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Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
Flash Fiction Friday -- Apparition
The origins of this story are a little bass-akward. I had the idea for this story awhile back. When I actually sat down to write it, it became something similar, yet quite different as I slid it into the world I had built. It was beautiful, but much longer, more detailed, as the characters gained names and personalities. It lacked this ending, which I so adore. It also might never see the light of day, since it became part of one of my many projects. So, for this week’s Flash Fiction I wrote this story way I originally envisioned. Enjoy.
Apparition
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear
The moon was full and the night was warm. A light breeze whipped around me, teasing my unbound black hair. Waves, grey-blue in the moon light, sung to me in haunted whispers as I sat down in the moist sand on the quite beach.
It had been a year.
Taking the top off the bottle of Glenfiddich, I took a long swig of amber liquid, savoring the sensation as it slid down my throat. She loved thirty-year-old Scotch. I preferred a good red wine. Tonight I drank to her memory.
It had been a year.
A year since we sat on the on the sand, whisky in hand talking, and looking at the moon in front of her little beach house.
It had been a long year.
Memories of that last night together still haunted my dreams. Sometimes I awoke thinking her pale arms were still wrapped around me. This I admitted to no one. It would be weakness in the Vampire world.
My world. A dangerous world. A world where she was no longer here to love me unconditionally, as only she could.
Deep inside I knew when she asked me to take her home, to her little beach house, that it would be our last night together, even though she made everyone agree that we’d meet for dinner the next night. To celebrate.
But when we met the next night it would not be to celebrate her finally breaking the curse. It would be for a wake.
Still, when I woke with the sunset to find that somewhere during the night she had breathed her last breath, curled in my arms, it was difficult to believe.
After all, we planned everything out. We pledged our love to each other, our lives to each other.
Her death hurt more than a stake in the heart, more than meeting the morning light.
Breaking the curse was supposed to be the start. Who would have thought her crafty, long dead stepmother would have woven into the curse a spell that would cause her to die upon breaking it?
Reaching into my pocket I pulled out the golden medallion I had given her long ago. It had been her favorite.
“Why did you have to leave me again?” The night was quiet except for the music of the night and my voice carried across the empty expanse of sandy beach.
I took another swig, wishing it would dull the pain. It should not hurt so much. After all, I was Vampire.
Now I regretted my part in breaking the curse. Fingers curled around the medallion so tightly it cut into my palm. I wanted her to know what it was like to be free of the curse before I asked her to be my mate, to stand by my side, to stay with me for the rest of our centuries.
It was uncommon enough among Vampires, but for a Vampire to take up with a non-Vampire, even another Immortal, in such a manner…
The breeze brought me a scent that should not be there, interrupting my rumination.
In the moonlight the intruder walking down the beach looked like a marble goddess from the ruins of Ancient Rome. I had not been there, we met in the latter part of the 17th century, but she had.
The apparition’s hair was billow of platinum. Bare feet left footprints in the damp sand. All she was wearing was a satiny purple nighty, the same color as her intense eyes. Pale lavender wings stretched out behind her in a splendor few had ever seen.
Wings?
If I still had a heart, it would have skipped a beat. Holding up the bottle I confirmed that I hadn’t drunk that much. Not enough to be seeing apparitions.
The apparition made me miss her all the more; mourning the centuries we had not spent together...
Yes, that was it...
She was just an apparition caused by the mist, the salt, and the full moon.
Closer she drew until I had to stand up, angry at being disturbed. This was my private sorrow. It was not to be shared, even with apparitions. Already I mourned her more than a Vampire should.
Finally the apparition looked at me with violet eyes luminescent in the moonlight. The sculpted face was more beautiful, more radiant, than I remembered.
Part of me wanted to yell for her to go away, to leave me in peace so I could learn to live without her.
Part of me wanted to run into her arms.
“Mo chridhe.” Now she stood in front of me. It was her face, her voice, her body, her language.
What have I done to deserve this? Reaching out, I wanted to touch her, but I hesitated. “Cara?”
That’s what she was to me. I to her.
“I missed you mo chridhe.” She was just an apparition, a figment of my imagination and sorrow. After all, it had been a year.
But I missed her.
Reaching out I touched this figment. It feels real. For a long moment all I did was touch her. I stroked her face, her unbound hair, those pale purple wings. She was real.
“I miss you so much cara.” A year should be nothing in the life of an Immortal, but I swear it was the longest year in all my centuries. “What are you doing here?” Even someone as uncommon as her couldn’t come back from the dead. Could she?
She put a finger to her lips. With a coy smile, she drew me close. Her familiar scent wrapped around me like a blanket.
Then she kissed me.
I kissed her back.
Quickly I stripped off her nighty and my own clothes. Lowering her down on the sand I reacquainted myself with her body, with her. I have her back. Happiness filled me.
“Don’t leave me ever again cara.”
“I won’t.”
So engrossed was I in her, that when the rays of the dawn hit my exposed body, I never felt the pain.
It didn’t matter. We were together once again.
Apparition
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear
The moon was full and the night was warm. A light breeze whipped around me, teasing my unbound black hair. Waves, grey-blue in the moon light, sung to me in haunted whispers as I sat down in the moist sand on the quite beach.
