utter darkness surrounded her.

Baggage Claim (Part Eight)

Blood trickled down Chance’s face. He lay unconscious in his mangled car.

A man stepped out of the SUV. He stealthily moved closer to Chance’s defenseless body. Light caught on the silver plated handgun clutched in his fist. The gun pointed at Chance’s head in one swift moment.

The black streets were completely quiet. Nothing seemed to move, as if the Earth was holding her breath, anxiously begging Chance to wake up. Moments slowly passed and the only audible sounds were the slow compression of the gun’s trigger and the slow tapping of gas dripping to the ground.

A vibration of a phone sliced through the heavy silence. The humming gently pierced Chance’s consciousness and he began to stir. Groggy, he tried lifting his laden head, but he felt so bruised and weak.

He reached for his phone on the last vibration, but missed the incoming call.

The loud gunshot ran through the night. Chance instinctively ducked. The bullet pierced the steering wheel where Chance had just rested his head. Gunshots peppered the outside of Chance’s car.

With his mind still clouded from the crash, Chance could only hide and pray that the bullets wouldn’t hit him.

Chance knew the gunman was approaching. The volume of each successive gunshot was increasing steadily. He had to find a way out.

Adrenaline started to kick in. Chance reached under the passenger seat.

Baggage Claim (Part Seven)

Chance pressed the gas petal harder and swerved around another slow moving car. Adrenaline coursed through his veins. Thoughts of rescuing Genevieve from her worst nightmare forced his protective instincts to rise within him and panic pricked his spine.

Honking horns blared in the background, but Chance ignored them. Focusing solely on driving, he accelerated more. Cars blurred past. Traffic lights faded quickly.

In his peripheral vision, Chance failed to recognize a set of headlights.

He heard the crushing of metal. He saw the blinding light. He felt the air bag burst out of confinement.

Glass sprayed his face and right side. Metal cracked and shattered. The door panel closed in on Chance.

His head was tossed around. His arm was caught between the wheel and the bent door. His shoulder dislocated. The contortion of the door pressed his legs into odd angles. His face was cut and bloodied. His chest felt bruised from the airbag.

The car spun from the impact. Tires squealed. Sounds of the crash reverberated through the dark intersection.

No one had witnessed the collision. 

Baggage Claim (Part Six)

Genevieve couldn't overcome her paralysis from the memory. She felt as if she had just relived the darkest moment of her life. She felt so numb that she didn't even flinch when the needle pierced her skin once again.

Her mind clouded. She felt him loosen the bonds around her ankles and whisper, “Just like old times, before I dispose of you.”

A tear slipped down Genevieve’s face. She thought this torture had been over. She thought she had been free.

More tears glided down her cheeks as she feebly tried to get away from this monster. Her mind flashed through every night that he forced himself on her. He had said she was his prize after a long day’s work, even though all he did was pass her around to every filthy scumbag with enough money to pay the fee.

Genevieve felt so helpless. After escaping his tyranny, she devoted herself to becoming stronger and unbreakable. She hardened her muscles and the walls around her heart so she could never again be taken advantage of, but here she was, back to this powerless routine.

Baggage Claim (Part Five)

The cold metal of the handcuffs bit into Genevieve’s wrists as she struggled to get free. She pulled at her restraints, but only managed to bruise herself. She kicked out her bound ankles towards her captor. He hopped out of the way.

Genevieve saw a spark of illumination off the tip of the syringe in his hand. For the first time, fear chilled her blood. Memories burned in the back of her mind. The corners of her vision began to cloud. Tears pooled in her eyes.

She was suddenly twelve again. Darkness filled the room. She lay on her bed, numb from the day’s torture. Tears flooded her eyes and she wanted nothing more to let them fall.

A shadow swiftly drifted across her room. She jolted upright. Her heart pounded. Shivers traveled up her spine. She tried to make her eyes focus, but the room was too dim.

Something rustled in the corner. Her head shot in that direction. A cold sweat broke out like hives across her skin. Her arms shook as she wrapped them around her legs. She began to rock back and forth on her bed. She forced her eyes shut in an attempt to block everything out, but she heard another faint shuffle.

A gleam of light sliced through the darkness. The shadow drifted closer. She cowered, scooting into the pile of pillows for protection. The shadow smiled with malice. A sharp needle poked her arm and she cried out.

Genevieve scrambled off of the bed. She ran for the door. Arms grabbed her from behind. She was harshly pulled back. Her feet left the ground as the shadow threw her small body to the bed. She hit the mattress with a force that knocked the breath from her lungs. She tried to get up once more, but her mind couldn’t seem to make her muscles respond.

