Changing Pace

“Tori, what is going on?”

She turned to face him, at loss for words as she studied the look of concern over his face. “I don’t know,” her voice was barely a whisper as she leapt the fence and tore off her school shirt to reveal a pale green blouse. She stuffed the uniform in her bag and he noticed her trying to hide the tears that were now welling in her eyes. Accepting her need for a moment’s peace, he too pulled off his school shirt and switched it for the black one he’d placed in his bag that morning. When he looked up again, she had her arms folded closely against her chest, looking carefully away from him.

“Let’s walk,” he suggested, swinging his bag onto his shoulder and taking her hand in his.

[136 words]

Unfolding the Letter

He unfolded the letter for the hundredth time, read and reread what it said, trying to make sense of it all. Or in fact, of just some of it. He was sure there was something more behind the words, but he couldn't be sure about it or what it supposedly was. He could only be sure of himself, and he knew something wasn't right. He was beginning to forget things. Little things. It was strange. There was no way he could get dementia this early in his life. Was there? He moaned aloud, frustrated and unable to determine the next step to this ingenious plan he had gotten himself into. Why him? Why them? Hadn't they already been through enough ten years ago?

[123 words]

Official

It was official. He closed his eyes calmly, then let a tear slide down his face. Then he allowed himself to lose control. He bawled. What was going on with him? What was going on with the world? Why had he done what he did? What had he run from it? Why was he sleeping in his car and why wasn't his sister with him? Damn, he felt alone. And tired and hungry. And it was only day one.

[79 words]

Previous Cries

He traced a finger over the stained walls, again trying to wonder what it was like for the previous prisoners. It was cruelty. He wondered what was racing through their minds at the time, wondered exactly how many had been here. Was it just the two sons, or more? There he was, sharing their horrors, yet they didn't know it. No one knew it. It was just him and those men, and considering how he hadn't been found yet, he was finding it difficult to believe outsiders would ever find a lead. He hoped, certainly. But how was he ever going to get out of this mess?

[107 words]

Trust In Him

She sat beside him, unsure whether to truly trust him or not. Of course, she wanted to trust him, she did, but she wasn't sure if that was right or not. A few months ago, she hasn't even konwn him, but now he was everywhere, and he really cared about her. She could see it in his eyes. And besides, he needed her. She'd seen some of the things he'd done. Which was partly why she accompanied him, and slipped away from her mother to be with him. For some reason, his presence as an old brother figure was more comforting than her own mother's had been as of late. It was weird, but she tried not to question it and before long felt her throwing her full trust out to him. He'd protect her like a father, like a brother. She knew he would. And she would do what she could for him. Make him smile when he cried. Then he was whispering at her, telling her to get up, and they were heading towards the doors and he knelt to her and whispered a message which scared her, as she clung tight to his body as he picked her up in his arms and the doors opened. They ran.

[211 words]

Red Water

He writhed in pain as the hot water hit him, stinging his skin and his scars. The blood flowed off him, going in big puddles down the drain hole as he clung to his side and cried. The tears along with the water washed over his face, somewhat reliving except for the stinging across his body from the fresh scars Cameron had laid. It hurt. The water would do him good, clean away the dirt, but right now, it continued to sting. He adjusted the taps, trying to lessen the pressure and fit it into a more comfortable temperature, but the difference it would make was subtle. He ran his fingers over the scars to see if the blood was still streaming, and for most of them, it wasn't. A few more bandages would help. Then he turned off the taps. He stood there shivering for a moment, before turning them on again. Just a little longer. Maybe the pain would stop.

[162 words]

Interpret 101

The thing about reading text, and in particular, online, is that you can never truly know if someone is meaning what they say. Sure, in the written ink-and-paper form, you have the wet smears from tears, the rips in the paper from pressing too hard in anger, the unsteady lines drawn from a shaking hand. But when it's on a screen, you can't tell. It's frustrating. You can misinterpret someone just as easily as they can misinterpret you. You may think they're upset, but they're actually listening to their music really loud and they could be dancing around the house. Just as they could think you're really happy, distracted by the book you're finally beginning work on again, when really you're worried about some issue or another. But that's the virtual world, for you. Masks that we can hide behind because it is so easy. Sometimes it's too easy.

