Quicksand - Part 17 (18+ not safe for kids)

Minty stepped over the stream, watching the reflection of the Japanese maples and cherry trees that danced across the surface. The maple leaves and cherry blossoms seemed to fall endlessly from the trees, but the branches were never left naked. Minty loved it there, though she'd always found the cranes a bit disconcerting.

Time had slowed down, as it sometimes did, and Minty was watching the world fall in slow-motion, each flower spinning slightly as it drifted toward the water.

“I thought I might find you here,” said a voice from beside her. Minty started, her ear twitched, but she managed to hold her ground. “What are you doing?”

Minty was annoyed at herself for not having smelled him, but she managed a polite smile as she stepped back to take in his half mask. “Hello, Voss.” She nodded curtly and began to walk across the damp, well-manicured grass of the park.

Voss easily matched her stride. “Where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Minty sighed inwardly. “Walking,” she said simply.

“I'll join you.”

“I'll walk alone,” she said, a little bit more briskly than she intended.

It didn't seem to matter where Minty went or what she said, lately, Voss was showing up everywhere. And her polite refusal of his attentions only served to encourage him. 

She had been enjoying Japan; she didn't have the energy for him now. She stepped out of the way as he reached for her arm.

“No, wait—”

Minty stepped around a hedge, out of the lazy afternoon sunlight and into the early morning mist that hung about the river. She nodded in thanks to an otter who handed her a giant yellow umbrella then helped her steady it in the rushing water while she stepped on.

The river carried Minty away quickly, as the rain started to fall. As far as she could see, Voss was no longer behind her, and she almost felt certain that the otter would delay him as long as possible. Otters could always be trusted.

The umbrella whirled and danced on the water, threatening once or twice to buck Minty off as the raindrops made tiny pinging noises against her perfect porcelain skin. Eventually, the rain stopped. The water slowed, the river calmed and narrowed and Minty stepped off the umbrella and into a cornfield. She picked the umbrella up, righted it and blew it, like a dandelion seed, back to its owner.

She walked through among the tall, golden stalks of corn until she came to the edge of the forest. In the forest, it was morning, warm and sunshiny. Beautiful. Perfect. And blissfully emptier than Japan.

“So this is where you come—” His voice was slow and deliberate, only hinting at playful. “—When you want to get away.” Voss chuckled softly.

Minty ran. She didn't think about it, she didn't try to be polite. Her stomach lurched. All she could think about was getting away.

It didn't take long for Voss to catch her. He sprang on her from behind and only a cushion of sharp orange pine needles saved her from being shattered when she fell.

Voss was surprisingly heavy and he forced all of his weight against Minty, so that she could barely breathe, let alone struggle free.

When he entered her it was sharp and sudden, her underwear being pushed to one side. Nothing went through her mind. Everything did. Her brain was empty, exploding, bursting and caving in on itself – while he, his hands pinning her wrists to the ground, thrust faster and deeper. More than once, she tried to scream, but she couldn't. There was no reason not to, but she was physically incapable. No one was coming to help her.

The sound of footsteps on broken twigs was like music – a wonderful symphony or a single, perfect note. Her saviour. She looked into Craven Lorne's eyes and silently begged her to save him. Craven spun on his heel, ready to walk away.

Minty felt a sharp pain as Voss's weight forced her skin on her back to fracture.

Voss grunted, released her wrists and arched backwards and Minty... let go. She let go of everything that had been threatening to make her head explode, she let go of the hate she felt for Voss and of every silent scream. It burst through her skin, white hot, burning her, blinding her instantly. She could feel her eyes, but not use them. She felt them dry, turn to ash and blow away, one tiny flake at a time.

Voss was gone. Wherever he had landed, he was no longer on top of her and she did not waste time before crawling and groping her way to the edge of the forest.

 If you enjoyed reading this, stop by next week for another instalment. You may also like my published novel, Aigaion Girl ... a story of the end of days, available here.

Quicksand, Part 16 - not for children

She could tell his footsteps from the way they were aided by his cane. Every step was punctuated by a sharp tap on the concrete floor. Minty hoped her body would shut down, blank out anything that might be coming – but her mind was suddenly awake with possibilities, and her eye went from a sluggish flicker to a solid green glow.

He stepped into the room, his entourage at his heels, his cane in his hand, his mask on his face. He waved his minions away with a gloved hand.

A million images poured through Minty's head, and on the sidelines, the thought that she'd never known him like this, never heard his footsteps, shouted for attention. She hoped that her arms would shatter; she pictured herself running, armless, for the exit, fighting off her captors with the shards of broken porcelain that remained. Maybe the warehouse would shatter with her and the glass would cut him down.

“So,” said Voss, his voice as crystalline and perfect as it had always been. “Here we are.”

Her eye whirred as it focused on him, in his white suit, leaning on his cane.

