Category: Fiction

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“Ed’s Car” by Tara Peck

Ed’s car, an ancient, rust-brown Corolla, sped uneasily down the road. The cacophony of sad noises coming from the engine sounded like it was falling apart; he imagined pieces of it flying off, leaving a bread trail of metal behind him. The thought was unnerving
The inside of the car was equally as unpleasant. A trash heap of McDonald’s paper bags, sweet tea cups, receipts, and discarded candy bar wrappers overflowed from the back seat to the front, even filling the door pockets and foot wells. His wife always nagged about his sloppiness. God, I’m SO sick of picking up your socks in the family room. Put ‘em in the hamper, she would say.

Ed was sick of being surrounded by women. He had grown up with two sisters and an abusive, controlling mother. She would often come home late, angry and irritated, after spending twelve hours at the coat factory, hand-sewing on buttons. Ed would provoke his mother, and suffer through the beating, just so his sisters would avoid a similar fate. Now, he had to contend with his wife’s constant nit-picking and teenage daughter’s unruly behavior.
Ed reluctantly looked down at the illuminated fuel gauge and saw how close the line was to E. He started banging on the steering wheel and yelling “come on!” through gritted teeth. He didn’t want to stop at a gas station.
He was calculating how many miles he had left to go, when a state trooper’s resounding siren came from behind. Ed cursed whatever god or gods he believed in, and pulled over to the shoulder. The cop slowly walked to the Corolla and, upon reaching the door, shined a flashlight on Ed’s sweaty face. Ed rolled down the window and greeted the cop with a haughty grin.

“I clocked you at 77 in a 65. Why are you in such a hurry?”

“I’m sorry, officer, I wasn’t paying attention.” Ed took note of how young the cop was.

The officer panned his flashlight from the passenger seat to the back window, seeing the mess inside.

“Do you mind if I search your vehicle?”

“Yes, I do mind.”

The officer reached for the radio by his side, but stopped when he heard the pounding coming from the trunk. He met Ed’s eyes for one brief second before grabbing at the radio again, and Ed impulsively slapped the cop’s hand away. It was at this moment that Ed decided he was not going to jail tonight. He reached through the open window and grasped the cop’s collar, pulling him closer to the door.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The cop yelled in disbelief while fumbling for the gun in his belt.

Ed locked his right hand around the cop’s throat, wanting to choke the life from him. The officer had interrupted an important plan that he had been pondering for years, and Ed would make him pay. He squeezed until he heard the crunch of the officer’s windpipe, and immediately let go. The cop fell to the ground. Ed could hear him breathing harshly; he was still alive, but barely. He got out of his car, and looked around to make sure he didn’t see any other vehicles. Luckily, he was on a back road where few traveled, except for locals. Ed had arranged his scheme well.

He walked around to the back of his car, and opened the trunk. Inside was a woman with steel grey hair, face folded in wrinkles, wearing a pale blue nightgown and slippers. Her arms were covered with purple bruises and her head was slightly bleeding.

“You sumbitch – I’m gonna kill you -” She spat and tried to climb out of the trunk.

Ed gave his mother a punch to the ribs and she crumpled over on her side. He pushed her to the very back of the trunk; he had to make room. He went back to the cop, hoisted him up under the shoulders and dragged him across the ground. Ed struggled for a few seconds but managed to lift him into the trunk, and slammed it shut.

He got back in his car, started the engine, and continued down

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“Novel Excerpt” by Brittni Young

Life is a little complicated. I live through my dreams. This sounds weird, I know but, for me, it makes perfect sense. Going through the real world has become a chore and a necessity just so that I can have a stable future. Because of this, I don’t have any enjoyment in my life. That is, not until I discovered this free and beautiful place that my mind opened me up to. Throughout my first year and a half of college, I became overwhelmed with stress and I wanted to give up. After a while, I decided I needed to find some way to calm all of my anxieties. I did a little research at the library, since that’s where I work, to try and find some ways to relax my mind and body. I ended up finding different meditation styles. That same day I went shopping for the incense and candles they recommended to help with the relaxation process. That’s how this whole journey began.

During deep meditation, there’s a lapse of time between being fully conscious, and a point of almost deep sleep. If timed correctly, one can pull their “soul” out from the body to a plane that is essentially between dimensions. I don’t know if it is really the person’s soul that gets separated or not. That’s just how I would describe it. Usually, when I float out from my physical body, I can still look like myself, but I have a bright purple and hazy glow that surrounds me. I suppose everyone’s color is different. Since not everyone knows or can travel here, there are only a small number of people I’ve come across. I never had long conversations with them, but I did notice their colors. One girl had the most beautiful teal glow, and there was a man that had a grayish blue color around him. I talked with them for only a few minutes, then went on my way. The others were in passing, so I don’t remember much about them. I’m surprised I ran into anybody here considering how infinitely big this place is. The only person I see constantly is this man who says he is my guardian. He calls himself Kassian. He told me before, when I first started coming here, that every living soul has a guardian. However, not everybody is as spiritually connected to them as others. They are our protectors. He also relayed to me some rules that go along with this realm:

 

  1. You can’t visit/spy on anyone from the living world.

 

Apparently this is possible and weird. This is also a good way to piss off other people’s guardians, which you NEVER want to do. Kassian hasn’t told me what they can do to me if I was to anger them, but I can assume that it’s not good.

