Alledria Hurt's Blog, page 22
November 18, 2015
[NaNoWriMo 2015] Affirmation
As I am alive, I am free. As I am free, I am powerful. As I am powerful, I am alive.I typed those words last night as I was getting Leviana through a tough time. She's been abandoned by those closest to her, the empire she helped to create has turned against her, and she is in a strange place without even a horse to escape on. In short, life sucks for her right now. However, when I thought to write her in despair or panic, those words came to me as something she would say to herself. (I may need to add it somewhere earlier in the book so that it can be a personal mantra, but it's good.) Thinking about the things I say to myself when I'm panicking, I could stand to learn a thing or two from this character. She is a warrior-queen. She is mistress of her domain. Even without a crown, she is regal and commanding. Not because she is beautiful, but because she is. Definitely worth thinking about.
Leviana
In contrast, we have Warden who is something of a coward. He refuses to face anything head on. Probably because he's done so well at avoiding things up to this point. That won't last forever because there's a confrontation in his future that he has no choice but to deal with. But that's for later, so I won't spoil it for you here. Blades of Fate is coming along quite well. I foresee maybe putting it out next year during the summer. Maybe even on the anniversary of Chains of Fate in June. If people can wait that long. This is partly being written for my mother, who fell in love with Vad'Alvarn in the first book and wanted to see him returned as soon as possible.
Guess I should be glad someone has taken such an interest in my writing that they are clamoring for a sequel.
November 17, 2015
[NaNoWriMo 2015] The Keyboard Debacle
So what have I learned this month already? I have learned that you can legitimately wear out a keyboard so that the sensors underneath the keys stop working. Apparently I have pressed the O key on my keyboard so many times the sensor no longer works. I have to mash it about ten thousand times to get one O. Then it sticks so that it's making multiple whenever I press it so that either way I have to spend time working on it in order to get any work done. This has made me more than a little frustrated. [I am currently typing, quickly, on a Logitech K120 USB keyboard.] However, I have also realized that when it comes down to cranking out the words, I will go through dealing with a crappy keyboard rather than not write. Spending an inordinate amount of time fixing things that shouldn't be broken is not a constructive way to spend your time. In fact, it's kinda stupid. I should have bought a new keyboard a week ago when I started having the problem instead of continuing on as if it would get better.
What have I learned: Writing is sometimes a matter of will. Sometimes all that is required in order to do what you want is the will to continue. In this case, I didn't have the force of will necessary to continue; therefore, I did not finish ahead of time. I still have time to beat my personal best of 21 days (set in 2007).
Note to self: Broken computer components do not get better by mashing them repeatedly. They get worse.I'm a couple of days behind on MY wordcount because I haven't written seriously since Thursday of last week. This is not to be confused with being behind on NaNo's wordcount where I've been ahead since day one. Day 17 is 26,333. I've been at 46,000+ since last Thursday. I really should have finished before I went on my mini-vacation, but I just didn't push through what with the busted keyboard and all that.
What have I learned: Writing is sometimes a matter of will. Sometimes all that is required in order to do what you want is the will to continue. In this case, I didn't have the force of will necessary to continue; therefore, I did not finish ahead of time. I still have time to beat my personal best of 21 days (set in 2007).
November 16, 2015
[NaNoWriMo 2015] Blades of Fate
It's halfway through November aka NaNoWriMo. This year, because my mother essentially demanded it, I'm working on the sequel to Chains of Fate. Not precisely what I was thinking I would be working on this November but so far it has been a good write. It's Day 16 and I have 47k out of what I'm guessing is about 75k. That's pretty good considering I haven't written every day. So quick rundown.
Blades of Fate, working title, picks up three hundred years after the events of Chains. Leviana has been on the throne and expanding the empire for the last three hundred years including bringing Sartol into the empire. During the celebration of Leviana's Voice, an assassin named Warden attacks her in an attempt to take her life. She survives only to be presumed dead and have the empire turn against her. With this and the return of her ancient lover in the form of the man who wants her dead, she must get to the bottom of who wishes to kill her so she can reclaim both her kingdom and her lost love.In the current draft, I have certain things happening that I'm already thinking may not happen the same way in the next draft, but I'm trying to get it all down on paper before I start trying to make any major changes to the manuscript. First write, then edit. It always works better that way.
October 31, 2015
[October Sky] The Conclusion...
Finishing up just in time for Halloween.
Earlier Parts: ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | SEVEN
Before she had seen the king in nothing but her nightshirt; however, she had known little fear. Now, dragged before him fully clothed with an almost full cup of elixir, fear stood out in the hairs on her neck. The guard jerked her to a rough stop at the foot of the royal bed. Her need to see the King had brought her once more into his private chambers. Behind her, more commotion started as the Chancellor strode into the room with several choice oaths. When he saw Emma, he said,
“Seize her, she is one of the conspirators who escaped.”
The guard, who already had her by the arm, looked at him without moving. The Chancellor sidled up to the edge of the bed and seemed to hold a quiet conference with the King who also said nothing.
“Yes, she’ll be taken once more to the dungeon. This time, we will be sure she does not escape,” Chancellor Lawrence said.
“Wait. I have the potion to cure the King,” Emma said as she group gathered closer around her.
“You mean only to poison him in his already weakened state, we cannot allow that.” Chancellor Lawrence stalked around her, his gaze quick.
“I think you only wish to keep the gate closed,” Emma said. “Otherwise, you would let me heal him and go about my business.”
She held onto the cup with both hands. A polite cough came from the bed. Lawrence moved quickly to attend to it.
“Your majesty?”
“Let her approach,” came the gaspy whisper.
“Certainly, I will have her taken away,” the Chancellor said.
“But his majesty asked that she approach,” a guard said. He cringed away from Chancellor Lawrence’s gaze. The guard at Emma’s elbow pushed her forward and she walked past the Chancellor so close she could feel his presence emanating off him. Then she stood at the side of the King who looked up at her from his bed with pale face and watery eyes.
,br>“Have you peace for me in that cup?” the King asked.
“Yes, your majesty.” In her mind, Emma kept her fingers crossed. If this didn’t work… It had to work. She had followed the directions and brewed it up while the King still had strength. Emma drew back the curtain as the old man struggled to sit up. Finally, he took the cup in both hands and first sipped from it. His mouth curled into a smile before he drank more deeply and as he did so, color infused his cheeks. He drained the cup to the dregs, a boiled petal or two in the bottom. Already he seemed stronger. His face appeared fuller and his eyes no longer dripped water.
“Your majesty,” Emma said. “Can you stand?”
“It has been some time since I stood.”
“May I help you?”
As the assembled watched, Emma helped the old King out of his bed and onto his feet. He stood a bit shaky at first, but held his ground. He stood fully as tall as the Chancellor, who had retired to the edge of the room. The King took one unsure step, but his next was straight legged. He grew confident in his body as they looked on.
The guards each took a knee before their sovereign. Chancellor Lawrence alone stood. Emma ducked her head in deference to her position. “Will you not kneel to your King?” the King asked. The Chancellor ducked his head and bent his knee.
“Send for my servant. I will dress and greet my people.”
Emma bit her lip.
“Your majesty,” she began, dragging the medallion out from under her shirt. “If I may.”
He said,
“Ask anything. The Kingdom is yours to have.” His voice had taken on a strong timbre, undoubtedly the voice with which he addressed those he took charge of. Then he looked at the medallion.
“Cedric,” he said. “Where is he? Not languishing in the dungeon.”
“No sir, after I confronted him on his dastardly plot to kill you, he escaped along with her.”
“Seeing that her plan was not to kill me, I doubt his was either.” He turned back to Emma. “Where is he?”
“He’s beyond the mirror at my home, I think.”
“You don’t know?”
“We parted ways under the threat of death.” She tried to remember the word Cedric had used when confronted with the creature her Maman had become. A tear trickled out of her eye. “A soulless was near and an evil man.”
“Where are my servants? I would dress now, not later. This must be dealt with immediately.”
At that, Chancellor Lawrence jerked to his feet. “Of course, immediately. All other things must be left by the wayside.”
“No, we have to reopen the well,” Emma said, remembering the problem which had first brought her to them. Cedric needed the well reopened. After all this, to see it not done would be horrid.
“I will reopen the well, child,” the King said. “But first, let us find my retainer who has risked so much to bring you to us.”
“Sire, you can’t reopen the well, remember the problems we were having before, being overrun with new souls. Certainly you understand why it must remain closed.”
“Without the souls from the well, our kingdom dries up, Lawrence. That cannot be allowed. To slow its flood is one thing, to keep it closed is another.”
“But sire—”
“No, Lawrence. It has been closed too long as it is. It must be reopened and I will do so.”
Tall though he was, the Chancellor was no match for the King who had regained his power. The standoff lasted moments before Lawrence dropped his eyes.
“It was what Cedric wanted,” Emma said.
“And he will have it.”
A pair of servants hustled in, between them they carried a plate of food and a goblet.
“And what color would his majesty like to wear today?”
They then shooed everyone from the room. None needed to watch his royal highness dress.
When the King emerged from his rooms a half-hour later, he wore deep red. The cloth looked velvety, but Emma couldn’t be certain. She had waited in the hall for him to come out along with the rest of his party. A few nobles joined them in their vigil.
“Come,” he said making an expansive arm gesture. “We shall see to the well and poor Cedric.”
They trooped together to the garden, past the royal rose bush Emma snagged the blossom from, to a dry fountain in a central court. The fountain rose from scarlet paving stones in the shape of an elegant plant. The pool beneath it was cracked and empty. The King came to the edge of the stones and genuflected. Everyone with him, except Emma, bowed. He stepped over the wall and went up to the flower’s stem. It was then that Emma saw the skull hidden in the flower staring down at him. Raising his hands, he cupped the stone bloom. As he touched it, the petals softened and flexed. The skull became more prominent. Traces of water trickled out and landed on the King’s shoulders.
Around them, the stones hummed a low tone. Water poured from the skull’s mouth and the King stepped under the flow as it strengthened. Then he climbed out. His wet shoes left prints on the stones. The humming grew to a crescendo before it disappeared. Water poured through the skull in torrents and took on a spectral quality, becoming nearly translucent.
A servant brought forth a bottle and dipped it in the waters. When it was full, he withdrew it and handed it to Emma.
“For your service to the King, you are offered water from the well of souls. With it, you may restore a soulless to its prior state.”
Emma took the bottle, her mind reeling. Restore a soulless. Maman. Excitement coated her nerves.
“How, what do I do?”
“You must only pour it on them,” the servant said with a smile. “The scent of the well water draws the soul back into the body.”
She would make Maman bathe in it if possible to bring her back.
Together the entourage left the well, but Emma looked back to see Chancellor Lawrence standing there alone. He looked into the water with slumped shoulders. Though she had nothing to say to him, she wondered what he could be thinking.
When they reached the room of mirrors, Emma and the King were alone. With Cedric’s medallion in her hand, she watched the polished surfaces for any sign of something being amiss.
“You’ll have to open the way,” the King said.
“How? I don’t know how.”
“Cedric’s medallion is a part of him, it wants to be reunited. You need only focus on where it leads to see him again.”
Emma placed one hand against the edge of a mirror and thought about Cedric, his warmth, his smile, his strength. The image flickered and she once again looked into her own bedroom. Cedric lay slumped against the foot of her bed with his legs splayed.
“CEDRIC!” Emma cried. The man in the mirror stirred, but did not move. She reached out to him, trying to press her hand through. The hand without the medallion could not go through. The hand with it however stretched the metal and found its way through. She called his name again.
So far away, his eyes opened.
“Emma?”
His voice sounded like a distant whisper. She fought to hear it.
“I’m here,” Emma said. “I’m here.”
He crawled the distance to the mirror on his hands and knees. When he put his hand over hers, she grabbed him and began to pull him through. He fell into the room at her feet and stood up slowly.
“Cedric.” Emma wrapped her arms around his neck. He hugged her close. When he let her go, he dropped to one knee.
