Short Story- Untitled

I’m contemplating turning this into something, but I haven’t really found a direction yet. I suppose it’s an experiment in writing.

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“Are you sure about this?” She asked, peering over the ledge seventy stories above the city. He exhaled, his eyes trained on the horizon. He refused to look down, there was no way he was going to look down.

“Not at all.” He mumbled, his heart thudding in his chest.

“You don’t have to do it, you know.” She whispered, her hand gentle on his shoulder. He turned to look at her then and every cell in his body calmed. The wind had caught her soft curls, blowing them around her face like a halo. Her bright eyes reflected the yellow orange light of the fading sun. There was nothing truly striking about her, yet there was such beauty in her plainness.

He glanced over his shoulder at the others who stood in a tight cluster shielding each other from the wind. They were waiting, anticipating his failure. The one in front, the biggest, with the smirk of pure hatred was the most eager to see his fall. If he did not do this, if he backed out he would never regain his footing with them. He would never regain his footing with her. He looked at her again, the kindness in her smooth lineless face and brought her fingers to his lips.

“I would never give them the satisfaction.” He whispered. She smiled and everything in her seemed to brighten. He turned and looked down, willing himself to do so without throwing up on the unknowing people milling down on the street. People who would never experience what he, what they, had discovered.

She took his hand then, and they stepped off of the ledge. They moved down, fast, the wind rushing up to meet them and for a brief second he felt the panic that always overtook him. He gripped her fingers tighter and relaxed as he heard her howl with laughter. Then as it always did, the wind caught them and pushed them up and they soared into the fading sunlight.

New Dayfall Snippet

I’ve been reworking my novel DayFall as a more adult novel. Here is a little taste of what I’ve come up with as I recreate Lycia’s world Eldorra.

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Lycia was the smallest girl of marriageable age in the village, but she was striking to behold. Her hair, which hung to the center of her slender back, was the color of stardust, her skin, pale and smooth but it was her face, that strikingly angelic face that drew the most praise. Her nose was small, slightly upturned, , and her mouth a blush colored Cupid’s bow and her eyes… her eyes were magic. They were large, much too large for her delicate, almost elfin features and the color, the color was by far the most beautiful ever seen in their part of the world. Her eyes were a deep piercing amethyst that sparkled with silver flecks when the moonlight hit them at the right angle. She was an oddity in a family of odd.

Lucian, her father, also had the pale silver white hair and delicate features but he was a tall willowy man, soft spoken and pretty. Much too pretty for a man, but when he smiled and laughed he lit up a room. His beauty, like Lycia’s was startling. When they walked across the village square, he was greeted eagerly, smiles and laughter following him as they went. He was a sought after tailor, his stitch work the most delicate that had ever been seen in the tiny village. When his wife had been taken, there had been many a woman batting her eyes at the beautiful Lucian Monglave and he, being the man he was, was cordial. But he would never take another, not after losing his one true love. Yet, he was welcomed in any home.

Lycia, on the other hand, was not as welcome. Sure, the villagers put up with her, they were cordial, but no one wanted to be alone with the strange girl. Not only were her eyes startling to behold, they were off putting. When she looked at you, it felt as if those eyes could see into your very soul. She was smarter than most, and a vicious fighter, training herself to defend her father and younger sibling when her mother had been taken. She was secretive and moved in the tunnels beneath the village like a wraith avoiding crowds or simple conversation at all cost. Because when she spoke, her voice washed over you like warm silk and all who spoke to her were entranced, lulled into an almost hypnotic state by her sweet lilting voice.

“I don’t understand it,” Many a villager had lamented in the tavern over cups of warm ale. “Lucian is such a gentle soul, such a lively sort, but that girl of his such a strange little thing.”

“I think she may be one of the wee folk.” Some had said “An evil little faery.”

“But lor, isn’t she beautiful to look at.” They’d all agreed.

Casimir had watched her, from his perch high atop the village wall. Cloaked in a dark duster, a hood covering his sun scarred features, he’d watched her with his teeth bared. Tiny she was, and at least a decade his junior she had captured his heart and he would have the little faery girl as his own. He knew that the other girls thought him frightening, they had looked at him in disdain since his accident in child hood, but not Lycia. When she looked at him, she saw past the scars to the man underneath. Tomorrow, she would be eligible to take a husband, it being her sixteenth year and Casimir, who had never dared requested the hand of another was going to ask for hers.

As if she could feel him, she turned then, her eyes staring into the darkness of the starless sky. She tilted her head and stared into the shadows and he felt his heart jump. Even though he knew it was not possible, he felt as if she were looking right at him. There was no way she could see him, hidden in the dark shadows, there was no way.

Then she smiled and he knew, he knew that she had.

How To…How to Get out of the House in the Morning with a Kid with ADHD

I don’t know if any of you know, but I am in my senior year of college. I’m working toward my BA in English- Creative Writing. Of course, me being the over achiever I am, I’m planning on going straight into an MFA program when I’m done in the Fall.  Anyway,  I am taking an Art of Fiction class and my professor is work shopping one of my short stories.  We are working on  How To short stories in the vein of Lorrie Moore and Junot Diaz. This is My Version of an How To….

 

Mother with headache and daughter jumping on sofa

When the alarm goes off at six fifteen in the morning, you get up turn it off. Instead of starting your day, you turn on the morning news and doze until the kid’s alarm goes off in the next room at six twenty-five.   When the kid doesn’t get up to turn it off, you get up, go into the room, turn off the alarm, turn on the light and tell the kid to get out of bed. You go back to your room and sit on the edge of the bed stretching your sore back. Ten minutes later you yell for said kid, to get out of bed. Two minutes later, watch as grumpy kid slumps into bathroom mumbling under her breath. You yell for her to brush her teeth, but you aren’t sure if she heard or is simply ignoring you.   You finally get up and make your way into your own bathroom to get yourself together. As you brush your teeth, you wander into the kitchen to start coffee and make sure the kid is actually getting dressed. You find the kid staring at the television and when you tell her to get dressed, she mumbles that she is dressed, even though she’s wearing nothing but socks and a uniform shirt. You remind her that you CAN SEE HER.

You wash your face, comb your hair, moisturize and get dressed as the local news goes off and the national news begins. Then you go into the living room, only to find kid, sitting on the sofa still in socks and shirt and oddly enough shoes and yell once again for the kid to get dressed. She does so quickly as you stand watching as you pour your coffee and gather your things. You ask if she’s brushed her teeth (9 times out of 10 she has not) and if she’s taken her pill. She will take the pill while you watch then go into the bathroom where she may or may not actually brush her teeth. You yell for her to actually swallow said pill because you will check to make sure she has not spit it out. She does this on days she is particularly cranky.

You brush her hair, because even at 11 years old, her hair is too thick and curly for her to manage so you do it to save time.   Once you are done, you tell her to get her things as she is standing looking at nothing in particular.   She stares, then blinks and goes into her room. Does she have her ID? She returns to the room. Does she have her key? She returns to her room. Does she have her homework? She returns to her room.

You go to the car and start the engine and wait. She finally emerges from the house and you ask if she’s locked the front door. She gets out and goes back to check, then returns to the car. She climbs into the back seat and buckles her seat belt but neglects to close the door. When she finally does you drive the block to her bus stop and drop her off with the other kids.   You continue on to work, usually ten minutes later than you intended and pray she has her key, homework and ID.