[149 words]

Frozen Hope

He stood completely frozen as the guards left, as his whole world began crashing down around him. The dried tears on his face stung, penetrating into his skin, as the hole in his heart spread to a dangerous level. He crumpled to the ground, burying his face into his knees, his hands into his hair. He wanted his father. More than anything, he wanted his father back. And his family. His mother, and brother. But they weren't coming back for him. He hugged himself tighter. He was alone now. No one else could protect him. He had to trust only himself, and even that mightn't be safe. He shivered, the walls collapsing, trapping him beneath. If this was how he had to live for the rest of his life, he wasn't sure he wanted to live it. No, he didn't want to live it. But he had to. Because there was something worth living for at the end. He hoped.

[160 words]

Not Real

"Have you seen Nick?" the boy twirled a soldier figurine around in his hands, not really playing with it but more keeping his mind on something.

"Nick?" the man asked, looking away from the fridge. The boy looked over at him, expression unreadable.

"You know, my brother."

He shut the fridge, sighing and walking over to him. "We've been over this before, you remember?"

The boy looked at him blankly and he felt his irritation rising to the surface again as he continued, "Nick was never real. He was just an imaginary friend. But that's okay, because everyone grows out of it at different stages."

"But he's been with me all my life," the boy moaned, "Mum and Dad knew him."

"They probably didn't want to spoil it for you," he murmured, "but you are an only child. Nick's gone away. He won't come back."

"How do you know?"

His hands clenched into fists, annoyance and impatience surging through him as he grabbed the figurine from the boys clutches, crushing it within his grip, "He's. Not. Real."

He threw the broken toy to the ground and turned, leaving the boy to begin his crying alone.

[195 words]

Imagining the Dream

What can I say? Just made a Miss Potter video :) Love love love!

She smiled happily to the music, the beautiful tunes playing softly in her ear. Fantastic soundtrack. Fantastic movie. Sad movie. It was all just so pretty. The picture-perfect finish, the goals and dreams of every writer. A hint of craziness inside our wild imaginations, our words and pictures coming to life as we picture them. Talking to characters as normal as if it were night and day. To laugh and to cry, a hint of the hated writer's block. A pinch of cheek. Fun. Success. Love. Heartbreak, yes. But healing, and living for the land. The children. Words, so passionate and beautiful, with the stunning land and mountains outside your back door. That would her life, one day.

[118 words]

Uncomfortable

31 May 2010

I stood there panting, gun still held out in front of me, held quite steady for my shaking hands. I felt little arms wrap around my lower body and almost jumped out of my skin, but held it together. I looked down at her, heart still pounding quickly, as I tried to lessen the surprise, the rush. I quickly dropped the gun to my side, safely back into my gun belt, and wrapped an arm around the girl’s shoulder. I felt just as shocked as she. She was crying into my body. It made me feel only more uncomfortable. I looked away from the scene in front of me, trying to get away from the room altogether, but the girl kept me there. I bent slightly and picked her up into my arms, carrying her outside and away from this. She didn’t have to see, but I did. It was my job.

[152 words]

Home Now

30 May 2010

They shut the gates on me. I nearly screamed, but decided it best to hold my breath. Was this the person I was? No, dammit! What would Dad say if he could see me now? I nearly cried out then, too. Because if he was here, he’d probably look me up and down, sigh and help me get out of it. But he wasn’t here, and my step-father was not going to be so considerate… I stared out of the bars. This would be my home for thirty years. I had to get used to it. A voice was screaming its denial inside my head, but I shut it up. No one else was here to help me out of this. I was alone, and it would stay that way for some time. I wondered how long that would last.

[140 words]

Shock

28 May 2010

He lay staring up at the ceiling, heart pounding, and yet he didn’t move an inch. He kept his mouth shut and refrained from shifting a finger from under the blanket. He was too scared to fall asleep. It wasn’t safe. He had to get out somewhere but he was as still as a statue. He wondered if he’d been in shock yet. Maybe this was shock. That or just complete terror. The second option was likely. How did he get himself into this mess? He wanted to cry, but that would involve moving. He shut his eyes briefly for a moment, exhausted, but opened them again abruptly. He would not fall asleep.

