It was a quick break, clean and bloodless, mostly. A small trickle dripped out of the corner of the boy’s mouth, collecting in a small puddle on the white sand. She moved close to his head, squatting in the moonlight, and realized that the blood didn’t look red at all. She thought she had really loved this one, trusted him. He was so handsome and smart, and possessed most of the qualities she desired. This one had had great potential, but he started asking all the wrong questions, and in the end she had to dispose of him too. He was already number six, and she wondered how long it was going to take before she found her match. She leaned over and kissed his forehead, his eyes, his nose and finally his mouth, still warm but unmoving under her own.

 

Waves crashed on the shore behind her. She turned, facing the water standing tall and terrifying on the sand, waiting. Her toes dug into the soft powder and a whisper of a breeze swirled her shift lazily around her slight frame. The waiting didn’t bother her, nor did the body lying at her feet. Both were incontrovertibly a part of her life in that moment so she would breathe, and just be.

 

In the far distance, across the inky water, an orange light popped into existence. She reached into the air in front of her and summoned a light, pale blue and warm. The orange light blinked in response to her light and began moving toward her across the water. She looked down once more at the beautiful boy and regretted that he hadn’t been stronger. Regret was something she was forbidden to feel, but after so many attempts at finding her match, she began to feel as if there might be something wrong with her instead. The orange light reached her, encompassed her, and she was drifting within the light, over the water away from the boy. She looked back just as a large wave washed over the boy’s body, dragging it into its cold depths. She closed her eyes and succumbed to the music in her mind, lulling her into the sleep that would take her home. She would start over again, and this time get things right. She was, after all, running out of time. 

Sabrina - youth (somewhere 12 to 15 yrs old)

(This should be read while listening to the song "Flightless Bird and American Mouth" by Iron & Wine. I was listening to that song when I wrote this.)

The room was vast, lit only by the soft amber light of thick candles that had been burning for hours. The late night gave the room a somber heavy feeling - as if the bustle of the dance had been a heavy burden, gratefully cast aside.
She entered slowly. Her bare feet making soft padding noises on the smooth wood floor. This room always held her in awe. The Grand Ballroom. Stately windows on all sides, exquisitely draped curtains framing them like antique edging around faded photographs.
She inhaled deeply. The smell of the room was her favorite smell - candle wax, perfume, food, people, early spring....
She quickly moved into the center of the room, claiming her place for the dance. Her Dance. The dance of her heart.
She only heard the music when she was alone. The room only sang to her when it was empty.
She raised her arms as if to embrace a partner. Slowly stepping in time to the music of the room she moved carefully, confidently through the space with the silent invisible partner that always waited for her. It was her companion, her friend. They had talked many times in this way - her bare feet on the floor, the music of the silent room beating through her veins. They told each other their secrets, shared each others joys, comforted their sorrows. She didn't know who she was without this. The room never sang to anyone but her. And she never wanted to hear another song.

Elementals

• Water Beasts - can assume human shape convincincly enough to decieve TruthSpeakers. Can only maintain the form for the duration of the assigned task. Do not exist independently outside of 2nd party creation. Are sentitent of themselves once created. Creater must be very careful when programming the task, as water beasts have been know to interpert instructions....creatively.
• Earth Creatures - can assume shapes somewhat resembling insects. Good at completing manual/ dexterous tasks, generally used for infiltrate or seek and destroy or information collecting missions. Easiest to recognize and easiest to defeat. 'Life span' not limited, can remain and be 'in service' for decades - but the bodies are fragile - once critically broken they turn into dust.
  