“You know it's been a long time coming,” he said, stepping forward. Step, tap. “And, the truth is,” step, tap. “Even without our history, I would have come for you sooner or later. Step. Tap. “They're all excited, you know. You have white Dust.” She could feel his breath on her now. He stepped even closer, so that they were almost touching. “I know the truth,” he told her. “Too much Dust in one place, might cause some problems, but this—” and this seemed to mean his leg, his mask and everything and everyone that had ever hurt him. “This isn't just Dust. This is—I know what colour your Dust is, and believe me when I say, I will have all of it. I'm going to keep you alive for a long time, Minty. I'm going to drain you of every last grain.” He got closer, too close for her to see, his head next to hers, the cool metal of his mask pressed against her cheek, his breath seeping into her ear. “And in the meantime... you can't imagine the fun I'm going to have.”

 If you enjoyed reading this, stop by next week for another instalment. You may also like my published novel, Aigaion Girl ... a story of the end of days, available here.

Quicksand - Part 15

Minty stood as straight as she could and pushed her back against the thick bark of the tree. She knew fully well that if she made a sound, they'd catch her.

It had been a long chase. Not just the running, which by now seemed to have been going on an eternity, but the stalking and circling, the whole process of her becoming prey.

Minty's ears twitched slightly, waiting to hear some sound, some indication of where her pursuers were and how long it would take for them to reach her. She was tired, so tired, and somewhere in the back of her mind she started to think that if they caught her, at least she wouldn't have to run anymore. But she wasn't ready to give up – and every horror-filled, trying moment she'd suffered up to that point made her that much more determined to get away.

It was Frisco who finally caught her – and, somehow, Minty had always known it would be. She didn't hear him approach; he melted out of the shadows beside her and had grabbed onto her arm before she'd even felt his breath on her cheek. He did not let go. Darren, the possum, came from the other side, breathless, and together, the two of them dragged her away.

Minty's instincts told her to run, but she couldn't. Everything about her leaned toward flight, so when struggling free proved impossible, her brain seemed to shut down – and despite her desperation to escape, she allowed herself to be led, wordlessly, back through the forest to the factory.

 If you enjoyed reading this, stop by next week for another instalment. You may also like my published novel, Aigaion Girl ... a story of the end of days, available here.

Quicksand - Part 14

Craven Lorne paced in the field. He had been walking for hours, it seemed, trying to clear his head and sort out the plethora of thoughts that pushed their way back in. He had, he had thought, resigned himself to the idea that Voss favoured Minty over him. He had even gone so far as to do everything in his power to help Voss win her and to assure his friend that she would, eventually, see sense.

But he couldn't do it anymore. The simple truth was that Craven Lorne was in love with Voss and it was no longer in his power to deny his feelings or do anything else that would jeopardize them.

And anyway, Craven reasoned, Voss deserved better than some stuck-up rabbit girl who barely gave either one of them the time of day.

Craven was, he had decided, going to tell Voss all of this, just as soon as he could find him. He felt dizzy, sick to his stomach, feverish, even, at the idea. But there was another emotion too, a feeling of calm and complacency, which came with the knowledge that he was about to lay himself bare. And a small part of him, a very small part of him, could almost smile and believe that Voss would return his feelings.

Voss, either fortunately or unfortunately, could not be found. Craven Lorne checked all of his usual haunts, the factories, the starlight club, Sunday afternoon, all to no avail. Every time Craven searched somewhere in vain, he was pure ambivalence: crushing disappointment and soaring relief. Eventually, he found himself in the field, staring at the large shade tree they had so often shared a bottle of wine under – and almost allowing himself to enjoy the breeze.

Craven stayed in the field for a long time, caught between thinking of how he would tell Voss about his feelings and wondering if he should. He looked around a the pale blue sky and green grass and the soft, dusty, tan path that ran over the field and asked himself, more than once, what he was hoping to achieve. After what seemed like an eternity and may have been a moment, Craven Lorne decided to return home. There was nothing, he realized, for him here.

Craven walked to the edge of the field, toward the forest. He told himself that it was a nice day for a stroll, that the fresh air would do him good. He told himself anything he could think of to bolster his spirits.

It was morning, warm and sunshiny. Soft yellow light filtered through the trees and glinted off the wallow gnats that were flying in lazy circles near to the ground. And there was something else, the feeling that nearby, somewhere, was a stream or a spring. Craven couldn't hear it, but he could feel it. If it had been any other day, if Craven had been there for any other reason, he might have actually enjoyed himself, or been impressed by the pleasantness of the day. As it was, the only reason he was able to force himself to keep walking, was that if he stood still, he would start to think too much.

Craven Lorne hadn't been walking in the forest very long when he found Voss. And Voss, as Craven suddenly realized he had been expecting all along, was not alone.

Craven's body had turned away before his brain could fully comprehend what he had seen. In the moment that he turned, he could see everything, imagine every sickening detail. Voss was on top of her, wearing nothing but his mask and she—She was still in her dress, lying on her front, motionless, making the most of each of Voss's thrusts and silent through his grunts and moans. 

Craven was sure she had looked right at him, taunting him with her big, blue 
eyes.

Craven was disgusted, horrified, mortified. He couldn't believe that he had even let himself hope that Voss might return his feelings and he was astounded by the fact that Minty had been playing games with Voss this whole time, toying with his delicate heart then using his tenderness to her advantage. And though Craven didn't realize it himself, he was infuriated with Voss for falling into Minty's trap – and for not seeing what had been right in front of him all along.