Her head felt heavy and she didn’t have the strength to move. Tears once again came and this time she couldn’t deny their freedom. She wished she could be that free.

As her mind fixated on her unrestrained tears, the shadow slid into the bed with her. She didn’t have the power stop him.

Dead Blossoms

She gazed into his sparkling blue eyes and saw the pure, unabashed love pouring out. His eyes glowed with desire and a slow smile bloomed on his face. Losing herself, she closed her eyes and soaked in the moment. She breathed in the heavy scent of overpowering affection and sighed.

Opening her eyes to reality, she shoved down her newly discovered feelings for him and gazed once more at the ring he held out to her. Tears begged to crowd her eyes, but she forced them down. She plastered a tight smile on her face and pushed away her shock.

“I bet she’ll love it.” She choked out.

His smile widened and he wrapped her in his arms in an excited hug. Leaning her head on his strong shoulder, she couldn’t stop a lone tear from escaping from her eyes. The hot trail it left behind burned her in the same way his admission did.

As quickly as he had grabbed her, he released her and she immediately missed the warmth of his friendly embrace. A slight breeze ran along her arms and chilled her to the bone. She shivered, feeling all the exhilaration of a few moments ago flee from her now frozen heart.

Hiding her face from him, she wished him luck in proposing, while silently wishing his girlfriend would refuse. As he wished her good-bye, she couldn’t bring herself to glance at the sunny glow illuminating his face. She didn’t want to witness any more of his looks of love for another.

Her best friend walked away with a bounce in his step and she tried to keep from crumpling. Loving him enough to let him go, she turned her back to him and forced herself to move on. 

Who is Miranda Clark? (Part Three)

In the beginning, my days trapped in this prison were like my worst nightmares. They constantly jabbed me with needles, taking blood and testing the effects of various sedatives on me. They kept me restrained constantly because I had no desire to stay locked in this lair full of kidnappers.

Every time they left me alone, I would fight against my bonds but all I ended up with was bloody wrists and ankles. But before long, they just sedated me until I would calm down. Having your strength taken away so easily by just the prick of a needle really erodes your will to keep fighting.

Every time they sedated me, my mind couldn’t filter or compartmentalize all the information stored and it would rapidly jump through everything. All the masses of thoughts crowded in and I couldn’t even keep my mind on a linear track. It started to make me crazy and eventually I gave up resisting. I calmed down and let them believe I would bend to their will. For ten years I have been waiting for my chance to escape.

Once they had run all their tests, they discovered I wasn’t influenced by any outside factor. I was just born this way. I was solely unique and that made me more valuable to them. They couldn’t risk letting me go.

Daisy in the Black Abyss (Part Two)

My survival instincts are kicking into over-drive. I force my hands in opposite directions. The rope stretches a fraction of an inch. Hope flares but is quickly extinguished by the burn igniting on my wrists. Rubbed raw, my arms weaken. I feel the oozing of blood from my tender skin and my strength begins to die once more.

 Tears fill my eyes again and I start to wonder what I had done to land me here, where I will surely die…

A few hours earlier…

Wide awake in the middle of the night, I decided to take one of my customary walks in the dark streets. Adrenaline pumped through me as I stepped out into the alley behind my apartment complex. Deserted and eerie, the alley beckoned to me to take a visit because of the dangers it could hold. Excitement rushed up my spine and I gladly took a step from the safety of my home.

I aimlessly walked from alley to alley and street to street. I took in the sight of the city with the glow of a few street lights. The orange glow illuminated my path and how quiet the streets were.

I kept up the same steady pace until I stumbled upon the first real sign of danger I had seen that night…

No Way Out (Part One)

A scream ripped through her lungs. Her throat burned. Her vision started to fade. Fear permeated every fiber of her body. Her hands shook uncontrollably. Her voice wavered. The scream emanating from her lips was cut off suddenly.

The sharp blade pierced her delicate skin. The warm trickle glided down her pale neck. The blood stained her skin. Her life poured out from the wound.

Black spots dotted her sight. Her head felt increasingly heavier by the moment. Her eyes slid closed. Her head drooped. Consciousness abandoned her.

Her pale skin lost all of its vibrancy. Her light hair mingled with the sticky blood rushing out of the deadly cut. Her clothes soaked up the thick liquid like an arid sponge. One last breath escaped from her lips in a shallow burst. Her body crumpled in weakness.

