~ FICTION WRITING CONTEST ~ PRIZES GALORE

[dandelioncupcake]

Just keep it PG-13, a la the Gaia rules. wink

[EuphoricUnderworld]

Are you talking about to me? The only reason there are curse words is because there is a filter. If you have it off, you don't have a problem seeing curse words. At least, that's as far as I know.

[dandelioncupcake]

No, violence and sexiness wise.

[EuphoricUnderworld]

Oh, okay. I thought my stuff was pretty pg13... I think.

[dandelioncupcake]

EuphoricUnderworld

Oh, okay. I thought my stuff was pretty pg13... I think.

Okay. biggrin Feel free to shoot yer idea my way anytime.

[EuphoricUnderworld]

The last one on page 2 is mine. I posted.

[xNuclearWonderlandx]

Working on an entry, should have it up tomorrow. (:

[Vatilla]

Username: Vatilla
Word Count: 1,549
Name of Story: My Eyes Flickered Open


My eyes flickered open.

The smell of bacon hit my nose, and I inhaled deeply. It smelled so delicious I actually got out of bed on a Saturday, nearly floating down to the kitchen.

“Morning mum!” I said gleefully, sitting at the breakfast counter.

“Well aren’t we happy today,” she said with a smile. I laughed.

“Yeah, for once... When will the bacon be ready? I’m starved.”

“Oh really? Like you didn’t eat enough food last night!” she said with a laugh. Last night? What happened last night? I shook the thoughts off and just went along with it.

“Yeah, I guess... Thanks!” I said as she placed a plate of bacon in front of me. I inhaled deeply, loving the aroma. I got out the Maple Syrup and poured it on my bacon. Mum sat back with a disgusted look on her face.

“Why must you eat it like that?” she asked, looking revolted. I was confused.

“What are you talking about, mum? You always have your bacon with syrup too...” I said, trailing off at the incredulous look on my mother’s face. She placed a hand on my forehead.

“Honey, do you feel okay? I’m allergic to syrup, remember?” she said with a shaky laugh.

“But...” I began to say. A loud thudding came from above me, and in what seemed like a second there was a small boy in the kitchen. I screamed and jumped away from my plate, grabbing a knife. He had long, unruly black hair with green eyes and dark brown skin. He looked nothing like me or my mother, and I was sure he was going to try and hurt us.

“Jillian! What is wrong with you today!” mother yelled, holding the small boy close to her. He stuck his tongue out at me. My eyes were wild in their sockets, my brain whirring.

“But... Who is he?” I said softly, putting the knife down and rubbing my eyes.

“Jillian, enough with the act! Christian, take a seat and I’ll get you some breakfast,” she said, and the little boy jumped up beside me. I flinched away from him. My stomach knotted, and I felt sick.

“I think I’m gonna go get dressed,” I said, standing from the table and making my way to the stairs. Neither of them said a thing. I quickly ran up the stairs, looking behind me every few seconds with a quizzical expression.

At least my room was normal.

I plopped down on my bed, my hand on my forehead, wondering what was going on. Maybe mum was playing a joke on me? There was one thing for certain- I had never seen that little boy before in my entire life. I thrust my head into my pillow, screaming in anger. I stood, and headed to my closet, pulling out a pair of shorts and a tank top.

Once I was dressed, I made my way back downstairs, staying clear of the kitchen and the strange boy. I turned to the front door right as the bell rang.

“I’ve got it!” I yelled.

“It’s probably Stephan!” mum called back. Stephan? Who was Stephan? I opened the door to find an extremely handsome guy in the doorway. He had curly brown locks with bright blue eyes, tanned skin, and a smile that invited the whole world inside.

I had no clue who he was.

“Hey,” he said in a voice like velvet, and pressed his lips against mine. I shoved away from him and punched his face with all my might, slamming the door, locking it, and running into the kitchen screaming.

“Jillian?! Jillian, what’s the matter?!” mum yelled coming into view. My breath caught in my throat.

“Who- who are you?” I demanded, backing away from the strange woman. My eyes swam. She was like the boy’s twin if he was older and a woman. I backed against the wall as she advanced towards me, her eyes concerned and her hand outstretched. She tried to brush her hand against my face, but I screamed and ran towards the back door, my heart pumping.

“Jillian!” I heard the strange woman call. My breath came out in ragged gasps, and my feet killed as I flung open the door and ran out onto jagged rocks and sand. I kept running, not having a clue as to where I was. I saw my own hand in front of my body and screamed again.

The hand was dark brown like the woman’s. I turned back and saw the woman, boy, and older boy standing near the unfamiliar house, the older boy holding a bloody tissue to his nose. My heart pumped in my ears.

“What is going on?!” I shrieked, my throat aching from my ragged breath and all of the screaming. I hit a forest and kept running, my arms pumping at my side, my lungs like boulders, and a massive stitch in my side.

I gasped as my feet went out from under me.

I found myself tumbling down a hillside, twigs and small rocks and dirt flying at my face and getting in my hair. I let out a yelp as I landed at the bottom of the hill, a shark stick protruding from my leg.

I let out a blood curdling scream of pain, tears pouring down my face, my hands grasping at the wound as if that would heal it. My breath came choppy and choked. I tried to calm myself, sitting, clutching my thigh, for a long moment.

