Fiction Fusion

This week's Friday Fiction is hosted by the talented Christina Banks @ her blog, With Pen on Hand. Click here to read and share more great fiction.

Author's Note: I don't quite have the energy to type as long a chapter as I would like, so this installment is fairly short. Barely the 1000 words, I believe I usually post. lol. Enjoy. I tried to put a touch of mystery in to make up for it. On a happy note, NaNoWriMo starts this weekend. WOOT!

Lunch was quite a satisfactory affair. Happily stuffed, Eira lounged against a tree, unable to resist a contented sight.

“Good lunch?” He asked, a slight smile playing around the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah.” A quiet burp escaped. “Really good…how’d you learn to cook anyway?”

“That is more necessity than experience.” He almost smiled. “Wash your dishes and keep them in your pack from now on, the river’s through there, we’ve been keeping parallel to it.”

“You had to learn to cook so you did?” Eira stretched forward, lazily, attempting to reach her toes. It was a lost effort that did not bother her as she yawned. “Let me guess, the river’s twelve steps ahead?”

He paused, deliberately for a moment, brow furrowed. “Actually…” He squinted towards the bush. “Probably fifteen…I forgot to count it for you, just a moment.” Scooping up the dishes and cooking pot, he headed for the bush. “Coming?”

Eira hurried after him. She watched, curiously as he placed one foot in front of the other and counted, hesitating on the fifteenth step. “Well?”

His eyes closed and then he smiled. “Fifteen. We’re right on schedule. Watch your step.”

“Why can’t you just zap them clean?”

“I am not so helpless or too proud that I cannot wash my own dish.” He snorted. “Besides, it’s a waste of energy and it is a good practice to personally care for your own things that contribute to your health and well-being.”

“Washing my plate?” Eira shook her head. “You lost me somewhere after helpless.” She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t think helpless has anything to do with it…I used to do that to mine all the time.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It would drive Dana mad….she always fussed at me, because she’d have to do all her chores n’ stuff by hand and I would never have to touch anything.”

“Really?” The interest was quite plain in his voice. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for that.” He murmured absently. “Explains a lot though.”

“What?”

“Dana is your friend?” He smoothly shifted the conversation to a new topic.

Eira hesitated. “Um…no.”

“Ahh…enemy?” There was a hint of understanding in his voice.

“No!” Eira stared at him in shock. “Where’d that come from? She’s my older sister!”

The eyebrows arched higher than she had even seen before. “I was not aware that you had a sister.”

“I have three.” Eira scowled. “And they’re all older and they all think they know exactly what’s best for me.” She tossed her head at the memory. “It’s like having four mothers!”

“I see. Too much…mothering?”

“Smothering is more like it.” Eira shook the little white plate, beginning to rub it dry with the hem of her tunic.

He threw a dry washcloth her way. “Please do not do that…it will wear it out faster.”

Eira looked down at the tunic and picked up the towel. “Whatever.” She happily swabbed the plate and held it up to the light with another yawn. “I am so tired, I can’t believe it.”

“Stow your things, I’ll be there in a moment.” He motioned for her to throw the cloth back. She did, watching him as he methodically wiped and stacked the dishes.

By the time he returned to the clearing, Eira was still stuck in the same sleepy state. “I am really tired.” She mumbled, another yawn coming through as she shouldered her pack, half-heartedly fumbling with the straps.

“Eira?” He appeared at her elbow, a look of concern on his face. “Are you all right?”

She sniffled for a moment, vision blurring. “I don’t know.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired.” The admission came out as a whine. “And my feet hurt.” The whine was working down to a drawl.

“I think you need to sit down.” He took her arm, guiding her down. “Sit, close your eyes and breathe as normally as you can.”

“I don’t know how to breathe normally.” The words were a whisper and her head rolled forward as her body went limp.

He sighed. “I was wondering…” He began. “Then again, I suppose here is as good a place to spend the night as anywhere.” Stowing the dishes in his pack, he returned to make her more comfortable, propping her up with a blanket and pillow.

