Thank You, Russia!

Do you remember back in January I wrote a post about a young Russian girl called Katya?

Well, she did me proud. I took her story, fleshed it out a bit, learned about Lake Baikal (20% of the Earth’s surface freshwater all in one lake in Russia – who knew?) and a little about the people that live there and created a 3, 500 word story called Ripples.

I then entered Ripples into a competition I had seen through Twitter – converted it into a .pdf attached it to an email and sent it off. And forgot all about it.

Well, guess what? Katya came in second place! Thanks to her randomly wandering into my mind I am £15 richer on my Amazon account and have had a much appreciated confidence boost.

It’s not easy, carrying on writing when most of the time you are so tired from chasing around a three and a half year old and an almost-two year old that you just want to curl up in a corner and sleep for a week. You start to doubt everything you do, even more than usual. I have been fairly convinced that most of what I have produced over the last year or so has been sleep-deprived nonsense but this has given me a bit of a slap and told me I’m just being an idiot.

I can write when I put my mind to it, I enjoy it when I don’t make it a chore and other people enjoy what I have written if I get brave enough to share it.

Ripples will be featuring on the Written Words Of Madmen blog some time in the next few months – and after that I will publish it on here too for you to read. Until then, here’s a bit of a Teaser Trailer for it to whet your appetite:

Ripples

Katya is a young member of a Buryat tribe living on the shores of Lake Baikal in Russia, the last large source of unpolluted natural surface water on Earth. The Buryat tribes pride themselves on being guardians of the Lake, living traditionally and rejecting all modern technology.

Katya hates it all. She wants to be part of the ‘real’ world with cameras and lights and technology she’s probably never even dreamed of – she wants to change the world, not farm goats and look at a lake.

Then news comes that King William IV is coming on a State Visit to the Lake, and Katya’s village is chosen to host. Surely this is her chance to find a way out of the village and into the fast lane of life.

Surely this is Katya’s moment to change the world…

Saying Goodbye – Part III

This is the concluding piece of my three part ‘Zombie Romance’ short story, Saying Goodbye. If you haven’t read parts one and two yet, you can find them here and here. Everything will make much more sense if you read those first.

It feels somewhat fitting, posting a zombie story on the day of the apocalypse. Except that I think the apocalypse was meant to have happened by now and I missed it…

Saying Goodbye – Part III

363 Days Later…

Tessa twirled in front of the full-length mirror, stopping to face Mitchell with a smile. “What do you think?”

Mitchell blinked distractedly. “It’s nice.”

Her smile faltered. “Nice?”

“I, er, I like how blue it is. And the shiny things are pretty too. The sequins. Yes, the sequins, I like those.”

Tessa forced her smile back into place and twirled again, trying to ignore the slightly confused expression on her husband’s face. She was losing him, slowly but surely. It wouldn’t surprise her if she had to explain why they were going out again in a few minutes time – he had already asked three times.

This was their last night together on their own and Tessa was determined to enjoy it. The virus was maybe going to win the war but, God-damn it, they were going to win this fight. Mitchell wasn’t done yet.

“Come on, let’s go. We can have a couple of drinks before the meal then,” Tessa picked up her coat. “Maybe try out those new cocktails on the menu. You said you liked the look of that Stargaze one.”

“Only because it said it sparkled. I want to see if they put glitter in it or something.” Mitchell shrugged on his jacket and passed Tessa her handbag, all signs of his earlier confusion gone. “Though it’ll have nothing on you even if it is glittery. You look amazing!”

Tessa’s smile was real as Mitchell kissed her cheek and offered her his arm as they locked their room behind them. The virus wasn’t quite strong enough to steal him away just yet and there were times when it was like there was nothing wrong with him at all. They still had time.

At the bar they drank cocktails and giggled like teenagers until a waiter appeared to take them to their table. Tessa stumbled as she climbed off her bar stool and found herself wrapped in Mitchell’s arms as her caught her, kissed her hair and stood her back upright. His eyes met hers as she was about to turn and follow the waiter and he mouthed the words ‘I love you’ at her with a wink.

Beaming, Tessa followed the waiter out of the bar area and into the restaurant where their table was waiting, beautifully laid out with candles, a basket of miniature bread rolls and napkins folded into roses. She gasped slightly when the waiter shook out her napkin to reveal neat embroidery of her and Mitchell’s names in the centre. It was a delicate personal touch and Tessa loved it. She briefly wondered why they had never eaten here before until she remembered, this was a very special restaurant with very special clientèle. The Last Supper catered exclusively for those with five days or less left on their tags, they were extravagant and indulgent and nobody had ever dined there more than four evenings in a row. Ever.

Swallowing that thought with a mouthful of wine, Tessa grinned over at Mitchell who was studying a fork with all the concentration of a toddler.

“What’s this called?” Mitchell tapped a fingernail against the metal and listened closely to the sound. “Why is it so spiky?”

Tessa felt her heart sink. The times where Mitchell was lucid and completely himself were getting shorter and shorter, it was only an hour or so since he had looked at her in her dress and forgotten the word for sequins and already he was studying a fork like he had never seen one before.

Before she had a chance to answer, the waiter returned with the menus. He placed them down in front of them and smiled, clearly recognising the glazed look in Mitchell’s eyes as he did so.

“Your menus. They contain lists of the meals you can choose from for your dinner tonight. First you have a Starter, they are on the first two pages.” He opened Mitchell’s menu and pointed at the page numbers before continuing. “Then you choose a Main from page three or four, a Desert from page five or six and finally a coffee or liqueur on page seven.”

