The Kitten, the Witches and the Bad Wardrobe - Willow & Tara Forever

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 Post subject: Short Story?
PostPosted: Tue Sep 22, 2009 7:07 pm 
3. Flaming O

Joined: Mon Aug 24, 2009 10:48 am
Posts: 114
Um, hi all. I wrote this for L.A., and, quite honestly, I'm sure I'm going to fail this assingment because its supposed to be light and humerous with a theme of making the right choice, and I was in no mood today to right a light, humerous story, so this was what came out of it...

P.S. Yes, I stole Tara's name because its amazing ^.^ But besides that, nothing's based on her.

P.P.S- All the bold parts that are in first person are memories. I hope it isn't too confusing!

Melanie Hart was running.

Running so hard her lungs screamed for air and her body begged her to stop. Running so hard her heart beat fiercely in her chest. Running, even as a fork of lightening split the sky and the clouds ripped open. Thunder rumbled at her heel, urging her forward, urging her to keep going, even as her lungs burned and her muscles seared with pain. Running even as the rain blurred her vision, turned the sidewalk slippery- another enemy- and mingled with the tears coursing down her cheeks.

Father had been drinking again, and Melanie bore the price of that decision, a long, bleeding gash that stretched from her shoulder to her wrist. A pain that swallowed her whole arm, leaving it numb and useless except for the burn where the knife had cut deep. She clasped a hand at the crease of her elbow where the bleeding was the worst, holding her injured arm to her body as she ran.

So quickly she didn’t know what was happening, Melanie felt herself lurch, felt her bare foot struggle for purchase on the sidewalk slick with rain, and fail. She went down hard into the rainwater, her chin striking painfully against the sidewalk, hard enough for white flecks to explode under her eyes.

Father’s hand is angry on my cheek, bitter as he slams me into the wall. He tells me worthless I am, a stupid little slut who can’t pull her own weight around the house. A good for thing waste of space.

Melanie cried out as her bad arm twisted awkwardly, agitating the wound.

“What happened to your face?”

I look up. Someone is standing over me, looking down at me, eyes kind.

“C’mon, Tare!” Some calls behind her, but she waves them off distractedly.

Fingers take mine, carefully moving my hand away from my face where the scab has been ripped open. It’s an old wound Father gave me; I can’t even remember why. But as soon as I had taken that football to the face, it had opened up, pouring blood everywhere. For some unfathomable reason, I let her see the open wound that mirrors the one on my heart.

Melanie breathed deeply through her mouth as her body rebelled against her, screaming for release. The puddle she had landed in turned red with her blood.

“Father, please!” I gasp, trying to control my tears when I see the glint of the knife in his hand, “Please don’t.”

“Do you know what you’re done, you stupid little girl? Do you know what this will cost me?”

“F-Father, I-I didn’t....I didn’t m-m-mean to. She...what could I...Father, please!” I trip and stumble over the words, my tongue thick and clumsy with my fear.

Thunder grumbled above her triumphantly, smug. Giving up already? It taunted her. It took pleasure in her pain. It was her enemy, just like everyone, everything. The whole world had turned its back on Melanie Hart, leaving her to fend for herself.


“What happened?” She asks, touching the wound cautiously. She is kind, actually concerned, unlike the others. I estimate her age to be about fifteen, three years older than me, then calculate the best way to get out of this situation.

“,” I say lamely. My lying is usually impeccable but there is something about this older girl that unnerves me. The look in her dark eyes scares me; it makes me feel like she knew I am lying.

She smiles with only a hint of wry amusement. “Let me guess. You fell with a butter knife in your hand?”

I blink up at her. The sunlight highlights her blonde hair, turning it gold, making her look even more like an angel with the eyes of an all-knowing goddess. I don’t know what to say to cover up my mistake.

She senses my hesitation, and her smile softens. “Don’t be afraid.”

Melanie was more than afraid. She was terrified, and she couldn’t get her muscles to respond. She couldn’t breathe. The pain was compressing her lungs, squeezing her chest until there was no air left to breathe.

A muffled cry in the darkness. A trail of fire down the length of my arm.

She was so close! Melanie struggled to her feet, and ran.

“I want to help you.” Her voice is genuine. Having lied so many times in my life, I know a liar when I see one, and I can only see transparent honesty in her voice.

“My name’s Tara,” She says, as if this will help, “What’s yours?”

I don’t know what to say. My eyes move from her face to the hand she had offered, then back up. She smiles in encouragement, and holds out her hand again.

And against all reason, I take it.

Melanie ran, cradling her injured arm and ignoring the scrapes on her aching body. Her shoe and bare foot slapped against the wet pavement in an eerie, echoing rhythm that matched her racing heart. The pain was almost overwhelming. White flashes nearly blinded her with each step, and black dots followed those, but she still wouldn’t let herself give up. She stumbled and slipped, but managed to stay upright, losing her shoe in the process.

Graceful, Mel.

That was when the car barrelled around the corner, the headlights boring down on her like the eyes of the devil himself.

Oh, god, no. She was so close. She whipped around the corner, digging deep inside herself, pulling out her remaining strength. She staggered down the last block, the old engine rattling ominously behind her.

“You can come to my house any time you need to.”

I look at her mutely. Tara smiles dryly. “You going to tell me your name?”

“...Melanie...” I don’t mean to say it; it just comes out.

Tara smiles , and squeezes my sweaty hand reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Melanie. Everything’s going to work out.”

She stumbled up those last few steps as her body finally gave out. She collapsed on the door step, taking only seconds to rest before using the last of her strength to knock weakly on the door. As the door opened, the car sped off behind her into the darkness.

A woman with blonde hair just like Tara’s answered the door. She looked shocked and almost horrified to find a bleeding, muddied, exhausted young girl crumpled on her doorstep.

“Don’t be afraid.” Tara’s eyes are clear with understanding, and I feel safe and warm, a feeling I had long forgotten.

I answer with honesty. “I’m not.”

Melanie managed to lift her head and wipe away the blood around her mouth with the back of her hand.

“Is Tara here?”

|Saving Grace| |The Cross||Never Let You Go| |Keeping Destiny|

 Post subject: Re: Short Story?
PostPosted: Sat Sep 26, 2009 1:10 am 
23. Volumey Text

Joined: Tue Apr 26, 2005 10:39 pm
Posts: 3787
Location: UK
Great writing.

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