“Your majesty.”
“Rise, Cedric, you have done well.”
“My loyalty lies with you.”
“And a great loyalty it has been. You brought a great alchemist to our midst to save our lives. Commendable.”
“Thank you, sire.”
“But now she must return home.”
Seeing Cedric again, Emma yearned to talk with him about what had happened, but she needed to return. Maman needed her.
“Will I be able to come back?” she asked.
“I think not. Nor would it be good for you to. It is not your time to be here,” the King said. “Many years lie open for you.”
Her hand crept into Cedric’s who squeezed it.
“You have to go, Emmaline.”
“But Cedric.”
“You have to go. It is for your best.” He refused to look into her eyes as she sought his face. Finally, she let him go and stepped up to the mirror. With the jar under her arm, she handed the medallion back.
“Send me through,” she said with her head lowered.
“Emmaline.”
“Just send me back.”
With the King beside him, Cedric stepped up to the mirror and pressed his hands to it. His low voice chanted words Emma found comfortingly familiar now. The metal glowed and her room reappeared. She dashed through. Landing on the carpet in her bedroom, she looked back to see the mirror full of his face. To him, she waved goodbye before leaving the room and shutting the door.
The house looked as if someone had turned a tornado loose on the first floor. Books knocked from shelves. Tables overturned. The dishes from their last meal scattered across the floor. Holes she could only imagine being from bullets dotted several of the walls. Yet nowhere did she find Maman’s body. The bloodstain where she had lain had gone a dirty brown. The drag marks where she moved had turned the same noxious color. Emma moved through the kitchen to the back porch and yard. There she saw her. The old woman bumped against the back fence repeatedly as if she would walk right through it.
Her dress once cheerful now seemed more macabre. One of her shoes had gone missing.
Emma drew close with the jar held out before her like a shield. The creature hadn’t noticed her yet. Each footstep brought her closer and tightened the string around her heart until Emma thought she would choke. Then it noticed her, turning and putting its claw-like hands out.
With one swift motion, Emma splashed the water into Maman’s face soaking her dress and hair.
First the hands came down. Then sputtering.
“What, what?” Maman asked. “And what is the meaning of this, Emmaline, you’ve wet me all up.”
Dropping the bottle, Emma leapt forward and wrapped her arms around her grandmother.
“Maman!”
One handed, Maman dabbed at her face and brushed water out of her eyes. Her other arm curled protectively around her young charge. After the moment of exultation, Emma frantically patted Maman down looking for the bullet hole. Despite the rip in the dress, the skin beneath appeared perfect. With a sigh of relief, Emma let Maman go.
“Let’s go inside, Maman, it’s getting too cold to be out here in only one shoe.”
“Now how did that happen?” the old woman asked, then shrugged. They went inside.
Seeing the state of her kitchen, Maman eyed Emma.
“And what can you tell me about all of this?”
Emma swallowed. “Well.”
“You’re going to stick around to help me clean it up, aren’t you?”
“Of course, Maman.”
The old woman brightened and bustled through to her bedroom up the stairs. Emma watched her go and wondered if she had enough time to call Mr. Amon and make sure he was alright? That man in the shop had meant to do her harm. She could only hope he hadn’t done anything to Mr. Amon. The phone on the first floor survived the fight though pulled off the hook. Emma rang the shop and Mr. Amon picked up on the first ring.
“Amon’s.”
“Mr. Amon, it’s Emmaline.”
“Emmaline. So good to hear from you.”
“How are you, sir?”
“Quite fine.”
“Nothing bad happened?”
“I don’t know what you are referring to, Emma, but I expect you to be in the shop at 8 am sharp tomorrow morning. There are orders to fill and after that mess with Mrs. Snow last week, I want them handled double quick.”
His manner left her little opening to question, but he sounded fine. Maybe she would find out more when she got into the shop the next day. Maman came down the stairs and Emma said goodbye to Mr. Amon.
They spent the afternoon cleaning the house.
Night fell early as it did in Fall and found Emma outside once again. Having seen the well, she wondered why she had never noticed its flower-like shape before, but this time she intended to see it in all its glory. Maman went inside as the wind grew higher and the temperature dropped into the misery range, yet Emma waited. The well meant more to her now than it ever had.
11:59
In the northern sky, it first appeared as a ripple, then it was there, a great blossom pouring forth shooting stars. Each of the stars seemed faintly a different color, but they were nearly see through. Emma watched it all through her binoculars.
“Cedric.”
It was time for bed. 8 am would come early.
Thus concludes October Sky. I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. As always comments go at the bottom of the page. If you want to share the story, just click on the October Sky tag and share the resulting page. Thank you very much for your kind attention.
Earlier Parts: ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX | SEVEN
Before she had seen the king in nothing but her nightshirt; however, she had known little fear. Now, dragged before him fully clothed with an almost full cup of elixir, fear stood out in the hairs on her neck. The guard jerked her to a rough stop at the foot of the royal bed. Her need to see the King had brought her once more into his private chambers. Behind her, more commotion started as the Chancellor strode into the room with several choice oaths. When he saw Emma, he said,“Seize her, she is one of the conspirators who escaped.”
The guard, who already had her by the arm, looked at him without moving. The Chancellor sidled up to the edge of the bed and seemed to hold a quiet conference with the King who also said nothing.
“Yes, she’ll be taken once more to the dungeon. This time, we will be sure she does not escape,” Chancellor Lawrence said.
“Wait. I have the potion to cure the King,” Emma said as she group gathered closer around her.
“You mean only to poison him in his already weakened state, we cannot allow that.” Chancellor Lawrence stalked around her, his gaze quick.
“I think you only wish to keep the gate closed,” Emma said. “Otherwise, you would let me heal him and go about my business.”
She held onto the cup with both hands. A polite cough came from the bed. Lawrence moved quickly to attend to it.
“Your majesty?”
“Let her approach,” came the gaspy whisper.
“Certainly, I will have her taken away,” the Chancellor said.
“But his majesty asked that she approach,” a guard said. He cringed away from Chancellor Lawrence’s gaze. The guard at Emma’s elbow pushed her forward and she walked past the Chancellor so close she could feel his presence emanating off him. Then she stood at the side of the King who looked up at her from his bed with pale face and watery eyes.
,br>“Have you peace for me in that cup?” the King asked.
“Yes, your majesty.” In her mind, Emma kept her fingers crossed. If this didn’t work… It had to work. She had followed the directions and brewed it up while the King still had strength. Emma drew back the curtain as the old man struggled to sit up. Finally, he took the cup in both hands and first sipped from it. His mouth curled into a smile before he drank more deeply and as he did so, color infused his cheeks. He drained the cup to the dregs, a boiled petal or two in the bottom. Already he seemed stronger. His face appeared fuller and his eyes no longer dripped water.
“Your majesty,” Emma said. “Can you stand?”
“It has been some time since I stood.”
“May I help you?”
As the assembled watched, Emma helped the old King out of his bed and onto his feet. He stood a bit shaky at first, but held his ground. He stood fully as tall as the Chancellor, who had retired to the edge of the room. The King took one unsure step, but his next was straight legged. He grew confident in his body as they looked on.
The guards each took a knee before their sovereign. Chancellor Lawrence alone stood. Emma ducked her head in deference to her position. “Will you not kneel to your King?” the King asked. The Chancellor ducked his head and bent his knee.
“Send for my servant. I will dress and greet my people.”
Emma bit her lip.
“Your majesty,” she began, dragging the medallion out from under her shirt. “If I may.”
He said,
“Ask anything. The Kingdom is yours to have.” His voice had taken on a strong timbre, undoubtedly the voice with which he addressed those he took charge of. Then he looked at the medallion.
“Cedric,” he said. “Where is he? Not languishing in the dungeon.”
“No sir, after I confronted him on his dastardly plot to kill you, he escaped along with her.”
“Seeing that her plan was not to kill me, I doubt his was either.” He turned back to Emma. “Where is he?”
“He’s beyond the mirror at my home, I think.”
“You don’t know?”
“We parted ways under the threat of death.” She tried to remember the word Cedric had used when confronted with the creature her Maman had become. A tear trickled out of her eye. “A soulless was near and an evil man.”
“Where are my servants? I would dress now, not later. This must be dealt with immediately.”
At that, Chancellor Lawrence jerked to his feet. “Of course, immediately. All other things must be left by the wayside.”
“No, we have to reopen the well,” Emma said, remembering the problem which had first brought her to them. Cedric needed the well reopened. After all this, to see it not done would be horrid.
“I will reopen the well, child,” the King said. “But first, let us find my retainer who has risked so much to bring you to us.”
“Sire, you can’t reopen the well, remember the problems we were having before, being overrun with new souls. Certainly you understand why it must remain closed.”
“Without the souls from the well, our kingdom dries up, Lawrence. That cannot be allowed. To slow its flood is one thing, to keep it closed is another.”
“But sire—”
“No, Lawrence. It has been closed too long as it is. It must be reopened and I will do so.”
Tall though he was, the Chancellor was no match for the King who had regained his power. The standoff lasted moments before Lawrence dropped his eyes.
“It was what Cedric wanted,” Emma said.
“And he will have it.”
A pair of servants hustled in, between them they carried a plate of food and a goblet.
“And what color would his majesty like to wear today?”
They then shooed everyone from the room. None needed to watch his royal highness dress.
When the King emerged from his rooms a half-hour later, he wore deep red. The cloth looked velvety, but Emma couldn’t be certain. She had waited in the hall for him to come out along with the rest of his party. A few nobles joined them in their vigil.
“Come,” he said making an expansive arm gesture. “We shall see to the well and poor Cedric.”
They trooped together to the garden, past the royal rose bush Emma snagged the blossom from, to a dry fountain in a central court. The fountain rose from scarlet paving stones in the shape of an elegant plant. The pool beneath it was cracked and empty. The King came to the edge of the stones and genuflected. Everyone with him, except Emma, bowed. He stepped over the wall and went up to the flower’s stem. It was then that Emma saw the skull hidden in the flower staring down at him. Raising his hands, he cupped the stone bloom. As he touched it, the petals softened and flexed. The skull became more prominent. Traces of water trickled out and landed on the King’s shoulders.
Around them, the stones hummed a low tone. Water poured from the skull’s mouth and the King stepped under the flow as it strengthened. Then he climbed out. His wet shoes left prints on the stones. The humming grew to a crescendo before it disappeared. Water poured through the skull in torrents and took on a spectral quality, becoming nearly translucent.
A servant brought forth a bottle and dipped it in the waters. When it was full, he withdrew it and handed it to Emma.
“For your service to the King, you are offered water from the well of souls. With it, you may restore a soulless to its prior state.”
Emma took the bottle, her mind reeling. Restore a soulless. Maman. Excitement coated her nerves.
“How, what do I do?”
“You must only pour it on them,” the servant said with a smile. “The scent of the well water draws the soul back into the body.”
She would make Maman bathe in it if possible to bring her back.
Together the entourage left the well, but Emma looked back to see Chancellor Lawrence standing there alone. He looked into the water with slumped shoulders. Though she had nothing to say to him, she wondered what he could be thinking.
When they reached the room of mirrors, Emma and the King were alone. With Cedric’s medallion in her hand, she watched the polished surfaces for any sign of something being amiss.
“You’ll have to open the way,” the King said.
“How? I don’t know how.”
“Cedric’s medallion is a part of him, it wants to be reunited. You need only focus on where it leads to see him again.”
Emma placed one hand against the edge of a mirror and thought about Cedric, his warmth, his smile, his strength. The image flickered and she once again looked into her own bedroom. Cedric lay slumped against the foot of her bed with his legs splayed.
“CEDRIC!” Emma cried. The man in the mirror stirred, but did not move. She reached out to him, trying to press her hand through. The hand without the medallion could not go through. The hand with it however stretched the metal and found its way through. She called his name again.
So far away, his eyes opened.
“Emma?”
His voice sounded like a distant whisper. She fought to hear it.
“I’m here,” Emma said. “I’m here.”
