Of magic and more


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The real Aaron

This is my submission to the Speakeasy #155 writing challenge.

THE REAL AARON

Without a word, she dropped to the ground.

“So? Did you find him?” Detective Inspector Richmond asked for the thousandth time that afternoon.

“We’ve got him surrounded on the western boundary.” Agent Sarah Madison answered. She had been scouting the forest from atop the tall oak tree for hours. Richmond had wanted to launch helicopters, but Sarah was sure she could do better, and she had.

“Good job, Sarah!”Richmond smiled as they entered  FBI headquarters. “Consider yourself promoted!”

 

Sarah smiled back. She had been working hard for seven years to move up in the ranks, and now she would, thanks to this case. The Alison Kimberly murder had sent shockwaves throughout the university she had been a student of. Alison had been popular and beautiful, president of her sorority, and girlfriend to computer and science genius Aaron Hudson. She’d had rivals, but no one who hated her enough to poison her soda with cyanide.

The case had been about to close when Sarah, still suspicious, stepped in and asked to re-investigate. “I’m giving you this case because I trust you. If this is all for nothing or you mess up, you will lose your job.” Richmond had warned her.

Months of lurking around in the university, thorough questioning and a lot of puzzling, Sarah found all evidence pointing towards Aaron, Alison’s boyfriend. Still, it had been circumstantial, and Aaron would have been safe, had he not tried to flee when the FBI knocked at his door.

 

Sarah took a deep breath. If she could crack the suspect, she would win the case and her promotion.

 “Why did you do it, Aaron?”

He smiled insolently. “We both know why, Agent, so quit wasting your time.”

“You will not speak to me like that!” Sarah snapped.

“ I’d rather not, Agent. My proposal for the coffee date still stands though.”

“Just answer the damn question!” Sarah was beginning to lose her cool now.

“Oh, feisty, aren’t you, Agent? Okay, I’ll tell you why I murdered Alison. Betrayal.” Aaron’s gaze locked with hers.  His eyes were the colour of a thunderstorm, with full lashes. Attractive eyes, almost feminine, just like the rest of him.

Sarah was startled out of her errant thoughts as Aaron continued. “I liked Alison. I really did. I had been nominated for the international computer Olympiad, to be held in Greece. Everything was fine until I found that Alison had called in a lot of favours to replace my name with hers all because she really wanted to visit Greece. She pretended that she didn’t have any idea how she, with her zero knowledge about computers, was chosen as state representative!”

“So you killed her?” Sarah exclaimed. “For such a little thing?”

“Oh it wasn’t a little thing, Agent. Betrayal kills. I think you know what I mean.” He smirked.

“What rubbish!” Sarah sputtered. “I would never kill anyone!”

“Oh but you did,” said Aaron smoothly. “Agent Bradford’s death was no accident. He took the entire credit for a case you had solved alone, and stole your promotion, so you killed him.”

“He was my fiancée!” Sarah shouted.

“You didn’t want to marry him, accepting his proposal was a mistake. You like women.”

Sarah felt defeated. “How do you know all this?”

“Intelligence, and professional hacking, Agent. The Bureau’s files should be guarded better.”

Sarah managed to say,”I’ll be back tomorrow.”

 

Despite everything Aaron had said about her, Sarah slept peacefully that night.

 

She was woken up in the early morning by her phone ringing insistently.

Groggily, she answered. “Hello?”

“The suspect’s escaped.”

Six months later, Aaron Hudson had still not been found. Every database  denied the existence of any such identity.

“I’m sorry, Sarah.” Detective Inspector Richmond said sadly. “You’re fired.”

Sarah trudged away to her office to clear it. She had lost her job and her reputation and all she had left was the memory of the most beautiful eyes she had ever seen. She sighed and opened a drawer. Placed in it was a piece of paper. She gasped.

Agent Madison,

 If you ever stop denying the chemistry between us, I leave with you an address where you can find me. Report this to the feds and you’ll never hear from me again.

