Writing Prompt

I feel the cold wooden chair under me as I lower into the seat. The ivory walls and white grantine columns emanate the chill that fills the musky air of the library. The dim candle light provided by the rate sconce casts flitting shadows about the reading carols behind every corner. I feel the faint breeze I’ve grown familiar to these recent weeks, the smell of old books and Farrago’s citrus soap carried from his distant quarters indicating his eminent arrival. “Hello book worm.” I feel the corners of my lips turn up as my voice, with all of its useless melody, breaks the stifling silence. “You know that you keep showing up here the more people will talk. I mean, it only makes my reputation better, but will surely hurt yours.” His voice careens out from between the last book shelves in the column, around the small corner against which my desk area rests. Though I cannot see him, I know Farrago isn’t far. “What adventurer cares is their reputation outside of conquest?” I raise myself onto the desk, legs dangling off the edge with impish kicks. “Well, actually you’d be surprised.” Farrago’s head poles around the corner, a full head above me. His skin radiates the unusual glow that emanates from him seemingly every morning. The bronze in his hair seems darker this morning, and I realize it’s wet, and styled. “Anecdotally, the average adventurer is highly obsessed with their intersocial perception, to the point where they seek opportunities to enhance it through …” I stand in the desk and place my hand over his mouth. “Calm down Text Book. Was joking”. I let go of him, but he brings himself around the cover looking up at me, though just barely. “Plus, if you keep listening to me and cleaning yourself up, people will most definitely be talking.” I reach out and ruffle his hair, feeling his discomfort with me doing so. He really does pay attention.
“Couldn’t hurt to try something new. “ his eyes drop to his feet and the adjacent chair. Farrago learns himself over the desk and rolls his his into the seat. I slide myself back to the edge of the desk, looking at the books he chosen and begins to sprawl out across the desk. “ and todays reading selection?” Small diagrams of unusual monsters are scrawled across the pages, and a chaotic script accompanying it. “Dragon kin. Kobalds. It’s been a while since I’ve ready anything and with them appearing in the South Spire recently, I thought it best to research. “. His emerald eyes are intense in their examination of the pages, feverish gathering of detail across each page. Something from behind me catches my ear. I resist the urge to look and instead focus on the sound itself. The rows made by the book cases to my left offer many hiding planes. The study carols to my right offer very little. The windows behind Farrago allow a little light in, but little else. Farrago’s muttering and dictations encumber my senses , but I cast my attention beyond him and toward the book cases. Someone is listening.
I lean down toward Farrago, whose face has dropped down to the page od the book before him, nose nearly pressed to the browning page.
“Who else is here this morning? Speak softly”. His body grows ridged, fighting his instinct to panic. “Just me.” His voice is strained but hushed, and I can see his eyes darting about from beside the page. “We aren’t alone. You need to be ready.” As the last syllable escapes my lips I feel the bite. Sharp steel buried in my calf and the hush of the moment is lost to the carnal scream from my lips. Grabbing the bolt in my calf I tug, the crude arrow releasing a spray of red as it is removed. I look between the book cases and see the grim shadow standing in the darkness, as if the ink of Farrago’s book was given life. His struggles with the crossbow in its hand, and I know I must get to it before it’s ready. Pain rushes through my entire body as I leap toward the creature and enter into a sprint. Mu blade emerges from its sheath at my lower back with practiced grace.
Seeing my run and hearing my laments, it throws the crossbow at me and pulls its own blade. Shaped like the gnashing tooth of a great dragon, the small creature bounces beteeen feet readying himself.
He is no taller than I am, though his limbs are thinner and frail. Heavy spines punch out of his ratty tunic, but reveal the metallic copper flesh of the kobald. Wild slashes of the too heavy blade force it to stumble as I near, and I slide under a blow with an attempt to drive my blade into it. It’s hard flesh pushes back the attack, the clang of steel against scale mocking the weakness of my blow.
Now between myself and Farrago, the kobold is torn. His back turns to one of the book cases and his left arm is outstretched with the unusual blade. But his eyes dance back and forth between me and Farrago.
Insee his right arm reach to his hip and recoil. I lunge, seeing its eyes shift toward Farrago, and knowing he’ll not see me in time to halt me. My weight slams into the beast and I drive him to the ground lead by the tip of my blade. Thick red blood trickles out from the wound and begins to puddle on the grey flecked stone floor. With the kobald dead, my eyes look back up to Farrago who still sits the old wooden chair. Wide eyes are fixed on the deceased monster, but my eyes linger on the dart still vibrating in the crossbar of the chair in the middle of Farrago’s knees. I pull my blade loose from the creature, and wipe my blade clean as I stride toward the dazed scholar. Pulling the dart from the chair and casting it back at thr corpse of its master, I rest a hand on Farrago’s leg. “You’re okay. “. My voice is genuine, hoping only he believes me enough to leave.