Craven Lorne decided to confront them both, to make them share the pain that they had caused him. He fought with himself to muster the courage, took a deep breath and tried to turn.

There was a light, bright white, that lit up the trees in front of Craven and nearly made him blind. It was just a flash and he was barely able to register it before he was knocked down from behind by a strong surge of air.

Craven Lorne pried his face out of the impression it had left in the earth and almost began to brush the evergreen needles from his face and clothes before he remembered everything that had happened to bring him to where he was. He scrambled to his feet, turned and hurried to where Voss lay.

Voss was lying on his back, completely still, in a circle of flattened grass, bathed in moonlight, exposed and bleeding dust. Minty, that horrible fiend of a rabbit, had run away and left him there. Craven wanted to weep when he saw the state that Voss was in. When he examined him more closely, Craven found that Voss had been severely burned in several places on his body, most especially over his once-perfect lips, which were now melted and malformed. 

He was barely conscious and murmuring slightly, but not saying anything coherent.

There was no doubt in Craven Lorne's mind that the explosion was caused by Minty. She had too much Dust, more than was natural, and she clearly had no idea how to control it. She and Voss should never have gotten so near each other; that much Dust in one place could only lead to bad things. And she, the coward, had left Craven to deal with the consequences of her own inadequacies.

Craven helped Voss to his feet, and when Voss's clothes couldn't be found, offered him his own. Slowly, with Craven Lorne standing in for a crutch, they made it somewhere they could talk. But they didn't talk, not properly, not ever again.

 If you enjoyed reading this, stop by next week for another instalment. You may also like my published novel, Aigaion Girl ... a story of the end of days, available here.

Quicksand - Part 13

 

A long, slender foot landed in a pile of decaying oak leaves, sending some of them flying and crushing others. It rolled seamlessly from heal to toe and pushed off again as its twin touched the ground.

The owner of the feet was in a hurry. The speed with which she ran, with which she dodged between the thin, naked trees, was exceptional. Even with her awkward, jerking gait, it was next to impossible to keep up with her. She made almost no sound; the only indication of her placement was the crunching of dry leaves in the distance.

A couple of foxhounds ran behind her on all fours, sniffing their way through the fog, trying to trace her scent. A possum, with one hand on his bowler hat to keep it from falling off, ran behind them, barely able to see and unable to smell anything other than the dogs, the fog and the pervading scent of leaf mold.

And Craven Lorne, alone, and at the back of the pack, screamed into the gloom that he would never, ever forgive her.

 If you enjoyed reading this, stop by next week for another instalment. You may also like my published novel, Aigaion Girl ... a story of the end of days, available here.

Quicksand - Part 12

Craven Lorne sat with Voss on a low wooden bridge in a park where it was always Sunday afternoon. They sat with their feet in the cold, shallow water, watching it rush around their heels and observing the odd crustacean that scuttled underneath. Voss was miserable.

Craven was determined to make the most of any time he spent with Voss and had tried everything he could think of to make him feel better, but none of it was any good. Voss hadn't been himself for some time, now. He was distant, discontent and moody, in turns mournful and irate. Nothing could please him, nothing would improve his mood. He refused to be cheered up. It was all her fault, that stupid rabbit girl. And she was all Voss would talk about, the only subject that he thought was worth discussing, the only thing that could hold his interest.

Craven Lorne, despite hating the rabbit girl, despite the fact that he could feel the fur on the back of his neck stand up at the mere mention of her name, tried his best to encourage and support his friend. If Voss wasn't going to be his, at least Craven could help make him happy. That, he supposed, was some small comfort.

“It's infuriating,” Voss said, rubbing his big toe on the moss of a round stone that lay on the stream bed. “Ridiculous, really. I don't know why I even care.” He laughed hollowly. “I don't care, when it comes to it.”

Craven Lorne would never accuse Voss of lying, even in his mind, but he felt his friend was deceived by his emotions. “She must be a fool, not to want you.”

“She doesn't know what she wants,” Voss barked.

“She's not worth your time, Voss, honestly.”

“Of course she's not,” Voss agreed, though he didn't look convinced. He dropped his head and in a low voice repeated, “Of course she's not,” to himself.

“I heard someone say that she's Dust-heavy, too,” Craven said slowly. He suddenly felt guilty, selfish for mentioning any reason why she wouldn't be an ideal match for his friend – even though, he reminded himself, he was only concerned for Voss's welfare.

“So?”

“So you have more dust than anyone I know,” Craven Lorne said, conveying with his voice the awe he felt over the fact. “And they say,” he reasoned, “that too much Dust in a relationship is never a good thing; too volatile.”

Voss sneered under his mask. “Thanks for the advice, but I think I know what's best, and what's best for me is Minty.”

Craven Lorne sighed inwardly. For now, he was out of things to say, out of plans to suggest – but he resigned himself nonetheless to spending his foreseeable future securing his crush's happiness at the expense of his own.

 If you enjoyed reading this, stop by next week for another instalment. You may also like my published novel, Aigaion Girl ... a story of the end of days, available here.