The sharp blade slipped from his hand. The noise of it hitting the floor vibrated the silent room. His satisfaction slipped around him, warming his bones. A slight smile slipped across his face. He couldn’t stop starting at her stiffening form.

The sirens wailed in the distance. They didn’t break him from his trance. His mind had twisted into insanity and his common sense had long since abandoned him. He heard the police break down the door, but it seemed so far away.

They shoved him to the ground. Slapped cuffs on his skinny wrists. Forcefully they pulled him up. Dragged him into the back of an awaiting police car and slammed the door in his face.

Not until his line of sight to the massacre he had boldly created was severed, did he finally fight against his imprisonment. He allowed his spastic limps to pummel the cushion seats around him. His breath sped up and his heart raced in his slender chest. His eyes frantically searched for an escape, until they could find none. He gave up and snapped his own neck.

Baggage Claim (Part Four)

Chance ducked to avoid the fist homing for his face. In the same motion, he tackled his adversary. They both tumbled to the ground and Chance pinned the other man down. Not ready to lose the fight, the man struggled against Chance’s weight, but Chance threw a few disorienting blows to the man’s face. Bloodied and near unconsciousness, the man slumped under Chance and gave up the battle.

“Now that you’re finally ready to answer my questions, where is he keeping Genevieve?” Chance demanded.

“I’m not telling you anything!”

Chance back-handed the weaker man and tried once more, “tell me where they are keeping her or I will help your employer stumble on the drugs you have skimmed from his stash.”

A flash of fear crossed the man’s eyes and all the information Chance wanted to know poured out of him. Satisfied, Chance knocked the man unconscious and raced to rescue Genevieve.

Baggage Claim (Part Three)

Genevieve jolted awake from her nightmare into another. Her face was pressed against the rank ground that smelled like a zoo. She cringed and attempted to push herself up, but her sore muscles protested.

Slow, distant footfalls grew louder until they stopped a few feet away from her cell. She heard his evil sneer as she squeezed her eyes closed, hoping he wouldn’t notice her consciousness.

“Ready to decide?” The voice spewed out.

Genevieve forced her fears away once more and opened her eyes to glare at him. “I would rather die than become your prostitute again.”

“Such a waste of a quality piece of meat...”

The pin-pricks of the Taser needles pierced her skin and the violent vibrations of electricity rocked her back into unconsciousness.

Baggage Claim (Part Two)

In her forced state of sleep, Genevieve couldn’t block out the painful memories:

Many pairs of grubby hands kept reaching out to grab at her clothes. They forced her under them and ripped away her innocence.

Trapped in a castle of slavery, she was constantly used by unsavory men. Every night, she was passed around like a fascinating news article that all the men had to read, but were quickly done with.

Genevieve’s mind flashed through every time she was trapped and without a rescuer to save her from this empty life. She saw all the men’s fat faces and beer-bellies and she felt the heat of their rancid bodies when they pressed against frail one. Every slice in her pale skin was made new as she relived each horrific scene. To force her compliance, they used blunt force or just sharp objects that all left nasty scars.

Before long, she became numb in order to survive her constant torture. She crafted the compartments in her brain and locked away her emotions. Bottling up herself, she learned to become whatever different tramp the despicable men wanted. It lessened her bruises and cuts.

Who is Miranda Clark? (Part Two)

Now that I have gotten you completely confused, I should probably start at the beginning. For starters, my name is Miranda Clark. I was born into a family of underachievers, mainly my younger brother who would love to do nothing more than to melt into the couch and watch endless hours of television.

My parents weren’t rich so I had the privilege to attend a run-down public school for my few years of education. As students, we were just a paycheck to the administrators and they continually found increasingly creative means to force us to stay in school. Some were good, some were bad. Once, they bought breakfast for the detention kids just so they would show up.

Lucky for me, my school days only lasted to the ninth grade. At that point I could have graduated college from all the information I had gleaned, but from an early age I decided I didn’t want to stand out. I would always pretend I didn’t know as much as I truly did. But by the ninth grade, they had figured it out...

I was quickly extracted from school and trapped in this facility. I haven’t seen my family in ten years and I don’t even know if they still believe I am alive.

Over the past years, these scientists (more like terrorists) have presented so much information to me that I thought my brain would burst. They wanted to test my limits, but that’s not even the worst of it.

Baggage Claim (Part One)

“Choose wisely.” The deep voice resounded across the small corridor.

Genevieve lifted her weary head to glimpse the man hiding behind the bars entrapping her. He smirked at her weakness and licked his cracked lips in expectation of her forced decision. She glimpsed a spark of evil glaze over his eyes and a slither of fear glided up her limbs.

