Writober Part 4

An elbow to the face and a knee to the stomach later, the mystery man had the Hunter on the ground. Violet franticly tried to free herself, as the man ran over to her side of the car. It was too late; there was no way for her to escape. He jerked open the door and she instinctively jumped back—until his eyes caught hers. They were green, kind and gentle, not the harsh glare she was expecting from someone so strong. His hair was blond and hung lose by his ears.

He immediately went to work on undoing her bonds.

Violet felt immediately drawn to him; all fear of him had vanished. “What’s your name?” She said.

“We have to hurry. He won’t be down for long, and we need to get outside his radius,” he said.

“What?”

By now he had freed her and was helping her out of the car. He grabbed her hand and together they ran away from the road and into the trees beyond.

Looking down, green flames engulfed their entwined figures, but her skin was not burned.

“You’re a…”

“Yep. Name’s Ryan. Nice to meet you, Violet.”

[hr]

For the month of October, I’ve joined a writing challenge called Writober. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, we write something and send it to the entire group.For Writober, I’ll be continuing the series I’ve started about a tough pyro named, Violet Blair.

Need to catch up on the story? You can read earlier Writober posts, or you can read Violet Blair’s entire story.

Writober Part 3

The sun started peaking over the horizon and a dense fog covered the ground as Violet and the Hunter drove farther away from civilization.

“And when, over the course of your quest, did you become aware you were no longer the one doing the hunting?” He asked.

Violet noticed how engrossed he was in what she was saying. Maybe if she kept his attention, if she got him to care, he would sympathize with her. Maybe he wouldn’t turn her in.

“I realized it about five hours outside Chicago. I kept seeing your blasted hat everywhere. You must not be as sneaky as you thought.”

“Or you’re not as smart as you thought. Did it ever occur to you that I wanted you to know I was chasing you?”

“Why? Because running would distract me from going after the people you work for?”

The Hunter didn’t respond. That would be a yes, Violet thought.

“Who do you work for, by the way?”

Violet barely got the question out when a green burst of light ignited in the middle of the road twenty feet ahead. The Hunter hit the brakes, slamming Violet against her belt. The green light vanished. Only a man was left standing in the middle of the road, staring directly into the Hunter’s eyes. The Hunter opened the car door and strode toward him. Violet had a feeling the two of them had met.

Violet thought for sure the man would be knocked out by one punch, but he grabbed the Hunter’s fist mid-swing and overpowered him. Whoever this mystery man was, he was stronger than the Hunter. Impressive.

Should that comfort or terrify me?

[hr]

For the month of October, I’ve joined a writing challenge called Writober. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, we write something and send it to the entire group.For Writober, I’ll be continuing the series I’ve started about a tough pyro named, Violet Blair.

Need to catch up on the story? You can read earlier Writober posts, or you can read Violet Blair’s entire story.

Writober Part 2

“…So the next thing I know, my hands are on fire and the school is burning down. That’s when I first realized what I was. After that, some guy, presumably from the same people you work for, kidnapped me and tried to push me off the top of an industrial building. Although, he didn’t expect I’d be able to land easily on my feet. Even I didn’t know I could do it. The whole mutant thing was still new to me.”

Violet broke from her story to look over at the Hunter, who seemed unusually interested in what she was saying. Every so often he would glance over at her from under the broad rim of his hat.

“So that was when you went on the run,” he prodded.

“Almost. I tried to get my boyfriend to come with me, but shooting fire out of your hands has a way of scaring people off. So I went after your employers alone.”

Violet looked out her window. The glass was speckled with raindrops, and the black sky was barely starting to lighten. They had been driving all night.

“So you showed your boyfriend your power?”

“Yeah, at his house, why?”

“I’ll let you in on a secret…that’s how I traced you. Every time a pyro uses their ability, tiny micro-embers the same color as their fire are left behind, if you know what to look for.”

“Wait, there are others out there like me?”

“Yes, each one has a specific color flame. Yours, indigo. I’ve met one who had green flames. He’s the only one who managed to escape.”

“What happened to the others you’ve hunted?”

“Long dead by now.”

[hr]

For the month of October, I’ve joined a writing challenge called Writober. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, we write something and send it to the entire group.For Writober, I’ll be continuing the series I’ve started about a tough pyro named, Violet Blair.

Need to catch up on the story? You can read earlier Writober posts, or you can read Violet Blair’s entire story.

Writober Part 1

“Enough of this. Start talking,” the Hunter said with a growl in his voice.

“Or what? You already have me in custody,” Violet Blair said, looking over at him from the passenger seat. Her wrists were tied and bound to the door. This can’t be safe, she thought.

Without a word, the Hunter reached over from the driver’s side and grabbed her arm.

“What are you…oww that burns!” Violet watched his hand turn a searing red.

“That,” the Hunter said, “is what it feels like to have your own power used against you.”

Tears blurred her vision as she cried out in pain. “Please, stop.”

“Not only can I quench your abilities, but I can borrow them, as long as you’re in close proximity.”

The Hunter removed his hand, leaving a white hot mark in its place.

“What do you want from me?”

“We have a long drive ahead of us. Tell me how you became what you are. Tell me how you came to be trapped in a car with me, on our way to your end.”

[hr]

For the month of October, I’ve joined a writing challenge called Writober. Every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, we write something and send it to the entire group. For Writober, I’ll be continuing the series I’ve started about a tough pyro named, Violet Blair.