 

  1. Don’t go searching for dead, passed-on souls.

 

Kassian told me that, since we are in an in-between realm, we have the ability to see the living and the dead. Both are not acceptable. Searching will drive you mad and eventually will cut your connection with your physical body, trapping you there.

 

  1. Never stay for long periods of time.

 

I usually project myself when I go to bed at night until the time I get up in the morning. Kassian tells me that this might be pushing the limits a little, but I feel I can control myself, and he respects that. He’s probably the only one who has confidence and trust in me. My family always felt I wouldn’t succeed, so they never motivated me to do anything. That’s why I thought college would be the perfect escape from all the negativity. Doing this at night helps me to keep focused during the day and get through work, class, and homework.

These were the more important rules he went over with me, but I wasn’t overly concerned about them. This realm allows me to create places I could never visit in my real life. Anything my mind comes up with, I can create around me. Spying and looking for people could never compare to the joy I can create. Kassian and I have already made so many great memories here. My favorite has been the time we ventured to a beach with sand the colors of coral. The blues, yellows, purples, and hundreds of other colors were blindingly beautiful. The water was crystal clear as we swam with whales and dolphins without a need to breathe. My imagination has no limitations. Other times we just sit and talk, like today for instance. Unlike most people, Kassian listens to me. He shares his knowledge with me, and we could discuss topics for hours. Today, we were sitting underneath a large willow tree surrounded by nothing but sunflowers, my favorite.

“How is it that your name is Lilly, and yet your favorite flower is a sunflower?” Kassian asked me with wonder in his voice.

“You can’t predict me that easily Kassian,” I chuckled, “That’s the whole point of getting to know someone.”

“I’ve been your active guardian now for a year. I should know the simple things about you.” He sounded a little defeated.

“What do you mean by ‘active guardian’?” I was confused by this.

“All guardians,” he explained, “are assigned to protect someone’s soul. Most people don’t achieve the level of spirituality that you have, where they get to mentally connect with their guardians. This means that they protect them from afar, not being able to get to that next level with them. Essentially ‘inactive’. When you crossed that bridge over to this dimension, you created a bond with me that awoke my need to guide and teach you, as well as protect you. Even when you leave to return to the real world, I can still sense how you are feeling.”

As he explained this to me, I was getting even more curious. “What happens if the person you’re looking after dies?”

“Their soul goes on to the afterlife,” he said with a sad look in his eyes. “Other than you, I have had one other active connection. He was still such a young man and, unfortunately, his life ended sooner than it should have. His death was a hard one for me to bear. It is so fulfilling for us guardians to be able to teach you throughout your years but, when that bond is broken, it leaves us torn and incomplete. When you projected through for the first time, I felt whole again.” The golden hue of his aura brightened as he said this to me. His eyes were a blue-green color like the ocean. Staring into them, I could understand all the pain this must have caused him. I reached over to touch his cheek out of sympathy, and felt a warmth go through my arm and down my whole being.

“I’m so sorry.” I told him this with all of my heart. “You know I’m here for you just as much as you are for me.”

“I’m the guardian,” he chuckled. “I shouldn’t be needing any protecting. Thank you, though.” He smiled at me, and I couldn’t help but smile back. We talked for a while after that heavy conversation until it was time for me to go back to my boring life. In order for me to get back to my body, I needed to concentrate and visualize it in my head. Usually, that pulled me back in.

“Bye Kassian. I wish it was sooner rather than later,” I joked, and waved goodbye.

“Not too soon.” He warned. “Until next time, Lilly.” He smiled.

Within a few seconds, I was back in my bed staring at the blandness of my dorm room. I always felt so empty after returning. Here, there was no one to greet me or ask me how I felt. Picturing Kassian’s smile was the only thing that soothes this feeling in me. The college had put me in a single dorm room. I initially thought this would be peaceful for me, but now I get lonely. I mean, I talk and interact with classmates, but I wouldn’t consider them good friends. There is one girl that takes the time to talk to me, and I look to her for friendship. Her name is Beth, and she’s a sweet girl. She has one of those personalities that just attracts people, even a hermit like myself. I have at least half of my classes with her because we are going for the same degree: a Bachelors in Business. It’s not the most interesting career field, but it is the most beneficial.

Eventually, I got up out of bed to go get a shower. The hot water felt so good against my skin. This is my version of coffee. It wakes me up every morning. Stepping out of the shower, I stare at my reflection for a few minutes. Projecting every night has made me look well rested. My skin is fair and I can see every freckle. My hair, though, has been getting out of control. My tousled auburn hair is getting too long, and the waves are starting to tangle in amongst themselves. When I’m in the dream realm, I can present myself however I want. I never change anything, though. I would rather have Kassian see me the way I actually am. Realizing that I’m going to be late, I quickly got dressed and run out the door with my bag in hand. I saw Beth up ahead and rushed to try and catch up with her.

