Friday Fictioneers: Silence Is A Gift

The house looked completely different under the veil of blackness, night had crept in and poisoned the place with darkness as she had crept in and began her search.

Picking the lock had been as easy as threading a needle through the hole in a truck tire, a novice could have done it with ease as well and it would have been that simple. The main entrance had led her into the main living room where everything was spruced up to perfection, not an inch had been left uncleaned.

As she crept into the kitchen, her knees bent and arms out poised for any interruption or quick retreat, she sighted the glimmer of the crystal vase encrypted with the ultimate prize. Her heart pounded with excitement as she reached the locked cabinet and began picking the lock.

The owners had not been quite so cursory with their choice of locks this time. Her frustration grew like a boil inside her as her first pick snapped in two, piercing the silence. She jammed another in just as she heard the slightest movement of well oiled hinges open from a room above, her heart raced faster and she stroked the knife in her pocket cautiously.

The second pick snapped as she heard soft footsteps press into the plush carpet of the stairs, she growled and grabbed her knife, knowing her presence was now known. She smashed the tip of her knife solidly into the glass door of the cabinet, fragments of glass shattered in all directions and spun on the wooden floor like ice shards on a solid slippery surface. She ignored the yell from behind and the broken glass as she reached in and snatched the vase.

Without second thought she turned and ran back to the door but a tall lean man barred her way, his great circular spectacles glinting in the moonlight which shone through a crack in the living room curtains. Panic rose within her as a flash of her previous time spent in prison crossed her mind, she wanted nothing more than to stay away from there forever.

She didn’t think twice as she stabbed the knife in between his ribs and felt it squirm towards his heart, he let out a final yelp as he sunk to his knees. A great wave of terror crashed down on her as she realised what she’d done, she’d never meant to hurt him she’d never done so to anyone in her life. She fled with tears carving thin rivulets down her cheeks and pain so strong within her she thought she was having a heart attack.

Friday Fictioneers: Slave Bones, Part 7

Slave Bones Series:/ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 /

A lovely picture this week which concocts a variety of great short story ideas. unfortunately my series takes place in the desert which is completely out-of-place for this picture, never the less, I will push on with the slave bones series, which is coming along quite nicely as a novel. The link to friday fictioneers is here, hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome.

 

Cold arms of the night embraced him as Enoch herded him along and out into the darkness. Rordan clutched the rucksack tightly, still struck by fear and surprise as he shuffled in front of Enoch. Enoch took the rucksack from him and helped him guide his arms through the straps, the darkness made it barely possible to see but slowly, with the moonlight’s help, Rordan’s eyes were adapting.

“Come along, we ain’t got all day an’ ye said there’s a Gunkiar roaming.” Enoch said, grabbing Rordan’s hand in a vice-like grip and pulling him along after him. Rordan had to jog to catch up, Enoch’s pace was double his usual.

“Wh-wh-where are w-we go-ing?” Rordan asked, finally plucking up the courage to ask from deep within the deepest canyons in his body.

“We’re escaping, heading south to the forests by the southern mountains, there we’re to join a rebellion.”

Friday Fictioneer: Slave Bones, Part 5

Slave Bones:/ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 /

This is a tricky one for me trying to fit it into the slave bones series. The link to the prompt is here. Hope you enjoy and constructive criticism is welcome.

 

 

 

Rordan glanced about anxiously, suppressing the urge to awaken the guards at the sight of an unknown figure in the distance which created no threat for the time being. He scanned the dark horizon once more, it was incredibly hard to penetrate the blackness of the night’s shadowy blanket, this time he couldn’t see the figure. Fatigue played tricks with your mind, it brought up premonitory images and cast hallucinations of the unwanted or most wanted.

A strange gurgling howl rippled through the night, the howl of a Gunkiar. Rordan was overcome by trembling, he whimpered for a guard but his voice had been snatched by fear. Suddenly two white eyes blinked in the near distance, like two polished shells laying side by side on a black sand beach. They were pupil-less eyes, sparkling like sunshine spangled water, they disappeared and the squishy shuffling of a Gunkiar’s movements followed.