Studying her for a long moment, he finally bent and tugged her boots off. Checking the soles of her feet. He sighed. He could see the symbols carved on the bottom, and judging from the depth of her sleep, she didn’t appear to be aware of them. It had needed the energy to remain as they were, soft and flexible. Another degree of puzzlement overtook him as he set her boots to the side and wrapped her feet in another blanket. “You puzzle me.” He told her, still thinking. “You should not have those…least of all on your feet…” he sighed. “If there was more to you than you have told me, perhaps it would explain, but this…?” He bit back the words on the tip of his tongue, afraid it would slip through her subconscious.

Moving away to pace for a few lengths, he suddenly stopped. “Of course.” A slight smile played around his face as he set up the night barrier. “That does explain some of this, though I am most curious to know more about you, apprentice. For now, I shall settle for stealing your boots. I simply cannot allow you to wear them for another day…you have no real idea what they are doing to you.” It didn’t take more than a mere flicker of energy to replace the boots with the usual standard wear, at least¸ the standard for his regular apprentices. The actual boots were tucked away in another one of his energy voids for safe-keeping and later examination. He cast another look in her direction as he began to form the webbing necessary for the shield. There had to be something else behind her, something that was making her stay where she was and to keep up with him.

His mind shifted gears as he mentally reviewed the original routine he had worked out for her. It would have to be adjusted now, especially since her body’s need for energy was so accelerated to the point where it began the conversion process within a half-hour. The very meaning of it was rather disturbing, but he pushed it away for later thought.

Now was a time he would enjoy, merely because it was his own. As much as slacking off would prove a later obstacle in establishing a workable routine, he needed the break and the time for himself more than he cared for her to know at this moment.

A silent ripple of energy wavered through the air. He felt the familiar pull, and a wave of regret washed over him. I’m sorry. I cannot come to you sooner. I will come. He promised. I will come…just not…as quickly as usual.

Politely ending the communication between it and him, he returned to the task at hand. Once the shield was up and running, he moved to the center of the clearing and settled down for a long meditation.

* * * * * *

When the morning dawned the next day, Eira woke with a stiff feeling in her shoulders that quickly reached her toes. She winced, wishing her eyes didn’t have to open. A sleepy smile stole across her face as she remembered fuzzy, hazy memories of a delicious meal.

Her eyes popped open in surprise when the rest of the reality sank it. “Aiep!” The exclamation was mild in comparison to the sudden change in panic, neatly accompanied by horror. “Hello?”

The clearing was empty.

It was enough to send her scrambling to her feet, hurriedly cramming the bedroll and pillow into the tiny sack. It mushroomed over the side, seeming to grow larger as her motions became more frantic. There was no trace of the Dark Phoenix anywhere. His pack was gone and of course, one could not tell if there had been a fire in the clearing before.

Eira bit her lip, unprepared for the sudden flood of emotions attacking her. Surely he wouldn’t have left her. She couldn’t have been that horrible an apprentice that he couldn’t wait to get rid of her and had simply left for-the thought was interrupted.

“I’d fold it, if I were you. It will fit when you do.” His voice was quietly amused and he had come up beside her, noiselessly.

Eira jerked sideways, staring at him for a moment. In the moment that passed between them, her brain decided to function once more. “W-where’d you go?”

“Shower.” He tilted his head back towards the river pathway. “Something the matter?”

“I-I’ll skip the shower…don’t feel like getting drowned this morning.” She swallowed. “You were just over there?”

“Yes.” He paused to look at her. “Is everything okay?”

She bit her lip, then nodded.

“Good. Then fold that…stop squishing it.”

Her attention returned to the object in hand and she mechanically preformed the required action. It was gradually stuffed into the pack in a smaller form and when she finished she sat on top of it, following his movements with her eyes. “Eira?”

She straightened. “Yes?”

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.”

“Care to elaborate on nothing?”

“No.”

“I see.” He was quiet for a moment. “If you’re skipping your morning…drowning, can we go now?”