Her hands were shackled behind her back and she felt the blood oozing from the cuts on her wrists. She tried to take a deep breath to calm her sudden nerves, but her broken ribs sent sharp stabs of pain into her middle.

Pushing her fear to the dark reaches of her brain, she glared at the menace before her. She gathered the last bits of her strength to spit at his boots, an action of defiance that she knew would infuriate him. A small smile of satisfaction lit her bruised face before he tasered her into unconsciousness.

Who is Miranda Clark? (Part One)

I quickly stole a glance of the launch codes. I know I wasn’t authorized to, but my curiosity overpowered my common sense and they were out in the open, begging for me to peek.

You may think my harmless glance was as innocent as I intended it to be, but there is one thing you don’t know about me. I am special. I am not talking about the kind of special nurturing mothers call their talentless children or the kind of special the outcast embody because they want an explanation for their loneliness. It’s nothing like that.

I am special because I have the ability to memorize just about anything with even the smallest of glimpses. This talent was particularly useful in my endless days of school. It helped me ace all my classes and I would have been the valedictorian of my high school class, if I could have made it that far.

Daisy In The Black Abyss (Part One)

Trapped in this dark, dank room, I try to not give up hope for my survival. The black abyss surrounding me is so thick that I can’t even see an inch away from my face. Having my eyesight impaired, the tiny buds of fear begin to bloom in my chest.

My back is pressed against a cold, hard wall that sends shivers slithering up it. Blood oozes from my bound wrists and ankles. My toes and fingers have gone numb and they feel like icicles ready to fall off my limbs.

A distant pitter-patter of rain acts as my clock to gauge the slowly passing minutes. A puddle inches its way to caress my bound feet, but it continues to grow. The newly soaked pieces of my clothes seem to freeze against me. Uncontrollable shivers take over.

Warmth suddenly slips down my cheeks and I realize my plight has reduced me to tears, which only worsens my shaking. Fear for my life now burns in my veins and I let the blessed hope dissolve into the impenetrable darkness around me.

For the first time, I remember there is no one to come and save me. I pushed them all away, told them I never wanted to see their faces again.

With my death steadily approaching, I realize just how alone and vulnerable I truly am.

Remembering

            Conspiring brainstorming flowed around her as her mind drifted to another time. Melancholy feelings cascaded through her in crashing waves and she desired nothing more that to turn back the clock.

            Blankly staring at the passing scenery around her, she relived the few memories she could recall. All the times she was ostracized for her young age and the too-few days she had childishly played with her friends swarmed her mind.

            Wishing time-travel existed, she pitied her missed opportunities and fading memories. These emotions, so thick she could swim in them, were her undoing and she realized they were just wounding her.

            Morning what she couldn’t change one last time, she began tucking her thoughts away in their designated compartment in her brain and she drifted back to the present. The conversation around her surged in a mighty wave of words to envelope her.

            Smiling to herself because of the friendly faces nearby, she decided to enjoy the current days rather that rehash what was out of her reach.

Outgrown And Left Behind

            The fraying edges of wiry yarn frizz in the damp air as the faded blue threads continue to unravel. Collecting particles of nearby dust, each separate strand hanging limp from the torn edges proceed to ripen and emit a rancid perfume. Further towards the center, puslike mold grows on a long-forgotten stain as the sprouting white hairs peek through the oozing fungus in the search for fresh air. Underneath, withering threads slowly decay to nonexistence and the worn surrounding strings disintegrate into a pale blue powder. Housing tiny insects, the piles of blue soot gather droppings and begin to smell like rotten eggs. Altogether, the diminishing blue forgotten treasure remains for the sole purpose to gradually dwindle away.

All Consuming Fear

            She froze, mid-step, at the sight of the muscular black bear and his yellowed set of jagged teeth that glistened in the fading sunlight. Eyes widening, a string of incoherent thoughts buzzed in her mind. Droplets of sweat leaked from her pores as the sunlight, peeking through the branches of the imposing trees near by, continued to raise her body temperature. Spasms of shaking began to course through her body and she stood paralyzed by the bear’s gaze.

As is in slow motion, the bear trekked towards her. She felt her eyelids slide closed to block out the image of the approaching animal. With tears flooding her eyes, she caught a whiff of the bear’s rancid breath and strings of tingling pain ran along her ridged spine at his throaty growl. Wanting this nightmare to end, she allowed the blissful blackness to take hold of her.