My head snapped up as I hear rustling above, and saw the allegedly claimed Stephon at the top of the ravine I had fallen down. Clenching my teeth, I use my good leg to push myself out of Stephon’s view and into a bush. I collapsed on the inside of the shrubbery, panting and groaning.

“I don’t see her, but there’s a lot of blood down here!” I heard someone call. I peeked out of the bush. There was a large puddle of blood about four yards away from a flowing stream- my blood. I felt dizzy as I saw all the blood... So much blood...

“No!” I said to myself, trying not to faint. Shakily, I began to stand. I gasped as I crashed to the ground, a small scream escaping my lips. I pushed myself father into the right of the bush, inching myself away from where Stephon’s voice still called.

I sat in the brush, taking deep and not very calming breaths. What was going on?! Where was my mother?! Why wee these people, these strangers, here instead?! Why did I look different?! So many questions that would probably never be answered.

A shadow crossed the bush where I was sitting.

I screamed as a large, gruff hand grabbed my forearm, yanking me to my feet. I shrieked in agony when there was pressure on my leg, and a lump came to my throat when I saw Stephon and the woman who claimed to be my mother dead on the ground.

“Who are you?!” I shrieked, screaming as a large needle was stabbed into my aside.

“Shh... Calm down, Jillian, everything will be fine... Shh...” the man said. The world began to get fuzzy, sounds faint.

“No...” I mumbled. “You... You can’t...”

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“AGH!” I gasped, trying to sit up. There were leather straps keeping me from doing so. “Who are you? Where am I?!”

“Jillian, calm down, everything is fine,” a familiar voice said. I saw my mother step out from behind a curtain, a large chunk of wood in her hand. I realized that my leg was bandaged, not hurting as much.

“Mom, what are you doing, what’s happening?” I asked, my voice quivering.

“Oh Jillian, I thought you would know... You’re a part of my experiment. Every day, you’ll wake up in a different house with a different family. You’ll slowly realize things are wrong, and the whole purpose of this is to see your reaction to each and every different situation. This has been going on since you were young, you just can’t remember. I’ve created a false memory for you, memories of me and your uncle... Your father...” mother said, and she stared off into the distance. I let out a massive scream of anger.

“How can you do this to your own daughter?! Your own flesh, your own blood!” I yelled, anger coursing through my body. I was still yelling incoherent insults when she placed a bit in my mouth, shoving it down my throat until I was gagging, barely able to breathe.

“Now, Jillian, I am going to put you to sleep, okay? When you wake up, this will all seem like a dream,” she said, moving to the other side of the room. I thrashed and screamed against the bit, ripping my nails on the metal table, flinging my head from side-to-side.

My body went rigid as a pole as an electric shock ran through me. I felt no pain, just... Something odd. My brain became hazy, my head hurting... Soft pillows... Blackness...

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My eyes flickered open.

The smell of bacon hit my nose, and I inhaled deeply. It smelled so delicious I actually got out of bed on a Saturday, nearly floating down to the kitchen.

[AutumnThe-Nerdy-Ninja]

I'm joining! I have a short story I've been wanting to do for a while biggrin

[kurosakibutt]

Since it's dark themed.. Can it be graphic? I honestly can't write anything dark without a little killin' but I'll try ;~;

[Emminence]