The waiter took Mitchell’s fork from him and polished it on a cloth tucked into his belt. “You use this to eat your food, you stab with the tines on the top. It’s called a fork, from the Latin ‘furca’ which means ‘pitchfork’. They’ve been around since the Ancient Egyptian times in various guises and are a very clever and useful invention. Try it – you won’t burn your fingers when you eat if you use it.”

Mitchell grinned broadly as the waiter placed his fork back on the table. “Wow, thank you!”

Tessa flashed a grateful smile at the waiter before hiding behind her menu, the last thing she needed Mitchell to notice next was the tears in her eyes.

“I’ll be back in five minutes for your order.” The waiter’s hand on her shoulder was warm and reassuring, he saw this every night. He understood.

With a bit of guidance from Tessa, Mitchell picked out his food and they gave their order to the waiter who never stopped smiling once. Tessa liked him, he didn’t make her feel like she was fighting a lost cause, he made her feel like she was in an expensive restaurant with her husband for a special occasion. She needed that confidence to keep herself together whilst Mitchell looked vaguely at the world like a lost child.

“You look nice.” Mitchell met her gaze. “It it a special day?”

“Yes. We’re celebrating our lives together and how much we love each other.” Tessa took another mouthful of wine. “You’re wearing your favourite tie.”

Mitchell looked down at his tie and wrinkled his nose. “Really? This thing? But it’s such a horrible shade of purple.”

“You wore it on our wedding day. It matched the bridesmaids and… and the napkins.” Tessa closed her eyes and drained her glass. “It was the same colour as the sash on my wedding dress, too.”

“But why? What on earth possessed you to have bridesmaid dresses that colour? It’s so tacky looking.”

Tessa’s voice was barely a whisper. “You chose it.”

“Oh.” Mitchell fell silent and was soon playing with his fork again.

Tessa signalled to the waiter for more wine and turned her attention to the other diners in the restaurant. There were four other occupied tables: one other couple much like themselves, tucked in a corner with candles and a bread basket, two small groups that looked like families where Tessa couldn’t work out who was infected with the virus and who wasn’t as they all sat in sullen silence avoiding each other’s eyes and one large group in the corner who seemed to be having a party. She stared at the big group for a while, they had clearly drunk a lot and were laughing and joking with each other, they were all sporting paper crowns and there were balloons instead of candles spaced along their table. It must be someone’s birthday, she decided. A good excuse for a final party at any rate.

Half way through their starter, Mitchell shook his head as if he had been daydreaming and started back up their conversation from the bar. Tessa wondered if he was even aware of how the virus was eating away at his senses bit by bit, he never showed any sign of noticing the change. She wasn’t sure whether or not to tell him.

Two and a half hours later the candles had burned low, Tessa was savouring the last mouthfuls of her Bailey’s when Mitchell paused halfway through a sentence and fainted.

Before she had chance to speak, Mitchell was surrounded by staff. They checked the time remaining on his tag and shone a light into each of his eyes, talking constantly at a level Tessa couldn’t quite hear.

Eventually Mitchell groaned and came to and everyone stepped back.

“What happened?” He pressed a hand to his forehead and squinted as if the room was too bright. “My head hurts.”

“You had what we call a ‘Turning Spell’. It’s quite common in persons with only a day or two left on their Resurrection Counter. Sometimes it can cause early Turning but you seem fine so it must just be the virus making a particularly violent attack on a section of your brain. Nothing to worry about now, it’s rare for someone to have more than one Spell in a twenty four hour period.” The man speaking smiled reassuringly. Tessa had thought he was another waiter but suddenly suspected that all of the staff in The Last Supper were more than they appeared.

“Please may we go home now?” Tessa didn’t mean for her voice to come out whiny but she was tired and afraid and Mitchell’s ‘Turning Spell’ had just reminded her how little time they had left.

“Of course.” The doctor-waiter waved to the man that had been serving them all night. “We’ll just get your leaving gift prepared and fetch your coats from the cloak room.”

“What about the bill?” Mitchell still looked dazed as he watched their waiter return with their jackets and two beautiful gift bags.

“On the house. We are terribly sorry your night was interrupted in such a frightening manner.”

“But it wasn’t your fault,” Mitchell frowned. “You can’t control the virus.”

“It is our policy that anyone who does not have the perfect visit does not have to pay. Please, accept our apologies.”

Mitchell nodded, took his gift bag and hung his coat over his arm as the man gently propelled him towards the door, Tessa followed slowly, clutching her own bag and trying to avoid the eyes of the other diners as they stared.

This was not the evening she had planned.

Back in their Turn Camp apartment, Tessa left Mitchell hanging up their coats and fled straight to the bathroom to compose herself.

It was almost eleven o’clock. Mitchell was due to move to his quarantine apartment at midday tomorrow. That left thirteen hours.

Thirteen more hours before they had to say goodbye.

Tessa didn’t know where to begin, so instead she peeled off her dress and washed off her make up before heading back out into the bedroom to find Mitchell.

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my house? Get out!”

Tessa ducked the phone Mitchell flung in her direction.

“OUT!”

“Mitchell! Mitch, it’s me. Tessa. I’m your wife.” Tessa shouted through the door she had closed when Mitchell had reached for more ammo. “Can I come back in?”

