Blast

Em stood with a smile, her body gently swaying to the beat. All around her, people were smiling, happy, enjoying the music to the fullest. She was too, the music was great, the people were trippy, and more importantly, her target was too.

Maneuvering the crowd to get closer to him was a struggle. But she was no slacker, she would get the job done, and she’d do it with a smile.

When adequately close, Em did a once-over of her target. He was sufficiently drunk, not enough to have lost coherency, but enough to make it easy for her. Looking around, and after determining the crowd’s inefficiency, she got to work.

Loud music and even louder crowds turned out in her advantage. She just walked up to him, pretended to care for her ‘boyfriend’ when he looked like he was about to pass out. After that, getting him away from the crowd was albeit hard, but she persevered.

She made her way out, grinning like a maniac. It’d be a while until the cops found his body.

She’d have a blast. After all, she was doing no wrong, just righting an injustice.

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Word Count: 193

Written as a response to Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner, hosted by Rodger. To read other stories of this prompt, click here.

The broken remains #writephoto

Em moved her eyes around the bare room, her face impassive, her hands clenched tightly. Barest flicker of anger flashed on her face as she spotted the exotic feather on the floor. She picked up the offending item from the floor, fury radiating from her stone cold face.

Everything was so different now, she remarked to herself. Everything was gone and in its place lay the vast emptiness that surrounded her day and night. Reminiscing about the past brought a whole fresh wave upon her. Outwardly, her face remained so still, a mask of indifference, but inside was a whole different story. Raging walls of anger along with a steady stream of thoughts, both violent and loathing.

The echoes of footsteps around her startled her, snapping her out of the rage-filled reverie. In this vast emptiness, it was hard to determine the location and direction of the sound but she’d guessed right. As she gazed into the form of her lifelong friend, the last remnants of the anger left her but the desperation and hurt still remained.

Seeing the all too familiar shudder pass through her friend’s body, Row hastened forward, enveloping Em into an embrace. She held her as her body shook with fury and hurt. She held on tight as the tears started falling along with a cascade of insults. She held on tight as Em sank to the ground, taking her alongside, not letting her go even for a second, holding her tight. She held on, for herself and for Em.

The two women sat like that in the empty house for a long time. Without words, without any exchange, they consoled each other. Being there for the other when they needed the most, combating the emptiness inside and outside with slow warmth and lasting love. And when they got up, their minds were clear, and their hearts even more so. There was only one thing on their minds, there was only one thing left to do, revenge.

The small blue feather, now downtrodden and messy, floated slowly and wistfully as the footsteps echoed in the empty house once again, dimming with each passing second, slowly ceasing into nothingness.

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Yet another action-packed, filled with emotions and little to no dialogue, narrative-esque short. Feels like I’m doing a lot of those recently…

Written as a response to Thursday Photo Prompt- Remains #writephoto, hosted by the lovely Sue.

 

The mist above

 

 

She stands alone, in the middle of a forest, a place so unfamiliar, so uninviting, and longs for home. She longs for those simpler days, when her biggest worry was putting on some extra pounds, or doing badly on a test. She longs to hear the sound of her mother shouting at her, a voice that irritated her only yesterday. She longs for the smell she was so used to smelling around her, every scent she ever took for granted. She longs to feel the sun’s harsh sting on her back. She longs for everything to go back to normal again, to be someone who was a nobody. She just wants to be back home, to be with everyone she loves. She longs for home.

She looks at the ground upon which she is standing on and longs for those times when the ground beneath her feet was familiar, when she could look at the sky and not feel so out of place, so out of touch with this reality. She looks at the dark clouds looming over her gloomily, as if threatening her, reminding her that she did not belong. The clouds that were so similar and yet so different to the ones she saw every day, every day before today that is. The air crackles around her, the odd sparks reminding her that she isn’t welcome. The mist is swirling around her, ominous and hostile. The leaves are rustling in irritation.

The drops of rain begin to fall, creating a shroud over her trembling, scarred body. She stands immobilized in front of her, her eyes unmoving, her form unwavering. Tears fall from her eyes as she looks ahead at the despondent place, the realization now fully struck deep into her mind. The raindrops fall down harsher and harsher with each passing second, but she doesn’t care. To her, this storm is nothing, she doesn’t feel pain as fat drops collide heavily in her skin. Her body is battered already, her mind even more so.

She grows weaker as the rain grows stronger. Each fat raindrop on her face feels like a blow to her, a sharp pain registers in her brain with each hit she takes from the merciless weather. Each strike feels like ones during the one-sided battle that took her loved ones away from her. But this is different, she is defeated now, she is no longer fuelled by the adrenaline pumping through her veins, she is not fighting for survival now, she is not fighting anymore. She is a broken husk of a woman she was but a few hours prior. Her body, which had withstood multiple blows and stabs before now couldn’t even take the battering of a simple storm. The wind howls and so does she, partly from her physical pain and wholly from her hopelessness.