Friday Night Write – Slow Turning

Violet snuck through the back door of a bar at the outskirts of a small Alabama town. The place looked like it could have once been a barn; there were still remnants of hay sprinkled outside. From the dark hallway by the restrooms, she could hear the muffled sound of upbeat music and shuffling feet. Peaking around the corner, at least thirty people were crammed on the floor dancing and swinging to an old song she didn’t recognize. The crowd was dressed in jeans and casual shirts, and nearly everyone wore cowboy boots. Shouts, laughter, and the occasional, yeehaw filled the barn-like atmosphere.

She had been on the run for months, and she just needed a place to lay low for a while. She would definitely not blend in here. She would draw far too much attention with her leather jacket, black hair, and studded wrist cuffs. She slowly backed up, hoping to sneak out the way she came, but her escape was hindered by an immovable object standing right behind her. Violet gasped as she turned and saw the one face she prayed she would never see again.

“You,” Violet whispered. The man grabbed her by the arms, rooting her in place.

“Did you think you could outrun me forever?” His sly voice said quietly, trying to keep their conversation from being overheard by the occasional passerby. He was tall with a slender face, dressed in a trench coat, the brim of his hat hiding his eyes.

“The thought crossed my mind.”

“Your feeble attempts to hurt them have caused no more damage than a fly buzzing around your face—a little annoying, but nothing a little swat won’t cure.”

“Then why have you been hunting me so tirelessly if I didn’t hit a nerve? They’re scared.”

“Hardly.”

“Admit it!” Violet yelled.

The man gave her a hard shake and lowered his face so he could look right in her eyes. “Enough! You’re coming with me. If I weren’t under strict orders to bring you back alive, I would dispose of you myself. But my employers want to poke and prod before ending you.”

“What do they want with me?”

“I’ll just say that they have an obsession, of sorts, with studying and then riding the world of mutants like you.

Fury bubbled beneath her skin as the familiar burning ran through her entire body, and congregated in her arms right where his hands gripped her. She was ready to release her deadly fire, ending the pyro-hunter’s life for good, but the flame no more than sparked when it was immediately snuffed out with a puff of smoke.

“What the heck?”

“Did I forget to mention…” the hunter said with a grin, “that I have my own unique abilities? Except mine is that I can reverse the effects of other mutants’ powers. So as long as you’re with me, no more flames…”

Violet gulped as he led her out the back door and into the dark night.

[hr]

This is my entry into the Friday Night Write weekly challenge at Sweet Banana Ink.

The Challenge:

  • 1 Song (this week’s song was Slow Turning by John Hiatt)
  • 60 Hours (Friday @ noon to Sunday @ midnight EST)
  • 500 Words

This is part of a series I’m writing. You can read more about Violet Blair here.

Five Sentence Fiction – Night

Russell kneeled and examined the floor of the house for evidence that his target had been there.

If you knew what to look for, pyros left a mark every time they used their powers: glowing micro-embers only visible at night.

Each pyro had a distinct color of flames and embers; in this case, indigo.

Burning indigo flecks were everywhere—on the walls, floor, even the ceiling fan.

Violet had been there, alright, and this hunter was one step closer to finding her.

~

Check out the Five Sentence Fiction weekly challenge created by Lillie McFerrin.

This is part of a series I’m writing. You can read more about Violet here.

Five Sentence Fiction – Distance

“You’re a… pyro…” Chris said in horror as he jumped back, putting distance between himself and Violet.

Violet again ignited the indigo flames in her hand as blue and purple light flickered and reflected off their faces.

“I need your help,” Violet said, pleading with the young man who had claimed to love her only days prior.

“This is too bizarre; I’ll keep your secret but I can’t go with you.”

Violet nodded as she walked out into the rain, distancing herself from everything that was once her life.

~

Check out the Five Sentence Fiction weekly challenge created by Lillie McFerrin.

This is part of a series I’m writing, you can read more about Violet here.

Five Sentence Fiction – Perseverance

My name is Violet Blair, and this is my story: a man from some secret agency just tried to kill me by throwing me off a building, but I landed perfectly on my feet.

He fed me some crock story about his brother’s death being my fault, but I don’t buy it.

They’re after me because I can create fire with my mind; in fact, I nearly burned down my school.

People don’t like what they can’t control—that is why they will never stop hunting me, and why I must fight back and endure.

My name is Violet Blair, I am a pyro, and I am coming for you.

[hr]

Check out the Five Sentence Fiction weekly challenge created by Lillie McFerrin.

This is part of a series that you can read here.

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Menage Monday # 40

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I wake up, lying on my stomach. The first thing I see are trees probably fifty stories below me. My stomach drops as I instinctively jump back to a safe distance.

“So nice of you to join me,” a scruffy voice says behind me. I flip around to see a man, late thirties, leaning against a metal post.

“Where are we?”

“Power plant.”

“Who are you?”

“The who is not important. It’s the why.”

“Okay…why—”

“Why did I bring you here? Well, Violet, I’m thrilled you asked. I saw your little pyrotechnic display at your school.”

“How long have I been up here?”

“Ten days. Once your hands started glowing I thought you were going to pass out. Then fire started shooting out of them. It wasn’t until after the explosion that you lost consciousness. I can’t believe you survived. But you know who didn’t? My brother, you filthy mutant.”

He backs me up to the ledge. “Survive this,” he says as he throws me over.

I scream, fully expecting to splat against the ground. But somehow I land gently on my feet.

Wow! I wonder what other neat tricks I can do…

~

This was written for the Menage Monday challenge at caramichaels.com

Rules:

100-200 word story based on 3 prompts:

The Photo

The Phrase: “survive this” must appear somewhere in the story

The Judge’s Prompt: scenario: you woke up…ten days later. What do you do? What do you remember? Where are you? How do you piece everything together?