“Wife?” His voice sounded quiet and lost. Tessa didn’t need to open the door to know that he was staring at the wedding ring on his finger and trying to work out why it was there when he couldn’t ever remember being married.

She waited a moment and then slowly opened the door and slipped back in, pulling her dressing gown off the hook on the back of the door and putting it on. Now was not the time to be parading in her underwear, even if it was her favourite set.

“Mitchell?”

He was sat as she had pictured him, twisting the ring round and round as he stared at it.

“It’s engraved on the inside.” Tessa stayed by the door, not wanting to crowd him. “It might help you remember.”

He pulled the ring off and tilted it toward the light, turning it slowly as he read the words:

M & T. THE REST OF FOREVER STARTS NOW. 12.10.28.

“What’s your name?”

Tessa closed her eyes as tired tears escaped and burned down her cheeks.

“Tessa. Tessa Evangeline.” Her voice broke and she swallowed hard. “Mitchell, I…”

She never got to finish her sentence. Mitchell’s eyes rolled into the back of his head in the perfect echo to the fit he had suffered when he died the first time and he began to shake.

This was different from when he fainted earlier, it was as if he was in pain – his body thrashing and twitching, small moans escaping his throat and a thin line of liquid ran down his cheek from his left nostril.

This wasn’t right.

Suddenly he relaxed. It was over.

Tessa exhaled a breath she hadn’t known she was holding and began to cross the room.

Mitchell’s eyes opened and Tessa screamed.

They were black. Where his irises should have been there was nothing but black and the whites were the yellow of damp paper.

He’d gone.

They should have had thirteen hours together. He should have had another day.

Thirteen more hours.

Tessa backed slowly to the door without turning away from Mitchell, feeling behind her for the small compartment on the wall. The Panic button.

Mitchell lurched to his feet and swayed, uncoordinated and unbalanced.

Tessa fumbled open the plastic case and leaned on the button.

She should run. Mitchell was gone, it wasn’t him any more.

The guards might not make it to the apartment before Mitchell found his balance enough to cross the room.

She should have shot him when she had the chance.

Option One would have saved them both.

She hadn’t pulled the trigger and now Mitchell was moving.

The guards still weren’t here.

Six paces.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

NaNoWriMo – The Halfway Mark and an Extract

Today it is the 15th of November which means it marks the halfway point of National Novel Writing Month. It means that people all over the world are aiming to hit and break the 25,000 word point in their novels.

I’m almost there, it’s only lunch time and I have 587 words left to write to hit the neat diagonal line across my stats graph that shows where I need to be to finish my 50,000 words on 30th November. You never know,I might get a bit ahead and make it easier for myself. We’ll have to see.

How am I finding my NaNoWriMo experience?

I’m tired. The first week was stressful because I hadn’t worked out how to balance writing with washing up and chasing after the kids and remembering to top up the electric meter etc etc and I got wound up and behind on my word count and wanted to quit before I’d even started.

I really wanted to write this story but when I actually sat down to write it I got scared by all the little details that I hadn’t worked out – How were George and Eóghan going to get to where I wanted them? How could I make the bits in between main events interesting? How could I make the characters make vital decisions without it sounding like they’d had personality transplants and gone back on everything they believed in? I almost gave up and walked away.

But Caius has very patiently got me through it, encouraging me, feeding me chocolate and helping when I get stuck. He is a very good teddy bear.

Liberty has helped by checking through bits I’m not sure on and laughing at my silly typos and stopping me from getting too stressed out. (You know, ‘Hello Hounds’ really don’t sound as scary as ‘Hell Hounds’…)

James accidentally fixed all my panicking by encouraging me to join in with a couple of half-hour writing ‘sprints’ whilst we were on-line at the same time. Suddenly I found a way to sit down and fire out 700 or so words in half an hour without getting distracted or frustrated. I landed myself on a way of writing that worked even on days where I had no idea where the story was going.

In fact, the moments where I have big blank bits with vague ideas of ‘my characters are here, they need to go here’ have turned out to be the most fun to write. I sit down a bit worried that I don’t know what’s going on and the next thing I know new characters have wandered in or something happens and I get to the end of the scene and think ‘Wow. That wasn’t what I was expecting.’ My characters have turned into more rounded people and the world has solidified around them. I may be writing this story but I certainly don’t know exactly how it’s going to be when I finish because, sometimes, my characters have minds of their own and lead me a merry dance instead of doing what I had planned for them.

I have missed writing. I knew I was missing it but I hadn’t realised how much. Tackling NaNoWriMo has helped me to break out of the slump I had fallen into since having the Smalls and I like to think that after it is over I will be able to continue because I feel much more like myself for the first time in a long while. I feel less of a fraud saying I’m a writer now.

To celebrate making it to the halfway point without throwing my laptop out of a window or giving up on my story, here’s an extract of what I have written so far. It is still only a first draft so there may well be errors in it – editing is for next month.

Faerie Or No: An Extract

They broke out of the trees into the tiny clearing around the yew tree into a blaze of sunshine, shimmering lightly on the mist around its trunk.

“That’s it!” George ran forward and stood on the edge of the mist. “This is the place we came through. Come on, Pest, let’s go home before Father kills us for being late home.”

He tapped his leg and Tempest trotted over reluctantly. His confident happy demeanour replaced by what struck George as disappointment.

“Sorry, Boy, but this isn’t where we’re meant to be. Maybe we can come back and visit again sometime.” He looked up at Eóghan who was still standing at the edge of the trees.