Aurora stumbled through the dense underbrush, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she struggled to keep her footing. She was illuminated only by the pale light of the moon, which flickered through the canopy above.

She was lost, she knew, disoriented by the twisting paths of the mirror world, caught in a maze that extended as far as the eye could see. The trees seemed to loom over her, their branches grasping like gnarled fingers as she pushed her way forward, her arms and legs scratched and torn by the brambles that lined the path.

But then, in the distance, she saw the faint light offire, and a smile crept across her face, relief washing over her in a wave of emotion. She pressed forward with renewed energy, her her on.

As she drew closer, she could see figures moving around the fire. She hesitated, a sense of foreboding creeping up her spine, but she pushed the feeling aside and stepped forward into the clearing.

"Who goes there?" a voice boomed, accompanied by the ominous sound of steel being drawn from scabbards. Aurora felt the blood rush from her face.

"It's me, Aurora," she said, her voice shaking with fear. There was a moment of silence, and then a figure stepped forward into the firelight. It was the mentalist, his face set in a scowl of suspicion.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, his voice cold and hard as steel. Aurora stammered out an explanation, her words coming in a rush as she explained her situation.

The mentalist listened with a growing sense of unease, his eyes scanning the woods around them as something hidden. His hand was never far from his sword, Aurora noticed, and she began to feel a sense of mounting tension waited for his response.

Finally, the mentalist spoke. "We'll take you with us, but be warned," he said, his voice low and laden with foreboding. "These woods are dangerous, and we must be on our guard every step of the way."

And so, Aurora fell in with the mentalist's group, trailing behind as they continued their journey through the mirror world. She felt a growing sense of unease as the darkness settled around them like a shroud, aware of the danger that lurked behind the trees.

But she trusted in the mentalist, knowing he had brought them this far, and so she pressed on, her steps growing faster as the shadows grew deeper, and the danger grew more pronounced. It was a slow section that quickly transformed into a race for life and survival.

The pace quickened as the group stumbled upon a pack of wild creatures that stalked them through the woods, and Aurora found herself sprinting through the trees, her heart pounding in her chest as the mentalist rushed to her aid. The scene crescendoed with his sword thrust through a creature's heart, and Aurora was safe once more.

In conclusion, this section of the novel begins with a slow, building tension that gradually ramps up to a dramatic and thrilling climax. The interplay between the characters is nuanced, with fear and tension giving way to a sense of growing mutual trust, and ultimately resulting in a heightened sense of danger and suspense that keeps the reader glued to the page.

Brady was trying to figure out how long it had been since he was in Wellmore and then decided if he couldn’t remember, it had been too long. The drive down from the university had been uneventful, and beautiful since it was the peak of the fall leaf season. He turned onto the road to Aunt Mattie’s house and then remembered; it was no longer Mattie’s house, it was his now. He made his way around the curve and pulled up in front of the house and then sat for a moment just looking at the house.

Nothing ever changed here, was his thought, but of course that wasn’t true. Everything had changed here. Mattie was gone, buried in the tiny family graveyard on the edge of the property, and Brady was the last of his clan. He had hired a property manager to make sure the house and yard were maintained after Mattie’s death, and it all look neat and tidy. The old steps were replaced and it Nathan, the caretaker, had made sure the yard was kept trimmed.

Brady climbed out of the car and grabbed his small case and made his way to the front door. This was always so hard walking into the house and knowing Mattie would not be there to yell at him to wipe his feet and then give him a huge hug. He missed her. Terribly. He pulled the key from his pocket and then realized the door was unlocked. He figured Nathan must be inside checking things out. He pushed open the door and smelled something cooking and suddenly the years slipped away and he was that young boy who had first come here so many years ago.

“Hello? Anybody here?”

He set down his case and turned into the kitchen and stopped dead. This couldn’t be, but it was.

“Welcome home, Brady.” Mimi was standing at the stove with Mattie’s old apron tied around her waist, holding a wooden spoon and she smiled at him and he saw the trepidation behind her eyes. Brady just stood there, tongue tied.

