Isla Berry
Just a budding author trying to make it in this cut-throat industry. My motto: Write drunk, edit sober.
Isla Berry
Just a budding author trying to make it in this cut-throat industry. My motto: Write drunk, edit sober.
Just a budding author trying to make it in this cut-throat industry. My motto: Write drunk, edit sober.
Just a budding author trying to make it in this cut-throat industry. My motto: Write drunk, edit sober.
The thick black velvet caresses my body as it falls to the floor, covering every inch of my body yet exposing everything.
“You look beautiful.” My sister, Claire, says from behind me.
“I don’t think beautiful is the goal here. This is a funeral, after all.” I look back at the full length mirror. The black clashes with my light skin and makes my lifeless blonde hair look even more colorless than normal.
“It’s what Mom would’ve wanted. You know that.” Claire opens the jewelry box on the dresser and pulls out a string of our mother’s favorite pearls. The paint that once made them almost pass as real is chipping, but they are lovely nonetheless. She places them around my neck. Despite the cold of the little beads, they’re a surprising comfort against my skin.
“I can’t believe it’s just us now.” I play with the small beads between my fingers in attempt to stop the welling tears from cascading over my haphazardly applied makeup.
You’d think that the years she fought cancer would prepare us for this day, but there was nothing that could have prevented the devastation I’ve felt over the past few days. Stopped the tears from flowing freely. Or unknotted the anguish that gathered in the pit of my stomach.
Claire hugs me from behind, her tight, dark curls rubbing against my face. The smell of her coconut shampoo fills my nose, something familiar in this new life I have to figure out how to live. Her embraces are all that’s getting me through.
“I promise I’ll never leave you if I can help it.” She says as she pulls away. “We’re in this together. Forever.”
I nod. “We’ll always have each other. No matter what.”
Another day, another hunt.
Most families in our post-apocalyptic bliss spend their evenings snuggled together in the comfort of their own bunker. Telling stories of what once was, cracking jokes in attempt to lighten the devastating mood, or maybe even being so lucky as to read a book that they came across during evacuation.
But not my little band of psychopaths. We take the Zs head on.
“Last one to a dozen cooks dinner!” Yells Jess, my brother’s wife. She brandishes her sparkling machete, testing the edge for lethal sharpness. Despite being seven months pregnant, this woman is deadly.
“Deal.” My dad sniggers. A cleaver is his weapon of choice. Even at 72 the man is as lithe as a lion. It was probably all the multi-vitamins and fish oil. Or so he claims.
My mom, Carol, comes up behind him and kisses my dad on the cheek. “Well that’s not fair. Some of us go for quality over quantity.”
My mom would be right. Unlike the rest of us, the Zs she shoots down always stay down. There’s nothing more unsettling that one of those Walkers getting back up again once you thought you took its head off. I had one that was literally hanging on by a single tendon. Swinging from side to side like a pendulum. The heads gotta be clean off, otherwise the job ain’t done.
My younger sister, Clara, comes up behind me, shotgun at the ready. “Sun’s getting low.”
We all nod. Showtime.
When we were young, no more than seven and nine, my older sister and I made a pact. We’d promised each other we’d never leave the other one alone in this world. As I look down at my sister resting peacefully in her coffin, I can’t help but feel betrayed.
I couldn’t even tell you all that’s happened in the past five days. All I can tell you is that I’ve been numb. I’m devoid of all feeling, my heart ripped out and ripped into teeny tiny pieces.
“Bella?” My cousin Edgar comes up behind me and squeezes my shoulder softly before pulling me into a full embrace.
I hug him tightly, taking in the smell of fresh marijuanna and old tobacco mixed with Dial men’s body wash.
“She was an absolutely amazing person, the most loving and caring me I knew. Nothing can take that away from her.” He says into my ear.
“If this wasn’t her choice, I’d be more included to believe that.” I whisper back. Edgar is the only one I would ever admit that too.
For everyone else, I’ve got to put on a brave face and protect my sisters legacy. There’s already so much talk. So many pitiful glances shot my way.
Edgar steps back with a miserable look on his face, like he’s battling an inner demon and IBS at the same time. “Don’t think like that. It will only make this harder.”
“I don’t see how my sisters suicide, where I found her, mind you, could be any harder than it already is.” I say acerbically and stomp away.
You try heading over to your sisters apartment like you do every Wednesday night only to find the door ajar and blood soaking the carpet beneath her wrists. You try being the one to sprint over to her side, only to find that’s she’s already gone.
You try being the one to call 911 and get questioned about something you don’t understand by dozens of men in blue. You try to process the bored expressions of those men as they close the case immediately because, obviously, this was a suicide.