He crawled the distance to the mirror on his hands and knees. When he put his hand over hers, she grabbed him and began to pull him through. He fell into the room at her feet and stood up slowly.
“Cedric.” Emma wrapped her arms around his neck. He hugged her close. When he let her go, he dropped to one knee.
“Your majesty.”
“Rise, Cedric, you have done well.”
“My loyalty lies with you.”
“And a great loyalty it has been. You brought a great alchemist to our midst to save our lives. Commendable.”
“Thank you, sire.”
“But now she must return home.”
Seeing Cedric again, Emma yearned to talk with him about what had happened, but she needed to return. Maman needed her.
“Will I be able to come back?” she asked.
“I think not. Nor would it be good for you to. It is not your time to be here,” the King said. “Many years lie open for you.”
Her hand crept into Cedric’s who squeezed it.
“You have to go, Emmaline.”
“But Cedric.”
“You have to go. It is for your best.” He refused to look into her eyes as she sought his face. Finally, she let him go and stepped up to the mirror. With the jar under her arm, she handed the medallion back.
“Send me through,” she said with her head lowered.
“Emmaline.”
“Just send me back.”
With the King beside him, Cedric stepped up to the mirror and pressed his hands to it. His low voice chanted words Emma found comfortingly familiar now. The metal glowed and her room reappeared. She dashed through. Landing on the carpet in her bedroom, she looked back to see the mirror full of his face. To him, she waved goodbye before leaving the room and shutting the door.
The house looked as if someone had turned a tornado loose on the first floor. Books knocked from shelves. Tables overturned. The dishes from their last meal scattered across the floor. Holes she could only imagine being from bullets dotted several of the walls. Yet nowhere did she find Maman’s body. The bloodstain where she had lain had gone a dirty brown. The drag marks where she moved had turned the same noxious color. Emma moved through the kitchen to the back porch and yard. There she saw her. The old woman bumped against the back fence repeatedly as if she would walk right through it.
Her dress once cheerful now seemed more macabre. One of her shoes had gone missing.
Emma drew close with the jar held out before her like a shield. The creature hadn’t noticed her yet. Each footstep brought her closer and tightened the string around her heart until Emma thought she would choke. Then it noticed her, turning and putting its claw-like hands out.
With one swift motion, Emma splashed the water into Maman’s face soaking her dress and hair.
First the hands came down. Then sputtering.
“What, what?” Maman asked. “And what is the meaning of this, Emmaline, you’ve wet me all up.”
Dropping the bottle, Emma leapt forward and wrapped her arms around her grandmother.
“Maman!”
One handed, Maman dabbed at her face and brushed water out of her eyes. Her other arm curled protectively around her young charge. After the moment of exultation, Emma frantically patted Maman down looking for the bullet hole. Despite the rip in the dress, the skin beneath appeared perfect. With a sigh of relief, Emma let Maman go.
“Let’s go inside, Maman, it’s getting too cold to be out here in only one shoe.”
“Now how did that happen?” the old woman asked, then shrugged. They went inside.
Seeing the state of her kitchen, Maman eyed Emma.
“And what can you tell me about all of this?”
Emma swallowed. “Well.”
“You’re going to stick around to help me clean it up, aren’t you?”
“Of course, Maman.”
The old woman brightened and bustled through to her bedroom up the stairs. Emma watched her go and wondered if she had enough time to call Mr. Amon and make sure he was alright? That man in the shop had meant to do her harm. She could only hope he hadn’t done anything to Mr. Amon. The phone on the first floor survived the fight though pulled off the hook. Emma rang the shop and Mr. Amon picked up on the first ring.
“Amon’s.”
“Mr. Amon, it’s Emmaline.”
“Emmaline. So good to hear from you.”
“How are you, sir?”
“Quite fine.”
“Nothing bad happened?”
“I don’t know what you are referring to, Emma, but I expect you to be in the shop at 8 am sharp tomorrow morning. There are orders to fill and after that mess with Mrs. Snow last week, I want them handled double quick.”
His manner left her little opening to question, but he sounded fine. Maybe she would find out more when she got into the shop the next day. Maman came down the stairs and Emma said goodbye to Mr. Amon.
They spent the afternoon cleaning the house.
Night fell early as it did in Fall and found Emma outside once again. Having seen the well, she wondered why she had never noticed its flower-like shape before, but this time she intended to see it in all its glory. Maman went inside as the wind grew higher and the temperature dropped into the misery range, yet Emma waited. The well meant more to her now than it ever had.
11:59
In the northern sky, it first appeared as a ripple, then it was there, a great blossom pouring forth shooting stars. Each of the stars seemed faintly a different color, but they were nearly see through. Emma watched it all through her binoculars.
“Cedric.”
It was time for bed. 8 am would come early.
Thus concludes October Sky. I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. As always comments go at the bottom of the page. If you want to share the story, just click on the October Sky tag and share the resulting page. Thank you very much for your kind attention.
October 28, 2015
[October Sky] Part VII
Earlier Parts: ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE | SIX
Early Emma uncurled and started to stalk through the castle. In her mind, she stayed only a step away from capture, but what she sought could perhaps change everything. A heady idea to be sure, but one she held onto for dear life. Skulking through the castle, she tried to stay out of sight. She slid around corners and hid in alcoves as she searched for what she hoped would be the answer to Cedric’s prayers.
The fact that she didn’t know how she was going to get home came back to her now and again but she contented herself with considering what would be the best thing for them all. Reopening the well had to be done. She could consider what would happen to her afterwards.
Morning’s young light made its way into the close corridors and Emma breathed in the hope it brought. Finally, she came to a hall that ended in an open door. Sunshine poured in the door and Emma made her way through it. Around her, green reigned. Taking in a deep breath, she walked through the trellis near the entrance. Several star-shaped flowers opened nearby, but they weren’t what she looked for. Passing them by, she heard someone lightly snoring. When she rounded a curve in the path, she came to a full bush and a man napping in a chair near it.
The Chancellor napped in the chair. Emma ducked back around the curve certain he’d seen her. Then she let out a slow breath. Emma crept back around the corner and looked at the vegetation there. Above the Chancellor’s head, a rose hung heavy. There were other plants on the bush, but that appeared to be the only mature bloom. Emma bit her lip. It would have to be that one.
Of course, it was that one. The one which dared her to get caught. As she looked for alternatives, she realized a guard stood with his back to her only feet from the Chancellor. Yes, she would certainly dare to get caught. However, it was a royal rose. With it, she could fix everything. Or at least the King. Without it, she had nothing.
She would have to get close enough to pluck the flower, preserving most of the petals, not fall on the Chancellor and not alert the guard. Her palms sweat. In spite of the chill, she flushed. Someone was coming up the path behind her, she ducked to one side and hid. A woman with a basket passed her and went to the guard. Emma wasn’t close enough to hear their conversation, but the woman went away a few moments later. If she was going to do this, she needed to be fast. Getting back on the path, she sidled forward. At the Chancellor, she put one hand on the arm of the chair and leaned over him. Cedric’s medallion hung off her neck and swung. Emma moved back and tucked the medallion away before trying again. One hand on the chair arm, she extended her other hand to grab a hold of the rose. The stem bent toward her as she pulled.
Below her, the Chancellor reached up to scratch his nose in his repose. Emma held her breath and waited for him to quiet. Nearby the guard shifted and Emma froze. When he didn’t turn her way, she tugged on the flower. Further up the stalk, thorns waited. She didn’t dare grab any further back. Her hand around the bloom itself, she tugged a little harder.
A branch cracked. Her eyes snapped shut and she waited for judgment to come.
She let her breath out slow.
The flower began to pull off in her hand. Easing back, she let it come to her. Her feet slid to the ground and she let her weight settle. Finally, it came off.
She added the bloom to the pocket of Lamia’s hair she had. Together she had half the ingredients. She would have to go down into the dungeon and find the Charmot again. Emma didn’t look forward to that, but it had to be done. The Chancellor snuffled and shifted. Emma tiptoed away. Once she was back among the stones, she let out a sigh. Now to find her way downstairs.
Hours later, after an uneventful trip into the dungeon which gave her flashbacks to their escape, Emma stood at the edge of the kitchen. Servants moved back and forth without noticing her, too busy about their own business. She could substitute red wine for the Blusaga, which might effect the efficacy of the potion, but not much. The people thinned out some as time went on and she watched. All she needed was a pot and some wine. She sneaked into the kitchen.
An empty pot swung on a hook off the edge of one of the fires and she pushed it back onto the flame. Nearby, she grabbed a jug of wine and poured it in. Then she added the powder and flowers. The heat would be enough; at least, she hoped. The wine came to a boil and the fragrance changed as everything incorporated. Finding a spoon, she poked the flowers down into the liquid. A smell not unlike lavender and vanilla exploded from the pot as the flames licked the sides.
“I hope that’s what supposed to happen.”
A plume of saffron yellow smoke welled up from the bottom with the scent. She checked the card again to see if it said what it should look and smell like when it was done.
A shout got her attention.
The woman running toward her wore a long skirt and an apron. She yelled, then grabbed a spoon off a table to beat at Emma with.
“Stop,” Emma said. “Please.”
The spoon came down on her arms and she shielded her face from the blows.
“Stop!”
The woman grabbed her by her wrist and dragged at her. Emma planted her feet then jerked backward, pulling the woman off her feet. The woman yelled at her again and tried to bring Emma along.
“Come here!”
“No.”
They had a tug of war. Another woman entered, then left. Emma pushed the older woman away and grabbed a cup off the table. Dipping it in, Emma came up with 2/3rds of a cup.
“Take me to the King,” Emma said.
The woman looked at her as if she had lost her mind. The other woman came back with a guardsman at her elbow.
“Take me to the King,” Emma said again. Careful not to spill the cup, she let the guard take her by the arm.
Interested, leave a comment!
Ladies and gents, while it has been quite fun bringing you this story once a week, come Halloween night, it will be complete. I will then be posting excerpts from the newest piece, Blades of Fate. It is the sequel of Chains of Fate which you can buy on Amazon HERE
Early Emma uncurled and started to stalk through the castle. In her mind, she stayed only a step away from capture, but what she sought could perhaps change everything. A heady idea to be sure, but one she held onto for dear life. Skulking through the castle, she tried to stay out of sight. She slid around corners and hid in alcoves as she searched for what she hoped would be the answer to Cedric’s prayers.The fact that she didn’t know how she was going to get home came back to her now and again but she contented herself with considering what would be the best thing for them all. Reopening the well had to be done. She could consider what would happen to her afterwards.
Morning’s young light made its way into the close corridors and Emma breathed in the hope it brought. Finally, she came to a hall that ended in an open door. Sunshine poured in the door and Emma made her way through it. Around her, green reigned. Taking in a deep breath, she walked through the trellis near the entrance. Several star-shaped flowers opened nearby, but they weren’t what she looked for. Passing them by, she heard someone lightly snoring. When she rounded a curve in the path, she came to a full bush and a man napping in a chair near it.
The Chancellor napped in the chair. Emma ducked back around the curve certain he’d seen her. Then she let out a slow breath. Emma crept back around the corner and looked at the vegetation there. Above the Chancellor’s head, a rose hung heavy. There were other plants on the bush, but that appeared to be the only mature bloom. Emma bit her lip. It would have to be that one.
Of course, it was that one. The one which dared her to get caught. As she looked for alternatives, she realized a guard stood with his back to her only feet from the Chancellor. Yes, she would certainly dare to get caught. However, it was a royal rose. With it, she could fix everything. Or at least the King. Without it, she had nothing.
She would have to get close enough to pluck the flower, preserving most of the petals, not fall on the Chancellor and not alert the guard. Her palms sweat. In spite of the chill, she flushed. Someone was coming up the path behind her, she ducked to one side and hid. A woman with a basket passed her and went to the guard. Emma wasn’t close enough to hear their conversation, but the woman went away a few moments later. If she was going to do this, she needed to be fast. Getting back on the path, she sidled forward. At the Chancellor, she put one hand on the arm of the chair and leaned over him. Cedric’s medallion hung off her neck and swung. Emma moved back and tucked the medallion away before trying again. One hand on the chair arm, she extended her other hand to grab a hold of the rose. The stem bent toward her as she pulled.