[113 words]

Meaningless

I could see the light streaking through the window. Why? I had closed that damn curtain... I stopped, remembering the little girl I'd met. "It'll add some warmth to the dark," she'd said. I moaned, getting up and dragging myself over to close the curtain anyway. I didn't want to see the moon. I didn't want to see the stars. I wanted darkness. Black. Nothing. The way my life would be from now on. I didn't want to feed my hope. I snuggled onto the floor, and wrapped my arms around my knees, hiding my face as I brokedown into pointless sobs. Life was horrible. Meaningless. I wanted nothing to do with it.

[113 words]

No One

He stormed past a guard, eyes only for the door at the end of the hall. Someone grabbed him by the arm and pulled him back.

"No appointment, Henderson! You know the rules."

"I don't care!" he yelled back, struggling forwards and out of his grip, "He'll see me!"

"Henderson!" the guard called again, pulling out the cuffs.

The door at the end swung open and Clive ducked his head out, "Nick?"

"I need to talk," Nick breathed, trying to control his rising voice.

"Come in-"

"Clive!"

"It's fine," he assured, ushering Nick inside his office and closing the door behind him.

"He's here, dammit!" Nick screamed, bashing his fist against the wall.

"Nick, calm down," the counselor warned, "otherwise I'll have to get the guards in here."

Nick held his breath, nodding his understanding.

"Why don't you take a seat?"

"I don't want a seat."

"Okay, that's fine. Talk to me. Who's here?"

Nick looked at him with pleaded eyes, "My brother."

"Did you see him?"

"I talked to him."

"What happened?"

"He has no idea," the tears began streaming down his face and his voice cracked, "he doesn't have a clue who I am." He looked up in time to see Clive's troubled face and he let out a choked sigh, "I'm no one to him."

[218 words]

The Believer

Another long daily :D Don't get too excited, I doub't they'll last :P

I sat shivering on one of the park benches. It had to be… what? Six o’clock? I didn’t have a watch. To be honest, I didn’t really care. I had more pressing matters on my mind. I stared at the mobile in my hands. They were shaking hysterically, and I gripped tight to the phone. To call or not to call. I’d been debating this for the last ten minutes and still couldn’t come to the right decision. If I turned myself in, I would be admitting to something I’d never done. But if I stayed out here, they would come after me, anyway. The longer I stayed out here, the more I was putting my little brother in danger. But I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t find the courage to make that call. The only thing I could do right now was sit there, staring dumbfounded at the pavement. People would awake soon. Morning joggers. They’d see me if I didn’t hide. I shouldn’t need to hide, I have nothing to hide from, except him. And he’s now the reason I’m hiding from everyone else.

I nearly had a heart attack when my phone rang. I jumped up from my spot, covered it with my hand trying to muffle the sound, as my mind raced into new decisions: to answer or not to answer. I ran for the cover of the trees. I knew I had to answer it. But I didn’t want to. I couldn’t. It wouldn’t shut up. Either I had to start it or end it. Just one button. That was all…

My fingers fumbled with the keypad…

And I answered.

“Hello?”

My voice was horrible. Cracked, whispered. Scared. Very scared. I kept walking through the trees.

“Nicholas Briggs?”

“Yes?”

“Hi there, kid. I’m Senior Sergeant Samuel Peterson, I’m with the police. Do you know why I’m calling you?”

I couldn’t help the tears welling in my eyes. This was it. It was over. Deeper and deeper into the forest.

“You want to lock me up,” I whispered, “You want to charge me.”

There was a slight pause on the other end, “Have you done anything wrong, Nick?”

I whimpered like a little boy. Why didn’t he just say it already? You’re going to jail, tell me where you are.

“I…” I stammered. If I was going to jail, I had to toughen up. But I crumbled anyway. “I don’t know.”

“Nick, I think you’re a scared little man, and we’re all worried about you.”

“Whose we?” I choked.

“The authorities. Your step-father.”