It had been a year.
Taking the top off the bottle of Glenfiddich, I took a long swig of amber liquid, savoring the sensation as it slid down my throat. She loved thirty-year-old Scotch. I preferred a good red wine. Tonight I drank to her memory.
It had been a year.
A year since we sat on the on the sand, whisky in hand talking, and looking at the moon in front of her little beach house.
It had been a long year.
Memories of that last night together still haunted my dreams. Sometimes I awoke thinking her pale arms were still wrapped around me. This I admitted to no one. It would be weakness in the Vampire world.
My world. A dangerous world. A world where she was no longer here to love me unconditionally, as only she could.
Deep inside I knew when she asked me to take her home, to her little beach house, that it would be our last night together, even though she made everyone agree that we’d meet for dinner the next night. To celebrate.
But when we met the next night it would not be to celebrate her finally breaking the curse. It would be for a wake.
Still, when I woke with the sunset to find that somewhere during the night she had breathed her last breath, curled in my arms, it was difficult to believe.
After all, we planned everything out. We pledged our love to each other, our lives to each other.
Her death hurt more than a stake in the heart, more than meeting the morning light.
Breaking the curse was supposed to be the start. Who would have thought her crafty, long dead stepmother would have woven into the curse a spell that would cause her to die upon breaking it?
Reaching into my pocket I pulled out the golden medallion I had given her long ago. It had been her favorite.
“Why did you have to leave me again?” The night was quiet except for the music of the night and my voice carried across the empty expanse of sandy beach.
I took another swig, wishing it would dull the pain. It should not hurt so much. After all, I was Vampire.
Now I regretted my part in breaking the curse. Fingers curled around the medallion so tightly it cut into my palm. I wanted her to know what it was like to be free of the curse before I asked her to be my mate, to stand by my side, to stay with me for the rest of our centuries.
It was uncommon enough among Vampires, but for a Vampire to take up with a non-Vampire, even another Immortal, in such a manner…
The breeze brought me a scent that should not be there, interrupting my rumination.
In the moonlight the intruder walking down the beach looked like a marble goddess from the ruins of Ancient Rome. I had not been there, we met in the latter part of the 17th century, but she had.
The apparition’s hair was billow of platinum. Bare feet left footprints in the damp sand. All she was wearing was a satiny purple nighty, the same color as her intense eyes. Pale lavender wings stretched out behind her in a splendor few had ever seen.
Wings?
If I still had a heart, it would have skipped a beat. Holding up the bottle I confirmed that I hadn’t drunk that much. Not enough to be seeing apparitions.
The apparition made me miss her all the more; mourning the centuries we had not spent together...
Yes, that was it...
She was just an apparition caused by the mist, the salt, and the full moon.
Closer she drew until I had to stand up, angry at being disturbed. This was my private sorrow. It was not to be shared, even with apparitions. Already I mourned her more than a Vampire should.
Finally the apparition looked at me with violet eyes luminescent in the moonlight. The sculpted face was more beautiful, more radiant, than I remembered.
Part of me wanted to yell for her to go away, to leave me in peace so I could learn to live without her.
Part of me wanted to run into her arms.
“Mo chridhe.” Now she stood in front of me. It was her face, her voice, her body, her language.
What have I done to deserve this? Reaching out, I wanted to touch her, but I hesitated. “Cara?”
That’s what she was to me. I to her.
“I missed you mo chridhe.” She was just an apparition, a figment of my imagination and sorrow. After all, it had been a year.
But I missed her.
Reaching out I touched this figment. It feels real. For a long moment all I did was touch her. I stroked her face, her unbound hair, those pale purple wings. She was real.
“I miss you so much cara.” A year should be nothing in the life of an Immortal, but I swear it was the longest year in all my centuries. “What are you doing here?” Even someone as uncommon as her couldn’t come back from the dead. Could she?
She put a finger to her lips. With a coy smile, she drew me close. Her familiar scent wrapped around me like a blanket.
Then she kissed me.
I kissed her back.
Quickly I stripped off her nighty and my own clothes. Lowering her down on the sand I reacquainted myself with her body, with her. I have her back. Happiness filled me.
“Don’t leave me ever again cara.”
“I won’t.”
So engrossed was I in her, that when the rays of the dawn hit my exposed body, I never felt the pain.
It didn’t matter. We were together once again.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Minor Disappointment
So, my partial manuscript has been rejected. ~Sigh~ The letter was polite, but vague. As soon as my fan girl Friday gets back from Ireland I suppose we’ll dish over coffee as to what exactly it means. In the mean time, I suppose it’s time to dust off the query letter and send out some more. After all, I’ve been at this two months. That’s it. Eventually I’ll find an Agent who loves Frank and Rory as much as I do.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Flash Fiction Friday -- The Broken Tree
Did you ever have an image or scenario stuck in your head? I had this idea for years which eventually morphed into a totally different series/characters whom you’ll meet eventually. None of the original inspiration remained when I fished it. The other night I was having a BBQ in my mother in laws backyard and realized that I still really liked that original scenario and I could sill use it. Hmmm…
Maybe this is my answer to the ever illusive YA story I’ve been trying to write for my Dance Gurlz.