“Hey Lilly, good morning!” She was always good at being cheerful in the mornings. “Oh, did you manage to get the homework done for Mr. Hines’ class?”

“Yeah,” I coughed out my reply from being so out of breath. “I got it finished before I went to bed last night.”

“That’s good. He would probably be pissed if our class was late on homework again. In fact, we better hurry and get there before he kicks us out for being late.” She charged forward in a power walk that had me gasping to keep up. She walked with a determination that I don’t think I could ever have here. She noticed me lagging so she grabbed my wrist and pulled me along at her pace.

We made it with five minutes to spare, and Beth looked like she’d just won the race of a lifetime. We took our seats in the back, and waited for class to begin. Mr. Hines was a professor I didn’t enjoy. His monotone voice sent me on so many tangents of daydreaming that the look of boredom on my face probably offended him. He taught economics, which is the hardest class I have this semester.

I learn a lot about the subjects I have from the library, since I’m there five days a week for work. I don’t do much there. I usually take carts of books and put them back on the shelves where they belong. Any free time I have there, I just read whatever I can. Or I use some of that time to do homework so that I don’t have any to do over the weekends. The older ladies that I work with are the sweetest and just leave me be to do whatever I want, as long as I still do my job. It feels good to have a job that can help me out with school.

The hour and a half class seemed to drag on. It was pure torture. I broke out of my haze when I started to see that Beth and everyone else was packing up. We left and went on to the other classes for the day and, before I knew it, school was done for the day.

“Lilly, do you have time for a bite to eat before you go to work?” Beth asked. She had one of those irresistible smiles like Kassian has, and I didn’t have the heart to tell her no.

“Sure. Where do you want to go?” I was trying to think of all the places we could go that wasn’t too far from the library.

“How about the deli shop right down the street? I heard they have the best subs.” She looked at me expectantly.

“That sounds good to me.” I’m glad that I have Beth to get me out and do things. She really is a special person, and I guess gaining one great friend out of my college experience isn’t a total failure. We crossed the street and strolled down the block to Dillard’s Deli Delights, all the way trying to figure out what I wanted. I decided on a ham and cheese sub while Beth chose roast beef, both good choices in my opinion. We sat down, ate, and talked for about forty-five minutes until it was time for me to go. She waved goodbye and I watched as her bouncy blonde hair disappeared from view.

The library was only another five-minute walk. I pushed through the doors, said my greetings, punched my time card, and then grabbed my first cart of books. I got into my own zone as I carefully read the spines of each book and found their correct location. After a while, though, I started to get a nervous feeling. Strangely, out of nowhere. The feeling just kept getting worse as I went aisle to aisle until my body started to shake from tension.

Then, a voice came to my head in almost a whisper. Lilly…get out…way. I couldn’t quite make out what it was saying. Was that Kassian’s voice? I wasn’t staying focused. RUN! It screamed at me. By then, I could see the huge bookshelf in front of me quiver and shake so violently that it started to tip over top of me. I jumped out of the way, yet I was not quick enough. The bookshelf managed to catch my ankle and slammed down on it  hard. A man ran over to help me up and carry me to the front desk.

“What in the world happened!” Doloris screamed. She was one of the front desk receptionists that would sometimes help me look for books to read.

“The bookshelf just fell over. I don’t know why, though. Ouch! I think it twisted my ankle.” I flinched in pain, but I insisted to not go to the hospital. I didn’t have the money for all that. Doloris finally told me she would drive me back to my dorm. She helped me to her car and then we were on our way. After the short drive, she got me out of the car and into my room. She sat me on the bed and stacked pillows underneath my ankle, then she hurriedly went through to the small kitchen area.

“Doloris! It really is okay. You don’t have to fuss over me.” I pleaded with her to stop worrying.

“You listen here, missy,” she scolded as she came back with a pouch of ice and my school bag. “You’re going to accept my help and like it.” She gingerly placed the ice pack on my ankle and plopped my school bag on the floor with the exception of my phone. “Now, please just relax for the rest of the day and don’t move unless you need to use the toilet.” She handed me my phone along with the TV remote. “If you need ANYTHING please just give me a ring. I’ll be more than happy to come help.”

“Okay, thanks Doloris.” I sighed but gave her a small smile. She patted my head, then took her keys and left me in my room to think. What the hell just happened to me? Was that voice part of what Kassian was talking to me about, because of our strong mental connection? If that was him, he’s going to have a lot of explaining to do.

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“Checkmate” by Tara Hahn

She was halfway between asleep and awake. She could hear the sounds but not comprehend them. The familiar breathing, in and out. Drifting slowly into slumber.

He was watching her sleep. He liked to do that sometimes. He made sure he would pretend otherwise if she woke up in the middle of the night.

She dreamt of a game that night. She was playing chess against some unknown opponent. She was the queen, and all the pieces she commanded.