I let out a wail. Step-father? Worried? Damn! He had nothing to worry about! He was a King of Power, someone I couldn’t overthrow. Someone I didn’t want to overthrow. Who knew what it would mean for my little brother. Little Damien…

“Nick, you still there?”

“Shut up! Shut up! If I hear about that bastard one more time—”

“Okay, okay. Calm down. Nick, I think you’ve just gone for a nice long walk to try and clear your head. Can you tell me where you are?”

“I…” I stopped. Looking around me. Tree. Tree. Another tree. “No—“

I stopped again. Taking a few more steps forward and peered ahead where the trees cleared. Yes. Yes, I knew that street on the other side. It was a half hour walk from home.

“Yes.”

“Nick. I want you to know I don’t think you killed your mother.”

“Well,” I rushed, “Wha—“

Wait. Did he just say he didn’t think I’d killed her? Was he serious?

“And you’re feeling very lost,” Sam continued, “but you don’t need to run anymore.”

I didn’t say anything. Running still seemed so much easier… even if this guy might believe his innocence.

“I need your word that you didn’t kill her, Nick. You give me that, you can come home and we can talk about it. If you can’t give me that promise, I’m going to have to trace this call and everyone will be after you in a matter of minutes. I don’t want to have to do that.”

“Why?” I whispered, tears streaming down my cheeks, “Why are you doing this?”

“Let’s just say this is off the radar. My partner and I are heading to your step-father’s house now, I’d appreciate it if you met us there.”

“No. No. I’m not doing anything off the radar.”

“I’m not asking you to. That would be my doing. You’re facing great charges, Nick. If I can consult your step-father before you get here, we can consult the evidence and try and find your little brother.”

I leapt at his words, “What do you mean ‘find’?”

“Your step-father seemed to neglect mentioning you had another sibling.”

I could’ve screamed. “I’m coming! I’ll be there in half hour.”

“Your word, Nick.”

“You have it! My word! I watched that bastard kill her! Watched him torture Damien! Experienced it first hand myself.”

I fell to the ground, weeping.

“Half hour, Nick. I’ll see you there, okay? We’re going to end this.”

I hung up the phone, sniffling like a toddler and giving myself a few minutes to calm down. At least someone believed him, right? Maybe it’d be okay after all. I picked myself up, unaware where my feet were really taking me. I had no strength left. But a little bit of that hope had returned. I don’t know how I navigated my way home when I was on such a breakdown, but I did. I didn’t know what to expect. I jumped the back fence, pausing as I landed. I had to pull myself together. This was it. It’d be all okay.

I looked up at the sound of the sliding door opening. Two officers started walking towards me. I edged backwards as they yelled at me.

“Nicholas Henderson?”

I whimpered, hand moving back to the gate. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Heck, why did I answer that call? Which one was Sam? Sam wouldn’t yell at him.

One of them forced me forwards away from the gate, grabbing my arms and pulling out the handcuffs.

“You’re under arrest.”

“For what?” I cried, wrists locked behind me.

“You know what for.”

They led me towards the sliding door. I could see other officers standing around. Many. Too many. Through the sliding door. My eyes searched the room. Our living area, which led into the dining and kitchen. My eyes instantly fell to the body that lie motionless just inside the door to the left. Almost exactly where I’d watched my mother fall, gunned down…

An officer with the name badge, “Senior Sergeant S. Peterson”.

I screamed out a cry of frustration, my legs buckling to the ground, my hair hiding my tear-strewn face. They had to physically force me to my feet again, before leading me out the door. They wanted to lock me up. I was seventeen. My sentence? Thirty.

[1155 words]

In Pieces

Woooot, finally! A longer daily :)

The room was deadly silent. I couldn’t hear anything, except perhaps a small beeping coming from somewhere on my right. I couldn’t force my eyes open, so I continued to lie there, calm and unthinking. The silence was so peaceful. So truly wonderful to the ear. But it never remains that way. There was a small screeching noise against the ground. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. A flash in my mind –

I couldn’t see. The white light was blinding me. Was it a star? A sun? I squinted. No. They were headlights. What were they doing there? They were almost pretty, but much too bright. I tried to look away.

“He wants to tell you something.”