• Wind Animals - always assume the shape of an animal - are very frail and ethereal - behave very much like animals, can't talk, used as distractions, used as trail markers, send messages long distances (can carry light objects like letters...)
• Fire Demons - are very small - only a few inches - they burrow into the living heart of people (and animals), they can stay indefinitely. Once introduced into someone's heart it is very painful and usually lethal for them to leave. Not sure what their effect or uses are...this requires more deliberation. Fire Demons are VERY difficult to create and require insane amounts of heat and concentration. They are incredibly rare - only a handful have ever been known to exist. Once created they last forever. When their 'host' dies they completely consume the body. The ashes harden and form a shell that the fire demon lives in until they are introduced into a new host....
• Creators - elementals are not created by magic. It is a scientific process and the creators are scientists - scientists that have a deep, profound connection with the Earth and space and matter. It takes a heavy toll on the scientists to create elementals - most often the scientist loses part of the 'order' that binds them as a being (the part that holds their atoms together) ...something about the energy of the human consiousness is what makes elementals possible. Scientists usually start to lose their sanity the more elementals they create - this happens as their body, life force, personal glue, starts to dissolve.
• Truth Speakers - (John/ Jack) They are trained to identify the truth of all situations. A high price is paid to become one - a 'truther' has to give up all personal relationsips with people, animals, things, places - truth cannot be first if anything else is planted in a truther's heart that could influence his persecption or motivation. They must be completely objective. They are the highest authority in the justice system. Spend decades becoming a Truth Speaker - study history, human nature, philosophy, economics, etc... Don't know if there is an acutal physical change when they become a truther or not.....still human or more than human.....
  

The Fellowship ( a very brief introduction)

Along the western wall of the Manor a handful of tall arched windows punctuated the darkness with cold florescent light. From the darkness Eliza kept a close eye on window seventeen. This was where the girl was located according to Trapper’s reconnaissance. The girl in the room had been in the manor for six days and Eliza was worried it might already be too late for a rescue. She had seen some of the effects of long exposure to Jack Lambeo’s cruel rehabilitation program. It was not a pretty sight. The last attempt to extract a subject from Rhybook Manor had been fatal, not only for the subject, but for two of their fellowship as well. Jani, the fellowship leader, was wary to accept this new mission to the Manor, but the dividends would be astronomical if everything worked out. Eliza knew she was the best pick for the job, but her racing heart betrayed her increasing fear.

Eliza’s best friend, Trapper McKinnery, had been her recruiter into the fellowship. They met in her first year of college and were practically inseparable. Trapper was a devoted friend and confidant, but there was always something he had kept hidden from her, something that would make his eyes burn like fire. When this happened she would grow anxious and excited all in the same moment. She never questioned him about it even though she yearned so desperately to know his secret. He appreciated her respectfulness, and his trust in her grew rapidly. Now here she was, three years later heading up her most dangerous mission to date for the fellowship and her heartbeat was betraying her.

“Eliza, calm down. Have you seen any change in the room so far?” Trappers voice flowed smoothly through the implant in her ear.

She took a deep breath and focused on her heartbeat. “I will be calm.” She thought.

“Trapper,” she whispered softly, knowing he would hear her clearly, “ I saw two figures enter the room two minutes ago. I am sure Jack is in there, but there is another…” here she paused to find the words to describe the other figure, “…another being in there too. It is shaped like a human, and I don’t think Jack knows what it is yet either.”

“Hold steady for now Eliza. We just received some intel that is a little disturbing.” Trapper’s words were very precise but Eliza could feel the undercurrent of concern flowing through them. “It seems there has been some activity in this area by more than one elemental. Jani is having second thoughts about sending you in there.”

Eliza’s heart sank. She didn’t want to be pulled off this mission on account of a pair of meddling Elementals. All her life she sensed there was more around her than what she could see with her naked eyes. When she joined the fellowship, her eyes had been opened, and her feelings were confirmed. She lived amongst a myriad of creatures and beings existing only a slight shift of focus away. Elementals were less dangerous than some of the creatures she had been learning about, but they still required a healthy dose of caution. Two Elementals couldn’t be so dangerous. She glanced up at the window again and noticed the light had finally been switched off. It was now or never. She sucked in a deep breath of air and hailed Trapper on her secure line.

“Trapper.” She whispered.

“Yes.”

“Tell Jani I am going in.”

“WHAT?” His voice was loud and clanged sharply inside her head. He sounded alarmed and she could hear him rummaging around for something.

“I have to go in now. I can’t wait around for clearance. I know we will be too late if I don’t go now.” She felt certain this was true. Something had lined up inside her head when the lights went out and she knew exactly what to do.