He knew she was seeing others. He found evidence one night in her nightstand. He won’t tell anyone he knows that.

She had a few pawns up front. Some knights in the back and a rook on the side. Each piece moved strategically. Cautiously.

He hated himself. He knew he wasn’t good enough. He wasn’t rich or handsome. She deserved better.

She had lost a few pawns but her king was still safe. She had no doubts. She was going to win this game.

He moved slowly from the bed so as not to wake her. He tiptoed to the kitchen and brewed her favorite tea. He breathed in deeply, the steam scalding his nostrils.

She danced around the chessboard like a sugar plum fairy. The opponent was losing. How stupid her opponent was; such careless choices he made.

He trudged down the basement stairs and opened up the safe. A few important belongings stashed behind emergency cash. He made sure to leave the safe open. She didn’t know the combination.

She thought she was winning but her opponent had tricked her. The opponent schemed behind her back as she was confidently sending pawns to take down knights. She was tricked.

He pulled out a shoe box from the safe.

She made her last move.

He raised a gun to his temple.

She was cornered.

Checkmate.

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“Vampire” by Krista Purdham

“Mom? Dad?”

This was strange. Usually she woke to the sounds of way-too-loud talking and sizzling bacon. Today, silence rose like a thick, dark cloud from the kitchen. And on top of that, all the lights were off, and all the windows were closed.

Something was wrong.

“Mooom? Daaad?”

Olli opened the door—already not a good sign—and peered into the empty, shadowy kitchen. Some light peeked in through the window. Olli went to open it, desperate for more. More light, more outside, more normal.

The window wouldn’t budge.

Something was really wrong.

“Mom!? Dad!?”

She heard a noise in the basement. What? What would they be doing down there, this early in the morning? Mom was afraid of the basement. Maybe they were looking through old belongings and morning was the only time she felt comfortable doing it? But, it was still pretty dark out.

“You’ll never catch me in that basement when it’s dark.”

Maybe that’s why Dad was down there, too?

She turned the knob. For some reason, her hand was shaking. Her whole being screamed, “Don’t go down there!” She tried to reason with herself. It was probably just her mom’s silly old stories messing with her already-terrified brain.

The need to see her parents safe and sound won out.

She opened the door. It creaked. Warm, humid air billowed out and shoved its way past her. Weird.

Another thump. Louder. As if something had been knocked over.

“Mom! Dad!”

She started down the steps. An almost-organic groan froze her solid. “Just the steps,” she told herself. “Just the steps.”

She touched down on the linoleum floor. The room smelled of death.

“Mom? Dad?” Her voice had grown unintentionally quiet and tentative.

Another groan. As she was standing still. It wasn’t the floor. And it wasn’t human.

“O Lord,” she squeaked inwardly. She decided it would be best to stop making so much noise… Not that anything was down there. Nothing could’ve gotten into this house while they were living there. It was just to make herself more comfortable. Because there hadn’t been any broken windows or busted-down doors, like in the news reports. She tiptoed about, desperately hoping to find her parents among the endless stacks of boxes, bags, and scattered miscellaneous items, yet knowing that she wouldn’t.

The hair on her arms and neck rose like needles stabbing into her skin. Her heart crashed against her ribcage. Adrenaline torrented through her muscles.

A large pile of toys shifted. “Waaaaahhhhh…” It sounded almost like creaking wood, but more animal-like.

“O GOD…”

“You’ll never catch me in that basement when it’s dark…”

“Waaaaahhhh…?”

Some kind of… brown, fleshy dome became visible.

“O Jesus…”

“WAAAAaaaahhhh…”

“…because the last time I did that…”

It moved.

“O my Lord…”

“…I think I saw what moves everything around down there.”

Dead, grey eyes peered at her.

“WAAAAAHHHHH…”

“O my God…”

It raised a long, thin arm. Its fingers were impossibly long, like a bat’s, tipped with short, hooked claws.

“O GOD help me!”

She turned and bolted up the steps. She could hear whatever that thing was shuffling after her with slow, lurching footsteps. She turned to look. It was clearly trying to move quickly, its movements sporadic and angry. But it was slow.

Mom was right. She’d seen it herself. The random misplaced objects. The basement door being open in the morning. Felt something looking at her when she slept, then waking with strange cuts on her arm. She’d convinced herself it was the cats. It dawned on her.

Vampire.

It was a monster. Not an angsty, human-like creature with superpowers. A monster. She’d heard of nosferatus before—feral beasts that live in caves, sewers, and sometimes the basements of human homes. At night they would scratch the arms of sleeping humans with their claws and lick up the blood with their tendril-like tongues. Or, if the human was awake, visciously mutilate them and suck the blood from the carcass, provided they could catch them. The way it looked made her think of that old silent movie, Nosferatu. Except, it was more horrifying, more appalling.

She barricaded the door behind her.

Vampire. Sunlight. She worked on the windows.

They still weren’t budging. The vampire started working on the door, slamming it hard.