Yours from the moment I saw you,

Aaria

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718 words 🙂

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The picture prompt:

Lion

 

 

 

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10 Comments

Trapped

Hi! FF came early this time, but I loved the picture prompt so much, I wrote my story as quickly as I could…

To anyone who wants to join FF, this weekly challenge is hosted by the super-awesome Rochelle, who gives us a photo prompt on which we are to write a piece of 100 word flash fiction. Come on and play, its fun! This week’s picture is by John Nixon 🙂

copyright John Nixon

                                 Copyright- John Nixon

Here are my 97 words:

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TRAPPED

Elle crouched in the woods, waiting.

“The roots are coming for you..” Uncle Rob had driven her insane, whispering it over and over until she saw eyes in the branches, heard the leaves moaning, and the roots..calling her, always calling her to join them in the darkness.

 

When she told her parents, they had her locked up in that grey hospital, assuming she was dead when it burned down in a freak accident.

 

Gales of laughter and familiar voices alerted Elle and she stood up to greet her family.

Tonight the roots were coming for them.

 

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Don’t mess with the Sirens

This is my submission to the Write On Edge Week 11 writing challenge. The idea is to write a piece of fiction in 500 words, based on the picture prompt, the given quote, or both f you’re so inclined. This week the quote was:

I would have written of me on my stone: I had a lover’s quarrel with the world.

~Robert Frost

The picture prompt:

Image courtesy of Unsplash.

Image courtesy of Unsplash.

I have taken inspiration from the picture. Here are my 490 words 🙂

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DON’T MESS WITH THE SIRENS

 

She had watched him from afar, noon and night, ever since he had pitched his tent on the island. Often he had caught her eye with a knowing smile, and every time she had lowered her adoring gaze until he turned away. Parthenope, the sea siren, was infatuated with Ulysses, and he knew it. The handsome hero loved all the attention, but never would he fall prey to her charm. The great Ulysses and a low down creature of the sea! Impossible. That was exactly what he would tell Parthenope if she came to him, demanding his love. He was well aware that rejecting a siren’s advances was dangerous, and all his well-wishers would advise him to flee , lest he be killed. But from the siren’s unusual shyness, it seemed unlikely she would approach him, and so he remained complacent.

 

But she did come to him one afternoon. She rose out of the tide, pearly-eyed and dark haired, her beauty putting the loveliest goddesses to shame. But all this was wasted on the stone-hearted Ulysses who bestowed her with no more than a cursory glance.

Still she tried to woo him. Again and again he spurned her, taunting her and her sisters for being wicked deformities of nature and boasting about how he was too great a hero to ever stoop so low as to love a siren. “Begone!” He spat. “You are not worthy of being the ground I walk upon.”

Gathering up her wounded self-respect, Parthenope responded with cold dignity. “Do not underestimate our worth. My sisters and I are powerful. Men have killed and have themselves died often at our bidding. Many in this world have sought our affections, none have been fortunate enough to glimpse it. Be wise, Ulysses, this is not a gift to be thrown away. Choose well, while you have time.”

But the hero merely laughed and threatened to obliterate Parthenope and her sisters until the siren left him alone.

On their home island, Parthenope and her sisters discussed Ulysses.

“Perhaps he’s faithful to his wife.” Suggested Ligeia.

“Hardly!” scoffed Aglaope. “There is not a land in the known world where he has not bedded a woman.”

“He must be dealt with.” They agreed.

The day before Ulysses was supposed to return home to Ithaca, he mysteriously disappeared. His men, whom he had ordered to camp on the other side of the island so he might not be disturbed; found nothing but his tent despite searching thoroughly. Large, skilled search parties were launched, but the hero could not be found. In Ithaca, Penelope, his wife, grieved his assumed death.

 

“Slave!  Fetch me a goblet of wine!”

“Have you not mopped the floors yet, slave? Really, you are the slowest!”

Ulysses wiped his brow and continued his unaccustomed labour. By Gods, he should have fled while there was time. Now he was stuck as the sirens’ slave forever…

 


37 Comments

The Attic

Hello there 🙂 Goody, it’s time for Friday Fictioneers again! My 9th attempt and yay, I’m not late this time 😀

Hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, FF is a weekly challenge to write 100 word flash fiction based on a picture prompt chosen by Rochelle herself. Thanks Rochelle for such an interesting photo 😀

Copyright -Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Copyright -Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Here are my 101 words:

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THE ATTIC

The grill door to the attic was kept barred at all times. The attic was dreary and silent throughout the day.

At night it came alive.