I stand next to the only window in this depressing funeral home. It’s a view of the parking lot and the liquor store right across the street. Expect the L isn’t lit up like the rest do the letters, so it looks like ‘iqour Store. The drapes look like they’re from 1970, but their once happy yellow looks more like the pus that comes out of an infected wound. It matches the carpet, and equally appealing aged beige.
“Are you Bella?” A soft female voice calls from behind me.
I turn around slowly and take her in. Shes short, just over 5-foot, with brown eyes the color of dead leaves. She wears an easy smile on het face, if not a slightly nervous one.
“I am. And you are?
“Delilah. I was friends with your sister. I’m so sorry for your loss, she was such a kind soul.” She smiles again, but it doesn’t meet her sad eyes.
“I knew all my sister’s friends. How come I don’t know you?” Claire and I had all the same friends. We were inseparable, almost to an unhealthy extreme.
“Claire and I had only just met a few months ago,” she starts, looking a tad bit nervous. “We were seeing each other.”
“Oh.” Claire never told me she was into women. But then again, I didn’t know she was into anybody.
“You found her, didn’t you?” Delilah asks.
I nod, doing my best not to remember the gruesome scene.
“How did she… look?” She asks.
“What, you mean besides dead?” Who would ask something like that?
“I’m so sorry,” Delilah says again, tears welling in her eyes. “It’s all my fault.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“She’s dead because of me.” Delilah looks like she’s about to break down in the middle of the funeral hall.
I pull her aside and we walk into the woman’s bathroom. “It wasn’t your fault. It was my sister’s decision.”
Tears flow freely down her face. “No, no it wasn’t.” She buries her face in her hands. “He did this to her, I just know he did. I told Claire not to get involved, but she just couldn’t help herself.” Delilah bursts into full on sobs now.
“Who? Who did what?” I’m so beyond confused right now. Is she saying my sister didn’t kill herself?
“Brody, it had to have been Brody.” Delilah brings her face up to meet my eyes. “I owe him a lot of money. I used to sell for him, but some kid stole my entire month’s worth of inventory. It was over $100,000 worth of drugs. I couldn’t go to the police, but when I told Claire, she said she was going to. The next thing I hear, Claire’s dead!” She keeps sobbing.
I try to take all this in. My sister may have not chosen to abandon me after all…….
TO BE CONTINUED
It’s hard to be inconspicuous when you’re hanging upside down. Scouts are supposed to be sneaky, cunning, and quick. Clearly, I’m none of those.
This is the unfortunate predicament I now find myself in. Not just trapped in enemy territory, but hanging upside down thanks to one of the simplest booby traps of all time. I don’t know how the hell I missed it.
If I could only reach my foot to yank it free. The rope that snared it is tied in a single knot. If I pull the right strand free I’ll drop to the ground.
The blood rushes to me head in a steady stream of whooshes. It thumps in my ear like a drum, maintaining a thundering beat that threatens to make my head explode.
If I don’t get out of here soon I’ll either die from some sort of heart attack or be killed by enemy scouts. I’m not sure which would be the worse way to go. At least the heart attack would be quick.
I use the last of my strength to rock my body up toward my tethered foot. For about the twentieth time I grab hold of my ankle and pull my body up to my foot. The base of the knot is only twelve inches anice me. I just need to climb my own body to reach up there. Then, I’m home free.
I take a big breath and pull myself up one inch at a time. Deep breath in, pulll. Exhale out.Deep breath in, pull. I’m halfway there when the hear men yelling in the not-so-faraway distance.
Shit.
I scramble up four more inches, the knot is nearly within grasp.
“Almost… got it..” I breathe out. I grab the knot and pull it loose with shaky hands.
I hit the ground with a thud, pain erupting from my entire right side. My vision goes white and all I’m left with is the fire dancing across my body. The ringing in my ears drowns out every other sound, so I have no idea how close the enemy is.
I groan and remain motionless, trying with all my might not to pass out. My heart thuds in my ears, and the white of my vision pulses with each beat.
After a few minutes of utter misery, my vision starts to return in splotchy patches. The ringing slowly fades, and the sounds of the forest take its place.
I attempt to roll over and wince. Even with my two most important senses back, there’s no way I’m getting up any time soon.
“Now, what do we have here?” Says an accented voice I recognize all too well. “You’re a bit far from home, aren’t you, Lassy?”
It’s Homer’s squadron. I’m as good as dead.
This night is the darkest yet, which I suppose is saying something considering it's been only three nights. But boy has it felt longer than that.
This garden isn't like anything I've every seen before. Its expansive plots span miles, making it all too easy to get lost. And I have gotten lost. Just like the other poor souls who enter this secret garden.