She just stands there, for how long she doesn’t know. She wasn’t good at keeping track of time before, and now she is even more hopeless. She just stands there clutching her grandmother’s pendant, reveling in the little comfort that it provides her. Her mind, muddled with fear and anger and longing, and yet she can do nothing but stare at a dry patch of land. Her mind keeps converting it into a cemetery, with the graves bearing the names of her loved ones. She doesn’t protest at this image, she knows that it is not real, that she is just seeing things. She knows that she just couldn’t stand at their graves, she is too far away from home. But it calms her down somewhat, it makes her feel closer to them. She does nothing, just stands there until her illusion begins to fade. The rain still falling heavily, she makes her way to a canopy of trees and stares ahead, her heart heavy, and her clothes soaking. Her eyes are looking ahead but she is not in this world at all, she is back into her own, back in front of the bloody graves.

Her eyes travel to the clearing once more, and she sees nothing. She closes her eyes at the sound of heavy rainfall and attempts to fight off sleep, her body heavily protesting as she does so. She knows that she needs rest, the battle she was involved in earlier has drained her body of all its energy. She was lucky she got out alive, as everyone else had not fared so well, but she doesn’t feel lucky. She is tired, very much so, but every time she closes her eyes, she sees their faces, their bloody, dying faces.

She slinks down to the ground, her body weak to the force of the load within her mind. The ground is cold. She shivers, the rain ruthlessly beating down her prone weak body. Being so close to the ground and the earthly smell invokes a sharp pain within her. Her mind’s eye repeats the lifeless body of her friend while at the same time replaying those moments, the sweet moments turned bittersweet by the aching agony. The smell of the earth, while pleasant and fresh before is just a reminder now. A reminder that she is all alone now, no one to share her secrets to, no one to hold her in those long nights, no one to trust unwaveringly.

The rain is beginning to mellow now, settling to a soft pace, shrinking and shrinking. But she is not. She is still broken, she is still alone, and she is still in pain. Nothing has changed. She is still in unfamiliar territory, a hated place. She hates everything about the ground she is standing upon, the air she is breathing, the soft drops on her body. She hates everything because it reminds her of the things she’d lost. It reasserts that she is alone in the middle of nowhere with no idea how she got here and how to get back. She doesn’t even know if she even wants to.

She can see much clearer now that the rain is clearing and the pale unassuming forest is mystified. It looks something straight out of a fantasy world, the trees majestic and powerful, the air filled with the kind of a vibrant energy that seems to want to push her away but is unable to do so. Once upon a time, she’d have enjoyed something like this, she still would have, ha it been in better circumstances. She couldn’t now, not while knowing that the residents of this fantastical world were murderers who’d just barged into her home and killed everyone, everyone but her. The people living here were just as vile as the scene around her was wonderful.

She stands up, her hands never leaving the last legacy of her family she had, the last untarnished remnant of her life, the last vestiges of her life as it was, the first to mark her beginning into this one. She is holding onto it very hard. It was the last trace of her family, the only thing she had left, and she was never going to let go, not even if her very life depended on it.

She stands and looks onward as the storm slowly transforms into a drizzle. Her eyes are blazing with fury, her resolve restrengthened. She stands there, holding onto her grandmother’s pendant, drawing power from those long gone, and vowing to herself to do her duty as the only survivor of the assassination. She is going to find those who did this to her family and she is going to make them suffer till their last breath. In her wake, in her rebirth, she doesn’t pay attention to herself and her surroundings. The air which had seemed so unwelcoming and distant before was suddenly changed. It was understanding and helpful, the various cuts and bruises on her skin were slowly healing away and her eyes were glowing eerily.

Looking at the last vestiges of the rain that’d been her introduction to this fantastical yet revolting place, she knows what she must do. She is a woman who had lost everything, one with nothing more to lose and she will succeed in her mission. ‘Revenge shall be mine’ she thinks as she tightens the hold in her pendant. A sharp hotness spreads through her body, originating from the golden pendant in her petite hands. She stands in its comfort, she straightens with newfound determination.

The rain is gone now, leaving behind its wake a beauty that was perplexing, but there is no one around to enjoy its beauty. No one around to love the magic frizzling in the air, no one around to marvel at it, no one around to utilize it to its true potential. None but a single girl clutching a pendant. A very powerful girl, holding a small pendant, power emanating from her body, sheer raw power of which she was unaware and will be for quite a while.

Nestled in the newfound warmth Emily rests. She rests while her body and mind repairs. She dreams of the ugly past and of a pleasant future. She dreams of the ones she saw die today, and she dreams of killing the ones responsible. The mist above encircles her, protects her as she dreams of death and destruction.