Adam had always pooh-poohed the idea. Believing local rumors was ill-becoming of a psychologist.

One night he decided to investigate. The paper he published two weeks later affirmed that the haunted attic was a mere myth.

Adam sighed, looking at the dead body. His tenth patient that month. Where to store..? Ah of course, the attic. Adam was glad he had visited it, so much space- and the voices were always so helpful.

 

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23 Comments

Cursed

Hi, y’all! My 8th attempt at writing 100 word flashfiction for FF, which is hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Every week Rochelle chooses a picture prompt, on which we write approximately 100 words, give or take a few. Thanks Adam for this week’s picture 😀

AdamIckes-boardwalk

                                                   copyright – Adam Ickes

Here are my 100 words 🙂

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CURSED

The village was united before the war tore it apart.

Overnight, friends became enemies, and suspicion spread like a poisonous fog.

A bridge was built to divide the village into two. Any person who tried to cross the bridge would be executed.

Lovers Hayden and Jasmine dared to defy. One clear spring afternoon, the two lovers were burnt at the stake.

Those involved in the execution were found dead in their beds the next morning. The surviving inhabitants fled the village in terror.

 Legend has it, every leap year, the spirits of the villagers come back to replay the massacre.

 

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A Helping Hand

A HELPING HAND

Joanna sat in her study with her fifth cup of coffee for that night. Her husband Gerhard was fast asleep upstairs and so were the children. Go on, you can do it, she urged herself. She lowered her eyes to the .45 pistol on the desk. She had sneaked it away from Gerhard’s closet when he was showering earlier in the day. The pistol had a silencer in it- Gerhard always kept it in the nearest safe place- the closet- in case there was an intruder.

 

Joanna let her fingers close around the cold metal, knuckles whitening as her grip tightened. All she had to do was go up the stairs, into the bedroom and fire a single bullet. It would be so easy, killing Gerhard. Just as it should have been all along, for all these years.  Joanna had stopped eschewing the thought of murdering her husband when she realized how much she had suffered at his hands. She had left everything for him- a promising modeling career, her city, even her family. In return she had seen days and months of abuse- the beatings, the insults, the excuses she had had to give for her bruises…

 

No more, she vowed. Steeling her nerves, Joanna got up and walked quietly into the dark hallway. The sound of swishing fabric made her whip around as a blurred neon shape moved into her field of vision. Thankful of her sharp reflexes, Joanna tackled the intruder. “Don’t move, I’ve got a gun!” she warned in a harsh whisper, cursing her luck. Of all the nights, this had to happen now!

“And I’ve got a knife.” The intruder said in a trembling voice, familiar to Joanna. Her eyes better adjusted to the darkness now, recognized the person below her. “Sadie?” she cried softly. “What are you doing here?” Joanna helped her husband’s secretary up. “Don’t try to attack me again.” She told the sniffling girl, prying the knife out of her fingers.

Switching on the lights, Joanna turned back to Sadie with a raised eyebrow. “Well? Explain, or I’ll call the police.”

“No, no, please don’t do that!” Sadie burst into tears. “I…. I came to kill you.”

“In this costume?” Joanna felt a wry smile tugging at her lips. The glow-in-the-dark jumpsuit would make it difficult for anyone not to see it coming their way. “Nice camouflage.”

“What?” Sadie sniffed. “Neon is the new sexy! I ordered it online just last week. Priority shipping.”

“So why did you want to kill me, Sadie?”

The pretty girl looked bitter. “Gerhard- I mean Mr. Adler told me to.”

Joanna narrowed her eyes. “So he wants me out of the way.”

Sadie nodded. “Mr. Adler and I… we’ve been having a secret affair. He told me he loved me. He gave me this-“ She fingered the delicate silver chain she was wearing- “and promised to marry me if I killed you.” She started crying again.

Foolish little thing, thought Joanna with a mixture of amusement and contempt. She decided she had to finish Gerhard off that very night. If she missed this opportunity, she knew she might not get the courage again. Only, what was to be done with the silly creature in front of her?

“Two pairs of hands are better than one.” The words escaped her mouth before she could stop them.

“What do you mean?” Sadie cocked her head at Joanna, looking at her with wide blue eyes.