Below her, the Chancellor reached up to scratch his nose in his repose. Emma held her breath and waited for him to quiet. Nearby the guard shifted and Emma froze. When he didn’t turn her way, she tugged on the flower. Further up the stalk, thorns waited. She didn’t dare grab any further back. Her hand around the bloom itself, she tugged a little harder.
A branch cracked. Her eyes snapped shut and she waited for judgment to come.
She let her breath out slow.
The flower began to pull off in her hand. Easing back, she let it come to her. Her feet slid to the ground and she let her weight settle. Finally, it came off.
She added the bloom to the pocket of Lamia’s hair she had. Together she had half the ingredients. She would have to go down into the dungeon and find the Charmot again. Emma didn’t look forward to that, but it had to be done. The Chancellor snuffled and shifted. Emma tiptoed away. Once she was back among the stones, she let out a sigh. Now to find her way downstairs.
Hours later, after an uneventful trip into the dungeon which gave her flashbacks to their escape, Emma stood at the edge of the kitchen. Servants moved back and forth without noticing her, too busy about their own business. She could substitute red wine for the Blusaga, which might effect the efficacy of the potion, but not much. The people thinned out some as time went on and she watched. All she needed was a pot and some wine. She sneaked into the kitchen.
An empty pot swung on a hook off the edge of one of the fires and she pushed it back onto the flame. Nearby, she grabbed a jug of wine and poured it in. Then she added the powder and flowers. The heat would be enough; at least, she hoped. The wine came to a boil and the fragrance changed as everything incorporated. Finding a spoon, she poked the flowers down into the liquid. A smell not unlike lavender and vanilla exploded from the pot as the flames licked the sides.
“I hope that’s what supposed to happen.”
A plume of saffron yellow smoke welled up from the bottom with the scent. She checked the card again to see if it said what it should look and smell like when it was done.
A shout got her attention.
The woman running toward her wore a long skirt and an apron. She yelled, then grabbed a spoon off a table to beat at Emma with.
“Stop,” Emma said. “Please.”
The spoon came down on her arms and she shielded her face from the blows.
“Stop!”
The woman grabbed her by her wrist and dragged at her. Emma planted her feet then jerked backward, pulling the woman off her feet. The woman yelled at her again and tried to bring Emma along.
“Come here!”
“No.”
They had a tug of war. Another woman entered, then left. Emma pushed the older woman away and grabbed a cup off the table. Dipping it in, Emma came up with 2/3rds of a cup.
“Take me to the King,” Emma said.
The woman looked at her as if she had lost her mind. The other woman came back with a guardsman at her elbow.
“Take me to the King,” Emma said again. Careful not to spill the cup, she let the guard take her by the arm.
Interested, leave a comment!
Ladies and gents, while it has been quite fun bringing you this story once a week, come Halloween night, it will be complete. I will then be posting excerpts from the newest piece, Blades of Fate. It is the sequel of Chains of Fate which you can buy on Amazon HERE
[Article] Horror Movie Survival Kit brought to you by ManCrates
So last week I got one of those emails that you get occasionally. Totally unsolicited and someone asking if you might be willing to do something you already do, but for them. It's Halloween-season, my favorite season of the year, and the slew of things having to do with horror movies makes me giddy as a school kid. Back to that email I got. A lovely person named Alex came to me with a simple question: What would you have in your Horror Movie Survival Kit? Why did she ask me this question? Because she works for Man Crates, a premier gift company for men. I really like their Retro Gamer Crate and the NFL Barware Crate. So in the spirit of the season, I give you the three things I would have in my Horror Movie Survival Kit.
1. Running Shoes
Let's face it, eventually you're going to end up running. Hopefully not through a forest where there are thousands of roots conspiring against your possible escape. However, in the event you do end up running for your life from vampires, zombies, werewolves, what have you, those Manolo Blahnik's just are not going to cut it. You need something with some tread, support, and aerodynamics. Might I suggest a pair of Asic? Maybe some Nike's. Whatever you chose, make sure they fit well and don't flop all over the place, that just defeats the purpose. You might not be able to outrun every problem (Running from Jason and Michael generally doesn't work well.) but getting some distance between you and trouble is almost always a good thing.
2. A Silver Crucifix
Though faith can sometimes seem a little passe these days, creatures of darkness are old school. Faith moves them. Or if the faith doesn't move them, then the fact that it's silver might. It covers vampires, werewolves, most demons, and a myriad of other creatures that go bump in the night. Hang it around your neck, not from the mirror of your car which when you get to it won't start because that's just what happens when you really, really need it to work.
3. A Multi-tool which includes a flashlight.
You never know when you're going to need to jimmy a lock or unscrew the front off a vent, plus a flashlight when things are darkest can be a life saver. Or at least a sanity saver. Things are still going to stalk you from the shadows, this way you have some chance of seeing just a sliver of what they are before they descend upon you to devour your carcass. It'll be kind of like the last moments of the merchant in Pitch Black when he had that last fireball and it was evident he was completely surrounded.
Those are the three things I would wish for in my crate should I have to survive a horror movie. Not much, I'm a bit of a minimalist (what you bring you have to carry) but I think it would afford me a better chance of making it out alive than if I didn't have them. I could have asked for things like guns (can't shoot worth a hill of beans), knives (do I really wanna get that close), maybe a bomb or two (and risk blowing myself up), but I didn't.
Don't forget to check out Man Crates for more great gift ideas for the men in your life. They have three crates dedicated to surviving zombies you might find quite interesting. Zombie Survival Crate | Zombie Suppression Crate | Zombie Annihilation Crate All of which I'm seriously considering for my own birthday!
1. Running Shoes
Let's face it, eventually you're going to end up running. Hopefully not through a forest where there are thousands of roots conspiring against your possible escape. However, in the event you do end up running for your life from vampires, zombies, werewolves, what have you, those Manolo Blahnik's just are not going to cut it. You need something with some tread, support, and aerodynamics. Might I suggest a pair of Asic? Maybe some Nike's. Whatever you chose, make sure they fit well and don't flop all over the place, that just defeats the purpose. You might not be able to outrun every problem (Running from Jason and Michael generally doesn't work well.) but getting some distance between you and trouble is almost always a good thing.
2. A Silver Crucifix
Though faith can sometimes seem a little passe these days, creatures of darkness are old school. Faith moves them. Or if the faith doesn't move them, then the fact that it's silver might. It covers vampires, werewolves, most demons, and a myriad of other creatures that go bump in the night. Hang it around your neck, not from the mirror of your car which when you get to it won't start because that's just what happens when you really, really need it to work.
3. A Multi-tool which includes a flashlight.
You never know when you're going to need to jimmy a lock or unscrew the front off a vent, plus a flashlight when things are darkest can be a life saver. Or at least a sanity saver. Things are still going to stalk you from the shadows, this way you have some chance of seeing just a sliver of what they are before they descend upon you to devour your carcass. It'll be kind of like the last moments of the merchant in Pitch Black when he had that last fireball and it was evident he was completely surrounded.
Those are the three things I would wish for in my crate should I have to survive a horror movie. Not much, I'm a bit of a minimalist (what you bring you have to carry) but I think it would afford me a better chance of making it out alive than if I didn't have them. I could have asked for things like guns (can't shoot worth a hill of beans), knives (do I really wanna get that close), maybe a bomb or two (and risk blowing myself up), but I didn't.
Don't forget to check out Man Crates for more great gift ideas for the men in your life. They have three crates dedicated to surviving zombies you might find quite interesting. Zombie Survival Crate | Zombie Suppression Crate | Zombie Annihilation Crate All of which I'm seriously considering for my own birthday!
October 22, 2015
[Movie] Crimson Peak was Interesting.
So I have to be about the hundredth person who thinks they might have been a little cheated by Crimson Peak. Let's face it, the next major holiday is Halloween. This is prime time scary movie territory. With the crimson and black ghosts popping up in the trailers, one would definitely think of this as just the right kind of movie for the season. Unfortunately, the ghosts don't really seem to make it more than halfway through the movie before they're abandoned for more of a thriller/mystery vibe. Not that I'm complaining about the thriller vibe. It was very well done. I enjoyed sitting in the theater trying to get one step ahead of the story. (Normally this is not a problem for me.) However, I wanted more ghostly ghastliness.
The manor house served as the perfect setting for something very Edgar Allen Poe with its blood red clay tainted water and the massive hole in the ceiling causing it to snow indoors. Then there were the outdoor shots of the snow also dyed crimson by the clay. Made the entire front yard look like a massive field of battle. Exceptionally pretty in its dilapidated state like an old matron seeking her youth through make-up. Yet it wasn't used up to its full potential. I guess I was looking for something more The Haunting of Hill House from it, making the very house party to all the secrets.
All in all, I thought the acting was well-done. Tom Hiddleston (Thomas Sharpe) stole the show for me, of course, though I still have a hard time not thinking Loki when I see him. I guess there are just some roles that leave indelible marks on a watcher's consciousness. This is not to say that the women, Mia Wasikowska (Edith Cushing) and Jessica Chastain (Lucille Sharpe), weren't mesmerizing, just that my eyes gravitated toward him and the expressions he gave. The three of them together however made the movie. In the pivotal scene of confrontation with the pounding on the door, it is the interaction between the three of them that makes it work. Charlie Hunnam (Dr. Alan McMichael) isn't an afterthought, but he certainly isn't as captivating as the other three.
I suppose I should back up a second and discuss the actual plot of the movie: Down and out heirs with nothing to peddle but their name seek funding for a mining gadget. During their attempts to secure funding, the male heir falls for a wealthy heiress who could be the end of their financial woes. They marry. Come to find out, the man is already married and has been several times, killing each of his successive wives for their money. The ghosts of these murdered innocents still haunt the family manse and make several attempts to warn the young heiress of her oncoming fate.
Things I saw coming: The brother-sister relationship. After Lucille mentions they were often left in the nursery alone while their parents traveled, that part sort of wrote itself in my mind.
The revelation of Lucille as the killer of Edith's father. No offense to Thomas, but he just doesn't have the spine to actually kill someone.
Overall, Crimson Peak was a pretty drama with some horror elements, not a horror movie. Will I watch it again? Probably once it comes out on DVD.
The manor house served as the perfect setting for something very Edgar Allen Poe with its blood red clay tainted water and the massive hole in the ceiling causing it to snow indoors. Then there were the outdoor shots of the snow also dyed crimson by the clay. Made the entire front yard look like a massive field of battle. Exceptionally pretty in its dilapidated state like an old matron seeking her youth through make-up. Yet it wasn't used up to its full potential. I guess I was looking for something more The Haunting of Hill House from it, making the very house party to all the secrets.
All in all, I thought the acting was well-done. Tom Hiddleston (Thomas Sharpe) stole the show for me, of course, though I still have a hard time not thinking Loki when I see him. I guess there are just some roles that leave indelible marks on a watcher's consciousness. This is not to say that the women, Mia Wasikowska (Edith Cushing) and Jessica Chastain (Lucille Sharpe), weren't mesmerizing, just that my eyes gravitated toward him and the expressions he gave. The three of them together however made the movie. In the pivotal scene of confrontation with the pounding on the door, it is the interaction between the three of them that makes it work. Charlie Hunnam (Dr. Alan McMichael) isn't an afterthought, but he certainly isn't as captivating as the other three.
I suppose I should back up a second and discuss the actual plot of the movie: Down and out heirs with nothing to peddle but their name seek funding for a mining gadget. During their attempts to secure funding, the male heir falls for a wealthy heiress who could be the end of their financial woes. They marry. Come to find out, the man is already married and has been several times, killing each of his successive wives for their money. The ghosts of these murdered innocents still haunt the family manse and make several attempts to warn the young heiress of her oncoming fate.
