One Page: Keys of Eternity

Still leapfrogging around in the manuscript, but nearing the end of what I have already written. In the meantime, I'm also collecting everything so that I can offer it as a short story for those who would like to read the whole thing. I hope you're enjoying things so far.

With a bang of the screen door, Kelly and The Hound appeared. As usual, Kelly was dressed in what Elise lovingly referred to as rainbow vomit. Next to the unrelieved black of his mother, anything with one of the bold colors he favored would be an improvement. The problem was he generally chose several loud clashing colors which only accentuated his ghostly Irish transparency he got from his deceased father. The Hound, a deep brown dog of indeterminate breeding and speculative age, trotted over and pushed his head into Zara's lap begging for attention as Kelly locked up.

"You big baby," Kelly said. "C'mere so I can put your leash on."

Obedient, The Hound ceased its begging and sat down with its head up to be properly attired for his trip to the park.

Before the pair headed off, Kelly said,

"Miss Zara, I'm really sorry about your sister."

"Thanks, Kelly."

"Did you hear that they lost the body of the guy Mom shot? There was some kind of accident up on Liberty and the body went poof. Weirdest shit."

Zara stared. Kelly waited a few seconds before waving a hand in front of her face.

"Man, you can practically see the loading screen. You okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Fine." She scratched her temple. "Just like you said, weird shit."

After another pause and Kelly shuffling his feet back and forth like an anxious five year old, he said,

"You know, Mom probably wouldn't mind if you stayed with us until this whole thing is sorted.."

"Sure. I'll think about it." Zara rose from the stair. "You better go before Hound poops in your Momma's plants."

The dog sniffed around the little purple pansies at the side of the stairs with gusto.

"Right! Bye, Miss Zara." He took off at a jog toward Forsyth with The Hound keeping pace. Zara let herself into her apartment.

So the body was missing? That didn't really mean anything. Somebody misplaced it or mislabeled it. The accident caused it to go up in flames. Whatever. No reason to worry about it. After securing the door, she trudged up the stairs. The headache brewing behind her eyes had reached max volume. Time to put her feet up and close her eyes. She could make more phone calls later.

And things continue.

One Page: Keys of Eternity Part 1

Firstly, ladies and gentlemen, this project finally has a title. (WOOT! WOOT!) It is called Keys of Eternity. I have finished writing the first fifty pages longhand and am working on typing them in so that they will be available for all readers. I may even offer it free here on the blog as I work on the next part.

This section is from page 35-37. I started with the last paragraph on page 35 and followed it all the way through the end of the last sentence which is found on the top of page 37. I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far. Leave me comments, questions, concerns, kudos, or anything else you'd like in the comments section.

Jason ran a hand through his hair. "Where do I begin?"

Zara offered him nothing but a stare of studious attention that made him a tad uncomfortable. With the light still low her eyes glittered. He imagined they glowed the way a wolf's did when creeping close to a hunter's fire to remind him he is never quite alone, or safe, in the woods. The urge to comfort her in her obvious pain warred with the awareness that she, should she desire, could snap him in half on a whim.

Despite his discomfort, he wondered if the ghost girl was there with them. Would she weigh in on what he said.

"You're not talking."

"I don't know what to say." He paused and sighed. "Do you believe in magic?"

"Are you going to try some cheesy card trick or disappear into thin air?"

"No." For a heartbeat he considered another way, less flashy, but nothing else would break the shell of disbelief she built around herself. If he wanted her to believe in the supernatural, he would have to show it to her. With a slow breath, he relinquished his control a bit at a time. The room brightened as his wings appeared and his armor manifested.

She didn't gasp, hide, or even really blink. When the transformation was done and he stood in her living room in full regalia she moved from her chair. Without looking him in the eye, she ran one hand down his wing. The caress caused an involuntary flex. Then she yanked out a feather. Turning it before her eyes, she said,

"Falcon."

"Yes." He blinked. "How did you know that?"

"Artists study the things they want to depict."

Clinical. Emotionless. Her eyes had gone dry and remained stony as she regarded him.

Shifting under that gaze, he considered his next words. He had to get through to her.

"I realize I should have been there for Amara, but I wasn't and I don't want you to die too."

She paused where she had reseated herself with an apple slice almost to her lips. Zara's eyes darkened from their attractive maple to mahogany then progressed to ebony. A wave of anguish mixed with rage flooded the room.

Anybody else think maybe he said exactly the wrong thing?

One Page: Untitled [Plus Bonus]

The supernatural elements of this story have been popping up in and off for a little while now. However, on page 28, they come out in full force. Jason Phobos (he hadn't appeared in any of the postings here on the blog) goes head to head against a creature threatening K'Zara's life. Since this is my fifth post, I decided I should throw in a little bonus aka more story, so I'm going to follow this scene all the way through to the end. Enjoy!

Jason came striding down the sidewalk seeking Zara just as the coroner's team guided the gurney with its massive black bag down the shallow porch steps. Stopping, two forces tugged at him. One he recognized as Zara. The other came from the black bag.