“Well Sadie.” Joanna tried her best to sound convincing. “Gerhard doesn’t love you at all.”

“Of course he does!” Sadie bristled. “He told me so. And he got me a Porsche a few days back!”

“Darling, that’s nothing. He got me a 10 carat diamond ring from Tiffany a while ago.” Said Joanna truthfully. Gerhard had always been particular about giving expensive gifts to make up for being the world’s worst husband.

“Oh! A diamond!” Sadie sounded outraged. “He certainly never got me one…”

“See? There’s the proof.”

“How could he lead me on like this?” Sadie raged. “I want to kill him now!”

“As I said Sadie, two pairs of hands are better than one. Let’s do it together.”

“What’s in it for you?

“Despite appearances, he isn’t all that good to me either.” Joanna pulled her robe aside to reveal a yellowing bruise. “I’ll split the insurance with you, fifty-fifty.”

They shook hands.

A Bee Gee’s song played in Joanna’s mind. She smiled. No more Stayin’ Alive for Gerhard.

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This was written for speakeasy #152 at yeahwrite. The challenge was (a)to write a piece of fiction or poetry,750 words or less(mine is 750 including the title)(b)to use the sentence ,”“It would be so easy.”,anywhere in the piece and (c)to make some kind of reference to the media prompt, which this week is a video for ‘Staying Alive’ by the Bee Gees.In case,this challenge interests you or you would like to read what others have written,click on this link http://www.yeahwrite.me/speakeasy/152-open/


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Angel

My submission for the Write On Edge Writing Prompt Week 10 🙂 The challenge is to write a story in no more than 500 words based on the given picture or quote. If you like, you may use both the picture and the quote, or simply derive inspiration from them. This week the picture was:

Image courtesy of Unsplash.

                                                            Image courtesy of Unsplash.

The quote:

You could’ve made a safer bet, but what you break is what you get.
You wake up in the bed you make. I think you made a big mistake.

You own me. There’s nothing you can do. You own me.

~Mark Berninger of The National, Lucky You

 

Here are my 500 words-

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ANGEL

They say love gives you direction. They say it helps you complete the jigsaw puzzle life is.  But you, Angel, did neither. Your dazzling smile had my head reeling the first time I met you. The knowing look in your sparkling sapphire eyes made me feel like you were enjoying a private joke.. You never let me on it, did you?

 

You were bright and summery when you wanted to be, as angelic as your name. In those moments you were my Angel, hair like sunshine and kisses like the breath of Zephyr.  But oh, that mean streak of yours! Demonic wrath! When your temper flared, you were the fallen Angel who had decided upon wreaking havoc in all three worlds. You were cruel and relentless in tearing my heart down. Yet I never complained ,my love patient and willing to suffer all my life for a single bubble of laughter from your sweet lips.

 

But how I loved you, Angel… and how I still do. It kills me every day that I had to do this, though really I had no option. How could I, who had showered you with all of life’s happiness; bear to see you in the arms of not one-not two-but several lovers week after week? Was it the sex, Angel? Yes, I know I could not love you in bed for as long as you would have preferred, but my darling, was that reason enough to betray my faith in your lovely self? Well, whatever be the reason, I had to keep you with me. I could not and would not lose my Angel, my heaven and my hell.

 

So I did it. Claimed you back, in all senses. You see why I had to, right? You see, don’t you? Oh dear… I’d forgotten how pus-filled your blue orbs have become.  My pet, how can you let your beauty deteriorate this way? After all the hours I spent with the formaldehyde and the ethanol! I even made sure that the cosmetics I provided you with were 100% organic. So why this negligence towards yourself? Look, now your lips are cold and cracked too… Your breath is turning rancid too-I noticed when I kissed you yesterday. It’s a pity about your chest- I never meant to swing that cleaver so many times, but it felt too good to stop, besides you had already stopped moving, so you felt no pain.

 

Never mind, Angel. All that actually matters is that I have you now. Your skin will peel off and rot, you will be reduced to bones and consequently ashes, but my love for you will never falter.  I’m dreadfully sorry I had to resort to this, but alas! You know you deserve this, love.

You could’ve made a safer bet, but what you break is what you get.
You wake up in the bed you make. I think you made a big mistake.

You own me. There’s nothing you can do. You own me.

 

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