Things I saw coming: The brother-sister relationship. After Lucille mentions they were often left in the nursery alone while their parents traveled, that part sort of wrote itself in my mind.
The revelation of Lucille as the killer of Edith's father. No offense to Thomas, but he just doesn't have the spine to actually kill someone.
Overall, Crimson Peak was a pretty drama with some horror elements, not a horror movie. Will I watch it again? Probably once it comes out on DVD.
October 20, 2015
[October Sky] Part VI
Earlier Parts: ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR | FIVE
By the time they reached the front door of Maman’s house, Emma was shivering so hard she shook. Her entire body was overcome by it. However, she never lost her grip on the card or the flowers. Having taken most of the way at a dead run, her lungs burned. Cedric had to catch her when she stumbled up on the stairs. Panting, she closed her eyes.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“No, I hurt.” Her shoulder snapped at her where she had been cut. Her lungs burned. Her legs were like lead. “But maybe we have enough.”
Maman’s door wasn’t locked and Emma let them both in. The bustle coming from the kitchen told her exactly where her grandmother was. Emma moved into the kitchen, put the card and flowers down, and hugged her grandmother who still had not realized she was there.
“Emmaline?” she said. “Oh heaven. Thank god. You’re home. Where have you been? Mr. Amon has been by looking for you. And I hadn’t any idea.”
Maman turned and embraced Emma fully. She kissed Emma’s forehead and hugged her again. “Oh god.”
“Maman, this is Cedric.”
“He comes a bit strangely dressed, and so are you. What’s happening?”
“It’s a long story and I promise I will tell you, but I need to put on some warmer clothes and finish figuring out what this card says and hopefully get us all back to where we’re supposed to be without too much trouble.” Emma’s lack of explanation got an unhappy look from her grandmother, but the woman didn’t argue. Instead, she turned back to the stove and picked up a pot.
“There’s hot chocolate, I was just making some. You two can have it.”
“Thank you.”
Cedric looked into the pot with confusion.
“Hot chocolate.”
“Just drink it, you’ll like it,” Emma said. Then she went up the stairs to her bedroom to change clothes.
When she came back down, Cedric sat at the kitchen table with a steaming mug in front of him. He lazily flipped one of the flowers through his fingers.
“You were right, it is quite good.”
“See, I told you.” Emma sat down at the table across from him and looked pointedly at the card. A few more secrets. The symbols were all there. She just had to decipher them so that she could make it.
“How goes it?” Cedric asked.
“I don’t know. One of these is Charmot. The other is Lamia’s hair. But there are two more that I can’t figure out just yet.”
“Don’t you have your old textbook up the stairs?” Maman asked. “Wouldn’t it have the right symbols?”
“Some of them yes, but this recipe is from Mr. Amon’s private collection. His symbology is different.” Taking her mug of cocoa from Maman, she put the card down again. After a bit of a blistering sip, she coughed.
“There has to be something else I can do,” Emma said.
“You are doing a great deal, Emmaline.” Cedric assured her. Then he reached out to pat her hands. “You can figure this out.”
“I know I can, but I need to do this faster. That way we can finish what you need to do.”
“The King awaits. This I know. But we cannot force you to finish something. Only time will give us the answers we seek.”
“What’s all this about?” Maman asked.
“Cedric’s from a kingdom where the king controls the well of souls. It’s the same well we see in the sky at night during the fall and winter. From this side, if the well isn’t open, then people don’t die correctly.” Emma’s explanation left her Maman looking at her with wide eyes, but Emma didn’t attempt to explain further. Instead, she went back to staring at the card looking for some kind of answer to what those other two ingredients were.
Absently, she listened as Maman moved around the kitchen, an understated hum on her lips. For the moment, she might as well have forgotten about the stranger in their midst. Fine with Emma. Let Maman handle things however she saw fit. Emma would continue with her own problems.
Dinner appeared on the table a few hours later while Emma still studied and wondered and guessed. A green bean casserole with chicken that steamed and smelled wonderful. Cedric didn’t have to be told what it was, he tucked in as if someone had been making this for him all his life. Maman sat with her own plate relatively untouched. She pushed one bean from one end of the plate to another. Emma shoveled food in her mouth without seeing it.
A knock on the door interrupted their domestic scene. Maman wiped her hands on a towel and went to get it. Cedric followed her with his eyes until she left the kitchen. He jumped to his feet when he heard Maman shout. The mystery man hustled Maman back into the kitchen with one twisted arm. Then he thrust her away as if she were repugnant to him. He turned his gun on Emma and Cedric.
“Found you,” he said.
No one answered. Emma moved to slid the card off the table, but he made a tisking noise.
“Leave it there. You get up and join the old lady.”
With the table between him and Cedric, he jerked the gun at the two women.
“Stay over there.” He reached for the card.
Cedric snatched it off the table. The man brought his gun around as if to shoot the younger man. “Give it to me.”
Emma’s hand sought her grandmother’s which trembled. Standing there together, they watched the standoff between Cedric and their assailant. In those moments, Emma had a chance to really look at him. He appeared to be lightly striped. Maybe as an effect of the powder she threw at him. The stripes reminded her of a tiger and when he bared his fangs, she was almost certain he had been hit with a transformative of some sort. Odd. Her hand hadn’t gone striped. Maybe it was a reaction to the addition of the liquid they had thrown at him as well. Either way, he resembled a tiger and attempted to take away something which was hers.
Cedric refused to give up the card without saying a word.
Disrupted, the man shot a hole in the wall above Cedric’s shoulder. Maman made a break for it toward the backyard door. Seeing her move, the man swung around and shot Maman. Emma, caught by the suddenness of everything, stood dumb for a long moment before throwing herself in the direction of her grandmother.
“MAMAN!”
The old woman lay on the floor, face down but struggling to get up. Emma knelt beside her.
“Oh god, Maman.” Blood already began to pool underneath her. “Please be alright.”
With a groan, Maman flipped over and put her hands to her abdomen. Red stained her skin.
The man pressed the gun to Emma’s head.
“Stand up.”
He turned both of them toward Cedric.
“If you don’t want to see her brains all over the walls, give me the card, right now.”
Cedric slid the card onto the table, but not close enough for the man to reach it.
At Emma’s feet, Maman bled out. Her groaning became fainter and fainter. Emma searched for some sign she would be fine but all she could see was blood. Then Maman closed her eyes. A tear fell from Emma’s eye and she clenched her fists. A moment later, she turned on the man with those fists beating at him with all her might. He tried to shield himself from her blows, but couldn’t keep the gun trained on her while he did so. She had almost beaten him back when a hand gripped her ankle. Her eyes dropped to find Maman holding her. The old woman’s face had gone slack and ashen. Emma’s heart thundered. She snatched herself out of Maman’s grip and hopped back to the kitchen table. The man took a shot at her as Maman’s other hand wrapped around his ankle with a vise grip. The shot missed by inches. Then he turned the gun on the creature grabbing him, unloading it three times. When that did not effect his escape, he beat at the woman with the butt of the gun trying to get free. She grabbed his arm while he beat at her and dragged their faces so close they could kiss. He screamed.
Cedric came across the kitchen table and snatched Emma’s arm. The scene transfixed her.
“Come on,” he said.
Grabbing the card, she headed for the stairs, eyes full of unshed tears. Stumbling, she made it to her room and Cedric shut the door. “We have to leave,” he said. Emma shook her head. Pressing his hand against the mirror, he chanted. The words sounded familiar though Emma couldn’t place them. Then the mirror lit with an inner fire.
The bedroom door jumped then creaked in protest. The second hit thudded louder than the first. Cedric looked at the door and then at Emma. He unlooped the medallion from around his neck. “If we go, I fear he may follow. I’ll stop him here.”
“What?”
“Go now. Cure the king.” He thrust her toward the mirror and stepped away. “Go.”
Emma went.
The mirror returned her to a room she had seen once before. Night had fallen. The light thrown by the mirror faded and left her in dimness. She put her hand against the glass and slid to the floor, tears thick and heavy in her eyes. The medallion bored a hole in her palm. Looking up, she hoped to see some sign of Cedric following her. Nothing came. Emma sobbed. The card slipped to the floor by her knees.
“Maman,” she said with a sniffle. Her final view of her grandmother as an ashen faced soulless taunted her. It capered in circles in her mind, revealing her weakness. How could she have let that happen? Her fists gathered at the edges of her shirt and she almost ripped the hem. There in the gloom, alone and cold, she cried. Without Cedric, she knew nothing of where she was. Without Maman…without Maman, she wasn’t even sure who she was. Hiccuping sobs threatened to cut off her breath. Emma wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered.
Alone.
She would have to go on alone.
The thought terrified her. Yet she wiped away her tears and took several cleansing breathes. She was alone. A circumstance immutable. However, she didn’t have to cry and be afraid. Those were things she could change. The words of her master intruded on her low thoughts. Center yourself and you can see the universe. Putting her hands on the floor, she touched the card. It slid away from her fingers. Emma picked it up and put it before her eyes.
Four ingredients. Two deciphered. Two to go. The puzzle awaited her. On the floor, she drew the symbols for the two unknowns.
Someone walked by the door to the room and she stopped waiting for them to come in and find her. No one came. With a sniffle, she went back to writing. The symbols curled beneath her fingers, perched waiting for her to understand.
“It’s a tincture,” she said. “There has to be a liquid.” The whorls of the symbol floated under her eyes. Then it came to her. “Blusaga. Of course.” One more.
The light grew dimmer as she worked. Beyond the door, a torch was lit and then whomever lit it walked on. Every time someone neared, she held her breath. Yet no one entered to see about the mirror room. So she continued in quiet secret. One of the symbols she was certain meant flower, but there were dozens of possible flowers. What in concert with Lamia’s hair, Charmot, and Blusaga would give her a deep purple liquid capable of curing what ails? One came to mind and her heart sank.
“Royal rose.”
Royal rose, the finickiest flower she knew of. It required cultivation, so unless somewhere in the castle grew it, she would never find it. Despair crawled out of its cage and tears fell again. “Why did it have to be that? Why couldn’t it be a weed like Lamia’s hair?” she lamented. The idea of trying to find it seemed impossible.
The more she looked at the card, the more she knew it meant royal rose. Without a doubt, the hardest flower to find. If she had known that before, she could have raided Mr. Amon’s small stash. However, she had no recourse. If she wanted to make the potion, she would have to find it. Determination poked its way out from under the despair and forced her to wipe her eyes. Where was one most likely to find a cultivated flower? In a garden. Maybe the castle had one. Better to try than not.
Instead of trying to find her way in the dark, she curled up as tight as she could in the corner and tried not to think of the things waiting for her in sleep. Maman’s face floated before her vision for some time before the oblivion of sleep finally took her and wisked her off to the possibilities of morning.
By the time they reached the front door of Maman’s house, Emma was shivering so hard she shook. Her entire body was overcome by it. However, she never lost her grip on the card or the flowers. Having taken most of the way at a dead run, her lungs burned. Cedric had to catch her when she stumbled up on the stairs. Panting, she closed her eyes.“Are you alright?” he asked.
“No, I hurt.” Her shoulder snapped at her where she had been cut. Her lungs burned. Her legs were like lead. “But maybe we have enough.”
Maman’s door wasn’t locked and Emma let them both in. The bustle coming from the kitchen told her exactly where her grandmother was. Emma moved into the kitchen, put the card and flowers down, and hugged her grandmother who still had not realized she was there.
“Emmaline?” she said. “Oh heaven. Thank god. You’re home. Where have you been? Mr. Amon has been by looking for you. And I hadn’t any idea.”
Maman turned and embraced Emma fully. She kissed Emma’s forehead and hugged her again. “Oh god.”
“Maman, this is Cedric.”
“He comes a bit strangely dressed, and so are you. What’s happening?”
