Tag Archive for: fiction

Writober Part 2

/in , , /by

“…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.

Lascaux Flash Contest Entry – The Light

/2 Comments/in , /by

I recently entered the Lascaux Flash Fiction contest. The rules were to write a 250 word story inspired by the picture provided. I didn’t win, but I had a lot of fun writing the story.

For those of you following Rowland and Eliza, this will loosely tie in to their story, see if you can pick up the connection!

So here is The Light

[hr]

“What happened?” I say, turning to look at the passenger seat. “Dom?”

I try to see through the windshield, but the glass is shattered. I can only make out fragments of colors and faint lights in the distance. Stumbling out, I find Dom lying in the gravel, covered in blood.

“Lisa, are you okay?” He coughs and more blood sprays from his mouth.

“I’m fine,” I say, holding back tears.  My head’s spinning and my thoughts come in fragments: Must have been an accident….thrown from the car…coughing up blood’s never good…

“And the baby?”

I look down and touch my stomach, feeling a kick. “She’s okay too.”

Dom nods. I choke back sobs as he loses consciousness. He can’t die; I won’t let him.

I never told Dom what I can do—how through a simple touch I can affect a person’s mood. It’s an ability I inherited from my dad. But if I can alter someone’s mind, who is to say I can’t alter their body? Who is to say I can’t save my unborn child’s father?

I put my hands on his wounds and close my eyes. “Please, this has to work.”

Tears flow freely now, splashing onto Dom’s blood-stained shirt. I look down and gasp. Gold light is streaming from my hands…

…And my stomach. Could my baby have the ability too?

Seconds creep like hours, until I’m drawn back to the present by my dear Love’s voice, “Honey, is there something you want to tell me?”

Writober Part 1

/2 Comments/in , , /by

“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

/in , , /by

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 – Memories

/3 Comments/in , , /by

It was time—time to say goodbye to everything she loved, to everyone she knew, to every memory she ever held dear.

She had discovered too much, and now he was hunting her—the epitome of evil wrapped in human flesh.

Her only option for survival was to run, hide, forget all she knew, and hope he would never find her.

She took a deep breath as her savior, a man known as G, hooked her up to the machine that would take her memories.

Whispering her final goodbye, she closed her eyes, and waited for the moment she could reopen them to her new life.

[hr]

I wrote this to tie into my first novel, No Exit (more details on that coming soon.) So this is a little teaser for you.

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

Five Sentence Fiction – Blush

/1 Comment/in , , /by

“You’ve been ignoring me for months, are you ever going to tell me what’s going on,” Eliza said after cornering Rowland.

“Ignore you… I could never ignore you, love.”

Eliza tried to keep up her furious facade, but her blushing cheeks betrayed her.

“You can’t keep leaving me in the dark like this; talk to me.”

“You remember Vick, the one who tried to kill you… well, he has a group of followers intent on fulfilling his mission.”

[hr]

This is a previous FSF prompt that I haven’t had a chance to post until now. Better late than never.

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

This story is part of a series, The Transformation. You can read the rest of the story here.

Friday Night Write – St. Theresa

/1 Comment/in , , /by

20120903-114211.jpg

Julia sat on the windowsill in Carlo’s bedroom, gazing at the sparkling night skyline of New York City.
Carlo was asleep in his bed, unaware that she was there, or even alive.

He had fallen for the same rouse his former boss had. But that was the whole point, wasn’t it? Make them think she was dead, Carlo gets free from his life as an assassin, and everyone goes their merry way.

She had help from a man known as G. G had a professional interest in Carlo, and Julia needed G’s help. She assured G that Carlo would do anything to get revenge once she was “gone,” and G would have no problem recruiting him. And so their little alliance was formed. G supplied the drugs to slow her heart, the bullet proof vest, even fake blood to make it look like she had been shot. G could not understand why she would risk them shooting her in the head instead if the chest. But that’s love; sometimes you have to risk everything for that one person who becomes your entire world.

G paid off the coroner to lie on her death certificate, and then gathered her unconscious body before they buried her casket. As long as no one dug up her empty grave, everything would be fine.

Julia had to wait until she knew it was safe before confronting Carlo. She couldn’t do it yet because her “killers” might still be watching him. But she could not bear to see him in pain any longer. She had to at least let him know she was alive. That was why she visited him the other night, and why she was here now.