Corpses shouldn't pull.

Something with enough power to be killed by human means and survive would endanger his mission.

They packed it away as he considered his options. Go to Zara and try to convince her she was in graver danger than she thought or go after the threat himself. She seemed to innocent to be caught up in a wars tarted before man understood fire.

The van pulled away from the curb. He watched it turn the corner at the end of the street, marking its direction. Then he looked up into the empty windows of Zara's apartment. He had to protect her. She had already lost too much. He trotted down the street after the van and when he turned the corner unfurled his wings to fly. 

The blaze of his office made him appear as a haze flying so close to the ground.

The van turned onto a busier street and merged into traffic. Then it weaved hard and knocked up on two wheels before almost landing on a white sedan. Even from above, Jason saw the blood on the driver's side window before it shattered out. What crawled through the hole was human in shape and size but not color. Its mottled flesh under the remains of a bloody white shirt was blistered black and green. The entry wounds of the bullets in his face oozed black. It leapt from the van to the median and walked away, straightening its ruined clothes as if it were nothing but a business man leaving a dinner with friends. It even checked its cuff links. One was missing. 

Jason dropped on it like a comet.

The creature deflected his sword stroke with thick unyielding claws.

"Kimbu," it said as they faced off under a tree with the faint early stars overhead "Get in my way and I'll kill you."

"You are not supposed to be here."

"When I'm done, I'll leave."

It attempted to proceed and Jason cut off its exit with his sword. It did not look amused.

"Little kimbu, you know not what you defend." It thrust the sword away. "Get out of my way."

Sirens blasted and wailed, drawing closer. In this age, there would be video. They needed to flee the scene. With any luck, they'd be mistaken for weirdos in a city full of them. Cars stood still in both directions as people tried to make sense of the accident. The demon slid across the hood of a small red Honda and disappeared into a nearby parking garage. Jason couldn't remember if it was one of those with cameras or not, but he didn't chance it. He skirted the outside and headed for the back. 

They met again on a backstreet where Jason lunged in for the kill his sword put another rip in an already mutilated sleeve and drew more black blood. With a hiss, the demon went for the medallion st Jason's neck. Without it, he would lose his physical body and become a lost one. Not a fate he wished to endure. He snatched back and the demon kept coming, bowling him over before continuing to run away.

It was going back for Zara.

"No, you don't." Springing to his feet, he gathered his strength. The demon was getting away. Then the bolt Jason threw hit him square between the shoulders and knocked him flat. Jogging over, he tried not to smell the frying he could clearly hear. 

You don't know what you defend.

The demon groaned and the stubby remains of its destroyed wings tried to take flight. Jason brought his sword down to the creature's neck. Now was not the time to contemplate. He crunched the point through the demon's neck bringing up a spray from the wound. The spray hardly touched him before the entire scene turned to the ash of long dead fires.

_______

All together three pages. Any thoughts on Jason?

One Page: Still Untitled

So I've started numbering the pages in this handwritten manuscript. This section is page 21 going on to 22.

Three hours later, after she had gone through the break-in step by step, affirmed she had never seen the man before, and defended her sister's honor by assuring them that he certainly wasn't an irate boyfriend out for revenge; Officer Kendrick held the door for a cruiser to take her home. Considering how Zara felt, he was lucky she didn't wrench his arm off before he could shut the door.

They pulled up to her apartment to find her landlady, Elise, sitting on the front porch in a lawn chair. Despite being the mother of a wildly independent high schooler, Elise didn't look a day over 27. And the look on that beautiful waifish face said woe to whoever got in her way. She brushed a strand of immaculate black hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her right ear.

Officer Kendrick got out first and approached.

"Good evening ma'am. I understand there was a problem in the upstairs apartment." He made it to the second porch step before Elise stood up and showed off the pistol she had in her lap. Understandably, he stopped and put his hand over his own weapon.

"Ain't no problem no more, officer. Unless you count the clean up." To her credit, Elise didn't gesture with the tunas she pointed into the shadowy downstairs apartment. "Gringo came barging in, yelling about where could he find the Crofts. They nice girls, pay their rent on time, quiet, no trouble. But he won't stop and now he's throwing things and he knocked down my good picture of George. No, no, that won't do. So I shot him. Then a second time to make sure he stay down. Rule Two: Doubletap."

Kendrick shifted his eyes to the darkened doorway without moving his hand. When Zara came around the car behind him, he waved her back. "Stay with the car." Then he looked to Elise. "May I come look?"

_______

Curiouser and curiouser. If nothing else, I fully enjoy the character of Elise. I'm starting to see a little bit of where this is going, but I won't tell. Leave your comments and I'll entertain your speculations.

One Page: Untitled

I still have no idea what to call this which is unusual for me since I come up with titles almost immediately. Guess I'll just have to wait until the title occurs to me. For now, here's installment three of my One Page project.