“Go? Now?” Her brain was fuzzing again. She stood, reaching for her back to realize two things. Her stomach growled and her feet hurt. The pack was immediately set down as she stared at her bare toes. “My shoes…”

“To your left.” He said, over his shoulder, digging something out of the ground. “Do hurry up, I have a feeling we should not stay here very long.”

© Sara Harricharan

This week's Friday Fiction is hosted by the talented Lynn Squire at her blog, Faith, Fiction, Fun and Fanciful. Click here to read and share more great fiction!

Author's Ramblings: Would you like to celebrate my 100th post? LOL. I'm happy to share it with you. I almost skipped Eira and DP's tale again this week, but couldn't quite forgive myself for it, so I sat and wrote out another chapter of their adventures, hence, the lateness of this post. My apologies! Eira is learning quickly, but is still adjusting to the curveballs being hurled her way. She has learned from the last time though, to be quiet early on in meditations. ^_^ I've got a good twist coming up, as long as I stay on track, as I plan on participating in National Novel Writing Month in November(if you're interested in learning more about this phenomenal event, check it out at www.nanowrimo.org) . Have a great weekend and happy writing!

By the time the Dark Phoenix had announced the end of a torturous half-hour, Eira was dying to be on her feet again. She immediately sprang upwards the moment his lips finished the words.
“Time’s up.”

“Finally!” Eira rolled her neck, then her shoulders, bending to touch her toes. “Ugh. I feel like a rock.”

“That is not the proper way to end your meditations.”

His serious tone sliced through her new happy bubble. “There’s a proper way to end sitting still and quiet for hours?”

“You were meditating for exactly one minute past half an hour.” He sighed. “And yes, there is a way, but I do not have the patience to explain it at this precise moment. Sit over there, somewhere and amuse yourself until I am through.”

“Through with what?”

“My half of meditations.” He tilted his head. “I don’t want to hear you.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Nothing, I hope.” He said, sarcastically. “Short of interrupting me and anything involving excessive noise or movement that would fall under the category of deliberate distraction-amuse yourself-particularly since you will not have a free hour tonight.”

“Oh. Right.” Eira started towards the tree where her pack lay next to his. “Wait a minute, why am I having any free time at all then? I mean, like, I’m curious…sort of. And I don’t do anything but sleep in the afternoon, why should it matter-”

He cleared his throat, both eyes still closed. “Climb a tree or something. Rest your feet. Sit down and think. I need this time, Eira…and I need you to acknowledge what it means for me….please?”

The please on the end was an addition Eira hadn’t been expecting. She hesitated. “Okay…um-”

“There’s a wooden puzzle in my pack, solve it.” He interrupted, stiffly. “Don’t ask me anything about it, don’t talk or mutter to yourself, just solve it.”

The thought was intriguing enough and Eira headed for his pack. To her surprise, it was virtually empty, with nothing but a pair of socks and the wooden puzzle to the left of them. She turned to ask the question on the tip of her tongue and bit it back.

His head had tilted forward until his chin was touching his chest and his entire body seemed to have lost all strength to it, simply, limp as he sat. Eira snatched up the puzzle and retreated to the space farthest away from him, plopping down comfortably on the ground, she began to examine the wooden square.

It was quite some time later before she heard footsteps and by the time she’d torn her gaze away from the cryptic square of wood, the Dark Phoenix was standing over her, offering a hand up. “Ready?”

“Yeah…I think. I couldn’t solve this…I don’t know what the puzzle is.” She placed it in his outstretched hand.

“That wasn’t one.” He tucked it inside her over-tunic pocket, and caught hold of her arm, helping her up. “I commend you on the ability to remain silent when you are thoroughly absorbed in another activity. I do appreciate it when you follow orders and that was quite excellently…followed.” His mouth twitched. “And we’ve spent too much time here already, at least to be on schedule for now. We need to be moving, so come along.”

Eira readily grabbed her bag, hurrying after him. “So wait a moment, it wasn’t really a puzzle? That was the puzzle? That it wasn’t a puzzle?”

“That wasn’t a puzzle to begin with.”

“Then why did you tell me it was!”