“It’s a long story and I promise I will tell you, but I need to put on some warmer clothes and finish figuring out what this card says and hopefully get us all back to where we’re supposed to be without too much trouble.” Emma’s lack of explanation got an unhappy look from her grandmother, but the woman didn’t argue. Instead, she turned back to the stove and picked up a pot.
“There’s hot chocolate, I was just making some. You two can have it.”
“Thank you.”
Cedric looked into the pot with confusion.
“Hot chocolate.”
“Just drink it, you’ll like it,” Emma said. Then she went up the stairs to her bedroom to change clothes.
When she came back down, Cedric sat at the kitchen table with a steaming mug in front of him. He lazily flipped one of the flowers through his fingers.
“You were right, it is quite good.”
“See, I told you.” Emma sat down at the table across from him and looked pointedly at the card. A few more secrets. The symbols were all there. She just had to decipher them so that she could make it.
“How goes it?” Cedric asked.
“I don’t know. One of these is Charmot. The other is Lamia’s hair. But there are two more that I can’t figure out just yet.”
“Don’t you have your old textbook up the stairs?” Maman asked. “Wouldn’t it have the right symbols?”
“Some of them yes, but this recipe is from Mr. Amon’s private collection. His symbology is different.” Taking her mug of cocoa from Maman, she put the card down again. After a bit of a blistering sip, she coughed.
“There has to be something else I can do,” Emma said.
“You are doing a great deal, Emmaline.” Cedric assured her. Then he reached out to pat her hands. “You can figure this out.”
“I know I can, but I need to do this faster. That way we can finish what you need to do.”
“The King awaits. This I know. But we cannot force you to finish something. Only time will give us the answers we seek.”
“What’s all this about?” Maman asked.
“Cedric’s from a kingdom where the king controls the well of souls. It’s the same well we see in the sky at night during the fall and winter. From this side, if the well isn’t open, then people don’t die correctly.” Emma’s explanation left her Maman looking at her with wide eyes, but Emma didn’t attempt to explain further. Instead, she went back to staring at the card looking for some kind of answer to what those other two ingredients were.
Absently, she listened as Maman moved around the kitchen, an understated hum on her lips. For the moment, she might as well have forgotten about the stranger in their midst. Fine with Emma. Let Maman handle things however she saw fit. Emma would continue with her own problems.
Dinner appeared on the table a few hours later while Emma still studied and wondered and guessed. A green bean casserole with chicken that steamed and smelled wonderful. Cedric didn’t have to be told what it was, he tucked in as if someone had been making this for him all his life. Maman sat with her own plate relatively untouched. She pushed one bean from one end of the plate to another. Emma shoveled food in her mouth without seeing it.
A knock on the door interrupted their domestic scene. Maman wiped her hands on a towel and went to get it. Cedric followed her with his eyes until she left the kitchen. He jumped to his feet when he heard Maman shout. The mystery man hustled Maman back into the kitchen with one twisted arm. Then he thrust her away as if she were repugnant to him. He turned his gun on Emma and Cedric.
“Found you,” he said.
No one answered. Emma moved to slid the card off the table, but he made a tisking noise.
“Leave it there. You get up and join the old lady.”
With the table between him and Cedric, he jerked the gun at the two women.
“Stay over there.” He reached for the card.
Cedric snatched it off the table. The man brought his gun around as if to shoot the younger man. “Give it to me.”
Emma’s hand sought her grandmother’s which trembled. Standing there together, they watched the standoff between Cedric and their assailant. In those moments, Emma had a chance to really look at him. He appeared to be lightly striped. Maybe as an effect of the powder she threw at him. The stripes reminded her of a tiger and when he bared his fangs, she was almost certain he had been hit with a transformative of some sort. Odd. Her hand hadn’t gone striped. Maybe it was a reaction to the addition of the liquid they had thrown at him as well. Either way, he resembled a tiger and attempted to take away something which was hers.
Cedric refused to give up the card without saying a word.
Disrupted, the man shot a hole in the wall above Cedric’s shoulder. Maman made a break for it toward the backyard door. Seeing her move, the man swung around and shot Maman. Emma, caught by the suddenness of everything, stood dumb for a long moment before throwing herself in the direction of her grandmother.
“MAMAN!”
The old woman lay on the floor, face down but struggling to get up. Emma knelt beside her.
“Oh god, Maman.” Blood already began to pool underneath her. “Please be alright.”
With a groan, Maman flipped over and put her hands to her abdomen. Red stained her skin.
The man pressed the gun to Emma’s head.
“Stand up.”
He turned both of them toward Cedric.
“If you don’t want to see her brains all over the walls, give me the card, right now.”
Cedric slid the card onto the table, but not close enough for the man to reach it.
At Emma’s feet, Maman bled out. Her groaning became fainter and fainter. Emma searched for some sign she would be fine but all she could see was blood. Then Maman closed her eyes. A tear fell from Emma’s eye and she clenched her fists. A moment later, she turned on the man with those fists beating at him with all her might. He tried to shield himself from her blows, but couldn’t keep the gun trained on her while he did so. She had almost beaten him back when a hand gripped her ankle. Her eyes dropped to find Maman holding her. The old woman’s face had gone slack and ashen. Emma’s heart thundered. She snatched herself out of Maman’s grip and hopped back to the kitchen table. The man took a shot at her as Maman’s other hand wrapped around his ankle with a vise grip. The shot missed by inches. Then he turned the gun on the creature grabbing him, unloading it three times. When that did not effect his escape, he beat at the woman with the butt of the gun trying to get free. She grabbed his arm while he beat at her and dragged their faces so close they could kiss. He screamed.
Cedric came across the kitchen table and snatched Emma’s arm. The scene transfixed her.
“Come on,” he said.
Grabbing the card, she headed for the stairs, eyes full of unshed tears. Stumbling, she made it to her room and Cedric shut the door. “We have to leave,” he said. Emma shook her head. Pressing his hand against the mirror, he chanted. The words sounded familiar though Emma couldn’t place them. Then the mirror lit with an inner fire.
The bedroom door jumped then creaked in protest. The second hit thudded louder than the first. Cedric looked at the door and then at Emma. He unlooped the medallion from around his neck. “If we go, I fear he may follow. I’ll stop him here.”
“What?”
“Go now. Cure the king.” He thrust her toward the mirror and stepped away. “Go.”
Emma went.
The mirror returned her to a room she had seen once before. Night had fallen. The light thrown by the mirror faded and left her in dimness. She put her hand against the glass and slid to the floor, tears thick and heavy in her eyes. The medallion bored a hole in her palm. Looking up, she hoped to see some sign of Cedric following her. Nothing came. Emma sobbed. The card slipped to the floor by her knees.
“Maman,” she said with a sniffle. Her final view of her grandmother as an ashen faced soulless taunted her. It capered in circles in her mind, revealing her weakness. How could she have let that happen? Her fists gathered at the edges of her shirt and she almost ripped the hem. There in the gloom, alone and cold, she cried. Without Cedric, she knew nothing of where she was. Without Maman…without Maman, she wasn’t even sure who she was. Hiccuping sobs threatened to cut off her breath. Emma wrapped her arms around herself and shuddered.
Alone.
She would have to go on alone.
The thought terrified her. Yet she wiped away her tears and took several cleansing breathes. She was alone. A circumstance immutable. However, she didn’t have to cry and be afraid. Those were things she could change. The words of her master intruded on her low thoughts. Center yourself and you can see the universe. Putting her hands on the floor, she touched the card. It slid away from her fingers. Emma picked it up and put it before her eyes.
Four ingredients. Two deciphered. Two to go. The puzzle awaited her. On the floor, she drew the symbols for the two unknowns.
Someone walked by the door to the room and she stopped waiting for them to come in and find her. No one came. With a sniffle, she went back to writing. The symbols curled beneath her fingers, perched waiting for her to understand.
“It’s a tincture,” she said. “There has to be a liquid.” The whorls of the symbol floated under her eyes. Then it came to her. “Blusaga. Of course.” One more.
The light grew dimmer as she worked. Beyond the door, a torch was lit and then whomever lit it walked on. Every time someone neared, she held her breath. Yet no one entered to see about the mirror room. So she continued in quiet secret. One of the symbols she was certain meant flower, but there were dozens of possible flowers. What in concert with Lamia’s hair, Charmot, and Blusaga would give her a deep purple liquid capable of curing what ails? One came to mind and her heart sank.
“Royal rose.”
Royal rose, the finickiest flower she knew of. It required cultivation, so unless somewhere in the castle grew it, she would never find it. Despair crawled out of its cage and tears fell again. “Why did it have to be that? Why couldn’t it be a weed like Lamia’s hair?” she lamented. The idea of trying to find it seemed impossible.
The more she looked at the card, the more she knew it meant royal rose. Without a doubt, the hardest flower to find. If she had known that before, she could have raided Mr. Amon’s small stash. However, she had no recourse. If she wanted to make the potion, she would have to find it. Determination poked its way out from under the despair and forced her to wipe her eyes. Where was one most likely to find a cultivated flower? In a garden. Maybe the castle had one. Better to try than not.
Instead of trying to find her way in the dark, she curled up as tight as she could in the corner and tried not to think of the things waiting for her in sleep. Maman’s face floated before her vision for some time before the oblivion of sleep finally took her and wisked her off to the possibilities of morning.
October 13, 2015
[October Sky] Part V
EARLIER PARTS: ONE | TWO | THREE | FOUR
A cool orange sunset found them on the edge of the lake. Nearby they could see a cottage with white puffs of smoke issuing from it. Emma’s sore feet kept her from running toward it in a fit of joy. As it was, she winced and eased her way toward it through the mud. When they reached it, she knocked on the door. From inside,
“Stand on no ceremony. Come in and tell me your plight.”
Emma opened the door on a tidy scene. Drying herbs hung from the rafters in bunches. A wooden bed lay covered in blankets. A woman, ample and aging, stood over a pot hung on a well-stoked fire. Cedric entered behind Emma and shut the door.
“Miss Matilda.”
“No Miss necessary, just Matilda. And to my ear you sound foreign, from where do you hail?”
“A long way from here.”
“Then the price of dinner is the tale of your journey and don’t leave anything out or there’ll be no dessert.” Matilda waved them to places near the fire and continued stirring.
If she found any of Emma’s story strange, she said nothing about it while she served a thin soup full of vegetables to the pair. Then for dessert there were apples warmed near the fire. Once the tale, including the harrowing escape from the castle and the meeting with Father William, was told, she turned to Cedric and said,
“Shame on you for bringing a child out of her home without explaining the dangers.”
“Our need was and is dire,” Cedric said. “And she came of her own free will.”
“I did. I guess, I should have counted the cost better.”
“No matter,” Matilda said. “You’ve come to me and I’ll see what it is that I can do for you. You say you’re looking for an herb called Lamia’s hair?”
“Yes, it’s a weed flower with long purple petals and a silver-black center.”
“That’s generally something the cows eat.”
“So Father William said,” Cedric said.
“And he’s right, the old coot.” She stacked the bowls together and set them aside. “But there is one field where I know the cow herders don’t go. It’s too close to old Hammerford.”
“Old Hammerford?” Cedric leaned forward.
“Yes, the original site of the town. Long since given up to beasts and ghosts.” Matilda stoked the fire and fell silent. “I’m reluctant to send you there, but it’s the only place I know for certain you can find that flower without sending you ranging across a hundred different fields.”
“We’ll go there. Just point us in the right direction,” Emma said.
“Yes, we’ll go.”
“Promise me that you’ll be careful. Whether or not the place is truly haunted, it is old and rotting. Not a good place to go.”
Matilda gathered a few blankets off the bed.
“You’ll be staying here for the night. Not sending you out in the cold to do battle against ghosts.”
The morning started with heavy pounding on the door. Matilda, already up, whispered to her guests now just rising.
“It’s best you leave by the lake.” She ushered them to the far side of the house beside the bed and opened up a hole in the floor which lead down into the water. “Go now. Swim away. I’ll keep our visitors busy.” She shut the trapdoor behind them and they could hear her walking across the floor. Above them came voices.
“Matilda. We seek two fugitives.”