Username: Emminence
word count: 1,839 (three pages on Abiword)
Title: Im Not Insane
It all started on my thirteenth birthday. All the horrible things that I call my life story. All those horrible memories, because of my horrible father. He told me He loved me that day... if He loved me, He wouldn’t have done the things he’d done...
Six years earlier
I woke up to my alarm clock, I looked at my calendar to check the day, February 24. My thirteenth birthday. I ran downstairs, my mother had a plate of French toast, bacon, eggs, and a glass of orange juice set at the table for me. When I was done eating she handed me a present. It was a small box with bright green wrapping and a shiny silver bow. Within the box was a beautiful diamond necklace.
“It’s a real diamond, Auburn.” my mother said as she smiled watching me put the necklace on. Tears came to my eyes as I hugged my mother. I thought she was so perfect. The best mother a girl could have.... boy was I wrong...
My mother and I cleaned and decorated the house for my birthday, at one people started coming. The first person to come was my boyfriend, Andrew. He and I had been dating for almost a year. I loved him, and he always told me how much he loved me. I was foolish to think ANYONE could love me... I honestly thought my life was perfect and would stay that way.After an hour of my party my father came. My father and mother had been divorced since i was five. He came into the house, his bright red hair was a mess, his eyes were almost as red as his hair, his pants were messy and ripped and he had no shirt on, showing off his tattoo of an eagle across his chest. He was obviously drunk as a man could be.
“Happy berthday, Auburn!” he said with a stupid smirk on his face. I looked at my mother, her face showed complete rage.
“Robert, meet me in the kitchen please...” my mother said trying to keep her head from exploding.
“Sure thang, Misty..” my father replied following my mother..I turned up the music so my friends couldnt hear my parents argument. After five minuets I couldnt stand it, I went into the kitchen to help handle my father.
“Robert, you need to leave.... your completely drunk, I dont want you ruining Auburn’s birthday.” i heard my mother say as I walked in.
“But, Auburn wants her daddy to be here, dont ya sweety?” my father replied to my mother as he put his arm around me, I could smell the alcohol, it was stronger than usual.
“Dad, please your drunk, it would be better for all of us if you just go home...” I said, scared of what his reaction would be. He frowned,
“I may be drunk, but im your father... and you wnat me here dont you?” he asked tightening his grip around me.
“I do want you to be here but...”
“But what?” my father said again tightening his grip even more.
“But... it would be best if you just left, please, dad just leave...” I looked at him hoping that I didnt anger him even more. As soon as I made eye contact he slapped me, and I fell to the floor. When I hit the ground I blacked out.
I woke up in a hospital, a nurse was beside me and said,
“are you feeling alright Auburn?” the nuse said.
“Uh, yes...” i said with a headache “wha-what happened?” the nurse frowned.
“When your father hit you, you passed out. While you were out you father got angrier as you boyfriend walked in and tried to help you and things went down hill from there....”
“Oh my gosh! Is Andrew all right? Where’s my dad?!What about my mom?” I said, a million questions in my head.
“Calm down Auburn, Andrew’s alright, your father was put in prison, and...well your mother...” the nurse said trying to hide something.
“What? Where’s my mother?” I said geting worried.
“Your mother passed away....” when the nurse finished the sentence my heart sank...
After a month of my father in prison, my mother dead, and me in a foster home I was fully depressed, I wouldn’t talk to anyone. Finnaly, the bullie of foster home, Juliet, targeted me... That was the biggest mistake of her life... she went up to me and said,
“I heard of what happened to you Aubrey.... so sad” she said with a sad face...
“My name is Auburn, and I dont need your simpathy...” i said anger welling up inside me.
“Oh, well Auburn, as I was saying.... So sad, you crazy dad, stabbing your mother to death....” she said ending with a sigh. I ignored her, hoping she’d go away. “I mean did you dad really beat you unconscious, and did he almost kill your boyfriend?” I kept a straight face, and walked faster, hoping to get away from Juliet. “Not answering huh? I’d expect that from a physco paths child... your probably as crazy as your old man.....” that was the last straw.
“First off, No my father did not stab my mother, he beat her and she died on life support. Second he didn’t beat me unconscious, he hit me and I blacked out. Thirdly he didnt even hurt my boyfriend. So get your facts straight, and I am not a physco path. And at least ONE of my parents wanted me, unlike yours!” she scowled,
“At least my father didnt kill my mother!” she screamed at me.... I hated her, I just wanted her gone, out of my life, I didnt want to see her ever again... I felt like i was about to explode, “Got nothing to say, huh... I thought so Crazy..” that was it, I felt like I litterally exploded inside, then I heard Juliet scream, a horrified scream that couldnt be faked. “You- you lit your hands on fire... you ARE insane... “ she said running away. I looked down at my hands and saw they were on fire, bright yellow and orange flames were coming off my hands. Yet, it didn’t hurt, i felt only a slight bit of warmth on my hands. I ran to the bathroom and doused my hands in th faucet, the fire went out. I looked and saw no burns, nothing to show taht my hands had been on fire. I looked in the mirror and noticed my eyes had turned a bright gold.
Juliet told every body that I was crazy and lit my hands on fire, other people had seen it too, so there was no way to deny it. I was kicked out, I had to live on the streets. Apparently word also got out to the rest of the town that I was the girl with the golden eyes, and held fire in her hands. Everybody looked at me the same way, with fascination and fear in their eyes. They wanted to see me hold fire, but were scared to come close. So I was lonely, with nobody to love me....
Then after a few weeks of living on the streets, a girl walked up to me.
“Name’s Brennah, I heard your the girl who can hold fire? Is that right?” Brennah said with a smirk.
“Why do you care?” said standing up.
“Cause.. Im the girl who can create an earthquake with one stomp... and you and I, were different than the people around us.. We, are Naturals... we can control a piece of nature... now come with me” I followed Brennah, she, and the other Naturals took me in and fed me. After a few months of staying with Brennah and the others, I decided to visit my father if prison.
“Auburn... I heard you found out that your a Natural? Is that so?” my father said smiling a cold smile.
“Yea... how do you know about Naturals?”
“Cause im a natural myself.. and let me tell you, being a fire natural, is the worst thing... every body hates you when your a threat, you have all enemies no fiends... all the time” my father said, I saw his eye’s going gold.
“I dont believe you, no, Brennah wouldn’t betray me like that...” I got up and left...
When i got back home I remember very little, I remember me and Brennah screaming at each other, I was mad, and I went completely coverd in flames. I burned the house down that all the naturals lived in, and they all hated me. Like my dad had said, I was now a threat....
Every where I went people stared at me with disgust and hatred... I burned everything that touched me, I came to hate the world, to hate everybody, to hate my self....
Then after a year of pain and suffering of everybody hating me, I felt some love. I was sitting on top of an apartment complex, looking at the flowers of the garden that I hated, because there was someone who had love and care to give to the flowers, but none to me. I heard people coming up to the roof, I heard a girls giggle as a boy was talking. When the two came into view I noticed two people that had been lodged into my memory. My past boyfriend, Andrew, he was the only person i didnt hate, holding hands with Juliet, the one person I hated most....
“Its her! The freak that can hold fire!” Juliet said backing away from me, Andrew just sat ther and looked at me,
“Auburn?” I nodded...
“How do you know Juliet?” i asked my anger rising just saying her name.
“She’s, uh, my... my girlfriend....” he said looking at me with fear, as though I were going to bite him, or... burn him.... I saw fear in his eye’s and had to ask...
“Do you still love me? Before everything happened you told me loved me, do you STILL love me...” I had to know..
“Auburn, im sorry... but I... I, i don’t...” he said looking at me with the same look I gave my father on my birthday and knew how he felt, the one person, one single person who loved him turned him away, like Andrew had turned me away... I wanted to hurt Andrew for not loving me, I wanted to kill Juliet from stealing him from me... but instead I turned and ran off the edge of the five story apartment complex....
I survived, but im not locked away in a small box room the walls, ceiling, floor, everything is paded as im strapped tight in a fireproof straitjacket.... they say im crazy... i say im unloved and hate the world for the pain its brought me....

