Category: Excerpts

Just a happy little TGIF gift, an excerpt from the last batch of stuff for Hidden Things:

“What’s with the open window?”

“You smell like the parts of the coastline where birds have died.”
He shrugged. “Not a lot of bathing opportunities in my simple life.” He pulled out a mangled but mostly intact cigar from an inner pocket and pointed at a passing road sign. “Turn here. Mind if I smoke since we’re gonna die of pneumonia anyway?”
“Could you just shoot yourself in the chest instead?” she said without rancor, taking the exit he’d indicated. “I can tear your trachea out with my bare hands and rub asphalt on your tongue afterwards if that would help you get the buzz. Maybe I could leave your body lying on a pile of burning tires.”
He simply stared at her, then tucked the cigar away. “You have issues. You know this?”
“It’s been mentioned before,” she muttered.

Today, we learn how to deal with an assailant, with an example from the heroine of Hidden Things:

Calliope pointed at the lighted office window. Her heart hammered in her chest. “There’s an armed policeman sitting right in there,” she said. “You might want to call him for help.”

…and then the ass-kicking began. *curtsey*
As of right now I’m exactly on track for my word count but I’m sure to be behind come midnight tonight, since instead of being a good little boy and writing when I get home I’m going to the No Doubt/Garbage coliseum tour show.

So, the name of the story is Hidden Things:

She smiled in the darkness and pushed herself further underneath the comforter with the phone. “Hey you. I thought you’d be home and asleep by now. How was the trip?”
There was a short pause, the strange hiccuped silence of an interrupted cell connection. “A few things came up; I’m still out on the road, actually.”
“Oh cripes, really?” The bed frame creaked slightly at movement on the other side from Calliope. She half-glanced that direction and started to pull herself out of bed. “When… hang on, I’m switching phones.” She padded to opposite side of the room, found a cordless handset and turned it on as she hung the first phone up. “When do you think you’re going to get back?” As she spoke she headed for the door to the bedroom, grabbing a robe on the way.
“I’m… I’m not really sure. Everything’s pretty complicated.”
“Complicated how?” Yawning and still half-asleep, Calliope shuffled into the kitchen and pulled open the refrigerator door. “Espain pees.”
“Can’t. It’s too late to get into any of it, anyway. You going to be all right?”
She shrugged, still staring blankly into the refrigerator, “I’ll be fine; I’m in my own house, not bored out of my mind and crank-calling my friends at two a.m.”
She should hear him smile just a bit on the other end of the line. “You’re cranky. You should take a shower and wake up.”
She shook her head in mock denial, pushing hair out of her face. “See, this’s the main confusion in the conversation. I don’t want to wake up. I wasn’t actually laying in bed thinking ‘oh, I wish someone would call and give me a reason to get out of this nice warm bed, because I’m so bored’. I wasn’t thinking that or anything else. I wasn’t bored. I was asleep. It was good and I was enjoying it. I’d like to get back to it sometime tonight if possible.”
“So…” she could hear the smile broaden in his voice. “No shower?”

There’s another snippet at WiD. If you want to read the thing while I write it, find my name on the right side of that page and click on “story”.

A sudden fiction thing that I’ve tried writing before. Never been particularly successful at getting the… whatever it is I’m trying to get, but that doesn’t stop me from poking at it.

Continue reading “Empty”

We got home with the sun coming up. Time was weird along the Vayland Road I guess; by the clock in the kitchen my part had been only about 24 hours. It seemed longer.
Dad was… well, no, he’s wasn’t alright, but he made it; he wasn’t talking about it much, and I suppose I knew why as well as anyone. It was just the way life worked and you dealt with it even when it got strange.
There weren’t happily ever afters, because it’s never really the end, is it?

One of the real people walked up to him. He was limping, and had a
my
gun in his off-hand. There was a big stick in the other. Steven looked up at his face with its hurt eyes, and frowned. Familiar…
”It’s time to go home, Dad,” the young man said.
”I think that he will stay here.” Churkk’s voice was the same as always.
The other one glared. “His choice, not yours.”
”Or yours.”
The young man shrugged and nodded that he knew. Steven could feel Churkk’s surprise that he
Sean?
understood that much. He —
”Dad?”
Steven looked up.
”I’m here.”
is he?
”Can we go?”
do you dare?
Nothing.
do you dare?
Churkk chuckled into the silence. It sounded like someone with a collapsed lung. “Seems ‘e might stay with me.”
The man glared again. “He can do what he likes, but I’ll still cave your head in.”
“The end result ‘s the same. What d’you think, Steven?”
Churkk was doing more than asking. He could feel the needles pulling.
”You let him –”
”Sean.”
The young man jumped. “Dad? Are you–”
”Give me that stick.” Steven’s head was very heavy.
Silence.
”Give it to me.”
Sean did. One of the others behind him make a noise… not even a word. It was Churkk that finally spoke. “He understands, Sean.” There was a dry rasping sound as it licked its lips. “You’ll understand too, someday. Heh.”
”Damned if I will.” Sean said flatly.
Steven’s head came up.
Damned if I will.
Steven turned and swung, as hard as he could.
Sean almost killed a cow with this damned thing when he was fifteen; s’why he only got to use it around the bulls after that.
Steven only swung once. After that, everything was quiet.

The morning didn’t come the way Steven thought it would. It was much noisier. There were screams and people hollering
dirt-eaterrrrrs!
and sounds like an echoing crack.
I know that sound. Don’t I?
Then his cage shook and one of the camp was leaning against his cage. Their beady eyes were looking straight in at him, but they were cloudy. Blank.
Dead.
It’s knife had fallen just outside the
not my
cage. Much easier than working the ties.
Moving very slowly, so that he wouldn’t have to argue with the other voice, he reached out for the tool and started to cut. The camp got quieter around him. The little explosions stopped
ran out of shells
somewhere in the middle. He got the gate open and pushed. Easy. He dropped the knife on the floor of the cage and crawled out.
A few feet away, three real people stood.
Churkk was right behind him.

They’d had to tie him to the Turning Tree for the whole ritual. The bristlerope had rubbed him to the meat everywhere it had touched him, from the struggle. He’d done it to himself.
How do I know the names of those things?
He was back in the cage
not mine. NOT mine.
now and he knew it was the last time he’d get out until they put him in a sack or he walked
shuffled
out on his own.
Or he could escape. He’d done it once and the burning on his skin wasn’t even as bad as before.
Or you’re getting used to it.
Or he was — no. It was time to go.
But where will you go? What if —
”NO!”
No one in the camp looked at him. He wasn’t even sure if he’d really shouted. He
Steven. Not ‘he’. Steve. Steven. My name is Steven.
Right. Steven.
Steven sat in the cage that wasn’t his and watched the stars, which he still recognized, and repeated his name.