Archive for October, 2010

STILL WATER: By Julian Ravage

Thursday, October 28th, 2010

Anna stared out across the quite lake. Her eyes would wander from the smooth lake surface to the leafless trees in the distance. A cold wind whipped at her as she let out a deep, frosty breath. Her white dress was stained from walking across the field. Brown and green patches laced the bottom of her dress as dirt caked on her white shoes.

Tears rolled down her smooth skin. The pain in her heart pulsed with each sigh. She slipped out of her white; mud caked shoes and stood at the very edge of the calm lake. Cold water lapped at her toes.

Anna looked away but no matter where she turned, the deep pain danced across her soul. She opened her mouth to cry out but no sound would rise. The pain continued to slither around her heart like a venomous snake. She looked skyward and thought “Why?”

There was no answer. There never is an answer.

She took one step into the dark water. Fits of troubled breathing assaulted her as she took another long step into the lake. Pain drove its claws into Anna as sorrow moved her one step at a time into the lake. Each feeling was a dance partner in this ballet of sadness.

Faces swirled through her mind as every step brought the lake to her thighs, her waist, her chest and then her neck. Anna swam out into the cold body of water. Numb from the pain and cold, for a moment she felt free. Her tears mixed with the lake water like some divine painting.

Her freedom was short lived as the numbness gave way and terrible pain flooded her mind’s eye and heart’s pulse. Her face dipped into the water as she tried to wash away her tears, her long white dress flowing behind her. A crow squawked in the distance.

Anna’s arms and legs moved with a gentle rhythm. She used just enough energy to swim out toward the center of the lake. Her pain filled eyes catching glimpses of floating branches, leaves and ghosts from her past. The warmth from her body trailed away into the gloom as tendrils of cold caressed her.

The black dagger in her heart began to twist. Anna’s hands stopped moving. Her legs became still. She drifted like so many dead leaves in the autumn weather. Spaces of time passed and she was as still as the lake around her.

Then Anna’s body began to sink. Her white dress flowing around her body as the lake slowly began to claim her. She could sense death knocking in the distance. She could feel gentle ghosts tapping at her, trying to merge their sorrow with hers. It would play out so beautifully if she was not blinded by her sad pain. Bubbles rose from her mouth as she took one last look upward into the fading light.

In the gloom and darkness, Anna saw a strip of white with her dying eyes. On the bottom, mixed with many swaying lake plants, lay a woman in a white dress. Anna felt nothing as she drifted closer to the woman facing down into the dark green lake floor. It all became part of her as she drew closer to the woman. Like a gentle blanket cast out into the water, Anna settled on the woman in the white dress. 

Anna had no concept of time anymore. She knew it was her own body she was staring at. She couldn’t bring her self to understand, she had been dead for eighteen hours. The cold lake preserved her well. Anna lay with her dead body at the bottom of the watery depths. She caressed her face and cried. Pain ate at her heart like a worm in an apple. Death could still be heard in the distance, knocking, forever knocking.

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©2010 Julian Ravage

THE FINAL SILENCE: By Lori Titus

Wednesday, October 27th, 2010

The Marradith Ryder Series: The Art of Shadows, Part 21

Rafael slipped in and out of consciousness. He dreamed about being a child, being back on the farm. The sun had dissapeared behind dark clouds. The smell of rain moved through the air.  Fields of wheat swayed. Laying in the barn flat on his stomach, he waited, feeling the warmth moving through the air. He watched the rain fall. His dog lay beside him, nudging the side of his face with his cool muzzle. He ran his fingers through the dog’s fur. The canine settled beside him, warm and content.

Thunder grumbled above, and the rain came down harder, clattering on the roof.

Rafael woke.

There was no thunder. Only the thud of footsteps moving across the ceiling, the sharp edge of muted voices. They spoke in anger.

Voices speaking in Spanish.

Rafael strained to listen, but was unable to hear more than a few words.

More footsteps. A small rush of air, and then a door slamming.

Rafael tensed. Someone was coming down to see him.

The footsteps were too heavy to be those of the female, his torturer. He was used to her light step, the shadow of her small form. Sometimes she tapped a pipe against the wall before she came into view, or pressed the button on the taser that she used, making a sizzling sound.  It was a mind game for her. She enjoyed it when he knew what was coming.

His visitor was the young man, which Rafael had not seen in a few days.

Or more specificly, the young Wolf.

The man’s face was in shadow. The room was always dim, but a window near the top of the ceiling  offered a bit of milky light. Rafael tried to distinguish his features. The man had curly hair, a straight nose and rounded chin.

When he spoke, he didn’t have a New York accent.

“Morning,” he said simply. “I brought you something to eat.”

“Thanks. I thought you were gone. Maybe you decided to let me starve.”

The man shook his head. “Well, if she had her way, you probably would.”

“Can you untie my hands?” Rafael asked. “I’d like to feed myself.”

The man sighed. After a moment of deliberation, he moved behind Rafael. He adjusted the bonds so he could use his hands, but his arms were still drawn to his sides. He’d been provided this small comfort before, and was grateful that he was able to have it again.

“Thank you,” Rafael said.

His meal consisted of two sandwhiches, one bologna, and the other turkey. Someone had went through the trouble of adding pickles and tomatoes, even some lettuce. It was delicious, after so long being hungry. He couldn’t tell which he found more satisfying, the slabs of meat or the juicy crunch of vegetables.

“She did not feed you when I was gone?” the man asked. Rafael caught the tilt of his words, the soft edge of indignity to it.

“No.”

“That’s been a while.”

“How many days?”  Rafael asked.

“Five.”

He’d guessed that it had been nearly that long. But if it had been five days since he’d eaten, how long had he been in captivity?

The man settled into a corner. Rafael went back to eating his food, consuming it as quickly as possible.  He was biting the last bit of pickle when the young man spoke again.

“I’ve seen your wife,” the man said.

Rafael felt his insides go cold. “What?”

“Keep your voice down. She’s fine. She’s here in New York. Looking for you. I threw her off track.”

“What does that mean?”  Rafael cried.

“It means I did you a solid,” he replied. “You don’t want Fiona here. You don’t want anyone to get hold to your family.”

“What is it you people want from me?”

“You know what they want.”

“Well why not kill me then? Get it over with?”

“Because its about more than just you. We want information,” he paused, looking up at the ceiling. “Look. You want to survive, then you dole out something. Anything that will keep her busy. But you give a little. This name, rank, and serial number bullshit isn’t going to work very much longer.”

“Who are you?” Rafael demanded.

“My name is Alejandro,” he replied. “And I know all about you, Mr. Castillo. You want to get out of here alive, and not in pieces, you’ll take my advice. Understand? ”

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© 2010 Lori Titus

Lori’s novella, Lazarus, is available through The Library of the Living Dead.  For more information about the author and her latest projects, see her blog: http://loribeth215.wordpress.com/