[piggg]

I'm working on an entry right now. Great contest!

[Pollyur]

Username: Pollyur
Word Count:5260
Name of Story:Hellhounds and Witches

Part One - Dane
“There must be some mistake!”
Dane pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to stave off the building headache. This conversation was going round and round in circles. It could very well be called a waste of time, if it wasn't so important.
“I swear there's not. I'd stake my head on it,” he grit out.
“But it – it just can't be true!”
“It was there, right there in his mind. I touched it. Why can't you just take it at face value and do what you're supposed to?”
“Oh, I don't know!” was the harpy's snippy reply. “Aren't you the ones who make a living off deceiving normal folk? I know it wouldn't be the first time you pulled something.”
Dane smiled humorlessly. Of course no-one would ever let him forget that. A bad rep was harder to outlive than a nuclear bombing, even if most of it was based on embellished rumors. The world was run by fools.
Her words still stung, but not as much as they would have a couple years ago. He liked to think he was getting over it. Deep down, he knew he was just giving in to bitter resignation.
“I see my reputation precedes me.”
“Well? Are you lying?” There was a tremor in her voice. He could tell that she wanted to be lied to – to hear that everything he'd said tonight was just some elaborate plot to raise her blood pressure. Well, too bad. He was done here.
“Doesn't matter,” he muttered darkly. “You can't trust a liar.”
“Oh, for the love of – oi! Get back here and answer to me! You slimy–!”
It was easy enough to ignore her. Dane's strides were long and exasperated, eating up the distance between their shadowed corner and the rickety old door in moments. He wrenched it open and flung himself through. Her curses followed him out into the Alley.
All the while he fumed. His face was probably twisted into something hideously unfashionable, but he couldn't bring himself to care. Why should he? Personal appearance didn't mean much to him, outside of his ‘job’. Besides, no sane person would be waltzing down the streets at god-awful dark in the morning to see it. He didn't even want to be out here. And yet – and yet his own bloody conscience wouldn't leave him the hell alone!
Gods, he had tried to ignore it. He had tried reasoning it away, tried sleeping it off, and finally, when those didn't work, he’d gone with the fail-safe method of drinking himself into oblivion. He wanted to just forget about what he had seen – but no. No, nothing could ever be that simple. He really, really didn't want to get mixed up in something like this again. It was all well and good to spin a few dreams – or nightmares, or illusions, whatever his nameless clients desired – on the side. The most that would get him was a slap on the wrist.
But this – this was different. This was the sort of supernatural crap that would attract the very attention the Alley needed to avoid. If the Big People found out about it, they would take out anyone who even suspected anything, no questions asked. It left a nasty aftertaste in his mouth.
He stalked through the streets, taking a sharp turn at the main fork that led him onto older streets. The ground here was paved with cobblestones, worn smooth over time by travelers' feet. Dane avoided the shadows as best he could; his pace quickened as his building came closer.
The fear remained. Decades of hard work could come crashing down around them if that happened. They'd all worked so hard to stay off the radar, to hide in plain sight. No one wanted a repeat of the witch hunts. All supernatural activity that got leaked was hushed up. The normals were barely even aware of their existence, and Dane really wanted it to stay that way. The Alley wasn't much – hardly habitable, really – but it was the only semi-safe place for...people like him. It was home. And it would continue to be so as long as they all kept in line.
It was hard to trust anyone when the whole world screwed you over, but somehow they had united in their misery. They made truces, pooled money and resources together, took on assigned duties. The Alley sprung up on the very fringes of society, down in the gullies. It might not be the sleek, glittering towers of glass that dominated the city, but it was a thousand times more welcoming.
Maybe he was the only one who gave a care. The insufferable woman he'd spoken to tonight certainly seemed more comfortable with her head buried in the sand. Idiot. If something wasn't done soon, that upstart would neatly sign their death warrant by carrying out his crackpot plan. Demon summoning? What was he thinking?
'Then again, no-one sees what they don't want to see,' he thought sardonically. 'The blasted woman will probably ignore the 'ramblings of a madman' until it's too late to do anything with the warning.'
He hoped she drowned in her own incompetence first.
Dane's headache pressed more insistently against his skull. He gritted his teeth, fumbling for the old bronzed key to his place.
As he skulked around the hole-in-the-wall he called his apartment, his mood only grew darker. He finally settled on the thin mattress on the floor, curling onto his side and pulling a ratty blue blanket over himself, shivering slightly. Note: when you lived in a condemned building, there were no more heating systems.
Suddenly, the pain that had been building just behind his eyeballs exploded. His body clamped up like a board, every nerve seizing in silent agony. His eyes stared at the wall unseeing, illusions – visions – of chaos overwhelming his mind.
Blood, so much sickeningly-sweet coppery blood running over everything, and fire falling all around and making more fire everywhere. There was screaming all around him, so much pain and hatred and anger that it made him nauseous. His head throbbed dully from the hit he'd taken when that burly stranger had taken a swing at him. His legs hurt from running, and he couldn't see a thing in all the smoke and confusion. He couldn't find anyone even if there were people running all around, crying and yelling, and there was a strange ringing sound in his ears and he couldn't breathe, his chest was too tight, and there was so much blood, so much, too much, gods –