“What are you doing here, Mimi?” He saw the tears well up in her eyes and he felt like an idiot.

“I….I….Nathan said you were coming to stay for a bit and I….. “ she turned away from him, embarrassed, and he saw her hand go up and wipe away a tear.

“Oh, Mimi.” Brady quickly went to her then paused, not knowing what to do. All the last years of hurt and anger and misunderstandings were between them, but this was Mimi. His Mimi. He reached out to her and laid a hand on her shoulder and turned her toward him. Her tears did him in. He had seen too many of Mimi’s tears; enough to last a lifetime. He pulled her to him, and put his arms around her.

They stood together like that, their hearts beating in rhythm, and then Mimi set down the spoon and put her arms around him, and sighed. Brady kissed the top of her head.

“I am so, so sorry, Mimi.”

“I know, Brady. But everything that happened is in the past, and here we are.”

“Can you ever forgive me, Mimi?”

“I forgave you a long time ago, Brady. We were both so young, and we had so much hurt in our lives. I think we needed space and time.”

“I never deserved you, Mimi.”

“Shush now. We won’t talk of this any more right now. Sit down and let’s have beef stew and Mattie’s bread recipe, and we’ll just be two old friends catching up. That’s all. Just a hot meal and conversation. Then maybe tomorrow we can talk.”

So that is what they did, and somewhere in the middle of the food and talk, Brady understood. He had come home to Aunt Mattie’s house again.

Ryan explained why she gave a recorded statement. States she has plans to disappear. The police arrest the Devlin brothers and their security team in a coordinated plan.

One beige plastic table, two lightweight chairs, four bare walls, Detective Hatchett guided Ryan to a chair in the interrogation room. In a plain gray dress, the Android was wide eyed yet calm. From the ceiling visor holograms of Saturn Zion District Attorney Kimber Carruthers and Ryan’ attorney John Sunip appeared. Hatchett gave his boss, Enceladus Chief of Police, a nod. Myrtle nodded in return. The weight of this murder case hung between them. Hatchett closed the little room’s door. Myrtle sat with the suspicious pattern of fires in Orchid Valley, the rumors of physical assaults, the frightened witnesses. The image of two bodies burnt holding each other settled in Myrtle’s mind. Myrtle worked to get Ryan’s witness statement recorded and then Ryan and her daughter would be placed off world in Witness Protection. Eyebrows were raised but Myrtle pushed it through. The door opened. Hatchett stepped out holding Ryan’s elbow. Myrtle felt some kind of way about that. “Thank you for speaking up Ms. FreeOne,” Myrtle said. “Don’t thank me. I looked the other way like everyone else in the Valley until they threatened my baby to keep me quiet. I’m no hero, I’m a mother.” Hatchett escorted the witness out. He rubbed the back of his hand against Myrtle’s knuckles as he walked past.

A driving drumbeat lit up Red’s Bar as the house band launched into its first set. Old fashioned drones zipped by carrying pitchers of beer. On the big tv screens the futbol game switched off. “Breaking News, ECX is live in Capital City as a series of early morning raids at FlorCorp and several homes. According to reports these homes are security personnel from the controversial flower merchant Omni corporation. We can see suspects being handcuffed.” Roy And his brother Joshie shared a worried look. Roy down his Bud Light and pushed away from the bar. He strolled for the back door while Joshie paid the tab and headed for front. They both wished Red’s didn’t hat weapon detectors as they casually walked their separate ways. Roy didn’t turn around when the sound of police car sirens filtered in above the bar’s din. Relief surged as he pushed the back exit. A gray hand flashed seizing Roy’s hand. Roy was pulled out of the bar and flung against the hood of a police car. He turned to see Hatchett. “Tell me what you’ve done to Ryan?” Roy smiled.

She sat holding him as tears poured from his eyes. “Their coming.” He whispered under his breath. “We will be okay.” She responded gently rubbing his back. They sat for about thirty minutes. And everything was silent. But, why was there a draft in the air all of a sudden? Why was it so quiet? Did the blood seekers know where they were? Or was it just their fear? Thoughts danced around in her head as fear gripped her heart tightly. Her stomach turned and her heart dropped to her toes when she heard footsteps along the hallway outside of the door. He lifted his head and looked at the door. Though he was just as scared as she was, he knew he had to protect her. He stood to his feet and quietly stood in front of her. She looked up at him. BANG The door flew off of its hinges and went straight through the wall. Their efforts were futile. Nothing could save them now. from there the screams bagan