This is just a rough sketch as I tried to outline this very specific image that’s been running around in my brain. It's not true flash fiction, since it’s actually a vignette, but anyway…enjoy.
If you’re liking the Rory Gets Schooled series, I’ll write some more.
The Broken Tree
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear
The night was cool and windy, which seemed odd since Magnolia thought The Valley was hot in summer. The breeze teased her hair and whispered to her, sending odd shivers down her spine, as the crickets serenaded her along with the occasion howl of a dog.
Life sucked.
Sitting up in the curved branch of the broken, but still growing oak tree, she curled her needs to her chest and started out at the crazy, overgrown backyard that stretched out before her. Senior year was supposed to be the highlight of thirteen years of school. Now it was going to be the worst year ever. The crappy house in the Valley was just the start.
Why did they have to get divorced? It still hurt, like being stabbed with a thousand knives. But not as much as that final pronouncement. Her mom got the house in Brentwood, the house in Big Bear. She even got the boat. The one thing she did not want was Magnolia.
That hurt. A lot.
“It will be alright Mags,” her father told her as they packed up their things. “Our life won’t be quite as comfortable,” since her mom got half of everything. She even got alimony. “But we’ll make it work.”
Her dad had recently inherited a house from his Aunt Edna – something her mom didn’t want either. Not only was it in The Valley, which was the other end of the universe for a West Side girl like her. It was in Sylmar. It might as well be on the moon.
Certainly it was too far for her to continue to go to her school, Saint Monica when school started back up in the fall. Now they were scrambling to even find a high school for her. She’d rather die than got to Sylmar High.
Actually right now she’d rather die, period.
Magnolia leaned back, placing her head on the trunk of the huge, gnarled oak tree. The canopy of leaves covered half the backyard and some of the braches nearly touched the ground, creating a weeping willow effect. The trunk of the tree was shaped like the letter J, making it easy to climb up into its thick and inviting branches. The one she was sitting on was big, strong, and smooth, the leaves shielding her from immediate view from the sliding glass doors leading into the house, but giving her a full view of the yard.
It was good for hiding…and brooding.
A crack from elsewhere in the yard drew her attention back to her surroundings. She had this eerie feeling that she wasn’t alone, but there was plenty of wildlife in the huge, overgrown backyard that had been left to the wilds for decades.
There was a little hill smack in the middle, covered over in wayward groundcover planed by someone long ago, weeds, discarded branches from the tree, and freeway daisies.
The overgrowth of groundcover had half swallowed the remains of a long-abandons swing set, slide, and jungle gym. One wall was covered by wild rose bushes and overgrowth. The wooden fence was falling down. There was also a variety of trees, a rusted tricycle, an old BBQ, an empty chicken coop and junk.
This was the backyard the world forgot.
There was also a bona fide trailer in the backyard too – an old Airstream. Her dad wanted to restore it. Fun.
She wanted to hire a bunch of people to pull everything out but the old tree, bulldoze it flat, and put in a pool.
Her dad said no. Not enough money.
That was a hard concept to understand. Never, in all her years, had she been told that. Magnolia was not spoiled, but she had lived a charmed and privilege life. A life that was over.
Even the promise of a car so she could see her friends over the summer didn’t soothe her raw and angry feelings. Certainly she couldn’t invite her friends here.
The house was worn, with peeling green paint and sagging wood. The front yard was nearly as overgrown, and there were cars in the front yard. Cars!
“It’s not much, but it’s all ours, free and clear,” her dad told her. “We’ll fix it up bit by bit.”
Not likely. As soon as she graduated she was outtie. One thing her mother could not touch was Magnolia’s college fund.
She heard the crack again and her head snapped in its direction. The sound came from the wild, overgrown hill in the center. She noticed that mushrooms seemed to grown around it. Now that’s a fairy hill if I ever saw one…
Where did that thought come from?
It was near twilight and for a moment the yard was bathed in an eerie glow. For a moment it looked like it came from the hill. She blinked and everything was normal.
She continued to hide in the tree past full dark and moonrise.
Then she heard the crack a third time.
This time she saw a movement. A crouching figure. Long, pale hair in the moon light. Blue eyes like a cat.
Her heart beat fast and her breath was short. Someone was in the backyard with her!
She opened her mouth to call out to her dad, who was just on the other side of those glass doors, watching TV, giving her some space. But nothing came out.
Those blue eyes focused on her for a moment.
All the breath went out of her body.
Magnolia blinked several times and looked again. Nothing was there.
It was not a person, just a cat. Yeah, there are feral cats living in the trailer…
But she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Getting down off the comfortable branch she climbed down the J shaped trunk. She carefully examined the yard, now lit only by the glow of the back porch light. Nothing.
Fraidy cat. Opening the sliding door she walked inside, then closed it, shutting out the wilds behind her.
Maybe this is my answer to the ever illusive YA story I’ve been trying to write for my Dance Gurlz.