Eóghan shrugged. “If you like. I might be around, might have moved on.”

George thought he looked guilty as he spoke, as if there was something he was keeping back, but brushed the thought aside. It didn’t really matter anyway because he was going home.

“Thanks for helping us get back.” George offered a genuine smile to Eóghan. “Might see you again then.”

“Sure. And, er, thanks for saving me.” Eóghan’s smile was less wide than George’s but no less genuine. “Nice to meet a fellow human.”

“Likewise,” said George, before turning around and walking into the tree. “Ow.”

The trunk of the yew tree was very much solid beneath the mist. George ran his hands over it, pressing and stroking, looking for a door or a button or a soft patch to push through.

Nothing. It was just a big old yew tree dressed in mist. There was no gateway or door to Earth in it that George could find.

In a sudden wave of anger and disappointment he kicked out at the trunk and then sat down because his foot hurt. He was sat in the mist and when he breathed he could taste it – ancient and thick like the sweet-dust smell of old books mixed with some sort of spice.

He leaned back against the tree and Tempest sat by his side, ever constant.

“I don’t understand. This is definitely the right tree.”

He wasn’t talking to anyone in particular and the mist was so dense he couldn’t even see if Eóghan was still there. He didn’t really care.

Tempest licked his face before gently taking George’s sleeve in his mouth and trying to tug him away from the tree, whining softly.

“No, Tempest, we need to go home. We should just wait here for it to open again. Maybe when the bats come through – it’ll be getting dark in a couple of hours, that’s not long.”

Tempest got more insistent, his whines turning to soft growls.

“Tempest! Get off.”

Tempest let go and sat back down in front of him, still growling gently. Then he stood up and ran back out of the mist, barked once and ran back and growled. He repeated this over and over until, grumbling, George stood up.

“Fine. Whatever. Rusalka said you were destined to be my guide or whatever so why not? It’s not like stuff could get any weirder is it? I’ll just listen to the crazy Ocean Nymph and follow my dog wherever he goes. At least I’ll have small furry animals to eat.” He stomped out of the mist to find Eóghan still standing where he’d left him.

“You met an Ocean Nymph?” His tone was impressed.

“Yes. She gave me Tempest, hypnotised my mother and practically slept with my father in front of me. It was scary.”

“Wow. Did you…?”

George wrinkled his nose. “No. She tried but when she got close she smelled like dead fish and looked really creepy and evil. I ran off.”

“Awesome. I’ve never met any of the Ocean Fey – never been out of the forest. Well, never really been anywhere but the town I lived in if I’m honest. Quercetum City is where the ocean meets the trees, I always wanted to go but Ma said I needed to wait ‘til I was older. She said…” He faltered and stopped speaking. “Never mind.”

George was puzzled but could tell the other boy didn’t want to speak about whatever was on his mind. Instead he decided that whilst he was stuck he should learn everything he could about where he was. In fact, as soon as that thought entered his mind it briefly eclipsed everything else. All he wanted was knowledge. He want to know. He needed to learn. The names of the trees, what that horse creature was called, where he was, what all the Faerie cities were called, were there other cities than the one Eóghan mentioned?

“George. George! Are you okay?”

George opened his eyes to discover he was lying on his back with Eóghan and Tempest staring down at him. He had to blink a few times to make them come into focus and stop the ringing in his ears.

“I think so. What happened?”

“You just sort of went all stiff and your eyes glazed over and then you fell over and started twitching.” Eóghan slid his daggers back into their sheaths and George was momentarily disturbed that his instinct had been to arm himself. “I thought you were dying or something.”

“No, I was just… overwhelmed by everything. Or something.” He sat up and waited for the world to stop spinning before standing again. “Falling into another world doesn’t appear to do you much good.”

Eóghan laughed, clearly relieved that George was both capable of standing and being sarcastic.

“What now?” asked George. “I feel like I need a plan.”

Eóghan glanced at the sky. “We should probably find somewhere to camp for the night – it’ll be sunset soon.”

George looked up and wondered how Eóghan had been able to work that out from the tiny patch of blue above them. “How do you know?”

Eóghan explained about how he’d used the shadows and the way the trees leaves were turned to work out the position of the sun and how, from that, he knew how long it was ‘til sunset. George absorbed every word and felt better to be learning. The part of his mind that had taken over a few minutes before was sated and he was able to think more clearly as they wandered, looking for a suitable camp site amongst the undergrowth.

November 2011 Challenge – Only A Bit Late!

You know back in November I said I was going to write a Short Story for TiddlyOmPomPom’s Personal Challenge? Well, it took longer than a month and ended up a bit longer than I expected – but here it is in all its first-draft glory.

Enjoy

Becoming Human

The man slumped in the corner of the room blinked twice before squeezing his eyes shut again. It was bright and his head hurt. A lot.

“Mngrff.” He groaned as he sat up, swiftly followed by a miserable, “Ow.”

“Oh quit moaning, you’ve only been here ten minutes. Wait ‘til it’s been fifteen hours – then it’s time to complain. Trust me, I should know.”

The other voice clearly belonged to a girl. She was somewhere to his right and he got the distinct impression that she wasn’t in the best of moods. He tried opening his eyes again, squinting at his surroundings whilst he struggled into a sitting position.

“Um. Is this Limbo then? Or have I just been transferred again? The last place was darker. And hot.” He stretched out as best he could – his body felt like it had been beaten with a stick before being thrown into the corner like a sack of potatoes.