He trembled harshly, whimpering as the last tendrils of memory finally trailed away, dragging against his oversensitive subconscious. It hurt; less like a headache and more like someone was raking sharp fingernails over his poor, tender brain tissue.
He stumbled to his feet, grabbing at the wall for balance when his legs gave out. Eyes blurring, he let himself slide down to the floor in a crumbled heap. His hands rose to his head, clutching his hair weakly and pressing his palms into his eyes as if he could rub away the images.
If only it were that easy.
Eventually he got himself together, and went about making a cup of weak tea. The dried bunch of herbs was from Heidi, the old woman who had taught him about controlling his 'gift'. Some gift. Half the time it did more harm than good, the other half left him in a state of vulnerability. He fiercely wished he could return it. Wasn’t there some sort of arcane ritual that could banish it from whence it came? In his line of work, he’d come to believe anything was possible.
The steaming brew smelled like her, warm and calming and motherly. He would have preferred something stronger (take whiskey, for example) but he was running low on money and business was slow. Very, very slow. He was starting to wonder if he would have to do something more illegal to get by.
Sipping at his tea, he forced his tired mind to consider the current dilemma.
1. There was someone out there in the Alley – maybe a new face, or some urchin trying to prove his worth to a gang – who was dabbling in magic. The heavy kind, not just the cheap tricks that could garner a coin or two in the city. The kind that left the aftertaste of sick clinging to your tongue – black magic. Joy.
2. He had no idea what sort of ritual would be used. He had no way of combating it – let alone any knowledge of what he needed to combat it. He doubted anyone (with whom he was on speaking terms) would know either.
3. The little snot had a clear target. A man – not bad looking, really, despite the haggard cast of world-weariness to his face. Blond, dark-eyed, tall. Well, taller than Reilas…not that it was a huge feat to accomplish. Not much to go on. Except…the cloak the man wore was a distinctive red. He had recognized the place too, so there was no reason he couldn’t intercept the hit. Or something.
4. He wasn't that kind of magic-user. Hardly anyone was – which meant, as soon as this little s**t summoned the monster they were all royally screwed. And that was scheduled for…tomorrow, crap. Which brought him to:
5. There was less than a day to do anything. Whoever heard of someone winning a battle with a half-baked plot thought up as they went along? No-one, that’s who.
6. The guys in charge of protecting the Alley would never take him seriously, even if he cut off an arm to prove he wasn't lying. Gods, he was actually starting to regret his past actions. The road to hell was indeed paved with good intentions. And yet:
7. As much as it pained him, he was going to have to pull another 'little stunt'. He couldn't let the little creeper kill them all. Damn his overactive hero complex. Damn it all to hell.
8. This tea-time thing was not working. If he was going to seriously consider this suicide mission, he needed to be in the right frame of mind.
And so, Dane slid to the ground, cracked open the cupboard under the sink, and proceeded to spike his tea with liberal amounts of alcohol. He didn't know if it helped. He was passed out half-way through the second bottle.
Part 2 – Heidi
Dane was expecting it, but that didn’t make it any easier.
Hellhounds. Hellhounds, and a low-level demon in the form of a massive wolf the height of three men. He sort-of wished he wasn’t still a little bit hung-over, but what the heck. He’d probably be dead by the end of the night.
Dane had visited all the people he knew, all his friends and associates and ‘blackmailees’ – you know, the people who owed him one. His ex had been rather helpful…after a bit of convincing.
“Here. Dis is a grimoire tha’s been in my family for generations. Will ya please take that thing outta my face?” Tainus had tried for a brave front, but Dane knew what fear smelled like.
As much as he wanted to carve up the rat’s pretty-boy face, he’d decided he was too busy attempting Mission Impossible.
“Thank you. That wasn’t so hard now, was it?”
Dane had left him spluttering – in indignation or an attempt to insult him, he didn’t know or care. He had something of a plan now. The cheating sack of sighs could go hang himself.
And so, that’s how he discovered the handy little ritual that revealed what he was about to step into tonight. After coming out of his incense-induced meditation, he promptly ran outside and threw up in a dumpster. He really never wanted to meet that thing in a darkened Alley, ever – but that was exactly what he was about to do.
He spent the next five minutes hyperventilating until he slapped himself back to sanity. It actually worked. Then he decided to say his goodbyes. Quitting his job in the dingy cell his ‘psychic detective’ company called an office was especially fun. His boss may or may not have had an instant apoplexy.
Dane’s last stop had been to his mentor, and closest friend. Well, only friend, if he was being completely honest. Which she would encourage him to be but which he maintained was bad for business.
Heidi was working in her makeshift garden when he entered through the back door. She had a little business going – growing herbs and flowers in plastic or wooden boxes and selling them to others for a reasonable price. Dane never asked where she got the cuttings for her rarer plants. He honestly didn’t want to know.