Emma eased into the water and swam away with Cedric not far behind. They stayed mostly below the water, but not too far from the shore so they could get out once they were out of sight of Matilda’s cottage. Out of the water, they did the best they could to squeeze the excess out of their clothes, but they were left drenched.
“She didn’t tell us where to find the town,” Emma said.
“It’s most likely further up river. We’ll come to it if we keep walking.”
“And what if we don’t?”
“Then the next village we come to, we’ll ask around. We cannot go back.”
Despite wanting to, Emma knew Cedric was right. Matilda risked a lot to send them away. Going back would only put her in more danger. Emma grabbed Cedric’s hand and they started down the way together with the river at their side.
Emma and Cedric headed through the forest away from the river. The guard continued to search for them, so stopping was hardly an option. They needed to get as far away as they could. However, men on horseback had the advantage of speed. Wits and strong limbs would be the only thing that could keep them ahead. Several hours later, they came to a fence post jutting out of nowhere. The overgrown ground near it sported flowers of various colors, but no purple. They passed it and kept going. The first ramshackle house they passed only had three walls and half a roof. The former front door hung off what was left of the jamb. Emma poked her head inside to see if anything grew through the floorboards. Didn’t want to miss what they were looking for just because the place had an air of ancient decrepit mindless malevolence. A well sat in the center of the group of falling houses. Everywhere profusions of grass and flowers. The ground at least wasn’t rancid. Emma’s shoeless feet liked the soft dirt and grass over the harsh terrain of the forest. Fewer roots to trip over and stub her toes. Cedric stopped at the well and looked down it.
“It’s gone dry, I think.”
“Maybe why they left?”
“Maybe.”
It sounded better than something driving them away, which Emma felt in her bones. The ground might not have been rancid, but the air carried a scent of something disturbing. Emma looked into another house, checking the floor and even the walls for the chance something could be growing there. No purple. Blue. Green. Red. Yellow. No purple. She clenched her fists and said,
“I hope Matilda was right.”
“I do as well,” Cedric said. Together they approached a third house, Emma’s eyes sweeping back and forth along the ground. Cedric stepped up on the stairs and poked his head inside.
“We’re looking for purple flowers, yes?”
“You see some?”
“Straight through there.” He pointed. He lead the way through the back corner of the house where a support had fallen in. In the field behind the house, there were a profusion of purple flowers. Emma dropped to her knees beside them and began to pick them by their long stems doing the best she could to not bruise the flowers. Cedric stayed close by.
The sound of scraping on wood brought her attention back to their surroundings.
“What was that?”
“I don’t know.” Cedric looked around and drew closer. “Hurry.”
“I am.” She stuffed the flowers into a pouch made from the edges of Father William’s shirt. “We should go.”
They headed back the way they came only to have to dash into a hiding spot in the shadows. Riders were in the village.
“We need to get out of here,” Cedric whispered.
“How?”
“Maybe this way.” He slid to one side and uncovered a pocked mirror. “I can send us through.”
Emma remembered all too well going through the mirror from her bedroom to this new world. To go through another mirror meant ending up somewhere else and she wasn’t certain she was prepared for that. However, she swallowed those words and nodded. As Cedric worked on the mirror, Emma slid back to the doorway and peeked out.
The riders had dismounted and were moving in pairs from one house to the next. They would get to the house where they were hidden in a few minutes.
“How long?” Emma hissed.
“Soon. Get closer,” Cedric said. She moved back out of sight, one hand gripping the edges of the shirt. The mirror lit with a phosphorous light. The blemishes in the surface stood out like bronze roses against the light. The sound of footsteps set Emma’s heart racing.
Getting too close.
“Come on,” Cedric said.
A shadow appeared in the doorway. Cedric wiggled his way through the mirror and Emma went to follow. Just as she reached the mirror, the shadow entered the house.
“They’re here! They’re here!” the guard yelled. He charged forward as Emma dropped through the glass into Cedric’s arms.
The sword came through aimed at Emma’s back, but as she dropped it slid over her shoulder leaving a shallow cut as it snapped off when the mirror closed. It hit the floor with a clatter. The two of them stood in a dressing room. Emma didn’t know where, but recognized it immediately.
“We need to go.”
She led the way out of the dressing room and onto the boutique floor.
“Where are we?” Cedric asked.
“I’m not sure, but we need to leave.”
The cashier looked at them both with their queer clothing and let her mouth drop. Emma didn’t say anything to her and swept past. Cedric was in step as they reached the door.
“Have a nice day.”
“Thank you,” Emma said. Then they were on the street. Cars whizzed by on the thoroughfare. Emma did a quick turn to look at as much as she could and said,
“I know where we are. This way.” She started down the street. Cedric however stopped to stare at the cars.
“How without horses?”
“There are things called motors,” Emma said. “Let’s go.” Her free hand looped through his and dragged him along. They moved through the town at a hurried walk, Emma’s bare feet eliciting more than a few odd looks. Of course, it didn’t help that she carried a bunch of flowers around in her shirt. No one stopped them, however, so she kept going.
Cedric’s head swiveled in one direction then another trying to take everything in. Thankfully, Emma knew where they were going. On a nearly empty side street, they came to an abrupt stop. Several yards away, a person tottered on the sidewalk. They moved with a slow stiffness that made Emma cringe. She pulled Cedric away.
“What’s happening?”
“We don’t want to go this way,” she said.
“Emmaline?”
“Cedric, let’s just go.”
It lurched toward them in the light of day. Emma always thought creatures like that needed the cover of night. Except she kept seeing them in day. It’s hands came up, grabbing, searching. Emma tried to drag Cedric’s unmoving bulk, but he stood his ground.
“Why are we running?”
“Let’s just go.”
She ducked down a side street, fully expecting him to follow, but he didn’t.
“Cedric!”
She ducked her head out of the alleyway and called him again. He shook himself out of a stupor and came after her.
“Why do you have a soulless here?” he asked.
“A what?”
“A soulless. Creatures who are caught under the power of the well who only seek to make more of their own.”
“Maybe because the well’s closed on this side too.” Emma ran. He kept up.
Mr. Amon’s shop appeared to be open. The store hours said it should be, but when they entered, no one came to see about them. Emma walked slow over the carpet. Horus squeaked as if in recognition. Cedric looked around at the bottles with awe on his face.
“I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“It’s an alchemist’s shop. My master should be here somewhere.” She dropped the flowers on the mixing table and went behind the curtain. No one home.
“He must have gone out,” she said. His files were close at hand. She riffled through the recipes looking for something that would tell her she was on the right track. Cedric poked one of the drawers, trying to draw it out, but Zamara was having nothing to do with him. He pulled on the handle. It refused to move.
“Leave the cabinet alone,” Emma said as she flicked her way through a pile of cards. “It won’t open for you if it doesn’t know you.”
“Know me?”
“No, Mr. Amon hasn’t introduced you. Zamara doesn’t know you and won’t open for you.”
“It has a name?”
“Of course, it does.” Emma found a card that looked right and tried to read it. Amon’s crabby handwriting made deciphering anything he wrote a challenge. And of course he couldn’t just put a list of ingredients on it, too proprietary. However, she knew Charmot on sight. The symbols for Lamia’s hair also stood out to her.
“I think I have it.”
“Have what?”
“The recipe we need.”
The door chimed. Emma stuck her head out the curtain and said,
“Hello, welcome to the shop.”
The face which greeted her sent her pale. He pulled a gun on both of them.
“Get away from there,” he commanded.
“Who are you?” Cedric asked.
“That’s none of your business, boy. Both of you, come closer.”
Emma almost ducked back behind the curtain, but fear said he would shoot her if she did that. Slowly, she came out from behind the curtain and stepped into the floor. When she drew close to Cedric, she offered him her hand. He took it and laced his fingers through hers.
“The well must not be reopened,” the man said.
“How do you know about that?” Cedric asked.
“It doesn’t matter, just know it must remain closed.”
“The well must be reopened,” Cedric said. With his free hand, he grabbed a bottle from the nearest shelf and flung it at the man. The bottle shattered on the man’s forearm, but it spoiled his aim just long enough for Cedric and Emma to split up. Emma threw herself to the floor and crawled. Cedric hid behind one of the high shelves.
Emma could see the man’s feet from where she lay. He came toward her and then moved away again and she tried her best to stay still. If he didn’t see her, he couldn’t shoot her. She crawled toward the mixing table. It would give her a clear line toward the door.
Cedric was out of her vision and it made her a little antsy. Then she heard commotion. The man rushed forward and tried to shoot Cedric, who took him on hand to hand. There wasn’t much difference in their size and Emma hoped Cedric would be enough to stop him. At the mixing table, she got up to a crouch.
The pair struggled in the center of the floor. The gun went off once. Suddenly the entire shop erupted in motion. Zamara clacked and slammed her drawers. The shelves rattled their bottles and jars. Everything shuddered and cried. Emma grabbed a handful of what was in the mixing bowl, thinking for a moment that it should have been empty, and ran up to throw it in the intruder’s face.
Cedric caught some to the side of his face, but most of it went into the intruder’s eyes. He bawled and clawed with his free hand. Cedric slipped around him. Emma took the card she had and grabbed a few of the flowers before she ran for the door as well.
“Come on!” Emma took the lead. Cedric limped a moment or two before settling into a run.
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A cool orange sunset found them on the edge of the lake. Nearby they could see a cottage with white puffs of smoke issuing from it. Emma’s sore feet kept her from running toward it in a fit of joy. As it was, she winced and eased her way toward it through the mud. When they reached it, she knocked on the door. From inside,“Stand on no ceremony. Come in and tell me your plight.”
Emma opened the door on a tidy scene. Drying herbs hung from the rafters in bunches. A wooden bed lay covered in blankets. A woman, ample and aging, stood over a pot hung on a well-stoked fire. Cedric entered behind Emma and shut the door.
“Miss Matilda.”
“No Miss necessary, just Matilda. And to my ear you sound foreign, from where do you hail?”
“A long way from here.”
“Then the price of dinner is the tale of your journey and don’t leave anything out or there’ll be no dessert.” Matilda waved them to places near the fire and continued stirring.
If she found any of Emma’s story strange, she said nothing about it while she served a thin soup full of vegetables to the pair. Then for dessert there were apples warmed near the fire. Once the tale, including the harrowing escape from the castle and the meeting with Father William, was told, she turned to Cedric and said,
“Shame on you for bringing a child out of her home without explaining the dangers.”
“Our need was and is dire,” Cedric said. “And she came of her own free will.”
“I did. I guess, I should have counted the cost better.”
“No matter,” Matilda said. “You’ve come to me and I’ll see what it is that I can do for you. You say you’re looking for an herb called Lamia’s hair?”
“Yes, it’s a weed flower with long purple petals and a silver-black center.”
“That’s generally something the cows eat.”
“So Father William said,” Cedric said.
“And he’s right, the old coot.” She stacked the bowls together and set them aside. “But there is one field where I know the cow herders don’t go. It’s too close to old Hammerford.”
“Old Hammerford?” Cedric leaned forward.
“Yes, the original site of the town. Long since given up to beasts and ghosts.” Matilda stoked the fire and fell silent. “I’m reluctant to send you there, but it’s the only place I know for certain you can find that flower without sending you ranging across a hundred different fields.”
“We’ll go there. Just point us in the right direction,” Emma said.
“Yes, we’ll go.”
“Promise me that you’ll be careful. Whether or not the place is truly haunted, it is old and rotting. Not a good place to go.”
Matilda gathered a few blankets off the bed.
“You’ll be staying here for the night. Not sending you out in the cold to do battle against ghosts.”
The morning started with heavy pounding on the door. Matilda, already up, whispered to her guests now just rising.
“It’s best you leave by the lake.” She ushered them to the far side of the house beside the bed and opened up a hole in the floor which lead down into the water. “Go now. Swim away. I’ll keep our visitors busy.” She shut the trapdoor behind them and they could hear her walking across the floor. Above them came voices.
