Literature Bin - Drabbles/Short Stories

Subject: Literature Bin - Drabbles/Short Stories Thu Jun 25, 2009 9:19 am

This...Bin...is where I'll be tossing my drabbles/short stories~ Some of them may be from a 100 Theme challenge I'm doing with a friend others may just be random writings and character torturings.

Subject: 49. Dye Thu Jun 25, 2009 9:24 am

Dye

"Beloved....?" The voice was barely above a whining whisper and not for the first time did he contemplate ignoring the black and white wolf pup sprawled on his bed. Of course...ignoring her generally meant he was more likely to be bitten. With a sigh and a brief thought of what he'd done to deserve this, the blond cast a look over his shoulder at the wolf.

"Yes, Twilight?" A wag of the silver tipped tail greeted his words and he wondered if he'd screwed himself over. "Why are you putting blood in your hair~?"

"...Its not blood, its red dye." Tilt of the head and he knew he'd screwed himself over.

"What's dye?"

There was...a fairly loud groan both mental and physical Alister's head promptly came to rest on the counter while seemingly oblivious to the agony she was causing her rider, Twilight continued to question. Somethings in life...were just too much to explain to a wolf pup. Especially a wolf pup with the attention span of a five year old.

Subject: Re: Literature Bin - Drabbles/Short Stories Thu Jun 25, 2009 9:26 am

A chance meeting
And here I was hoping it would all be over...

"One! Two!"

The voice was insistent, demanding and overpowering any thoughts that might have drifted into the boy's head. It was an automatic response, the way his body flowed from one movement to the next. Drain all feeling, all thought and simply dance to whatever tune and time the vicious woman dictated.

Turn, turn!

His body was moving but his mind was elsewhere not quite focusing on the words flowing from his aunt’s lips as she passed between the other students fixing their form when it was needed and biting off their heads when they didn’t get it right the second or third time around. At least they only got the brunt of her verbal abuse. He thought bitterly not even bothering to look at the poor soul that had been slated as his temporary dance partner. The whole thing was a series of steps his numbed mind had memorized ages ago. A sequence of steps that he’d been forced to memorize. It had either been dance to whatever tune the woman dictated or she’d find ways to make his life even more of a living hell than it already was.

A slight faltering of one step, followed closely by a gasp the older girl were his only warnings before the devilish hawk descended upon him in a flurry of curses even as her fingers curled in his ponytail dragging his head back. What had he done this time to displease the demon? The woman’s fingers tightened as she continued her ranting and it took every fiber of his being not to give into the pain and cry out. Block her out, ignore the pain it was only temporary. The mantra drifted through his head and he stayed deathly still listening to her mad tirade. He’d missed a step, gone off her desired beat and apparently somehow had managed to confuse several of the newer dancers.

Why didn’t the accusations surprise him? They were almost always the same ones, with a variation or two. All an excuse for the woman to shriek at him. The thought made his eyes narrow as she finally released his hair and quieted in her ranting for a moment. All an excuse for the woman to screech attempt to rip what was left of his self esteem and confidence to shreds, sadly her words had lost their effect long ago. The thought pleased him and she must have seen it, because the next sensation he felt (and heard) was the echo and sting of a slap from the woman.
At first the pain didn’t seem to want to register, but it did soon enough and he hissed turning narrowed mismatched eyes on his tormentor.

Green and brown met acid green and it was in that instant the room fell silent, the young dancers shuffling back until they were pressed against the walls as far as they could to get away from the warring relatives. They had seen fights between the two before and none of them had ended well. Alister had been left with a broken arm, the woman had been left hissing and spitting wanting to break her nephew’s neck. Even now his arm hadn’t healed completely though that hadn’t mattered to his parents nor did it matter to the hellion staring him down now. His parents hadn’t even been concerned with just how he’d end up with a broken arm and bruises, oh no…they’d been worried about how much trouble he’d caused to his…darling aunt.

The very memory of it made him scowl. He was a troubled child. He deserved every curse and blow the woman heaped upon his soul, because he had brought it all on himself. Utter…nonsense. The scowl turned to a sneer which spurred the woman into action again.

“Vile, ungrateful little whelp!”

The shriek trailed after him, as she reached out grab his still healing arm only to come up short as he slipped out of the way. Again and again she sought to grab him and no doubt break his arm again or perhaps this time break his very neck. Whatever the case, he was always one step ahead of her. One step out of reach. Every time they drifted close to the huddled mass, the students scattered like sheep bolting for the safety of another corner as they watched the deadly game that was playing out.

Around and around the room, slipping from her grasp when she drew to close and staying clear of he had the space, Alister was for the most part safe from his deranged relative.

Until she finally managed to corner him that was.

Corner him she did. Fairly close to the door, with his back against the windowsill he’d miscalculated one step, and that one step had landed him in this corner trapped between a sealed window, the wall and his seething relative.

”My sister should have listened to me when I said to strangle you, when you were born.”

She was advancing looking for all intent and purposes ready to kill him. Ready to kill him but also ready to shred any delusions he might have had about actually escaping with his life, and his parents believing that he hadn’t invoked the woman’s wrath in some shape or form. Pity, the poor demented woman was wasting her energy. He’d never had any such delusions and never would. He knew where he stood in his family. The unwanted child. The useless child. Demented and broken, better off dead. The vicious little black sheep. All things he’d heard from various members of his family from time to time until finally the words lost their edge and he merely listened to them, not even flinching when his youngest cousins said them.