Suddenly, something else dawned on her. She grabbed some garlic from the fridge and stuck it under the door. She heard a defeaningly high-pitched squeal, followed by a horrifyingly loud and viscious hiss, like a ferile cat on steroids. It actually worked.

Olli went back to the window. She tried punching it, slamming a frying pan against it—it wouldn’t give!

She desperately thought back to what those medieval writings said about killing vampires. There was garlic, sunlight, stakes… Wait. Where were her parents!? How could she have forgotten them!?

Olli tore upstairs to their bedroom, trying to open the door, but finding it locked. She threw herself against the door, kicked it—finally, she thought to pick the lock. But in order to do that, she would need a bobby pin, and those were downstairs. The banging on the basement door began again, louder, more furious.

“O GOD…,” she called, flying down the steps and flinging herself into the random little side-room they kept random stuff in.

CRASH. CRASH. BOOM!

Instinctively, she shut the door behind her and hid under the great big piles of ancient sweaters and winter coats. Ugh, what was she thinking? She should have brought some garlic with her. Its shuffling, lurching footsteps were somewhat quicker, now, about the speed of a human walking.

The cats. What were the cats doing? Were they hiding? What if they weren’t even in the house? What if her parents weren’t in the house? This thought sent a shockwave of electric panic surging through Olli’s muscles.

“My daughter’s in there!” Jessica roared, with shockingly masculine force.

“Ma’am, the area has already been partitioned—“

“Don’t talk to me like that. Like this is some kind of… professional situation. This is a human life—my daughter’s—a child’s… my baby’s… life…”

The policeman continued to act indifferently, though inside, his stomach twisted. He couldn’t stand seeing women cry. It was his weakness.

“Ma’am, I’m very sorry. I know your daughter is in danger. But until they arrive, there’s nothing we can do.”

Peter charged in like a raging bull, unflinchingly shoving past armed FBI agents, aiming their military-grade weapons at him and demanding he stop. “Nothing that you can do!? You have an assault rifle! AN AUTO. MATIC. ASSAULT RIFLE!”

“Sir…”

“Don’t you ‘sir’ me! If none of you pansies want to do it, give me that gun. I’ll do it myself.”

“Sir, these guns cannot—“

“THEN OPEN A WINDOW!”

“Unfortunately, while this would be the first measure in most cases like this, it would only make matters worse. The sky’s thickly overcasted, and wouldn’t completely kill the nosferatu. It would only make it angrier, and stronger.”

Peter stomped around in circles. Jessica wept and screamed on the ground.

“I can assure you, the CEU is hurrying as quickly as it can.”

“Hello, this is Andrew Sales reporting live from Marysville, Maryland. This morning at around 5:38 am, an unfortunate family’s home was forcibly evacuated by the FBI after definitive reports that the house was being inhabited by a nosferatu vampire. It has been alleged that the beast may have been living in the house since before the family moved in. Just minutes ago, I also received information that the family’s daughter, 14-year-old Olli Wordsworth, a freshman at Brookhaven High, was accidentally left behind during the evac, and is now trapped within the house. CEU units are still on the way, but are having trouble with traffic due to a wreck on I-81 and heavy amounts of vehicles on the road due to holiday travel. Fortunately, however, the husband and wife, and their three cats, have been safely relocated. This is Andrew Sales from INA-USA. Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.”

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“The Battle at Hailes Castle” by Janai Heise

It was 1443 in Scotland. The people in Hailes Castle were busily preparing to defend their lands against an approaching army. They received word yesterday morning that an army of 1,000 foot soldiers were marching against their castle. The messenger had ridden on horseback for days on end to warn the citizens of the coming threat. The villagers were retreating into the castle and the knights were hurriedly devising a plan of defense. The previous owner of the castle had died weeks before the attack, and the owner’s son, Sir Hepburn, was not as liked by the knights. After the son had taken possession of the castle and its surrounding grounds, at least half the knights decided to join the latest crusade in the Ottoman Empire. The castle was short on knights and was going to war against 1,000 men without any foreseeable backup. The knights did not have much hope for surviving this impending attack.

Patrick, the commander of the castle knights, decided if any of them were going to stay alive, they were going to need everyone working to defend the castle. They gathered up the peasants and the ladies and the children to try to prepare the castle against attack. They had the children find long sticks and heavy rocks. The women were given training to work the murder holes, use bows, and throw spears. The male peasants were being taught to fire the cannons, use bows and swords, and shoot the limited supply of guns. Some of the women who refused to take part in the battle had agreed to nurse the wounded; they were preparing a room to use as a makeshift hospital. The village blacksmith had his hands full creating as many spears, arrowheads, and swords as he could. The knights ordered metal spears be placed at the merlons so it would look like an army was stationed at the battlements. Even with all these people helping to defend the castle, the villagers were still vastly outnumbered. They only had 500 people in the castle, and merely 300 people were helping to fend off the attack. They could only hope for a miracle.