“Why did you take my opinion of an inanimate object and base your assumptions off of a single sentence with no fact to it?”

“Fact?”

“How do you know I was or wasn’t telling you the truth?”

“You weren’t?” Eira frowned. “Or you were?”

“A little of both.” His mouth twitched. “I did not lie, if that is what you are getting at.”

“You didn’t lie, but you couldn’t tell me the puzzle was fake?”

“It isn’t.” He reached into his pack and brought out the lumpy sock. “The pieces are in here.”

“Pieces?” Eira blinked. “Wait a minute…there was more than one?”

“I made them all available to you when I directed you to them.” He scooped out the handful and extended the cluster of wooden shapes toward her.

It took both hands to accept the ‘gift’ and Eira could only stare at them for a moment before she realized he was waiting on her. “Oh. Oops. Just a moment.” She trickled the puzzle pieces carefully into the pocket and hurried to catch up to where he held the branches aside for her to pass through.

“Solve it later.” He advised. “Watch where you’re walking for now.”

“Speaking of which…where exactly am I walking?”

“On a pathway.”

“Well, duh, I already know that, I mean like, where am I?” She blinked. “I mean, where are we?”

“Any particular reason you wish to know?”

“There has to be a reason?”

“Yes.”

“I want to know?”

“You are asking me or telling me?”

“I don’t know. Pick one.”

“Which one?”

“I just said I didn’t know.”

“Then excuse me for thinking that you truly do not need to know, so I am overlooking that particular question.”

“Too many particulars.” Eira muttered.

“What?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“For your sake, I will not ask you to repeat it.” He countered. “We need to be moving faster.” He hesitated and the glance thrown over his shoulder was aimed at her feet.

Eira instinctively curled her toes within the precious boots. She was not giving up on this one. “My feet are fine!” Her grip on the pack tightened.

He frowned. “Come here.” Eira inched forward. He spun his finger for her to turn around. She hesitated. “Eira.”

There was a loud sigh as Eira slowly rotated, biting her tongue to keep from blurting anything out loud. He reached over her shoulder and took the pack, and within a few minutes had it securely fastened to her back. He gave the straps an extra tug as he circled back around. “When I said faster, I meant it. Try and keep up for a few minutes, while I decide on a suitable means of transport.”

“Suitable means of what?” Eira scrambled after him as he took off again, at his usual brisk pace. “How fast are we talking about?”

“Faster than you’re going, that’s for sure.”

His voice was rather faint and Eira looked upwards to see him standing quite a ways away. “Hey! How’d you get there?”

“By walking.” He shifted impatiently as she caught up. “And I can already tell this is not going to work. Give me your hand.”

“Why?” But even as she asked, Eira was already extending it. She had begun to resign herself to the fact that arguing or questioning was merely a delay to whatever outcome he already had in mind.

“Take a deep breath.” He instructed, grasping her hand firmly in his. “When do you breathe, try not to think about it and take small, short breaths out of the side of your mouth. There will be several types of strain, the least of which is physical.” His eyes narrowed. “It is called speed-traveling and one of these days I shall explain it fully to you.” His free hand moved to this throat and touched a silver charm dangling from a jade cord.

The symbol was familiar, but Eira couldn’t quite remember what it stood for. A tiny tingling feeling traveled up her arm and in the following seconds, she understood-briefly-why he’d asked her to take small breaths.

It had to be the symbol for speed. No sooner had he finished speaking, when a powerful surge of energy rippled through him and then to her, there was a strong pull and then everything was blurring.

Eira was vaguely aware that they were quite nearly flying, as the scenery blurred into solid walls of green, gray and then blue at some point. Time was an entirely different thing, because as before, when he had taken control of her feet, it had all merged into a giant blank block of nothingness.

When her stomach began to growl, the blurring slowed and then he threw a question over his shoulder. “Lunchtime?”

Answering was virtually impossible, for the moment she opened her mouth, all the air was snatched from her lungs. In the moment where she thought she would die, everything stopped.

Dying was almost easier.