Even though the moon is hidden on this night, the lack of light doesn't matter. It doesn't need to, the flowers glow on their own like millions of stars spread upon the earth. Bright pinks, purples, oranges, and yellows illuminate the twisting paths as I stumble through the overgrown foliage. Each bloom seems to hum with a soft, ethereal light, casting eerie shadows that dance along the edges of my vision. The air is thick with the scent of night-blooming flowers, sweet and heady, wrapping around me like a blanket.
I push my way through a thicket of thorns, their sharp points snagging at my clothes and skin. The garden seems to shift around me, the very earth under my feet moving as if alive. I hear whispers on the wind, soft and sibilant, urging me to turn back.
But I can't turn back. Not when I'm so close.
As I emerge from the thicket, I find myself in a clearing unlike any other. In the center stands a tree, its branches twisted and gnarled, leaves shimmering with a silvery light. At its base lies a pool of inky blackness, reflecting the dark sky above.
I approach the tree cautiously, my heart pounding in my chest. The whispers grow louder, more urgent, as if pleading with me to leave this place of magic and mystery. But I am drawn to the pool, its surface like a mirror reflecting back the twisted branches above.
As I kneel by the edge of the pool, I see movement in the depths below. Shadows shift and swirl, forming strange and ethereal shapes that seem to beckon me closer. Without thinking, I dip my hand into the water, expecting it to be cold and forbidding.
To my surprise, the water is warm, almost inviting. It clings to my skin like a caress, sending shivers down my spine. And then, as if in a dream, I see a face staring back at me from the depths.
It is a face unlike any other, with eyes that seem to hold the secrets of the universe within their depths. The figure in the water raises a hand towards me, and pulls me in.
If it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to get these girls out of here.
And it very well might be the last thing I do.
I’ve seen girl ls try to escape before. They never made it past the first fence. Could have something to do with the armed guards, or the pack of highly trained guard dogs.
“You’re all going to have to follow my lead, and do what I say.” I look around at the three terrified young girls sitting on the floor in front of me. Their clothes are dirty,l and ripped from travel. Most come to me from across the boarder, having spent hours crammed into a cargo box.
The three girls nod in unison.
“Good. This won’t be easy. If we manage to sneak past the guards, we’ll have to travel on foot until we reach the nearest city.” I get out of my chair and make my way to the door.
I motion to the girls to follow, and one by one they line up behind me.
“Keep your heads down and look at the floor.”
I take a deep breath and open the door. I see the flashing blue lights of the cargo truck arriving. That means a new shipment of girls has arrived. The Warden will be busy surveying his new stock.
I strut confidently out the door with the girls walking close behind me. It’s dead quiet in the hall save for the soft clicking of the clock.
The exit is just around the corner. Then the hard part begins.
To be continued….
“This can’t be right.” I say with a panic. One moment I’m walking along the street in New York, minding my own business, and the next I’m who knows where. Standing under a massive gate that’s literally on fire.
I heard the car speeding down the street, but I had a green light. He hit me. Or he must of, because clearly this is some sort of after life. Clearly, I’m dead.
“Hell makes no mistakes.” The guard, a demon, I presume, has a bright red face and eyes blacker than night. He wears a bored expression. I’m sure everyone who makes it Downstairs says the same thing.
“You don’t understand, I did everything right! I’ve never missed a day of school or work in my life, met my deadlines, hugged my grandma.” I ramble on for another minute before he stops me.
“What did you say your name was?” He looks back to his clipboard, searching through a list of names.
“Claire Travis. Claire Elizabeth Travis.”
The demon scans his clipboard again, searching for who knows what. He reviews it for several minutes, not saying a word.
I’m stuck listening to the agonizing screams coming from beyond the gate. Like a nonstop symphony of pain and suffering. This has got to be a mistake. I’m not meant for Hell!
Finally, the demon looks up from his clipboard. He scans me up and down.
“Come with me.” He turns and motions for me to follow. I have to jog to keep up.
We walk down a narrow path shrouded by skeletal trees. The thick dog makes a dense wall on all sides. I can’t see more than ten feet ahead of me.
“Where are we going?” I say, breathless from our quick pace.
“Hell’s Palace.” He says gruffly. “It seems there’s been a mistake.”
…. To be continued
Today’s the day. The day I say goodbye to my carefree do-nothing way of living and give a big ol’ hello to the rest of my life.
If fourteen seems too young to be given a life sentence to the same routine day-in and day-out, then you clearly don’t know a thing about Pioneer Group Beta II. Our little society has inhabited Planet 4502 for three generations.