The knights decided to give the women a chance to join the fight by passing a weapon wielding lesson. One young woman learning archery and spear-throwing was progressing much faster than the others were. Even though the knights were only training the women to get more bodies fighting, a young man noticed this girl’s exemplary skill. After the lesson, he complemented her on it. He introduced himself as the castle jester and asked her name. The young lady introduced herself as Jane. She was the lady-in-waiting to Dame Hepburn, the owner’s wife. She had not wanted to be a lady-in-waiting, but her parents sent her to the Hepburn family as a sort of treaty to get their family to a higher standing. Jester told her that his family had sent him to the castle as well, but he wanted to be an entertainer. She told him that she had longed for the day when she would be able to fight and defend her kingdom. That was why she was so good at archery and spear throwing.

Suddenly, a clap of thunder roared over everyone. The sound of 1,000 soldiers marching towards the castle filled the air with a sense of dread. The commander of the castle knights, Patrick, yelled for everyone to take their attack positions. Rain plunged violently, and lightning crashed in a breathtaking background to the tense confrontation of the opposing armies. The commander of the attacking soldiers seemed to assess his threat. He muttered something to his second in command, and uttered the two words which would end the lives of hundreds. “Men, fire!”

Within seconds, hundreds of arrows rained down, and cannons started to blaze. Patrick ordered his men to fire the cannons, shoot the arrows, and take out as many foot soldiers as possible. The few women were firing their arrows at the ever-advancing army. The attacking force was advancing through the torrent of rain and weapons, though the losses on both sides were accumulating. Patrick yelled for more cannon fire, more arrows, more guns, and more spears. He called for everyone to keep up their attack. The defense was dwindling quickly; already they were down 150 men. The attackers were suffering the losses of 100 men, though their number kept them from feeling the effects as badly. At this rate of attack, the castle would be lost.

The enemy reached the castle and heaved a battering ram into the gates. When the eight men manning the ram paused as one slipped in the mud, Jane took the opportunity to fire several arrows into them. Three of the men suddenly collapsed while another two were injured. The women and children were hurling rocks and sharpened sticks out of the murder-holes to kill the would-be attackers. It was almost nightfall. The castle had managed to kill 200 more enemy soldiers, but the weapons were running low. Archers were picking up arrows wherever they found them. The muskets were out of ammo, and the spears were limited to the ones on top of the battlements. Jane and Jester climbed up the battlements to retrieve the spears and offer some support to their comrades fighting in the level below. Patrick rallied the troops.

Thunder boomed, and lightning lit up the night sky. With a sickening crunch, the enemy breached the gate. The enemy commander yelled to all who could hear, “Know that your death comes by the hand of Sir Archibald Dunbar.” Jane readied a spear to throw at the braggart. She misplaced her foot and fell off the top of the merlon, out of the castle and towards the enemy troops below.

Jester grabbed her hand at the last second. Jester swayed precariously back and forth, but was able to bring Jane back to the relative safety of the merlon. They grabbed the rest of the spears and headed back towards the failing troops. The troops managed to kill a few more of the attacking soldiers. The troops were actually gaining ground, but soon the forces were again desperate for ammo. The battle was surely lost. Dunbar’s men were coming from all sides. He shouted at the men to kill all the men first and gather up the women and children. Jester asked the commander, Patrick, if there was anything that they could do. Patrick thought for a second and replied that the children in the castle should be rescued. There may not be any hope for the adults, but at least make sure the children are safe.

Jane ran through the castle grounds to find the stations with murder holes. She called for all the children inside to come down. Because Jane was in the open, she had to fight a few soldiers to get all the children out safely. Jester went to find a place to hide or escape the castle. He was walking in the main castle building, when he slipped and fell. The carpet he was walking on moved away revealing a trap door. He ran through it and discovered it led outside away from the fighting. They met up near the back of the kitchens. Jane had around fifty children, and Jester had an escape plan. They took the children into the trap door and left the fighting.

Jester led the children and Jane made sure there weren’t any dawdlers. They managed to make it out of the castle unharmed. They took the rescued children to the nearest town, and did their best to provide for them until they reached adulthood. After a while, Jane and Jester were wed.

The people of the castle fought bravely, but they were too outnumbered to make it through alive. Sir Archibald Dunbar had won, though not without heavy losses on his own side. The fiendish Dunbar massacred all the people who lived in the castle. His words echoed through the haunted halls. He destroyed as much of the castle as he could, and left without a second glance.

 

THE END

 

This story is based on a real castle in Scotland that was stormed in 1443. All names, except Archibald Dunbar and Sir Hepburn, are fictional. I took the liberty of turning a three sentence summary of the events into a short story. Sir Hepburn had passed the castle to his son, though I do not know if that actually played a role in the defeat of the castle. The castle and all its inhabitants did not make it through the siege.

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“Accident” by Madi Baker

She never wanted a baby. Their screams, their red faces, the tears in their squinty eyes. They want comfort, 24/7 comfort. She wasn’t capable of loving anyone but herself but she accepted that.

 

Now here he is, he’s looking at her. Cooing, giggling, and even smiling a little. Maybe it’s gas. He’s got her eyes. He’s got his no good father’s blonde hair.