He? Who was that? Wait a minute. The lights are gone. The voice must’ve scared them away. Oh well. I attempted to focus on the voice instead. Who wanted to tell me what? Another flash –

I’m heading straight for you. Cameron! Cameron was out to get me! My heart clenched. Ihad to run. But where to run to? I should call Ryan. He always knows what to do. But no… no. I don’t need to bother him. He said he’d call back in a minute. Nothing could happen between now and then.

Another distraction. This time, crying. Weeping. I wanted to tell them not to. They were calling my name repeatedly. Over and over. There was too much yelling. It was all too loud. I was fine. I was right there. I could hear them all. If I could just get my lips to move I’d be able to tell them that. Why weren’t they moving? Felt as if they were glued tight shut. A warm trickle dripped over them and the drops dripped onto his tongue. Blood, I noted. Was someone bleeding?

“It’s okay now. He’s gone. He’s behind bars.”

Who? Cameron? Well that was a relief. But ‘he wants to tell you something’. Why was everyone called ‘he’ nowdays? How was I meant to tell which male figure they were talking about? Could be any one of my friends. Or enemies. Maybe it wasn’t Cameron that was behind bars after all. Maybe it was…

“You saved an innocent man’s life.”

Innocence! I was innocent! I swear. I’ll tell anyone. I’m not the only one that’s innocent either. Nick is too. He was in jail here, too. Wait, is that where I was now? Jail? I had to wake up. Any minute Gavin would be hassling me, looking to start a fight –

“There’s something you don’t know about me. I’m… we’re…”

Yes? Yes? I’m listening. I’ll listen now. Please, explain it to me. The fight can wait. Silence. No. No, there couldn’t be silence. It was disturbing now. Keep talking. Please keep talking. I need to hear the rest of this story. Me. Me. Who did that voice belong to? Were they footsteps? No! No! Please, please don’t walk away. Not now. You’re nearly there. Don’t leave me. Wait!

Quite suddenly, I opened my eyes and the first thing I saw was the man with his hand on the doorknob, ready to walk out.

“Nick,” I tried to scream, but barely a murmur came out. He didn’t hear me. The beeping was getting louder. I had to be heard. “Nick,” I wheezed again. To my amazement, he turned. And came to me in pieces.

[565 words]

Binding

Terrier stood staring absently at Gabriel, who stared straight back. Both silent. Both watchful. He frowned. Gabriel, what, almost twice his age? Tied to that chair. It was wrong. He shivered as he recalled his own memories.

"Terrier!"

"I told you," he growled, "My name's not Terrier."

"You're a dog, my boy. A mongrel. Of course your name's Terrier."

He'd wrestled with his binds. Fought. Yelled. Cried.

"What do you want from me?" he had begged, "I've got a family. They're going to be looking for me. Just let me go, please. I won't tell anyone, I swear."

"It's too late for that now."

"No!" he screamed aloud.

"No?" Scott questioned.

Terrier blinked. He was in the room with Gabriel. Gabriel was tied, not him. He stared. It wasn't right.

[130 words]

Never Forgotten

Her mouth wore a happy smile, with bright brown eyes that lit up her face. But it was all fake. On the inside, she was crying. Crying as she hugged the girl for what she knew would be the last time in a long time. It had to come one day, right? Toys get old and forgotten, even ones as loved as she was. She was thankful, she supposed, that she would remain with someone of her best friends, but the shelf was so high up, and it was a tight squeeze. Mummy, she weeped. She wasn't the only one crying on the inside, but she knew she would never let such toys be forgotten. No, they would be remembered, forever. And if in text, then so be it. They were the ones that made her life fun, and it'd remain that way.

[143 words]

Counselor's Thoughts

I didn’t know what to think of that man. Maybe a little weird? Either way he drew me in. He was intriguing and I knew there was more to him that met the eye, just in our first conversation, if you could call it that. He had spoken much. It seemed he liked to keep to himself, and I wasn’t entirely sure that I could change that. He looked tough, but there was certainly something there beneath the surface. I just didn’t know what it was yet. Was he broken and crying behind that mask he wore? What burdens did he have to bear? And most importantly, what was he serving time for? What was I, as a counselor, up against?

[121 words]