From what we can gather, we’re the only group to have been remotely successful. The other three dozen Pioneer squads didn’t make it more than a few years.
I glance around at our small group of graduates, a whopping sixteen of us.
While it would seem that my odds would be good to get a good gig, that is not the case. My class is the largest in our short history. Usually only six or eight make it to Assignment Day.
Half of each graduating class gets assigned to Agriculture. No one wants that job. It’s all back-breaking labor and a promise of a shortened lifespan.
This planet may be suitable for human life, but that’s about it. The air is mildly toxic, and anyone who works an outdoor gig knows their life will be at least ten years shorter than the rest of us.
“Congratulations 3052 grads!” Says Poppy, our peppy Director of Education. “Now that you have entered into working age, it’s time to get you your gig assignments.”
A collective nervous silence emanates from our group. Poppy knows we all dread this day, at least she’s trying to make it exciting.
“As you know, your class is the most successful we have ever had in Planet 4502. A testament to our hard work and commitment. You will be joining these ranks to better our society, and improve the lives of generations to come.”
I glance at Travis, my best friend for as long as I remember. He gives me a reassuring look. He knows how nervous I am today. But anyone would be, if both your parents had died young in the Agriculture fields.
“Now, for you assignments. Our leaders carefully select a Gig for each of you. They look at your academic work, aptitude tests, and personality assessments to determine your best fit.”
I roll my eyes. That’s just straight bullshit. They play favorites here. Everyone knows it. And if you have family in certain Gigs, you’re way more likely to get into those. That’s why Travis is not worried at all. He comes from a long line of Engineers.
What I would give to be admitted to the Engineering Core.
Poppy begins by rattling off names and assignments. Theresa and Clara are going into Education; Oscar and Greta will be Medical; Mason, Bart, and Sally are assigned to Food Preparation; and so on.
“Mira,” I meet her gaze, “you have been selected to be President Farsi’s personal assistant.”
I stare at her , dumbfounded. The President’s personal assistant? It’s not the Gig I wanted, but at least it’s not in the fields.
That’s when I look over at Travis and realize his name wasn’t called for the Engineers. His face completely white. He’s been assigned an Agriculture Gig.
I take a deep breath, steady my nerves, and walk as confidently as I can toward the door at the end of the corridor.
Am I stupid for actually going through with this? A billionaire’s son just asked me to meet him in the closet to do who knows what.
It could be some crazy trap that will get me kicked out of my internship. For all I know HR is waiting in that closet ready to kick my ass out for sexual harassment.
Yet I couldn’t be more excited, couldn’t be more aroused. Butterflies churn in my lower belly. My heart races.
I stand in front of the door. Do I knock? Whisper a secret password? How exactly does one do a rendezvous in a coat closet?
I open the door slowly and slide inside.
The door closes gently behind me and I see nothing but shadows.
A pair of strong hands pulls me close, heat emanates off his body in warm, comforting waves.
“For a moment I thought you weren’t going to come.” He purrs in my ear. “I’m glad you did.”
I gasp. The hardness of his arousal presses into my stomach. I don’t even need to see it to know he’s huge. Like, “will that even fit” huge.
Freddie grabs my hair in a single fist and pulls my head to one side. His lips hover over my exposed neck.
“How I would love to take my time with you,” he whispers, “but there will be time for that later.”
His lips kiss my neck gently at first. But the soft kisses quickly turn passionate as he tugs at my ears with his teeth….
To be continued…
“He’s not who he says she is.” Myles whispered to me from across our shared desk.
We both watch our new boss strut across the floor of our office. He stops to look out the floor to ceiling windows that give way to Central Park. We do have the most magnificent view from the twenty-fourth floor.
"Don't we all lie a little bit on our resumes?" I whisper back.
"No, not a small fabrication to get the job," Myles rolls his eyes. "I mean, it's him. He's not Jacob Jones. He's Freddie Lane."
"The billionaire's son? The actual Wolf of Wall Street's son?" There's no way. Why the hell would someone so rich come work at this dump. We are one step above penny stocks. The wannabe stock brokers who hope to make it big. Or at least that's how I describe the sharks that work here. I'm just here to complete my internship to make my family happy. Then I'm out.
"Check your email. It's totally him." Myles clicks send.
His message lands in my inbox and I open the link. Holy shit.
"Okay. Unless this is a serious doubleganger situation... I think you're right." I compare the chiseled body on my screen to the man who stands confidently surveying our sea of computers.
"Right?" Myles exclaims a little too loudly. The grump lady across from him gives him a death glare. He lowers his voice. "I wonder why he would lie about who he his."
"I'm not sure. But I'm going to find out." Challenge accepted. Maybe this internship won't be so shitty after all.