This is just a rough sketch as I tried to outline this very specific image that’s been running around in my brain. It's not true flash fiction, since it’s actually a vignette, but anyway…enjoy.
If you’re liking the Rory Gets Schooled series, I’ll write some more.
The Broken Tree
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear
The night was cool and windy, which seemed odd since Magnolia thought The Valley was hot in summer. The breeze teased her hair and whispered to her, sending odd shivers down her spine, as the crickets serenaded her along with the occasion howl of a dog.
Life sucked.
Sitting up in the curved branch of the broken, but still growing oak tree, she curled her needs to her chest and started out at the crazy, overgrown backyard that stretched out before her. Senior year was supposed to be the highlight of thirteen years of school. Now it was going to be the worst year ever. The crappy house in the Valley was just the start.
Why did they have to get divorced? It still hurt, like being stabbed with a thousand knives. But not as much as that final pronouncement. Her mom got the house in Brentwood, the house in Big Bear. She even got the boat. The one thing she did not want was Magnolia.
That hurt. A lot.
“It will be alright Mags,” her father told her as they packed up their things. “Our life won’t be quite as comfortable,” since her mom got half of everything. She even got alimony. “But we’ll make it work.”
Her dad had recently inherited a house from his Aunt Edna – something her mom didn’t want either. Not only was it in The Valley, which was the other end of the universe for a West Side girl like her. It was in Sylmar. It might as well be on the moon.
Certainly it was too far for her to continue to go to her school, Saint Monica when school started back up in the fall. Now they were scrambling to even find a high school for her. She’d rather die than got to Sylmar High.
Actually right now she’d rather die, period.
Magnolia leaned back, placing her head on the trunk of the huge, gnarled oak tree. The canopy of leaves covered half the backyard and some of the braches nearly touched the ground, creating a weeping willow effect. The trunk of the tree was shaped like the letter J, making it easy to climb up into its thick and inviting branches. The one she was sitting on was big, strong, and smooth, the leaves shielding her from immediate view from the sliding glass doors leading into the house, but giving her a full view of the yard.
It was good for hiding…and brooding.
A crack from elsewhere in the yard drew her attention back to her surroundings. She had this eerie feeling that she wasn’t alone, but there was plenty of wildlife in the huge, overgrown backyard that had been left to the wilds for decades.
There was a little hill smack in the middle, covered over in wayward groundcover planed by someone long ago, weeds, discarded branches from the tree, and freeway daisies.
The overgrowth of groundcover had half swallowed the remains of a long-abandons swing set, slide, and jungle gym. One wall was covered by wild rose bushes and overgrowth. The wooden fence was falling down. There was also a variety of trees, a rusted tricycle, an old BBQ, an empty chicken coop and junk.
This was the backyard the world forgot.
There was also a bona fide trailer in the backyard too – an old Airstream. Her dad wanted to restore it. Fun.
She wanted to hire a bunch of people to pull everything out but the old tree, bulldoze it flat, and put in a pool.
Her dad said no. Not enough money.
That was a hard concept to understand. Never, in all her years, had she been told that. Magnolia was not spoiled, but she had lived a charmed and privilege life. A life that was over.
Even the promise of a car so she could see her friends over the summer didn’t soothe her raw and angry feelings. Certainly she couldn’t invite her friends here.
The house was worn, with peeling green paint and sagging wood. The front yard was nearly as overgrown, and there were cars in the front yard. Cars!
“It’s not much, but it’s all ours, free and clear,” her dad told her. “We’ll fix it up bit by bit.”
Not likely. As soon as she graduated she was outtie. One thing her mother could not touch was Magnolia’s college fund.
She heard the crack again and her head snapped in its direction. The sound came from the wild, overgrown hill in the center. She noticed that mushrooms seemed to grown around it. Now that’s a fairy hill if I ever saw one…
Where did that thought come from?
It was near twilight and for a moment the yard was bathed in an eerie glow. For a moment it looked like it came from the hill. She blinked and everything was normal.
She continued to hide in the tree past full dark and moonrise.
Then she heard the crack a third time.
This time she saw a movement. A crouching figure. Long, pale hair in the moon light. Blue eyes like a cat.
Her heart beat fast and her breath was short. Someone was in the backyard with her!
She opened her mouth to call out to her dad, who was just on the other side of those glass doors, watching TV, giving her some space. But nothing came out.
Those blue eyes focused on her for a moment.
All the breath went out of her body.
Magnolia blinked several times and looked again. Nothing was there.
It was not a person, just a cat. Yeah, there are feral cats living in the trailer…
But she couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. Getting down off the comfortable branch she climbed down the J shaped trunk. She carefully examined the yard, now lit only by the glow of the back porch light. Nothing.
Fraidy cat. Opening the sliding door she walked inside, then closed it, shutting out the wilds behind her.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Flash Fiction -- Adventures in Microwaving
Here's another story about just rescued Rory, who's in awe of everything including hot showers, ding-dongs, and of course...microwaves. It takes place just before last weeks.
Adventures in Microwaving
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear
Biting my lip I looked at the microwave. Ray told me not to use the microwave without help. But I was hungry and everyone was busy or at work. I had remembered how to make oatmeal. The oatmeal went in the bowl with water and then you put it in the microwave.