 

The dogs bark, his eyes fill with tears, and here comes that god damn scream. She can’t take it. It’s not her fault, it was an accident. She hates crying babies.

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“Grand Old Ladies” by Lo Cast

The stillness of the night was still lingering as I stepped outside. The air was cool, not quite crisp, and held the promise of shorter, cooler days soon to come. The squirmy little one I held in my arm sniffed with anticipation. This was her time. I set her down and grabbed the leash as she began to trot with determination. We found our rhythm instantly and I breathed deeply, for this was my time also. Destinations silently beckoned and, since it had been a few days, it was time to go visit the grand old ladies.

 

We made our way down the dimly lit street. This morning, our passing goes all but unnoticed; there was little traffic and few pedestrians. We keep an ever watchful eye as we pass alleyways. Their yawning chasms of murkiness provide the perfect cover for anyone wishing to cause mischief. Onward.

We start and stop, start and stop. Curly tail held high, the little girl springs from tree to hydrant to light posts and every place in between. I wait patiently as she gathers the invisible information each sniff has to offer. She too, has her favorite places, as she smells intently only here and there.

 

Our quest takes us around the corner to where traffic is bustling and the blushing sky can be seen just above the dark, somber buildings. It will be completely light soon. Perfect. We will be able to see the ladies in their finery by daylight by the time we labor up the hill.

 

On the main drag, we run a gauntlet of trash cans and recycle bins; trash pick-up occurred only hours, or perhaps minutes, earlier. This part of town, like its residents, live life unapologetically out in the open. It is in your face and all its ugliness assaults the senses.

 

The younger men, the Grand, Bryan Place, and the Hamilton Hotel stand sentinel, as they have for the largest part of a century or more. Their finery is simple and clean with just a hint of embellishment here and there; a curlicue of decorative molding, a bit of exterior trim or an exaggerated arch lend a bit of playful fanciness to their stoic demeanor. However, these gentlemen are not whom we are seeking, although they do show me a bit more of themselves each time I pass.

 

We trudge the steepness of hill, ever closer to our destination, barely noticing our labored breath. Just one more corner and a bit more of a hill and we will be there. As predicted, the sky’s blush dims as the sun begins to steal the serenity of the morning. We pass churches, without a glance. I have never had an interest in the snooty, judgmental edifices. Their flagstone veneer, arched doorways, and stained glass windows are pretentious and snobby, much like the nouveau rich. No, I am seeking ladies of class and elegance, which is the very fiber of their existence.

 

A wrought iron fence leads me to the first one. She is on the left. The ones on the right are much younger, beautiful nonetheless, but cannot hold a candle to the ladies I seek. The trees in front demurely shield their glory like a faithful servant; a hush of reverence surrounds and pays homage to these damsels. A determined pedestrian misses none of the finery in which they are adorned. Her neighbor is the grandest of all. In each detail, a statement of her upbringing is told, despite the indignities to which recent generations have subjected her by making as many apartments of her grand space as possible.

 

I linger and drink in her grandeur, an appreciative eye noting the graceful porch pillars, the classy bunting permanently falling in delicate waves around each window. Her marble facade bespeaks her quiet wealth. I stare, noting detail after detail. Like the lady she is, her dignity is there for all to see. Her secrets are her own, yet she hides nothing. I love this grand old lady the most. Slowly, I make my way to her neighbor, loving the Grecian columns and balcony that surely must have welcomed partygoers with warmth and gaiety. Each lady I pass has her own distinction, makes her own contribution. I am in a dream world where time has no meaning.

 

The little one brings me back to the present. She has sniffed all there is to sniff and her tail is drooping her fatigue. The spring in her step is a regular little trot now. Reluctantly, I sigh. With one last lingering look, I nod to the grand old ladies, and turn the corner.

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“Drowning” by Hannah Himes

8 minutes. The water closes over your head. You can feel yourself slipping lower, even though your legs are still moving. Waves are crashing above you, but there’s too much water in your ears to hear them. You think maybe you read something somewhere about the average person being able to hold their breath for 3-4 minutes. You wonder if that’s how long it’s going to take. Drowning, that is.

7 minutes. Your brain is telling you to inhale but your lungs are resisting. Your ribs are starting to be consumed by an almighty burning and the water is getting darker. The level of oxygen in your blood is going down, while the level of carbon dioxide is going up. You think how strange it is that oxygen is what makes cells age, that what we need most kills us in the end.

6 minutes. Your limbs aren’t moving anymore. Your body is more concerned with trying to make your lungs fill. You think the breath-hold break point is coming soon. It must be. Your body is screaming. Every vein, every artery, every fiber, every nerve ending screaming for oxygen. Your brain keeps telling you not to breathe. You know that breathing in water is bad. That’s what your dad said when you were learning to swim, wasn’t it?

5 minutes. Your body forces you to inhale, immediately causing you to cough, which only increases the amount of water in your throat. Your larynx and vocal cords constrict to keep water out of your lungs, so it goes to your stomach. This will last about a minute, you think. Water in the stomach. Then your larynx will relax and water will flood your chest. You saw this on the news once; they call it wet drowning.