“Matilda. We seek two fugitives.”
Emma eased into the water and swam away with Cedric not far behind. They stayed mostly below the water, but not too far from the shore so they could get out once they were out of sight of Matilda’s cottage. Out of the water, they did the best they could to squeeze the excess out of their clothes, but they were left drenched.
“She didn’t tell us where to find the town,” Emma said.
“It’s most likely further up river. We’ll come to it if we keep walking.”
“And what if we don’t?”
“Then the next village we come to, we’ll ask around. We cannot go back.”
Despite wanting to, Emma knew Cedric was right. Matilda risked a lot to send them away. Going back would only put her in more danger. Emma grabbed Cedric’s hand and they started down the way together with the river at their side.
Emma and Cedric headed through the forest away from the river. The guard continued to search for them, so stopping was hardly an option. They needed to get as far away as they could. However, men on horseback had the advantage of speed. Wits and strong limbs would be the only thing that could keep them ahead. Several hours later, they came to a fence post jutting out of nowhere. The overgrown ground near it sported flowers of various colors, but no purple. They passed it and kept going. The first ramshackle house they passed only had three walls and half a roof. The former front door hung off what was left of the jamb. Emma poked her head inside to see if anything grew through the floorboards. Didn’t want to miss what they were looking for just because the place had an air of ancient decrepit mindless malevolence. A well sat in the center of the group of falling houses. Everywhere profusions of grass and flowers. The ground at least wasn’t rancid. Emma’s shoeless feet liked the soft dirt and grass over the harsh terrain of the forest. Fewer roots to trip over and stub her toes. Cedric stopped at the well and looked down it.
“It’s gone dry, I think.”
“Maybe why they left?”
“Maybe.”
It sounded better than something driving them away, which Emma felt in her bones. The ground might not have been rancid, but the air carried a scent of something disturbing. Emma looked into another house, checking the floor and even the walls for the chance something could be growing there. No purple. Blue. Green. Red. Yellow. No purple. She clenched her fists and said,
“I hope Matilda was right.”
“I do as well,” Cedric said. Together they approached a third house, Emma’s eyes sweeping back and forth along the ground. Cedric stepped up on the stairs and poked his head inside.
“We’re looking for purple flowers, yes?”
“You see some?”
“Straight through there.” He pointed. He lead the way through the back corner of the house where a support had fallen in. In the field behind the house, there were a profusion of purple flowers. Emma dropped to her knees beside them and began to pick them by their long stems doing the best she could to not bruise the flowers. Cedric stayed close by.
The sound of scraping on wood brought her attention back to their surroundings.
“What was that?”
“I don’t know.” Cedric looked around and drew closer. “Hurry.”
“I am.” She stuffed the flowers into a pouch made from the edges of Father William’s shirt. “We should go.”
They headed back the way they came only to have to dash into a hiding spot in the shadows. Riders were in the village.
“We need to get out of here,” Cedric whispered.
“How?”
“Maybe this way.” He slid to one side and uncovered a pocked mirror. “I can send us through.”
Emma remembered all too well going through the mirror from her bedroom to this new world. To go through another mirror meant ending up somewhere else and she wasn’t certain she was prepared for that. However, she swallowed those words and nodded. As Cedric worked on the mirror, Emma slid back to the doorway and peeked out.
The riders had dismounted and were moving in pairs from one house to the next. They would get to the house where they were hidden in a few minutes.
“How long?” Emma hissed.
“Soon. Get closer,” Cedric said. She moved back out of sight, one hand gripping the edges of the shirt. The mirror lit with a phosphorous light. The blemishes in the surface stood out like bronze roses against the light. The sound of footsteps set Emma’s heart racing.
Getting too close.
“Come on,” Cedric said.
A shadow appeared in the doorway. Cedric wiggled his way through the mirror and Emma went to follow. Just as she reached the mirror, the shadow entered the house.
“They’re here! They’re here!” the guard yelled. He charged forward as Emma dropped through the glass into Cedric’s arms.
The sword came through aimed at Emma’s back, but as she dropped it slid over her shoulder leaving a shallow cut as it snapped off when the mirror closed. It hit the floor with a clatter. The two of them stood in a dressing room. Emma didn’t know where, but recognized it immediately.
“We need to go.”
She led the way out of the dressing room and onto the boutique floor.
“Where are we?” Cedric asked.
“I’m not sure, but we need to leave.”
The cashier looked at them both with their queer clothing and let her mouth drop. Emma didn’t say anything to her and swept past. Cedric was in step as they reached the door.
“Have a nice day.”
“Thank you,” Emma said. Then they were on the street. Cars whizzed by on the thoroughfare. Emma did a quick turn to look at as much as she could and said,
“I know where we are. This way.” She started down the street. Cedric however stopped to stare at the cars.
“How without horses?”
“There are things called motors,” Emma said. “Let’s go.” Her free hand looped through his and dragged him along. They moved through the town at a hurried walk, Emma’s bare feet eliciting more than a few odd looks. Of course, it didn’t help that she carried a bunch of flowers around in her shirt. No one stopped them, however, so she kept going.
Cedric’s head swiveled in one direction then another trying to take everything in. Thankfully, Emma knew where they were going. On a nearly empty side street, they came to an abrupt stop. Several yards away, a person tottered on the sidewalk. They moved with a slow stiffness that made Emma cringe. She pulled Cedric away.
“What’s happening?”
“We don’t want to go this way,” she said.
“Emmaline?”
“Cedric, let’s just go.”
It lurched toward them in the light of day. Emma always thought creatures like that needed the cover of night. Except she kept seeing them in day. It’s hands came up, grabbing, searching. Emma tried to drag Cedric’s unmoving bulk, but he stood his ground.
“Why are we running?”
“Let’s just go.”
She ducked down a side street, fully expecting him to follow, but he didn’t.
“Cedric!”
She ducked her head out of the alleyway and called him again. He shook himself out of a stupor and came after her.
“Why do you have a soulless here?” he asked.
“A what?”
“A soulless. Creatures who are caught under the power of the well who only seek to make more of their own.”
“Maybe because the well’s closed on this side too.” Emma ran. He kept up.
Mr. Amon’s shop appeared to be open. The store hours said it should be, but when they entered, no one came to see about them. Emma walked slow over the carpet. Horus squeaked as if in recognition. Cedric looked around at the bottles with awe on his face.
“I’ve never seen anything like this.”
“It’s an alchemist’s shop. My master should be here somewhere.” She dropped the flowers on the mixing table and went behind the curtain. No one home.
“He must have gone out,” she said. His files were close at hand. She riffled through the recipes looking for something that would tell her she was on the right track. Cedric poked one of the drawers, trying to draw it out, but Zamara was having nothing to do with him. He pulled on the handle. It refused to move.
“Leave the cabinet alone,” Emma said as she flicked her way through a pile of cards. “It won’t open for you if it doesn’t know you.”
“Know me?”
“No, Mr. Amon hasn’t introduced you. Zamara doesn’t know you and won’t open for you.”
“It has a name?”
“Of course, it does.” Emma found a card that looked right and tried to read it. Amon’s crabby handwriting made deciphering anything he wrote a challenge. And of course he couldn’t just put a list of ingredients on it, too proprietary. However, she knew Charmot on sight. The symbols for Lamia’s hair also stood out to her.
“I think I have it.”
“Have what?”
“The recipe we need.”
The door chimed. Emma stuck her head out the curtain and said,
“Hello, welcome to the shop.”
The face which greeted her sent her pale. He pulled a gun on both of them.
“Get away from there,” he commanded.
“Who are you?” Cedric asked.
“That’s none of your business, boy. Both of you, come closer.”
Emma almost ducked back behind the curtain, but fear said he would shoot her if she did that. Slowly, she came out from behind the curtain and stepped into the floor. When she drew close to Cedric, she offered him her hand. He took it and laced his fingers through hers.
“The well must not be reopened,” the man said.
“How do you know about that?” Cedric asked.
“It doesn’t matter, just know it must remain closed.”
“The well must be reopened,” Cedric said. With his free hand, he grabbed a bottle from the nearest shelf and flung it at the man. The bottle shattered on the man’s forearm, but it spoiled his aim just long enough for Cedric and Emma to split up. Emma threw herself to the floor and crawled. Cedric hid behind one of the high shelves.
Emma could see the man’s feet from where she lay. He came toward her and then moved away again and she tried her best to stay still. If he didn’t see her, he couldn’t shoot her. She crawled toward the mixing table. It would give her a clear line toward the door.
Cedric was out of her vision and it made her a little antsy. Then she heard commotion. The man rushed forward and tried to shoot Cedric, who took him on hand to hand. There wasn’t much difference in their size and Emma hoped Cedric would be enough to stop him. At the mixing table, she got up to a crouch.
The pair struggled in the center of the floor. The gun went off once. Suddenly the entire shop erupted in motion. Zamara clacked and slammed her drawers. The shelves rattled their bottles and jars. Everything shuddered and cried. Emma grabbed a handful of what was in the mixing bowl, thinking for a moment that it should have been empty, and ran up to throw it in the intruder’s face.
Cedric caught some to the side of his face, but most of it went into the intruder’s eyes. He bawled and clawed with his free hand. Cedric slipped around him. Emma took the card she had and grabbed a few of the flowers before she ran for the door as well.
“Come on!” Emma took the lead. Cedric limped a moment or two before settling into a run.
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October 8, 2015
[Television] American Horror Story: Hotel
Several years ago, I watched the original American Horror Story and you can read what I thought about that HERE. Tonight, I sat down and watched American Horror Story: Hotel with the hopes that perhaps it would make me want to see more. In all honesty, I'm still a little underwhelmed by the franchise. Watching Lady Gaga and her fantastic wardrobe doesn't make up for me feeling as if they're not playing quite fair with the story. I'm a little fascinated, but not enough to catch the show while it's on. (I currently don't own a television anyway so it would be hard even if I was gungho about it.)
The two girls who are essentially kidnapped for nefarious purposes (I'm guessing blood bags) are pretty enough, but I don't think that's why they were chosen. I think they were chosen because they were stupid enough to ignore their misgivings and stayed in the hotel. Finding the man in the mattress would have sent me running screaming and I LOVE horror. I can only imagine what must have been running through their heads to have accepted another room in the same hotel. It's the point where you're almost screaming, GET YOUR SHIT AND LEAVE! But no, they decide to stick around. Definitely not the brightest ideas. Though there was a moment when I was absolutely certain one of them was dead. Unfortunately, she didn't die. There are worse happenings than death.
One bright spot, Matt Bomer. I thought he was fantastic in White Collar. Seeing him again as I'm guessing a vampire or some kind of blood driven evil spirit is kinda nice. I hope they don't get rid of him too soon. There was also the homage to Hotel California, which made me smile because that's immediately what I thought of when they said they were doing a season in a hotel.
Will I continue watching? Yeah, intermittently. I'm not going to program it into my DVR or anything, but it might be a good distraction every now and again.
The two girls who are essentially kidnapped for nefarious purposes (I'm guessing blood bags) are pretty enough, but I don't think that's why they were chosen. I think they were chosen because they were stupid enough to ignore their misgivings and stayed in the hotel. Finding the man in the mattress would have sent me running screaming and I LOVE horror. I can only imagine what must have been running through their heads to have accepted another room in the same hotel. It's the point where you're almost screaming, GET YOUR SHIT AND LEAVE! But no, they decide to stick around. Definitely not the brightest ideas. Though there was a moment when I was absolutely certain one of them was dead. Unfortunately, she didn't die. There are worse happenings than death.
One bright spot, Matt Bomer. I thought he was fantastic in White Collar. Seeing him again as I'm guessing a vampire or some kind of blood driven evil spirit is kinda nice. I hope they don't get rid of him too soon. There was also the homage to Hotel California, which made me smile because that's immediately what I thought of when they said they were doing a season in a hotel.
Will I continue watching? Yeah, intermittently. I'm not going to program it into my DVR or anything, but it might be a good distraction every now and again.