But the moon was high in the sky and she would need to leave soon. The thought sunk daggers in her chest. Reluctantly rising from her post by the window, she walked to his bed and watched her love sleeping peacefully. She desperately longed to hold him again–if just for a moment.

“Soon,” she quietly promised him–and herself.

Julia turned to his nightstand and re-read the letter he had so eloquently penned.

“I love you too,” she whispered as she wrote those eternal words at the bottom of the page.

~

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

The Challenge:

  • 1 Song (this week’s song is St. Theresa by Joan Osborne)
  • 60 Hours (Friday @ noon to Sunday @ midnight EST)
  • 500 Words

This is part of a series I’m writing. You can read the rest of Carlo’s Story here.

christinakrieger.com

BlogFlash 2012 Day Thirty: Winning

/5 Comments/in , , /by

11:45. Decision time.

Rowland and Eliza, having finished the final dance of the evening, headed down to the garden behind the estate. She held his hand, afraid to let him go, even for an instant. Could she really turn her back on what she was? It’s not like there was a master UNDO button she could hit if she changed her mind. But she couldn’t live without him either.

Rowland stopped in a secluded area, behind a towering tree.

Eliza could see tears in his eyes, evidence of his fear that she would say no.

And she almost did.

“Please. Come with me,” he said.

How could she throw away someone so beautiful. Someone who had altered her life in such a drastic way. Of all the men out there, she had been blessed enough to win him. If she let him go now, she would regret it for the rest of her life.

Smiling, she said, “Yes. I’ll come with you.”

Gold sparks swirled around them, and Eliza’s body tingled as the transformation started to take hold.

~

This concludes the prequel to The Transformation. It has been a blast for me to expand on a story that started as a little entry into a contest. At the time, I had no idea it would turn into this! I’m so glad you all enjoyed it!

The original story and this last scene of the prequel overlap, although each has its own special set of details.

If you need to catch up on previous installments, you can read them here, or you can continue the story with The Transformation.

BlogFlash 2012 Day Twenty-Nine: Masquerade

/6 Comments/in , , /by

“You look beautiful,” Rowland said, kissing the top of her hand.

“Thanks,” Eliza blushed as they walked up the steps to the Barton Estate.

Mr. Barton was holding another one of his parties–a masquerade this time. Rowland told her this was his last night here. He would be leaving at midnight for his world. But Eliza still hadn’t made up her mind whether or not she would go with him.

Rowland looked dashing, as always. He wore a tux with a black mask covering his face. Eliza had taken her outfit one step further: a sparkling white dress, mask of course, and a pearly pair of fake wings extending from her back.

“They suit you nicely,” he said with a mischievous smile.

Eliza nodded, trying not to look at the clock counting down.

~

BlogFlash 2012 is a 30 Day challenge to write a 50-100 word post each day based on that day’s prompt. All my posts will be linked as a continuous story, a prequel to a series I’ve been writing.

Be sure to check out Terri Long’s BlogFlash 2012!

Need to catch up on the story? All my BlogFlash entries are here, or you can read the original story, The Transformation.

BlogFlash 2012 Day Twenty-Eight: F.R.O.G.

/5 Comments/in , , /by

“I think now’s as good a time as any to explain about the others like Vick,” Eliza said.

“Right. Vick. There have been others like him in the past. They are a rare breed, not many have encountered them. They were once faeries, just like me, who believed in what was right. But they turned. Fighting against the very good they swore to uphold. As a result, their skin, wings, eyes, even their light turned dark.

“Most of them hold to a very old-fashioned view that faeries are the superior beings. All else, humans namely, are lesser and unimportant. That is why Vick was so bent on keeping us apart. He knew you had the ability to cross over into our world and turn faery. Drove him mad. We have a name for faeries like him. F.R.O.G.”

“Frog?”

“Faeries Relinquishing Our Goodness. Kind of a silly acronym, if you ask me, but that’s what they’re called.”

“Will more try to kill me?”

“In the future, I’m not sure. But Vick acted alone. For now, you’re safe.”

~

BlogFlash 2012 is a 30 Day challenge to write a 50-100 word post each day based on that day’s prompt. All my posts will be linked as a continuous story, a prequel to a series I’ve been writing.

Be sure to check out Terri Long’s BlogFlash 2012!

Need to catch up on the story? All my BlogFlash entries are here, or you can read the original story, The Transformation.