“I have to turn this thing off or I will be caught. I will see you at the rendezvous point.” With that she pushed a button behind her earlobe and silence enveloped her completely

Outside the Door

Ansel made very particular note of the door and its number as he pulled it closed. He kept his hand on the knob until he heard the secure click and hum of the lock sliding into place and the electric security device activating.
His face carried a sour and perplexed expression as he turned away and walked down the hall, falling into step with John. He was sure he had recalibrated the sleep meds for this room .
"Why again?" he murmered quietly to himself, involuntarily wiping his moist mouth with the back of his hand.
"What?" snapped John, irritably next to him. John had also been pondering on the peculiar circumstances surrounding the continuing difficulties with this patient. He was not pleased with the implications.
"Nothing," Ansel sulked. " I was just thinking....I am sure I recalibrated the mechanism for this room days ago."
"Yes" John replied, "I know you did. I watch everything regarding this room very closely. I would not have allowed any negligence or forgetfulness to occur. Yet, somehow, these.....inconveniences....continue. I watched you work on the machine. Everything you did appeared to be in accordance with the task you were instructed to perform. Yet, still......"
John stopped walking and turned to face Ansel.
"I am trained to detect deceit in all forms. No one can lie to me - either through words or actions. But you..., you performed a task completely intended to deceive, and I failed to recognize it." He paused, again considering the form before him. "The how, however, pales when I stop to consider the why."

Ansel's surprise was palpable. He stopped at John's words, stunned by his accusation. He left his mouth gaping, setting free a long, clear bead of saliva that swan dived toward the cold grey tiles of the hallway and faintly splashed.

John continued to stare fixedly at Ansel. He was well trained for these kinds of confrontative situations. He know what people were thinking and feeling often before they did. It distrubed him greatly that he had failed to recognize ansel's duplicity.
Ansle, however, remained standing, gaping, motionless as John surveyed him. This too was unnerving. This reaction to his accusation was as inexplicible as the need to accuse him had been. As he tried to make sense of these anomolies, John took a step closer to Ansel. He hoped that advancing on him would elicit a response from the still figure - give him something more to read, to deduce, to analize and return control to him. As John began to slide his foot forward the air around Ansel suddenly shifted, setting off a brief glimmer in the dim light. The outline of Ansel's body flickered and glowed for a second, then dulled back. A look of horror attacked John's face as he realized what was happening. Quickly he jumped away from Ansel, wanting to distance himself as much a possible, but not wanting to abandon the hallway to the presence of such a creature.
"Water beast" John whispered as he watched Ansel's now undulating form fold and billow as the humanesque shape began to melt away and dissolve into droplets and mists of water.

Hank

He'd always hated the name. Stupid archaic name from a past so far gone, trying to redeem a present so sullied that the name could never avoid being tainted by association. 'Born from honorable stock, you were' his dad would say when ever Hank scowled during the manifold introductions he was subjected to in his youth. Aaron Joseph Jacob Riley Hank Stevens, as it ran in long form. The fourth name was usually the father's, the fifth, if a family was prominent and presumptuous enough to bestow the honor of a fifth name on the heir apparent, was most often the given name - the name the offspring was expected to go by. To assume a nick name or prefer one of the initial three, which came from the previous three generations, was social and filial blasphemy.
Hank was the name of a progenitor that was credited with saving one of the Five Tablets. True enough it was only the fourth tablet that he saved, but any association with preserving the powerful and revered tablets would be helpful for a family that was maneuvering to recapture their place in the powers that be.

As soon as Hank came of age and became the primary orchestrator of the family fortune, he had a communicate electrode sent to every living blood relative of the name of Stevens, subconsciously conditioning them to call him Aaron - the name of the progenitor that he admired most. Great great granddad Aaron was the first rational male Hank hand ever met, and, so far, the only. Nobody knew that Hank has done this. As far as anybody was consciously aware, he had always been Aaron. Communicate electrodes were expensive, invasive, and risky but very very thorough. They messed with current memory and scribbled over anything the sender wanted the receiver to forget. Fortunately, for Hank, they were illegal, rarely used, and completely confidential.

Unfortunately for Hank, this was the only name Selia knew to call him. It still baffled him how she had even heard it in the first place. She was an Other, not under the jurisdiction of the Five Tablets; nor was she associated with the insert some kind of female association here. Where she came from was still a mystery. How she ended up at the furthermost edge of his family's holdings wearing nothing but a floor length white silk chemise and clutching the family's patence in her powerful ivory hands was even more so. But the greatest mystery of all was how she recognized Hank, addressed him by his full formal title, handed him the patence and fainted.