“Daneylis!”
She was as old and warm and motherly as ever, crushing him in one of her suffocating hugs where his face ended up squashed into her bosom. He didn’t mind. No-one else even wanted to touch him.
Well, he could have done with another couple of inches to his name, but puberty had already come and gone and left him in the dust. Metaphorically, of course. He wasn’t that short, no matter what anyone said.
After she was done coddling him, he helped her into her living-room. It was cluttered with all manner of strange and mystical knickknacks: glass jars holding swirling power, cans of pigeon fat and rat’s eyes and what looked suspiciously like pickled sprites, hanging strings of strange herbs and dried fireberries, rag-rugs with strips of every color thrown all over place. He loved how homey it all was.
He avoided the stands with the ceremonial incense burning in carved wooden bowls. Heidi was very religious about certain things. She served them from a delicate-looking porcelain tea set. As he brought the cup to his mouth, the heady scent of brandy washed over him. He smirked.
“Why are you here now, Daneylis?” Heidi never called anyone by anything but their given names. Dane had found it frustrating once. Now it was just another quirk he loved about his Heidi. Just like her always-gruff voice and her random moments of bursting into bawdy drinking songs.
“I’m about to pit myself against a low-level demon whose breath can burn through any metal, in order to save a man I haven’t met but have briefly fantasized about,” he rushed out. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”
Heidi didn’t even bat an eyelash.
“You’re a crazy little puppy.”
He grinned self-depreciatingly. “Thank you.”
She sighed heavily, like she was trying to expel her soul, and looked even older for a minute if that was even possible. Her liver-spotted hands shook a bit as she set her cup down. The myriad of carved beads and glass baubles strung up in glittering lines overhead jingled in a slight breeze. Dane sipped delicately as she stood, wrapped her ugly purple knitted shawl properly around her shoulders, and proceeded to walk around her room squinting at things.
No matter what he said, she refused to get spectacles. She refused mirrors too, and clouted him round the head whenever he teased her about vanity.
In appearance, she was like a cute little granny who baked pies and cookies and stuff – only her cooking could probably be used as an agent of biological warfare. Her daughter did that; partly because she had a sense of self-preservation, and partly as a sort of payment for having already grown up and yet still burdening her mother with her constant presence.
“Where’s Umirea?” he enquired politely.
“Hmm!” his current host scoffed from behind a huge pile of shimmering cloth that couldn’t decide which color it wanted to be. “That brazen little hussy? What do I care! She can traipse off the edge of the rainbow following her dreamer if it pleases her!”
Heidi had never been shy with her opinions of her daughter’s drifter boyfriend. Dane couldn’t imagine what she saw in him either. He was a drunk, a liar, and a (con) artist who couldn’t hold down a job longer than three weeks. Heidi had counted, and decided to share.
Dane hummed agreeably, and continued to serenely observe Heidi as she rummaged and fretted and cursed her way through her cluttered abode. Oh, the hardships of being a packrat.
Now, don’t get him wrong. He wasn’t anywhere near the special river of denial. The reality of his death had in fact sunk in already. All he felt was a strange but welcome calm, now that he had a plan. If blowing up a street and maybe yourself and possibly a building or two just to banish a demon could be considered a plan.
Maybe brandy wasn’t strong enough, if he was having these depressing second thoughts. He eyed his empty cup speculatively, and then shook his head. He’d been led to believe that sober was always better for these kinds of meetings. Even if all he’d be meeting was death.
Ah well. He’d had a good run.
Heidi finally came back to her squishy sofa, circling around the largest of her many bubbling cauldrons, which sat in the place of honor in the middle of the room. She fidgeted, giving a satisfied hum as she sunk into a nice groove. She was holding something small and curiously shaped. It squirmed around in her withered hands. Dane, setting down his cup, leaned forward over the tiny lace-covered table to blink at the thing.
It shot out a long, green, slimy tentacle at his face.
He jerked back with a yelp. Heidi cackled. The furry little thing with the huge purple eyes yawned at him, revealing rows and rows of tiny, wickedly sharp teeth. Dane shuddered.
“What, in the names of the gods, is that?”
He did not shriek. Really.
“That – as you put it – is your get-out-of-hell free ticket. Give it some respect.” Heidi tried to be stern, but he could see the twinkle in her almond-shaped brown eyes. Evil witch.
He gave the thing a doubtful look.
“But it’s tiny.” Her expectant look didn’t change. He tried again. “What good is it against something that can cleave me in two with one bite?”
She smiled, petting the thing with long strokes. It stretched and gave a startlingly loud purr that was more suited to a truck engine. He stared in open-mouthed bewilderment.
“It’s a miniature Conemaw.”
“A what?”
She clucked disapprovingly…it was probably at his ignorance, this time.
“A species of entity-devourers. They’re bred on the Otherside for their insatiable appetite for Black Magic. They use them in faerie rings – release a few of these puppies and your opponent won’t stand a chance.”
Dane really, really didn’t want to know what Heidi was doing cavorting with faeries and their barbaric idea of sport. Ignorance was bliss.
He cleared his throat, “Go on.”