“Course it’s Limbo. And where was hot? Who are you anyway?” The girl had stood up and was now standing over him, scowling accusingly.

Still trying to focus properly he looked at his new roommate, starting at her delicate bare feet and moving up to take in her long legs, perfectly toned figure, dark hair and honey-coloured eyes. Her skin was pale and almost shimmered in the light, like a doll in a china shop.

“Oh,” he said. “Oh, damn.”

The girl cocked an eyebrow and waited.

“You’re an angel aren’t you?” he asked.

“Ten points to the idiot. Yes, I’m an angel – what’s the issue?”

“Er, well, I’m…” He paused and rubbed a hand across his jaw nervously. “Actually, I’m a demon.” He shuffled to his feet and held out his hand politely. “My name is Sadralsidon the Lesser. I am the son of Sadralsidon the Greater, fourth-cousin-three-times-removed of Lord Lucifer himself. But you can call me Sid if you’d prefer.”

The girl looked at his hand disdainfully before turning her back on him and stalking to the other side of the room and leaning against the wall.

“Sid? The first demon I ever meet and it’s called ‘Sid’. Typical.” She folded her arms across her chest and glared at the ceiling.

Sid sat back, deciding the angel wasn’t in the mood for chit-chat. In fact, the more he thought about it, the angel wasn’t in the least bit how he had imagined an angel would be. The traditional white robes of the angels had been carefully customised and tweaked into a tiny dress that left very little to the imagination and he found himself blushing slightly as he realised just how short her skirt was. She hadn’t exactly been gracious or angelic towards him either, even before she knew he was a demon from Lucifer’s line.

After about ten minutes Sid shifted awkwardly, he didn’t sit well with silence and there wasn’t anything to do in the small, square room other than sit and stare at the grey walls and ceiling.

“I didn’t catch your name,” he said finally – unable to hold his tongue any longer.

“I didn’t give it.” The angel turned her amber gaze back to him from the ceiling. “But if you must know, I am Chastity, daughter of Michael, Archangel and Prince of the Heavenly Host.”

Sid coughed. “Michael?”

Chastity did the eyebrow thing again and Sid felt the urge to cross his legs.

“The Michael who fought the dragon and cast him out, Michael? Or was there more than one?” Sid’s voice got hopeful towards the end.

“That’s the one. High and mighty Michael who isn’t above casting out his own daughter if she doesn’t conform to clothing regulations and fails her speech classes.” Chastity slid down the wall and neatly folded her legs beneath her, causing her skirt to ride a little further up her thighs. She didn’t seem to notice Sid swallowing and staring hard at the wall beside her head. “It’s not like I’ve ever really done anything wrong as such. Just not lived up to his stupid ideas of perfect – I’m an angel not a saint.”

Sid wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that. Especially as he was fighting with the part of his mind that was willing Chastity’s skirt to ride a tiny bit higher and wasn’t sure he was capable of constructing a sentence that didn’t involve the word ‘legs’. Luckily he was saved the awkwardness by the room plunging into complete darkness which rather ruined the moment.

A disembodied voice echoed around them, shaking the floor with its richness. “Chastity, Daughter of Michael, rise and stand before me.”

One of the walls seemed to be glowing faintly and Sid was just able to make out Chastity getting to her feet and turning to face it.

“Sadralsidon the Lesser, Spawn of Hellfire, rise also.”

He did as he was bid. Moving to stand at Chastity’s side and squinting at the shimmering wall, trying to make out a figure of some sort in the light.

“You are both charged with failing your basic duties. Chastity, your behaviour falls beneath that which is expected of an angel. Sadralsidon, your behaviour is not that which is expected of a demon. You both must face and complete the challenges that will be laid out for you in this room in order to redeem yourselves and return home. Failure to make up for your previous actions will result in your being cast out to live upon the Earth – mortal and entirely human.”

The glow began to fade from the wall, returning them to darkness. Chastity shifted at his side – he felt her move forward towards the wall.

“Hey.” She sounded narked. “Hey! Is that it? The first thing anyone has said to me in days and that’s it? What do I do? Am I stuck with this idiot until it’s done or do we get separate challenges? ARE YOU LISTENING TO ME?!”

The light returned to the room to reveal two beds at either side which had not been there previously. Chastity was still muttering at the wall, kicking it occasionally and running her hands over it looking for some kind of door and hadn’t noticed the new furniture.

Sid wandered to the nearest bed; it was easily a king-size with a luxuriously soft bedspread emblazoned with a blood-red ‘S’ neatly covering it. He tentatively pressed his weight against the mattress and was pleased to discover it had just the right amount of give to ensure the perfect night’s sleep. It was a very long time since he had had a perfect night’s sleep.

“Gah! This is just the stupid sort of thing my father would dream up.” Chastity punched the wall one last time before turning away in disgust. She cradled her knuckles tenderly in her hand; they were already beginning to bruise. “Ow.”

Sid felt a bit sorry for her, and, in an attempt to cheer her up decided to direct her attention to the beds. “I don’t know what these challenges are going to be but at least they’re making sure we get a decent bit of rest before-hand. These beds are great.”

Chastity looked at the bed at Sid’s side, noticed the ‘S’ motif and looked around for her own. She snorted. “Ha. Clearly my sin is far worse than yours, Sid my lovely. You get a bed fit for a king and I get this.”