Opening the door, I put the bowl inside, and closed it. Now what?
Numbers. I had to push the numbers. I knew my numbers. And my letters. But I had trouble stringing all but the most basic things together. I just didn’t know what numbers to push…
Pushing the buttons, hoping they were right, I watched as the amazing white box lit up and hummed softly as the bowl moved in a circle. If I pressed my face up to the window the light flared.
What an incredible thing! There were so many strange and wonderful things here. Like hot showers. I had no idea that showers could be hot.
Could I put other things in the microwave?
The guys did. Three other guys lived in the house with Ray. Roommates. They all worked together at the FBI. The four of them were showing me all the great things the real world had. Things I didn’t know about on the farm.
Like ding-dongs.
What would happen if I put a ding-dong in the microwave?
The bowl in the microwave was bubbling. Was it supposed to do that? Probably not. Still I watched until it went beep. That meant it was done.
Taking it out, I nearly dropped it all over me because it was so hot. I put it on the table and cleaned up the boiled over oatmeal. Another thing I found I liked was cleaning.
I couldn’t stop thinking about what a ding-dong would do in the microwave. Should I?
Looking around to make sure I was still alone I got out a ding-dong and a plate. Should I unwrap it? Yeah.
I put it in the microwave and was amazing to watch the frosting melt and the marshmallow ooze out.
Distracted from my snack, I opened the refrigerator. What could I put in the microwave next?
There was a bowl of grapes. Hmmm…
Now if I remembered correctly some things exploded. Now that would be something.
Taking two grapes I put them on another plate, fairly close together, and put them in the microwave hoping for an exploding.
But they didn’t explode.
No…they started to spark…
“Rory what are you doing?”
But I was too entranced by the ball of fire to pay the voice heed. The sparks danced and the scent of scorched fruit and smoke tickled my nostrils. If I got close to the microwave they flared.
It was so pretty.
“Jesus Christ.” Rick pushed the button that stopped the microwave. “Rory, this is a new microwave. Do you want to break it?”
“No.” But would such neat things break the microwave? There were so many other things I wanted to put in them.
“Actually that was pretty neat. What was that?”
“Grapes.” At least he wasn’t mad. But Rick didn’t get mad like some of the others.
“Cool. I heard about that.”
What?
“It’s an electric current thing.”
It meant nothing to me. A lot of what they said did. So, like I had done so often since coming to DC, I just smiled and nodded.
Rick grinned. “I don’t think one more time will hurt. It’s not like we’re putting a roman candle in the microwave.”
Oooh. What was a roman candle? We had real candles…
I wasn’t supposed to play with those either. Or matches.
“But I think you’re supposed to slice them.” Carefully Rick slicked some grapes in half, leaving a little skin still attached.
They didn’t spark. They made blue balls of fire that made me ooh and ahh.
“What the hell are you two doing?”
Uh oh. Ray was home. My stomach twisted. Would he be angry?
“Making plasma balls.” Rick grinned. These were even prettier.
“Rick, don’t encourage her, okay?” Ray sighed. “Rory…”
His tone made me jump. “I was hungry.” Biting my lip I stepped backwards. Something popped.
“Whoa. Rick shut off the microwave now.”
But it was too late. There was a loud boom and smoke filled the kitchen.
Uh oh.
“Dammit, that was a new microwave too. Rick.”
Ray was angry. Really angry. I started to cower. Would he hurt me? He said he wouldn’t. So far he hadn’t. But on the farm they always found a reason to hurt me. Especially when I did something wrong.
“Oh Rory.” He stepped closer to me and my eyes widened.
“I’m sorry.” My whole body went slack. Beatings hurt less this way.
His expression softened. “It’s alright Rory.”
“I didn’t…” I started to shake.
He didn’t touch me, but he did approach me. But his body language was non-threatening. “Rory, Rory look at me.”
I did.
“Rory, little bit, I know it was an accident. But it was brand new.” He also glared at Rick.
I bit my lip again. “I was hungry.” My voice was a whisper.
“I know.” Ray smiled. “You’re always hungry. Why don’t we teach you to boil water on the stove instead? You can make oatmeal that way.”
I could?
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Rick eyed his roommate skeptically.
Ray shook his head. “It’s an electric stove, not gas. How much trouble can she make?”
Adventures in Microwaving
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear
Biting my lip I looked at the microwave. Ray told me not to use the microwave without help. But I was hungry and everyone was busy or at work. I had remembered how to make oatmeal. The oatmeal went in the bowl with water and then you put it in the microwave.
Opening the door, I put the bowl inside, and closed it. Now what?
Numbers. I had to push the numbers. I knew my numbers. And my letters. But I had trouble stringing all but the most basic things together. I just didn’t know what numbers to push…
Pushing the buttons, hoping they were right, I watched as the amazing white box lit up and hummed softly as the bowl moved in a circle. If I pressed my face up to the window the light flared.
What an incredible thing! There were so many strange and wonderful things here. Like hot showers. I had no idea that showers could be hot.