The gun chilled her skin where he pressed it. One bullet and she would be as dead as her sister. Had this asshole killed her?

Please don't.

Her sister's last words rang through her head and Zara tasted blood as she chomped down on her tongue. The world flashed vivid in colors she couldn't describe and she saw the hulk in front of her for what he was: a spineless bully.

Images assaulted her but she beat them back. Now wasn't the time. First live. Then investigate.

His eyes bulged as she pressed closer to the gun and took hold of his arm.

"Wrong one," she said before dragging him inside and off his feet. Tossing him into the staircase, she whipkicked the door shut. "You killed my sister." Zara spit a mouthful of blood on him and he cringed. The gun lay abandoned on the stair. Stalking closer, Zara heard his heart as it pounded, what a delicious sound. Hunger rumbled through her. He would taste delectable. She sniffed the air as she drew close enough to feel his terrified breath on her skin.

He struck hard enough to pop her head to one side and ring her right ear but not enough to put any distance between them. When she brought her gaze back with a snarl, he attempted to crab walk up the stairs backward. Snaking an arm out, she snatched him down by his left ankle. His head thunked against the stair.

"Where are you going?" The question, undoubtedly rhetorical, brought on a torrent of words.

"I'm sorry. Let me go. I'll pay you." The words shivered.

Coward. Yellow bellied bastard. There would be no dignity in his death. She felt pity asking her to spare him. Let the fool run free. Unfortunately, her inner predator said kill him, skin him, eat him, and do the world a favor. Plus there was the matter of him paying for her sister's murder.

Yes, yes.

One Page: Still Untitled

Here's the first one page piece from this story: CLICK HERE.

Zara finished off everything, including the jello, which her brain declared needed alcohol. At the end, she felt like she could have eaten more but the pain said what she really wanted was the medicine the nurse promised. Luckily drill sergeant nurse showed up as if summoned with a syringe in her hand.

"Now this is something for pain and to help you sleep, so don't be surprised if you find you can't keep your eyes open."

"Okay."

"There's a buzzer near your right shoulder should you wake up and need someone. Don't hesitate to use it. Here's the TV remote. Don't worry about falling asleep and leaving it on. It won't bother nobody." Then she smiled. "Get some rest." Even though the smile was all teeth, it was still comforting. Somebody cared.

It only took a few minutes of watching The Real Housewives of Atlanta on rerun for the drugs to start to work. The world turned soft, fuzzy, hazy and gray before the black crept in. Without fear, Zara let it take her.

Air, thick with blossoming magnolia, crowded around her as she turned in a circle. Trees pressed in though she stood on a red brick path under heavy moonlight. Night birds complained nearby. Gossamer peace held the scene by spider silk threads and they were breaking. Rolling in from the horizon thunderheads promised foul weather. Zara looked around for shelter but she might as well have been in the deep woods for all she saw. Silver droplets pattered down through the trees and she felt a massive footstep. Again, slow and rhythmic horror came but she couldn't see it. The urge to run scampered through her but her body stood frozen. Whatever was coming would find her an easy target.

K'ZARA

"Miss Croft!"

Voices layered on top of one another and they beckoned her to a world of daylight.

One Page: Currently Untitled

One page of new work.

For K'Zara Croft's 21st birthday someone shot her sister, Amara, and she felt it.

Partying on the second floor of Club One with a legally purchased Long Island in one hand, the night had been fabulous. Even the occasional grope from the not-gay boys and the very-gay girls failed to dampen her mood. She was 21 in one of the best drinking cities in the United States. Tonight was a good night. At 2 a.m., aware of the bar's imminent closure, she stumbled out onto the sidewalk and brushed her shoulder length locs away from her face. She breathed in the tainted air of the smokers as she walked past ignoring the appreciative whistle that followed. Coffee always said a man who whistled rather than introduce himself thought you were a dog and if you followed that, you'd end up with fleas.

Jefferson Street led down into City Market where some places were still lit while others had gone dark. People sat out under the Spanish moss draped trees smoking and talking with drinks in their hands or settled nearby. Zara had left her own plastic cup behind. Nothing in it, no reason to keep it. At the Broughton Street corner, she started looking for cabs. If she didn't find one, she'd have to hoof it home. Granted home wasn't that far, but anything that put her closer to falling into bed was not to be missed.

Zara fanned herself with one distracted hand. The hot humid air clung to her white t-shirt like a fog. Further down the street, a cab turned toward her. She threw her arm up to get its attention.

"Hey!"

Please don't!

Zara snapped her head around fully expecting her twin to be standing there chiding her for staying out so late. She was probably asleep in her favorite chair with a book on her chest. Then why did she sound terrified?

"Mara?"

A gun went off. Mara screamed until she gurgled. Zara felt as if she had been punched in the chest and sat down hard on the pavement. Putting her hand to her chest to check her heart, she came away with wet heat as black roses crowded out her vision.

Mara, what happened?

The world disappeared under a coal colored shroud as feet ran toward her.