Sid finally looked at the second bed – it was a rough-looking object, carved from wood but not with much care or attention. The corners and edges were jagged and not sanded down and there was no mattress, just a threadbare sheet thrown loosely over the top of the solid base. A pale blue blanket, frayed and water-stained lay folded at the foot of the bed, clearly showing a large white ‘C’ embroidered in the centre.

“Oh,” he said. “Right.”

“Whatever, I’m tired and annoyed. A bed’s a bed.” Chastity picked up the thin blanket and spread it out.

Sid crossed the room and put an arm out to stop her getting in the bed, quickly retracting it and blushing furiously when he realised it was across her chest.

“Er, you can have my bed. I’ll take yours.”

She stepped back and looked at him, taking in his flushed cheeks, mussed mousey-looking hair and watery blue goat-slitted eyes. “What?”

“My bed. The big one. You have it.” Sid scuffed the floor with his shoe and studied Chastity’s slender feet. “I’m used to sleeping on hot coals and the like. This bed will be a relief, trust me.”

Chastity scowled. “That’s not fair.” She looked at Sid’s extravagant bed and thought for a moment. “We could share. There’s plenty of room in your bed – then no-one needs to be in the crap bed.”

Sid gaped at her, not sure whether he was more shocked by an angel saying ‘crap’ or suggesting that they share a bed.

“What? You afraid of having a cuddle?”

Sid swallowed.

“For pities sake! It’s massive – we could both get in and be nowhere near each other. You could fit ten of us in there no problems. Least we’d be warm and not stuck sleeping on that log.” She cocked her eyebrow again and waited for Sid’s response.

It took two attempts to make his mouth work. His brain was still processing the idea of sharing a bed with 9 scantily clad angels and didn’t seem to be able to manage speech as well. “It’s fine,” he said shakily. “I like a firm mattress. You take the other bed. I insist.” He quickly kicked off his shoes and climbed into the single bed before she could argue further. “Go on.”

He shut his eyes and crossed his legs as he listened to Chastity slipping beneath the silky sheets at the other side of the room. This place was worse than Hell, at least he knew what he was supposed to be doing in Hell – even if he wasn’t very good at doing it.

*

The first thing Sid saw when he woke up in the morning was the writing on the wall:

CHALLENGE RESULTS:

SADRALSIDON – PASS 0, FAIL 1 (1/3 COMPLETED)

CHASTITY – PASS 0, FAIL 1 (1/3 COMPLETED)

The second thing he saw was Chastity, fast asleep and peaceful. Pale and beautiful. Angelic.

It wasn’t all a dream then. And how had he failed? Failed what? He shut his eyes again and tried to go back to sleep. He couldn’t possibly fail anything if he was asleep.

Then the bed vanished and he head butted the floor violently.

“Ow.”

Chastity clearly had a softer landing – she was curled on the floor, tousled and confused looking. “What the…where?” She rubbed her eyes. “Oh yeah. Crap.”

“Again with the crap.” Sid dropped his head onto his arms. “I’m the demon. I’m supposed to do the cursing.”

“So why don’t you curse instead of sitting there looking all dejected and pathetic then?” Chastity stood, straightened her dress and began to comb her hair with her fingers. “I wonder what we did wrong last night then. Maybe we were meant to share after all.”

“I suspect that would have made me pass and you fail anyway.” He sighed and rolled his shoulders, wincing as they crunched loudly. “Now what do we do?”

“Wait for Challenge Number Two I guess. I don’t suppose you know how to plait hair, do you? It’s driving me mad being loose all the time.”

Sid shook his head, “Sorry.”

She shrugged. “Not to worry, I’ll teach you.”

And with that she settled herself on the floor in front of Sid, turning her back on him and scooting close enough for him to reach her hair.

Sid did his best, meticulously following her instructions and concentrating hard on making her hair lie flat and look neat. Desperately ignoring how close she was, how warm her skin was as his fingers brushed her neck, how his breath ruffled the fine hairs that had escaped his plait, how hard his heart was pounding in his chest. If this wasn’t one of the tests then he didn’t know what was. It was a torture far worse than anything he had ever been instructed to inflict in the rooms of Hell. Lust, it appeared, was a challenging thing to resist.

And Chastity seemed utterly oblivious to everything. Aside from bursting into giggles once when his fingers tickled her neck too much she simply sat there and guided him through the plait. Her innocence just made it worse.

As soon as he was done, Sid backed away, brushed down his jacket and avoided looking at Chastity at all.

“Hey, that’s not fair!”

Sid jumped at Chastity’s sudden outburst. “What isn’t?”

“You’ve had more challenges than me. You’re rubbish though – failed them both so far.” She pointed at the wall.

Sid looked and realised his line now read:

PASS 0, FAIL 2 (2/3 COMPLETED)

“Wonderful,” he growled.

“Oooh! Finally the demon gets grumpy.” Chastity grinned and ruffled his hair. “I was beginning to think you were making it up.”

Sid jerked away angrily and waved an arm at the wall. “What’s the point of all this challenge stuff anyway? Why not just punish us however is appropriate for our crimes and have done with it? It’s stupid. I’m a demon that refuses to torture people and you’re an angel that…that…doesn’t live up to her name. Or rather you do whilst implying that you don’t. Which is worse, by the way. Maybe they should just swap our places and give me wings and you a tail and have done with it. Maybe…WILL YOU GET OFF MY HAIR?!”

Chastity took a shocked step back. “I was just looking for your horns. I thought demons had horns.”