Could I put other things in the microwave?
The guys did. Three other guys lived in the house with Ray. Roommates. They all worked together at the FBI. The four of them were showing me all the great things the real world had. Things I didn’t know about on the farm.
Like ding-dongs.
What would happen if I put a ding-dong in the microwave?
The bowl in the microwave was bubbling. Was it supposed to do that? Probably not. Still I watched until it went beep. That meant it was done.
Taking it out, I nearly dropped it all over me because it was so hot. I put it on the table and cleaned up the boiled over oatmeal. Another thing I found I liked was cleaning.
I couldn’t stop thinking about what a ding-dong would do in the microwave. Should I?
Looking around to make sure I was still alone I got out a ding-dong and a plate. Should I unwrap it? Yeah.
I put it in the microwave and was amazing to watch the frosting melt and the marshmallow ooze out.
Distracted from my snack, I opened the refrigerator. What could I put in the microwave next?
There was a bowl of grapes. Hmmm…
Now if I remembered correctly some things exploded. Now that would be something.
Taking two grapes I put them on another plate, fairly close together, and put them in the microwave hoping for an exploding.
But they didn’t explode.
No…they started to spark…
“Rory what are you doing?”
But I was too entranced by the ball of fire to pay the voice heed. The sparks danced and the scent of scorched fruit and smoke tickled my nostrils. If I got close to the microwave they flared.
It was so pretty.
“Jesus Christ.” Rick pushed the button that stopped the microwave. “Rory, this is a new microwave. Do you want to break it?”
“No.” But would such neat things break the microwave? There were so many other things I wanted to put in them.
“Actually that was pretty neat. What was that?”
“Grapes.” At least he wasn’t mad. But Rick didn’t get mad like some of the others.
“Cool. I heard about that.”
What?
“It’s an electric current thing.”
It meant nothing to me. A lot of what they said did. So, like I had done so often since coming to DC, I just smiled and nodded.
Rick grinned. “I don’t think one more time will hurt. It’s not like we’re putting a roman candle in the microwave.”
Oooh. What was a roman candle? We had real candles…
I wasn’t supposed to play with those either. Or matches.
“But I think you’re supposed to slice them.” Carefully Rick slicked some grapes in half, leaving a little skin still attached.
They didn’t spark. They made blue balls of fire that made me ooh and ahh.
“What the hell are you two doing?”
Uh oh. Ray was home. My stomach twisted. Would he be angry?
“Making plasma balls.” Rick grinned. These were even prettier.
“Rick, don’t encourage her, okay?” Ray sighed. “Rory…”
His tone made me jump. “I was hungry.” Biting my lip I stepped backwards. Something popped.
“Whoa. Rick shut off the microwave now.”
But it was too late. There was a loud boom and smoke filled the kitchen.
Uh oh.
“Dammit, that was a new microwave too. Rick.”
Ray was angry. Really angry. I started to cower. Would he hurt me? He said he wouldn’t. So far he hadn’t. But on the farm they always found a reason to hurt me. Especially when I did something wrong.
“Oh Rory.” He stepped closer to me and my eyes widened.
“I’m sorry.” My whole body went slack. Beatings hurt less this way.
His expression softened. “It’s alright Rory.”
“I didn’t…” I started to shake.
He didn’t touch me, but he did approach me. But his body language was non-threatening. “Rory, Rory look at me.”
I did.
“Rory, little bit, I know it was an accident. But it was brand new.” He also glared at Rick.
I bit my lip again. “I was hungry.” My voice was a whisper.
“I know.” Ray smiled. “You’re always hungry. Why don’t we teach you to boil water on the stove instead? You can make oatmeal that way.”
I could?
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Rick eyed his roommate skeptically.
Ray shook his head. “It’s an electric stove, not gas. How much trouble can she make?”
Friday, July 4, 2008
Flash Fiction Friday -- Independence Day
The Fourth of July is important to my character Rory, because for many years, she was not free. She was held captive by extremist Weres who abused her and used as their private assassin. After she was rescued she had a lot of adjust to, there was a lot she had never seen or done, from using a microwave, to grocery shopping, to seeing fireworks. She had a new name, a new language to master, a whole new mindset to adapt to.
This story is about her first Independence day. It takes place two months after her rescue, five or six months before A Requiem for Steven and about seven and a half years before The Ferry Ride and Can We Chat. The concept of celebrating freedom means even more when for once you never imagined you could ever have it.
Independence Day
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear
“Come on Rory, we need to get back now.”
“Now what?” We were walking along the river eating popsicles. It was the 4th of July.
It had been a hot day. But we were having a good time. Amber talked funny and was very cheerful, but I liked her.
“There will be a concert – music. Then there will be fireworks.” Her blue eyes shone. I’d never seen fireworks. I liked music.
“Charlie?”
She laughed. “He’ll be there before the fireworks start Cabbage Patch.” I liked Charlie. I never knew Vampires could be nice.
Amber, Lilly, and I had gotten up early and taken a bus from Cambridge to Boston to stand in line at a place called Hatch Shell. We each got a plastic bracelet, which itched. Ray, Lilly’s boyfriend from DC joined us, so did Gary and Drake and some others.