“Magic-eaters all, even this little pygmy. See these teeth? Once they sink in they never let go. You just get that mangy dog’s attention and fling it at his face. Little Cupcake will do the rest.”
Dane felt rather faint, even as he warily accepted the handful of fur. ‘Cupcake’ was surprisingly warm. Its bulbous eyes peered curiously up at him. He cracked a smile as a long, snake-like green tongue darted out and licked a wet stripe up his cheek.
He began petting, enjoying the vibrations rocking through his body as the pygmy Conemaw purred. He looked up at the tiny, pointed cough Heidi let out.
Her eyes were unusually serious, but warm and a little sad. “You be careful now. You’re the only one of my children who doesn’t stab me in the heart regularly.”
It was oddly touching. His heart was swelling with emotion and everything. Dane wasn’t even her biological son, but he knew exactly what she meant.
“Okay.”
She ‘hmph’d again, sniffing a little. For the rest of the afternoon he chatted with her about inane things, laughing at her caustic wit that transformed everything into a grand satire.
At the door, he carefully stuffed a cheeping Cupcake into the leather pouch Heidi gave him for just that purpose. It was worn around his waist and blended rather nicely with his current outfit. He’d tried for the ‘casual warrior hero about to sacrifice his life in a big way’ look. He’d even tied his dark, unruly hair back in a short ponytail.
Heidi’s last hug was especially fierce and long. Dane clung on, unwilling to let go either. Reality was kicking in again, like the perfect cure for sobriety. They pulled apart reluctantly, and she chucked him under his chin with her gnarled fist.
“Cheer up, puppy. Those pretty green eyes were made for seducing the innocent – none of this ‘suspiciously wet’ stuff! Only the best get killed, anyway.”
He snorted wetly, a little embarrassed but mostly cheering up reluctantly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” she stressed, injecting a little pretend-sternness into her voice, “that you’d better not forget to pick up that package at Yarsuley’s on your way back here. I’m warning you! I’ve got important plans for that.”
He grinned in spite of himself.
“Sure.” He hopped onto the pavement and began walking. He’d perfected his stride to cover as much ground as possible while seeming not to put much effort into it.
“Oh, and Daneylis?”
Dane felt shivers down his spine at the sing-song tone. He turned around reluctantly.
“Yes?”
Heidi’s smile looked very predatory.
“You owe me.”
He nodded mutely, eyes wide, then turned around and power-walked the hell out of there.
Part 3 - Reilas
Evening crept in early with the mist. The sky was clean and cold, an industrious slate grey backdrop to the old buildings with their tottering stone walls. Everything looked washed out, and rather hard.
Reilas snorted. Well, the world was a hard place.
He kept up a brisk pace, drawing his coat tighter to ward off the chill. The brilliant red had darkened over time, though the protective runes around the hems still shone golden. He always remembered it as the greatest gift: his Trainer shucking it from his broad shoulders and draping it around his own, declaring the pride he felt for his ward when he passed the Quest and became a man. The faint scent of cinnamon and mage-wis still clung to it, drudging up memories. He smiled a cynical little smile. Miorian had been his confidant, his anchor, the only one he trusted. He might have been his Chosen, one day.
And perhaps the feelings were mutual, because Miorian had died for him. It was a bittersweet thought.
The daytime sounds had died off completely by the time Reilas made it to the outskirts; no-one called from the market, or drove their wagons, or tittered on the sidewalks. It was quiet – eerily so. The only sound was of his boots slapping against the pavement. Not even the crickets stirred, here in the city.
And yet...
He shivered again. The sparse blond hair at the back of his neck stood on end. There was someone else here. They had followed him from the gutters near the factory, if not from the factory itself.
Reilas knew what it was to be the center of intense scrutiny, to feel like prey. Someone was definitely out for him. Or, from the way his nerves all twisted and sparked together, maybe it was something. Something without a human conscience, with no power to reason beyond what it took to survive. Something with hot, rancid breath and malevolent eyes that stayed trained directly between his tensed shoulders.
Suddenly, he pulled up short. Here was the mouth of an alleyway. It was a short cut – but the shadows here were longer, deeper. It wouldn't take much for these...creatures to overwhelm him. He was unarmed, just as They wanted it. He was soft too, just an Old Soul bound to the delicate body of a human.
The streetlamps all along the street began to flicker. The feeling of imminent doom drew closer.
“Well,” he muttered, rocking on his heels and squinting down the narrow street, “there's no use dithering like a coward. Are you a man or no?”
With a deep breath, he squared his shoulders and entered the alley. There was a sound like mocking growls on the wind, almost silent. Reilas might have missed it, but he had been trained by the best; and Reilas had no doubts as to what would happen if he ever let a little carelessness do him in. Man or no, Miorian would hunt him down and tan his hide in the Afterdark...or the Gardens of the Goddess, if his soul was worth that much after all he had done.
Thoughts like that strangely buoyed his spirits, no matter the chills racing up and down his spine as the shadows thickened. His stomach flipped as they began to crowd around him, snarling and writhing at his feet. But he knew enough to know that these were the small fry. Something bigger was coming, stalking closer with every moment he wasted.
‘Who’s afraid of the big bad wolf?’ the thought drifted across his mind in an inhuman snarl. It felt feral, rabid, absolutely grimy and disgusting.