“We do, I’m just choosing not to show them.”

Chastity looked puzzled.

“If we looked all scary demon-y all the time it’d be less effective when we really wanted to scare people, wouldn’t it. Can’t do anything about our eyes but we can hide everything else.” Sid flattened his hair self-consciously. “I hide everything all the time. Never felt comfortable bearing all in front of people.”

Chastity leaned against the score board on the wall. “Show me.”

“No.”

“I want to see.”

“No!”

“Please, Sid?” She played with her plait, twisting the end of it around her finger as she begged him with her shimmering golden eyes. “I might never meet another demon – I just want to see what you look like underneath.”

“Nope. I won’t show people I’m meant to be torturing, why would I show you?”

“Because my Father told me I was never to set eyes upon a demon for I would be ‘consumed with lust’ and that I’d ‘fall from grace in such a way that could never be redeemed.’ So if you show me you’ll be getting one up on him which has got to score you some demon brownie points.” She grinned broadly. “I’d get one up on him too which would feel fantastic.”

Sid shook his head. “You are not what I expected of an angel.”

Chastity suddenly looked furious. “Oh don’t you start that as well. I can’t help it if I think saying ‘thee’ and ‘thy’ instead of ‘you’ and ‘your’ is stupid. I can’t help it if full length robes make me look fat and frumpy. I can’t help it if I’m curious and want to know things. It’s just who I am. Now show me your bloody horns!”

Sid narrowed his eyes. “Fine.”

For the first time in millennia, Sid dropped his guard. Relaxed completely. He sighed as he felt his cover-up fade away to reveal his burnt looking skin, pointed horns and skinny, arrow-tipped tail. The only thing that remained were his pale blue eyes, slitted like a goat’s and slightly nervous-looking.

Chastity stared. Then she started glowing and spread her wings out behind her, stretching them wide before folding them back up and letting them fade once more.

“You guys totally got the better deal. I want a tail.”

Sid slid back into his persona. Then adjusted himself so that his tail was still showing. “I didn’t think angels got jealous?”

“This one does.”

“Yeah,” said Sid, twitching his tail.

“Quit that,” she snapped. “Put it away.”

Sid grinned and faded his tail back into his persona, he found himself rather enjoying goading Chastity. It was the most demonic he had felt in a while. He pointed at the wall behind her. “You failed by the way.”

CHASTITY – PASS 0, FAIL 2 (2/3 COMPLETED)

“Ah, crap.”

*

“Wake, Sadralsidon. Stand beside the angel and hear me.”

Sid leapt to his feet almost before his eyes were open. He had been dozing in the corner and the booming voice had pulled him so swiftly from his slumber he was barely able to keep his balance. Chastity grabbed his arm and held him steady, muttering something sarcastic as she did so.

“You have been tested, both together and individually, and as of yet neither of you has passed a challenge. Demon, step forward.”

Sid stumbled toward the wall, not helped by Chastity digging him sharply in the side. “Um, yes?”

“You were provided with the opportunity to spend the night in luxury whilst the angel suffered an uncomfortable evening. Any demon worth his salt would have taken this chance and relished it, taunting and teasing. You, instead, chose to give up everything and take a more noble course. You resisted the quality of Greed and therefore you failed. Also, you were given a second chance to prove your demonic nature. You were presented with more than one opportunity to lure the angel with the quality of Lust. You could have had your way and left her defiled and graceless as demons are wont to do and yet you resisted. You resisted and therefore you failed. You are to be given one final chance, Sadralsidon, and then your judgement will be passed.”

Sid got the impression he was dismissed and mumbled an apology as he stepped backwards again.

“Angel. Come forth.”

Chastity stalked up to the glowing wall and stood, one hand on her hip and the other playing with the end of her plait. “What?”

“Chastity, when faced with an unexpected situation you responded not with meekness and humility, as you should have, but with anger and violence. You submitted to the sin of Wrath and bear the marks to prove it upon your skin.”

Chastity lowered her hand from her hair and inspected the bruising across her knuckles. “It’s coming up nicely, don’t you think?” She offered her hand to the wall. “Lovely shade of purple.”

“You have submitted to Wrath and therefore you failed. Also, you were placed in the face of temptation and gave in. Worse, you succumbed to the sin of Envy and revelled in the feelings of jealousy and bitterness instead of turning aside. Therefore you failed your second challenge.”

Chastity rolled her eyes. “It’s not my fault I happen to want a tail.”

“Hush, Chastity, Daughter of Michael. You will be given one final chance to redeem yourself before judgement will be passed.”

“Whatever.” Chastity turned and stormed away to the other side of the room.

“Both of you, take this final chance or else you will be cast out from your homes, never to return.”

*

Two identical squishy armchairs appeared in the room some time later, accompanied by a coffee table laden with enough cakes, sandwiches and hot drinks to feed a small army.

Hungry and uncomfortable, Sid took a sandwich and settled into the nearest chair, throwing the plump cushions aside in disgust. “You know they use those in Hell, right?” He took a mouthful of salmon and cucumber sandwich and continued, “There’s a room full of sofas with massive fluffy cushions on. Men get sent in there and forced to sit on the sofas without removing the cushions. It’s horrible to watch – I hated being Cushion Demon. I only lasted a week before I started moving cushions for people and got re-allocated.”

Chastity gave him a look as she piled her plate high and carefully folded herself into the second armchair, pulling a cushion onto her lap to use as a table.