Eira slammed full-force into strong arms and something else which cushioned the fall. There was a polite cough and then she found herself lying on the ground, staring up into the midday sky.

“Breathe, slowly.” He instructed. “I am beginning to wonder what exactly they taught you at the basic training.”

“Nothing about this.” She gasped. It hurt to think. It hurt worse to breathe.

“So I see.” He tapped her forehead. Another tingle of energy ran through her. “You’ll be fine. The first time is usually the worst.”

“Usually?”

He almost laughed, there was an apologetic look on his face. “I suppose I should apologize again, I sometimes forget a few things…I was not aware that you hadn’t traveled by speed before.”

“I haven’t traveled by anything before.” The ache and burn in her throat was easing, slightly, though ever so slowly.

“You’ve traveled by transport and the old-fashioned way.” He chuckled aloud, this time. “Feeling better yet?”

“Yeah.” She winced. “Can I sit up?”

“You will probably feel better if you stay there for a few more minutes. I will give you that.”

“I’ll take it.”

“Good. Your second meditations will begin when those few minutes are up.”

“WHAT?”

“In a few minutes.”

“I’m hungry.”

“You can eat when you’re through.”

“I’m really hungry!”

“It will take time for your lunch to cook.” He countered. “I am trying to put together a suitable routine for your training, humor me. Meditations will help the time go more quickly.”

“More slowly, you mean.” She muttered. "I don't need a routine."

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that one either.” He said, cheerfully. “and I know you’re doing quite well now. Up.”

“Now?”

He extended a hand, tapping her leg with his boot. “Now is fine.”

“Only five minutes this time, right?”

“Good girl.” He slung his pack to the ground, beside hers. It had mysteriously come undone and was now resting neatly at the base of a tree.

A quick glance around revealed that they had stopped at another one of the circular green groves and ripe fruit hung plentifully from the limbs of several trees. Eira closed her eyes for a moment, thinking. She wasn’t sure if more fruit would satisfy her stomach.

“Something the matter?”

“More fruit?” She asked, plaintively.

He chuckled. “No. I would not ask you to live on fruit while enduring such a physically taxing journey.”

“What, then?”

“Meditations first.” He was calm, as he removed his cape and folded it, setting it on top of the pack. “Now, what must we do first?”

“We?”

“Focus, Eira.”

“I am, I am….um, right. Focus. A center! We need a center.”

“Close…two centers.”

“Two centers?

“Keep thinking…”

“Oh.” Eira bit back a smile, she stared upwards into the sky, moving about until she decided on a center in the clearing. “Center up there…and center in myself?”

“Quick study.” He congratulated. “Shift a bit to your left.”

“Why? I’m in the middle?”

“When you share a center, as in, more than one, the center must be…centered, between all parties.”

“Oh. I guess that makes sense.” Eira shuffled over a few steps, then squinted back up at the ceiling. “Right here?”

“There is good.” He settled down, cross-legged, sitting opposite of you. “Begin.”

“Now?”

“Six minutes.”

“Oops. Right.”

“Seven minutes.”

Eira bit back the retort, settling down. Lunch would be quicker in coming if meditations did not take any longer than absolutely necessary.

© Sara Harricharan

Author's Note: Eira and DP's story is taking a break this week. Mainly because I actually have a life in terms of schoolwork that must be completed and handed in tomorrow. Thankfully, it is done, but as host, I cannot shirk my duties and make you wonderful writers and readers wait for me to post McLinky, so this is a rerun. Short and sweet, but from an abstract writer perspective-I think. Enjoy! And have a great weekend!

I'm sitting by the window again. Wondering when the pain will end. I feel as if I'm trapped again, thanks to your forgotten pen.

My hands can't move to write the words. To empty my head of this ancient urge. I want so badly to be free of this, but somehow, I'm still stitting here.

Hands are useless if you can't feed yourself. If you can't eat, you die. Unless there are hands to feed you.

I would give almost anything for my hands. To have them working again, to be rid of the pain, the agony, this sheer torture.

Do you remember what my hands could do? They were slim and soft. I could write, paint or draw. I was your little artist.