4 minutes. Things are black. You’ve passed out. Like the news said it would, your larynx relaxes in your unconscious state. Your heart is slowing down, as it tries to pump your blood. The blood is getting thicker, something with the amount of salt in the water. You read that in your 7th grade science textbook.

3 minutes. You go into cardiac arrest. Your blood stops flowing. Oxygen stops going to your brain. Your body gives up in the amount of time it takes a spaceship to lift off. 3

 

2

 

1

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Hedge Apple Reception on Oct. 24th

The Fall 2015 Issue of the HCC literary magazine has arrived! Please join us for the annual Hedge Apple Reception.

WHEN:         Saturday, October 24th, 2015

1:30 — Conversation and sign-ups, quick group writing exercise

1:45 — Prose and poetry readings by contributors, followed by an open mic session

 

WHERE:     Black Box Theater, Kepler, Hagerstown Community College

 

The reception is open to the public and copies of the Hedge Apple magazine are complimentary. Please stop by for some or all of the reception.

Special congratulations to the 2015 participants of the Hub City Teen Writers Conference who will be published here starting on October 10th. Please check back for 5 great pieces of poetry and fiction!

 

The submission deadline for next year’s Hedge Apple is January 31st 2016.

Email your poetry, fiction, artwork, or photography, with a brief bio, to [email protected]

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Indistinguishable Guilt by Stephanie Glover

Stephanie Glover

Indistinguishable Guilt

Maggie’s leather bag was timeworn and filthy but jam-packed with the shattered fragments of her soul. She protectively slid her hand across its shabby surface. Flinging it over her shoulder, she walked toward the house. She takes her long strides with deliberate purpose, afraid she will lose her nerve if she slows her pace.

She’d left when she was seventeen years old and had not been back since. Maggie often curled up to sleep under some bridge in whatever god-forsaken town she was passing through and dream about going home. Now that it was actually happening, she had an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach.

On the surface not much had changed in the ten years she was gone. The sunlight still pushed its way through the leaves of the enormous sycamore trees that lined the mile long driveway. The beams danced on the asphalt, resembling the sparkle of a far-off carnival. In the distance she could see the whipping branches of the weeping willow that shadowed the pond where she’d spent long summer days with her sister.

Maggie felt that all too familiar pang of guilt in her belly. It had been her fault, and she knew it. The party had been Maya’s idea; she wanted to invite friends over while their parents were out of town. Even though they were identical twins, they were as different as two people could be. Maggie couldn’t get out of there quick enough; she had absolutely no desire to hang out with Maya’s delinquent friends.

Maya was infatuated with an older boy named Jake. He was bad news, and everyone knew it, including Maya. That was the appeal.

When Maggie returned home late that night, she found Maya crouched down behind the willow tree. She was completely naked and shaking with fright. Jake took by force what Maya wouldn’t give him by choice. He called her a cock-tease and said no one would believe her. After all, she had been pursuing him for weeks.

Two days later, the sheriff stopped by the house to inform the family that Jake had been released because they didn’t have enough evidence to hold him.

Jake left town with Maggie hot on his trail. She followed him from city to city, always making her presence known. Every time he landed a job or managed to get a girlfriend, she found a way to ruin it for him. She could have executed her vengeance quickly if she wanted, but that would have been too good for him. Maggie wanted Jake to spend every waking moment looking over his shoulder, trying to outrun his sins. They would catch up with him sooner or later. He just didn’t know it yet.

Maggie’s mind drifted to thoughts of her sister. Most outsiders didn’t understand the bond they had. They were physically indistinguishable from one another; it was like looking in the mirror. The long separation from her sister had often left her feeling hollow, the loneliness echoing through to her soul.

When they were little girls, they would ride into town with their father. He would speed up while going over the hills and they would howl with laughter as their stomachs did somersaults. Today, Maggie felt the same lurching in her stomach, only this time the feeling was from apprehension, not delight.

She instinctively grimaced when she thought about their reactions to her sudden reappearance.
Did they think she was dead? Would they be angry? The feeling of uneasiness she felt came to a head as she heard the strangled voice of her sister shouting her name.

Mixed emotions of anger and happiness surged though the air like a rogue wave. Their father bore the look of a man who had been relieved of a massive burden. Their mother’s worn face made it apparent that the not-knowing had taken its toll as she imagined the worst but hoped for the best.

The sisters sat staring at each other. The stillness in the room was palpable. Maggie wrung her hands in nervous anticipation. Her lips thinned as she explained to Maya what had taken place in the previous ten years. Guilt-ridden, she dropped to her knees, craving absolution and knowing her sister was the only one who could give it to her. More than that, she needed her forgiveness for taking the chunks of individuality that were not hers to run off with.

Maggie summoned all of her strength to pull herself up off her knees. Taking two quick steps, she came face-to-face with herself. She realized all at once that they had managed to deceive everyone except the ones that mattered. She embraced her sister. As the grip loosened, she whispered in her sister’s ear, “He has been punished.” The matter was never discussed again.