“That’s stupid.”

There was silence a while as Chastity munched her way through her mountain of food. Sid was pouring himself a coffee when she got up to get some more.

“You’re hungry,” he commented, rescuing a cupcake before Chastity took the whole plate.

“It’d be rude to waste it.” She balanced 3 plates on her cushion and one-handedly tried to pour a cup of tea. “And there’s no-one here to tell me to stop.”

Sid took the teapot off her and waved for her to sit down whilst he poured.

Chastity took advantage of her now free hand to grab another plate of sandwiches before settling back into her chair and accepting her drink.

“Anyway,” she said round a mouthful of cheese and tomato, “Cushion Demon?! Please tell me you made that up.”

Sid was a little insulted by her tone. “No. There are lots of demon titles – it’s all down to which particular bit of Hell you are in and what job you’re doing. You get moved around a bit until you find your perfect job. I’m the best Loquacious Demon Hell has ever seen.”

Sid smugly waited for the question he knew would follow, sitting a bit straighter in his chair and allowing his tail and horns to show through his façade a little.

“Location Demon? What’s that when it’s at home – a demon holiday expert?” Chastity swallowed her mouthful. “Didn’t think you lot had holidays.”

“Loquacious, not Location. It means I got to sit and chat to people.” Sid puffed his chest out proudly. “For hour upon endless hour I talked at people about whatever I wanted and they had no choice but to listen and answer when I asked them questions. You know how it is at parties and events when you get stuck with the person who won’t shut up or go away and all you want is for the floor to swallow you up? I am that person and the floor is incredibly solid. I was the very best at making people squirm and feel awkward and they had no escape. It was bliss.”

Chastity cocked her eyebrow, a much less attractive expression when her mouth was full of cake. “You were in charge of talking people to death?”

“Yes. Well, no, technically they were already dead. I was in charge of making them wish they had no ears and that they had been a little better behaved in life. That sort of thing.” Sid couldn’t take his eyes off Chastity’s meal. “Are you going to eat all of that?”

“Probably not. Getting a bit bored of chocolate cupcakes now.” She carefully lowered the plate of cakes to the floor and neatly stacked her other, now empty, plates beside it. “Is there any more tea, oh Loquacious One?”

Sid refilled her teacup. “Do they not feed you in Heaven?”

“Only nectar and other such pure stuff. And you have to eat it graciously and gratefully – I’d rather have sandwiches and cake to be honest.” She paused to hiccup before looking quizzically at Sid. “If you were so brilliant at being the Loquacious Demon, what are you doing here?”

Sid slumped, “I, er, got lonely just doing all the talking myself and tried to set up a discussion group.”

“A discussion group? Really? Sid, that’s ridiculous. You didn’t actually think that would work, surely? No matter how fantastic you thought you were at your job, you couldn’t have thought a discussion group would take off in Hell.”

Sid sank further into his chair looking sheepish. “ I just thought I could, you know, run debates and stuff like that – get a bit of interaction going between everyone.”

Chastity looked unconvinced.

“People started enjoying themselves and that’s a bit looked down on. Being Hell and all.” Sid sounded as miserable as he felt at Chastity’s battering. The discussion group had been his pride and joy. “They said I was encouraging friendliness and cheerfulness. Didn’t think they’d actually kick me out for it though!”

Chasitity laughed mirthlessly. “I don’t see why not – my Dad kicked me out for showing too much leg and saying things like ‘shut up’ and ‘crap’. That’s just as lame a reason.”

The room plunged into blackness.

“Oh crap.”

“Quite.”

*

Sid and Chastity stood beside one another looking at the faintly glowing wall, now emblazoned with the following, foot high lettering:

CHALLENGE RESULTS:

SADRALSIDON – PASS 0, FAIL 3 (3/3 COMPLETED)

CHASTITY – PASS 0, FAIL 3 (3/3 COMPLETED)

“I don’t think we did very well there,” said Sid softly, trying to break the silence.

“No sh…”

“CHASTITY!” The now-familiar voice boomed out. “You gave in to Gluttony. Sadralsidon, you failed to be strong in your Pride. You were both given ample opportunity to prove yourselves and you have both failed. You will now receive your punishment. There will be no appeal.”

*

The darkness lifted and Sid found himself still standing beside Chastity but no longer in their Limbo prison. There was grass beneath their feet and they both jumped when a bus thundered past on the road nearby. They watched a woman hurry by on the pavement, casting them a strange glance as she went.

Chastity turned to him and held out her hand. “You coming?”

He paused then took her hand in his and stepped forward beside her.

They walked. Neither of them looked back. Both of them smiled.

Copyright Carole Holland 2012

The Weekend Creation Blog Hop – Too Much Love

This weekend I am taking part in WordsInSync’s Creative Blog Hop – Weekend Creation. This is a meme for bloggers who do anything creative – craftwork, photography, writing, baking – to share their work together over each weekend. The instructions are here along with the Linky – hop on over after having a quick look at my entry below.

 

Too Much Love

 

Shut your eyes and close your mind

leave these foolish thoughts behind.

Love and like aren’t far apart -

it’s not too hard to break a heart;

And in the night, when sweet you dream,

remember things aren’t all they seem.

So shut your eyes and close your mind

and leave these foolish thoughts behind.

For when a friend loves you a little too much.

by Carole Holland

Book Blogger Hop

This week I’m joining the Book Blogger Hop – so if you’ve just found me HELLO!!!!!