Reilas curled his lip, and spread his arms wide. The magic rushed through him like a stream of warmth, quivering in his belly before spreading out and jumping to his fingertips. The blue mage-fire trembled in his palms; warm and caressing, it was always so eager. After all, he reflected bitterly, it was the only spell he could manage in this body.
“Get!” he spat viciously as he flung his handful of tiny flames at the creatures. Immediately the riot of screeching and howling started up in his mind as the shadow-walkers sped away from the light. Reilas winced. It was bloody annoying.
But of course they didn't leave. They never would, not until Reilas lay in pieces. They were conjured especially for him, ripped from the planes of the demons and fed on the scent of his blood. That was really the only way they could keep tracking him from place to place, city to city.
His mouth drew tight. What were They thinking? Were they so desperate to bury their secrets with him that they would turn to Dark Magic? The fools!
The mage-lights bobbled and winked, illuminating the alley in strange blue light. Almost subconsciously, he kept them afloat in a circle around him. It was still easy, after all this time. The blasted shadow hounds panted after him, darting from shadow to shadow as his stride came closer to running.
It made him uneasy. Was he not the Hunter? He didn't like this kind of role-reversal.
His breath grew more ragged as the stitch in his side made itself known. In the odd light, he stumbled more than once over the oddly placed stones. He passed many boarded-up windows, and doors with paint so old that the battered wood showed through the strips.
'Just a bit further,' he thought fervently. 'Almost...there!'
With a twist of the mouth that could be a smile, Reilas trained his eyes on the opening of the alleyway. A clutter of apartments, mostly abandoned and drafty, all stood leaning on each other for support. The Lot was a rather sorry place, but it was what he called home.
Without warning, his arms cramped painfully. His mage-lights began to flicker out one by one, sending an uncomfortable jolt of fear through him. The shadows circled, screeching to each other, before falling silent in expectation. There was a bone-jarring growl of primal pleasure, deeper and darker and blacker than any of the others.
Reilas began to run.
Part 4 – The Alley
Dane was late, and he knew it. But maybe that was a good thing.
The blond man was running directly toward him, dark blue eyes panicked. In a moment, he grabbed onto one crimson sleeve and tugged him into the side alley he was hiding out in. Their eyes met, and he smiled.
Reilas smiled back involuntarily. He didn’t know this man, but his aura was incredibly claming. And warm – they were much to close. He didn’t care.
“Stand back.”
He obeyed the whisper without even thinking about it. He wondered fuzzily if he’d reverted back to ‘follow order’ mode.
Dane stepped more fully out of the tiny space, and immediately quailed. There was a humongous wolf before him. It was way bigger than his head, glaring at him with fiery red eyes and swathed in shadows that seemed to dance threateningly.
The creature growled, leering at him with its bared teeth, slobber dribbling from its lips in great rivers. It smelled absolutely horrid, worse than a three week old corpse (and he really didn’t need to remember than right now). Dane’s eyes were already stinging and blurry with tears.
He reached slowly for the pouch with the Conemaw, flinching a little when the beast started bearing on him with those teeth. He waited until the thing was right in his face, counting down to one in his mind.
Okay, so he skipped a few numbers, but adrenaline made him fling the fluffy little thing into the demon’s face.
And then all hell broke loose.
Dane had never heard such an agonizing screeching and wailing and howling in his life. The shadows practically exploded right there in the alley, trying to go every which way; the demon was doing gymnastics to try and get cupcake off its face, ripping out chunks of wall and its own flesh in the effort. Violent red energy was rapidly being pulled out of the hulking mass of dog breath, and it illuminated the tiny ball of fluff that seemed to swell with every suck.
Cupcake was having the time of its life.
Dane backed away, shutting his jaw with a snap and swearing never to get on Heidi’s bad side.
A stifled gasp had him spinning around to face the man he’d ‘rescued’. He was much nicer up close, what with the wide eyes and well-bitten lips. Flushed was a good look for him.
“What’s your name?”
Reilas finally tore his eyes away from the spectacle before him.
“What?”
“Your name? I’m Dane, by the way.”
Reilas frowned. “Why do you want to know?”
This ‘Dane’ eyed him like he’d just admitted to having summoned the demon himself to take it for a walk.
“I rescued you. It’s practically my right.”
“If you bothered to rescue me, shouldn’t you already know my name?”
It was fascinating to watch the blush crawl up the pale man’s cheeks. He looked grumpy. Reilas decided to throw him a bone.
“I’m Reilas? Do you make it a habit of saving total strangers?”
Dane opened his mouth, paused to consider the time he’d tried to save that one guy and messed up his entire reputation, and then just nodded his head with a sigh.
“Pretty much.”
Reilas smirked.
“Well, do you want to get out of here?” Dane asked, brushing off his clothes self-consciously and avoiding his eyes. Reilas shrugged.
“Where will you take me?”
Dane had a pretty good answer to that.
Heidi was a good sport about these things. Harboring fugitives was practically in her job description. Not that Dane was supposed to know that.
“Well,” he answered slowly, “you’re probably still on someone’s hit list – who’d you piss off that badly anyway? – so I’d recommend you hide out with me for a while.”
Reilas smiled. “Alright.”

[EuphoricUnderworld]

I thought winners were going to be announced the 25th?