Work in Progress

Twenty white doors slammed shut at the stroke of ten. Forty pairs of manacles clicked tightly against eighty wrists and ankles. No sound other than the low humming of bulb filaments could be heard through all of V ward. The residents here were long past the screaming phase. Silence filled the empty spaces in every room on this floor of the Manor.

In room seventeen Sabrina Marmot clenched her fists into tight balls, digging jagged fingernails into fleshy palms. She pressed harder until she could feel a warm trickle of blood, an indication that she was still alive. Twelve inches above her face swung the pendant her mother had given her before running off with Hank. It was supposed to give her a sense of calm and contentment. Instead she swallowed hard to keep the bile of hatred contained in the pit of her stomach. After six days at Rhybook Manor her temperament had not improved. She was still too hostile.

Three minutes elapsed since the doors slammed shut. Only one hundred twenty seconds more until the needles came. Sabrina had read many books about women that could fight off substances designed to put the body to sleep. She figured if she concentrated hard enough, she too could overpower the drugs that would soon be coursing through her bloodstream. There had to be a way to fight back, especially since that was what “they” told her not to do.

Time was up. From the wall behind her head a thin robotic arm maneuvered a syringe full of clear liquid directly over her heart. Sabrina watched the arm lower a needle slowly towards her chest. If she moved, the needle would miss its mark, triggering four other needles full of strange liquids to randomly pierce her body, setting off alarms that would call in the nurse. She didn’t want a repeat of nurse Jim coming to her again, so she remained very still. The needle slid into her flesh with a pinch. A warm, tingly sensation began to overtake her body and she fought desperately with her mind to shut out the effects of the drug. Her eyes darted furiously around the room seeking for something, anything to focus on, but the only thing to see was the pendant, swaying back and forth.

Her body convulsed, pulling up hard against the strap around her middle. She hadn’t remembered being strapped like this before, and wondered how she had missed it. Her body slumped back to the table and she wondered what had changed. Suddenly her head was pushed to the side by one of the mechanical arms just as her stomach heaved. All of her dinner was expelled from her mouth and nose in a burning stream. Another mechanical arm swept the mess away from her face, scraping her nose and lips with hard nylon bristles. A jolt of electricity passed around her middle and her jaws clenched down hard. Another push to her head and the remaining contents of her stomach were released. A dark mist began to envelope her mind so she sucked in lungs full of air hoping the oxygen would clear the haze.

Sabrina could almost hear her ragged breath above the whir of the cleaning machines. Her chest heaved and she silently prayed for release from the shocks and drugs. She closed her eyes and tried calming her heart. The door slid open. Two sets of footsteps squeaked towards her bed.

“Ansel, what the heck is going on in here? I thought I told you to reconfigure that machine after dinner so this wouldn’t happen again!”

“I…well, I thought this was the machine I reconfigured.” The voice closed in on Sabrina’s left, almost at ear level. It was a wet voice, and she could almost feel the slippery words leave drops of spit on the side of her head. “I just don’t understand how I could have missed the room number again.”

“You’re getting sloppier every day. If our clients knew how often you screwed things up I would be in court for the rest of my natural life!” At the word natural he snorted and Ansel shivered as he shot a glace at the unnatural figure of the man towering over him.

“Well Jack, you’re not much help.” The words practically slopped out of his mouth and Sabrina imagined him wiping away a large glob of saliva with the back of his hand. “You walk around this place as if everyone and everything should bow at your feet.”

“They should.” Jack’s voice was cold. Ansel kept his distance from the doctor and continued to meddle with the machine above Sabrina’s head. She wondered if they could tell she was awake.

Dessert

Her name was Dessert. She lived in a castle on the edge of a cliff overlooking a deep, golden sea. Thick grass grew all around and up the sides of her castle, claiming it by degrees. A rough stone path cut a jagged scar across the sea of undulating green, ending at a cottage on the edge of the forest. The forest stretched on for miles stopping at the knees of the Horned Mountains.

Dessert lived in the uppermost turret of her castle because it had the best views. Each morning she awoke, doused in a pot of honey gold rays that streamed in from the eastern window. In the evening, warm tendrils of pink and orange fire licked the walls and danced merrily with her around the room. Some days she would walk from one window to the other and run her finger along the ledge and think, "I am the luckiest girl in the world."