The words couldn’t hurt him anymore, he’d heard it all a dozen times or more. Maybe that was why he stared down the woman even as she kept talking in hushed tones so the other students wouldn’t hear.

“Worthless little brat. Alis should have sent you back to that filthy ranch. Should have left you to rot with the rest of those useless fools.”

A few more steps and she would be within arms length of him…a few more steps and she’d be able to finish what she’d started. Just a few more steps and she’d end it all. And for that he would be thankful. Delicate fingers closed roughly on his chin forcing him to look at her. Silence reigned as she studied him before a sneer made itself known on her face.

“I always did hate your eyes.”

Her grip tightened, mere increments at a time but enough for him to feel them, and to know the bruises that would follow those seemingly gentle, and delicate fingers. Bruises didn’t matter when one was dead anyway.

“Momma!”

The tightening paused, stopping for a moment as if considering something before the woman turned drawing away from him but not before pinning him with one final venomous glare. He’d escaped her clutches one last time.

Not daring to move Alister pressed his back against the cool windowsill and glass looking beyond the hated woman to the young girl standing in the doorway beside an older male he could only assume was her father. Momma? Another cousin he’d never met then…another relative to add to his list of people who shunned him. Another glance at the girl’s defiant posture, told a different story and he focused his attention on the situation at hand.

Arms spread and the most pleasant, admittedly innocent smile on her face Catarina advanced on her daughter bending to pull the girl into a hug only to have her side step to avoid the motion. Repeating the motion again yielded the same results before the woman finally gave up and stepped back to stare at the stubborn, pouting seven year old before her.

“Ana darling…what’s the matter?”

A glare and a huff as the girl brushed past her marching toward where the blond boy still stood were the only answers Catarina got, as she turned to stared at the child. Ana was frail…very very frail, which was why she hadn’t administered a similar treatment to the girl before. But it would come…the girl would get stronger…and when she did, she, Catarina would take her time disciplining her.

How could her mother be so cruel? Beating up on the poor defenseless boy like that. Another huff sounded from seven year old Anastasia Delarose as she advanced on the blond. Her father had mentioned a relative with blond hair and a shocking streak of crimson in the bangs but he hadn’t told her anything other than that. If he had she might have reacted differently. Maybe. From the corner of her eye she saw her mother ushering the students out of the building which meant their dance session was over. That, didn’t matter to Ana in the least though. She had another objective.

Stopping an arm’s length from the boy she studied him before forcing a smile onto her face. There was a bruise forming on his cheek, and several along his jawline, and from the looks of it…they were going to hurt something nasty later. Holding out a hand she beamed a grin spreading across her face.

“Pleased to meet you! I’m Anastasia Delarose.”

Grinning and practically bouncing in place mentally she squealed in delight when he shook her hand returning the introduction. Though…he seemed fairly withdrawn. Not to worry though, the grin took on a wicked quality as Ana tugged on Alister’s hand leading him from the room and through the back exit before her parents could speak. They didn’t deserve to have a say in where she went and who she went with. Especially if they were family.

Wincing at the tugging Alister let himself be dragged along by the girl. Better to let her drag him around without complaint. After all anything was better than staying in the same room with his aunt. Though after a few moments of being dragged through the gardens, he was beginning to wonder just where the girl was dragging him to. Just go along with it and don’t complain it’ll all be over soon.

If only he’d known better, he would have realized that this was merely the beginning of it all…

Subject: Re: Literature Bin - Drabbles/Short Stories Thu Jun 25, 2009 9:43 am

Aftermath

Literature Bin - Drabbles/Short Stories Rayielheadshottn9

There were screams echoing around her, phantom cries ripping apart her soul, even as she continued on her low, tortured trek through the broken temples. In every temple, bodies littered the floor, pillars were cracked, broken and fallen…scattered to the four winds. And here she was, her own cloth cracked and crumbling, her body aching, blood flowing from wounds unseen…unchecked. For what reason had she survived? There was no salvation in victory…no joy or triumph for the living. No, there were only bitter memories, wounds that forever bled, forever festered until the bearer died of the pain or was driven insane. For her…it seemed death would be a kinder option…perhaps then she would be able to escape the searing wounds on her soul.

The last betrayal had been hers and hers alone, she had been the one to lead the last of the saints to the depths of the inferno…To the very depths of the underworld, and when it had come time for her to lead them, she hadn’t…she’d broken down. She had stalled and because of that the saints had died, and she had lived…not because she had survived the battle…oh no…she had lived because the dark god’s human heart had let her. Because he wanted her to suffer. And suffer she did.

A broken sob ripped from her throat and her steps began to slow further. The battle was over…the saints were dead…all her friends and allies were dead…but…so was the dark god. That’s all that mattered then, right? He was dead and the goddess had survived and so had she…so that was all that really mattered wasn’t it?

If it was then, why did she feel as though someone had punched a hole in her chest and pulled out her heart? She stopped completely now, face turned skyward, the answer was simple, so simple she hadn’t seen it before. Her heart was shattered, this was place wasn’t a Sanctuary anymore…at least not for her. Another broken sob racked her battle worn body and this time, she reached up and removed the shattered mask that had hid her face for almost eight years, and for the first time since she’d come to Sanctuary, Rayiel wept.

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