Then Amber and I left the crowded and noisy place and she showed me Boston.
Nearly two months ago I had been a prisoner. I was tied up in a barn, beaten daily by extremist Weres who only let me out to kill people. I had been Hunting in Las Vegas and got caught. I was given to bad Vampires.
Ray and his friends rescued me and since then I had been living in DC with Ray and “the guys.” There I was warm. I had a real bed and blanket. I had enough to eat. I found out showers were supposed to be warm.
They even gave me a name. Rory. I was still getting used to it, but it was better than the old one.
A few days ago Ray brought me to Cambridge to live with Lily, Amber, and Charlie. Just for the summer. I didn’t know what I did wrong. I tried to be good. But everything was so hard…so different.
Like speaking. On the farm I was not expected to speak. Here they wanted me to talk. A lot. In English. I didn’t know much English. Or any other language.
We found our things and friends. There was no beer in the cooler. I liked beer almost as much as ding-dongs. Lilly brought ding-dongs.
The concert began. It wasn’t music I had heard before, but everyone else seemed to know them. Lilly called them patriotic songs.
Amber explained the instruments to me that the people in the Pops played.
On the blanket next to us was a little girl and her parents. She had her face painted and was waving a flag. She looked happy. I never had parents, or a family. I never did anything like this.
The town near the farm had a party on 4th of July. But I was never allowed to go. Gar would tell me of all the things they did, the carnival, the food, the games. Once he won me a teddy bear. Sarah Jody took it from me.
“I want some beer.” Lilly said it wasn’t allowed. I was still watching the little girl in morbid fascination. We did not feel. But I did feel something. I felt pain. Emptiness. Beer made it hurt less. It was something else I had learned with Ray and the guys.
Amber caught my whisper. She wasn’t human either. She also hurt deep inside. She too had nightmares and cried out in her sleep. “We’ll go to the pub afterwards alright?”
It was growing dark and the music continued. The theme of the concert was “Freedom” and after the patriotic songs, they sang songs from other places, in other languages.
Then they sang song I knew. Die Gedanken sind frei. So I sang along. They sang a lot of the farm. Just not well.
Die Gedanken sind frei, wer kann sie erraten,sie fliehen vorbei wie nächtliche Schatten.Kein Mensch kann sie wissen, kein Jäger erschießenmit Pulver und Blei: Die Gedanken sind frei!
Thoughts are free, who can ever guess them?They just flee by like nocturnal shadows.No man can know them, no hunter can shoot them,with powder and lead: Thoughts are free!
The Weres on the farm had been kicked out of Germany for being extreme. They liked America because they could think how they wanted.
“You have a really pretty voice Rory,” Lilly told me. “Amber are you listening?”
Amber nodded. “I am.”
I had a pretty voice?
I kept singing. Something wet rolled down my face.
“Your eyes are leaking mon petit chou.” Charlie was here!
“Why?” Had they ever leaked before?
“What does the song you are singing mean?” He talked funny too, but it was different. Amber was Irish. Charlie was Cajun.
I couldn’t translate -- I just knew. “Thoughts…are…free.” That was the best I could do. On the farm thoughts were not free. Not for me.
“Why is she crying Charlie?” Amber leaned her head on the Vampire’s shoulder, black hair cascading down in a shiny curtain.
Crying? We didn’t cry. It had been beaten out of me. Gaia bless, I still had the marks.
“It’s Independence Day petit. She’s free.”
I was. I no longer had to do what they told me, kill who they told me. I had never dared think of freedom, dream of freedom, on the farm.
Being in Cambridge instead of DC suddenly didn’t seem so bad. After all, it wasn’t the farm.
“I understand completely.” Amber didn’t touch me, but sat close.
Lilly was in Ray’s arms. They looked happy.
Even if I didn’t like being in Cambridge I liked the people I was with – Amber, Lilly, Ray, Charlie. Drake and Gary were alright too.
Then the Pops started playing a different song. There was a loud noise which spooked me and I crouched ferally.
“Don’t be afraid. Look up petit.”
I did. Red sparkles filled the sky. Then a white one joined them. More and more shot up into the sky as if they were dancing to the music.
“Fireworks Cabbage Patch, they are fireworks.”
I sat back down. “Wow.”
“I snuck something in for you mon peitie chou.” Charlie handed me and Amber each a cold beer then opened one himself. He didn’t have a bracelet. Vampires were good at sneaking in places. So was I.
“Silanté.” Amber held hers up.
“Cheers.” Charlie held his up too and I mimicked it. “Happy Independence Day.”
Then it really hit me. I was free.
This story is about her first Independence day. It takes place two months after her rescue, five or six months before A Requiem for Steven and about seven and a half years before The Ferry Ride and Can We Chat. The concept of celebrating freedom means even more when for once you never imagined you could ever have it.
Independence Day
© 2008 Suzanne Lazear
“Come on Rory, we need to get back now.”
“Now what?” We were walking along the river eating popsicles. It was the 4th of July.
It had been a hot day. But we were having a good time. Amber talked funny and was very cheerful, but I liked her.