Unfortunately for Dessert, she didn't realize she was most definitely not the luckiest girl in the world. In fact, she was doomed from the moment her silly mother let her name drop like a sticky curse on her newborn daughters yellow curls. At that moment, a wicked dragon stirred from his thousand-year slumber at the sound of her name. Two days later he stole her away and imprisoned her in the castle by the sea.

Dessert's life was full of empty purpose. Every morning she walked down a hundred and twenty-seven steps to the back door leading to the stone path. She gathered flowers and mushrooms and herbs and placed them in a linen sling worn across her body. Her curls bounced jubilantly and butterflies played tag around her head as she made her way toward the cottage by the forest. By the time the sun reached its zenith, her sling was laden with goodies and she stood expectantly at the cottage door.

"I'm here!" Dessert trilled happily. She hoped this time she would be allowed to go inside the cottage.

"Drop the sling girl." A low gravely voice gave the same command it had for all the years of her life. Dessert untied the knot at her shoulder and let the sling drop on the stoop. the door opened a crack and a razor sharp talon flicked through and pulled the bundle in. Dessert had become accustomed to her strange life. Still, she shuddered at the sight of the claw. She turned away and moseyed back through the yard. Twilight shuffled in and she found herself once again at the door to her castle. it opened immediately and she ascended the hundred and twenty-seven steps to her room.

That night she dreamed for the first time. A young, beautiful girl soared high above the golden sea on an emerald throne atop a scarlet dragon. The dragon was hungry. It reared and bucked attempting to dislodge the girl and the throne. The girl laughed, and as she did, tiny diamonds dropped from her mouth onto the hide of the scarlet dragon. The dragon roared in pain while the diamonds burst into orange flames all along its back. The girl gathered the flames up in her arms and buried her face in their warmth. They smelled of cinnamon, and she inhaled deeply. The dragon roared in fury and thrashed its body more forcefully to throw the girl and her laughter off its back. It didn't realize, with all its thrashing, that it was headed for a cliff. The young girl pulled her head out of the fragrant flames just in time to see the danger.

With a jolt Dessert awoke, sweat trickled down her neck and she trembled. It was dark and she was afraid. Her heart pounded against her ribs, and from the corner of her eye she noticed a faint glow from the western window. She walked to the window, paused then stretched up on her tiptoes, wary of what she might see.
The cottage windows glowed amber and crimson against the backdrop of night. A figure, long and sinewy paced from one end of the lit room to the other. The figure stopped and grabbed something from the floor. Dessert watched in horror as the figure tossed a long-eared creature above its gaping maw full of razor sharp teeth, and gulped it down in one bite. Her had flew to her mouth and she stumbled away from the window, falling to the floor. With arms wrapped tightly around her knees she rocked her body and thought to herself, "My neighbor is not human."

Dessert watched the far wall grow from varying hues of gristle to a tawny gray. Dollops of light pooled around her body and warmed the room. Her head swam with images from the night and she didn't know how she could face her day. But she was compelled by habit, and moved through the motions she knew so well, finding herself once again at the bottom of the steps. With the sling knotted firmly at her shoulder, she reached a hand forward to push open the door. Her heart thrummed like the fervent beat of hummingbird's wings.

Suddenly, the door wrenched open, brutally ripped from its hinges. Dessert could not even muster a scream as a large claw gripped her around the middle and dragged her from the gaping hole. A red, crusty eye smoldered inches from her face, and in it she could see death. The dragon tossed her high above his head into the bright morning light. Laughter rippled out of his mouth and her body arced downward. His jaws clamped shut. He gulped. A ripped square of linen clung to one notched tooth. He sighed contentedly and murmured to no one in particular, "That was absolutely worth waiting sixteen years for." He smacked his lips and flew off to his mountain cave for another thousand years.

Ah, nicmos. They do have their place in the world. I think it is about time that you started writing about your...exploits. Good moments. Good textures. I especially enjoyed the image of 'lips moving in rhythm. Well put. The whole moment of the story is very faithful to what it is actually like to be part of such a story. Bravo:-)

Sorry about the Formatting

I am having some major problems transferring from word onto my blog. i will have to do some work to figure out what I am doing wrong. hope the formatting doesn't distract you too much.