You loved to see me at work, cramped up in the tiny office, taking my mind to a home away from home. You said I inspired you.

When I felt stuck, I reached for chapstick. The cherry one that you'd always buy for me. I was inspired just thinking of you. From your crooked smile to the gold pocketwatch. To think that you would remember the little things kept me going. It felt good to feel loved.

And popcicles. My most precious memories surround the afternoons where a popcicle made the world all right again. Not the drippy ones on the stick, the ones that you could turn up. You know I loved you.

I loved curling irons. Even though it made a mess of my hair. I never trusted anyone but you to cut it. You knew it too. I never thought I'd marry my hairdresser. How did you talk me into it? Your hands were so gentle, so right. You knew how to twist the frizziness into something pretty.

What changed?

What happened to us that you can't bear to look me in the eyes? That I can't stand to see you go. That we spend more nights apart than together.

I know I've changed. I don't pretend otherwise. I can't help feeling the way I do. You tell me I'm not a hinderance, how am I supposed to believe you? When I hear what you don't mean to say.

It is hard to get up and go to work every morning. I know. I did it. For seventeen years. Go ahead, twist me up.

Slaving away at a corporate giant wasn't the life I wanted. We needed the money. I needed you. When the stove exploded, I knew your hands wouldn't be the same again. I promised they'd get better. Like the chapstick we had in common, since our first date. Each tube held more love than the one before. You don't buy it for me anymore. It's barely a dollar down at the drugstore. The same one you should go to for milk. They have it cheaper than the grocery store.

It is hard to keep the house clean, entertain guests and throw your own birthday party. I know. I did it. For seventeen years. Go ahead, twist me up.

I would spend weeks looking for the perfect outfit. Weeks where I could only spare a half hour at a time. Once I'd found the best bargain, I'd let you do my hair. You used to buy new hair clips-from that boutique near the courthouse. It's been two years since the last set.

It is hard to ignore a perfect sunset. I know. I've been watching them escape me these past two years. Go ahead, darling. Twist me up.

Your footsteps are coming down the apartment hall. You're tired. I can hear it in your sigh.

I would run and open the door for you, but the wheelchair gets stuck in the entry way. I wish I could hug you, kiss you and hold you. Wish you happy nineteenth anniversary.

If only my hands could move.

Your shadow tempts me from the doorway. For once, your face looks happy. I want to ask what happened, but my lips are sworn to silence.

"Happy Anniversary." You say, kneeling in front of my wheelchair. "I had the strangest thing...happen. I couldn't stop thinking of you." You clasp my hands in yours. "I started to think and...I know we've drifted apart. It's not your fault. We both changed. But at the same time. We couldn't be there for each other. I want to change that. Will you let me?"

I blink back tears that fall anyway. Your scarred hands brush them aside. You set your sweatshirt on my lap. You've tied it into a bundle.

Patient hands undo the knot and your tokens of love adorn my lap. A tube of cherry chapstick, a pair of beaded barrettes, a box of orange popcicles and a receipt.

My eyes ask the question I can't think of. "It's a voice recorder." You say, ripping open the box of popcicles. "You still have your voice, some feeling in your feet and plenty of attitude." You wink.

I smile.

"There will be a switch to activate it-with your feet. You can record anything you want and I've worked it out, so that my niece-Carolyn? You remember her? She's going to college and needs a place to stay. She'll be happy to keep you company. I know it's hard to sit here all day by yourself, with only the nurse to check in every few hours."

"My voice sounds awful." I choke out, waiting as you clear my lap and reach to take me in your arms. "Where are we going?"

"To the balcony." You say, tucking the popcicles between my hands. "To watch the sunset. We haven't given ourselves a chance, love. Your voice, it is part of the beauty of your spirit. You mustn't neglect it because you cannot express it like before."

It can't be easy for you to tell me this. I know. I've lived with our silence for two years. The evening sun is dancing on my cheeks. I feel your warmth and draw my strength from it. Go ahead, twist me up, I am replacing this bitterness...with hope.

Copyright S. Harricharan