“There will be a concert – music. Then there will be fireworks.” Her blue eyes shone. I’d never seen fireworks. I liked music.
“Charlie?”
She laughed. “He’ll be there before the fireworks start Cabbage Patch.” I liked Charlie. I never knew Vampires could be nice.
Amber, Lilly, and I had gotten up early and taken a bus from Cambridge to Boston to stand in line at a place called Hatch Shell. We each got a plastic bracelet, which itched. Ray, Lilly’s boyfriend from DC joined us, so did Gary and Drake and some others.
Then Amber and I left the crowded and noisy place and she showed me Boston.
Nearly two months ago I had been a prisoner. I was tied up in a barn, beaten daily by extremist Weres who only let me out to kill people. I had been Hunting in Las Vegas and got caught. I was given to bad Vampires.
Ray and his friends rescued me and since then I had been living in DC with Ray and “the guys.” There I was warm. I had a real bed and blanket. I had enough to eat. I found out showers were supposed to be warm.
They even gave me a name. Rory. I was still getting used to it, but it was better than the old one.
A few days ago Ray brought me to Cambridge to live with Lily, Amber, and Charlie. Just for the summer. I didn’t know what I did wrong. I tried to be good. But everything was so hard…so different.
Like speaking. On the farm I was not expected to speak. Here they wanted me to talk. A lot. In English. I didn’t know much English. Or any other language.
We found our things and friends. There was no beer in the cooler. I liked beer almost as much as ding-dongs. Lilly brought ding-dongs.
The concert began. It wasn’t music I had heard before, but everyone else seemed to know them. Lilly called them patriotic songs.
Amber explained the instruments to me that the people in the Pops played.
On the blanket next to us was a little girl and her parents. She had her face painted and was waving a flag. She looked happy. I never had parents, or a family. I never did anything like this.
The town near the farm had a party on 4th of July. But I was never allowed to go. Gar would tell me of all the things they did, the carnival, the food, the games. Once he won me a teddy bear. Sarah Jody took it from me.
“I want some beer.” Lilly said it wasn’t allowed. I was still watching the little girl in morbid fascination. We did not feel. But I did feel something. I felt pain. Emptiness. Beer made it hurt less. It was something else I had learned with Ray and the guys.
Amber caught my whisper. She wasn’t human either. She also hurt deep inside. She too had nightmares and cried out in her sleep. “We’ll go to the pub afterwards alright?”
It was growing dark and the music continued. The theme of the concert was “Freedom” and after the patriotic songs, they sang songs from other places, in other languages.
Then they sang song I knew. Die Gedanken sind frei. So I sang along. They sang a lot of the farm. Just not well.
Die Gedanken sind frei, wer kann sie erraten,sie fliehen vorbei wie nächtliche Schatten.Kein Mensch kann sie wissen, kein Jäger erschießenmit Pulver und Blei: Die Gedanken sind frei!
Thoughts are free, who can ever guess them?They just flee by like nocturnal shadows.No man can know them, no hunter can shoot them,with powder and lead: Thoughts are free!
The Weres on the farm had been kicked out of Germany for being extreme. They liked America because they could think how they wanted.
“You have a really pretty voice Rory,” Lilly told me. “Amber are you listening?”
Amber nodded. “I am.”
I had a pretty voice?
I kept singing. Something wet rolled down my face.
“Your eyes are leaking mon petit chou.” Charlie was here!
“Why?” Had they ever leaked before?
“What does the song you are singing mean?” He talked funny too, but it was different. Amber was Irish. Charlie was Cajun.
I couldn’t translate -- I just knew. “Thoughts…are…free.” That was the best I could do. On the farm thoughts were not free. Not for me.
“Why is she crying Charlie?” Amber leaned her head on the Vampire’s shoulder, black hair cascading down in a shiny curtain.
Crying? We didn’t cry. It had been beaten out of me. Gaia bless, I still had the marks.
“It’s Independence Day petit. She’s free.”
I was. I no longer had to do what they told me, kill who they told me. I had never dared think of freedom, dream of freedom, on the farm.
Being in Cambridge instead of DC suddenly didn’t seem so bad. After all, it wasn’t the farm.
“I understand completely.” Amber didn’t touch me, but sat close.
Lilly was in Ray’s arms. They looked happy.
Even if I didn’t like being in Cambridge I liked the people I was with – Amber, Lilly, Ray, Charlie. Drake and Gary were alright too.
Then the Pops started playing a different song. There was a loud noise which spooked me and I crouched ferally.
“Don’t be afraid. Look up petit.”
I did. Red sparkles filled the sky. Then a white one joined them. More and more shot up into the sky as if they were dancing to the music.
“Fireworks Cabbage Patch, they are fireworks.”
I sat back down. “Wow.”
“I snuck something in for you mon peitie chou.” Charlie handed me and Amber each a cold beer then opened one himself. He didn’t have a bracelet. Vampires were good at sneaking in places. So was I.
“Silanté.” Amber held hers up.
“Cheers.” Charlie held his up too and I mimicked it. “Happy Independence Day.”
Then it really hit me. I was free.
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