Thursday Teasers: Grapemo Week # 1
Thanks for the submissions!
UNTITLED
by another_wip
"What is that?" Lyndsii stared at the monstrous creature. Bat-like wings spread across the red bank, powerful teeth lined a broad snout. Three years of zoology in college and it resembled nothing she knew. Because it is nothing you know. It doesn't belong here any more than he does.
"It is the Dark." Khyr snapped the sword in half and cast the parts into the heart of the rapids. "I require my blade." He stood close before her, midnight eyes blazing into hers.
"Why didn't you just keep that sword?"
"It was born of fell magic. I want no part of it." His breathing deepened. A small muscle jerked in his jaw. "My blade. Now."
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she stepped past him. Two blood red garments lay sprawled nearby. Clothing-but whose? Nothing she knew. "What-who were they?"
"Dark Riders. Wizards sent to find Aedin."
"You killed them." Her heart pounded as she grappled with this new reality. Wizards. He killed two wizards here. God, what next? "What about him?" She jerked her head to indicate the unconscious jogger on the road in front of her jeep.
"I put him out of harm's way."
"By knocking him over the head?"
"He lives." Khyr turned to her, face grim and determined. "My knife. The danger is here."
She shook her head slowly. "Not in the park, I took an oath--"
"Not here, or in your home, or in your city. Do you believe they will wait to seek us in a place where weapons are allowed?
DREAMWALKER
by fandoria
“Whoa, girl. There’s a storm brewing in your eyes,” Kim said as I slammed my bag onto our table in the commons
.
Grunting in response, I unzipped my bag. My sketchbook fell out with my lunch bag. I shoved it aside and tore open my lunch without mercy. I wasn’t really in the mood to eat, but since my BG had dropped from the 300’s to 72, I didn’t have much choice. I grabbed a carrot stick and bit its head off.
“Sheesh,” Savaria said. “Glad I’m not the carrot.”
“Another fight with your dad?” Kim asked.
“No,” I muttered.
Savaria, who’d grabbed my sketchbook and been flipping through it snapped her fingers. “It’s a boy, isn’t it? It has to be. You’ve got that jilted look about you.”
I froze, praying the guilty flush I felt rising up wouldn’t show on my face.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kim said before I could answer. “If Rachel had a boyfriend, we’d definitely know about it.”
“Unless it’s a secret boyfriend,” Savaria said, staring hard at me. She turned my sketchbook around so Kim and I could see it. It was turned to a charcoal drawing of Rider. “Like this guy for example.”
“Oh come on. She wouldn’t keep something like that from us.” Kim paused and looked at me with a hint of hurt in her eyes. “Would you?”
“No,” I said, though it came out a little strangled. I coughed, pretending it was the carrot, and took a swig of water.
“Then who’s the guy you’ve been drawing?”
“No one. It’s just a mock up for the art show.”
“Then why are there so many sketches of him? And why doesn’t he ever have a face?”
“You know me. I’m a perfectionist,” I said. “Besides, who could I possibly be dating?”
“What about Milo Serawop?” Savaria pointed to our school’s basketball star who was busy trying to shove as many fries into his mouth as possible. “He’s hot.”
I snorted. “And totally not my type.”
“Whatever. Just as long as you remember to tell us if you ever do figure out your type and get yourself a boyfriend.” Savaria flipped her hair over her shoulder and beamed as Milo stood, hands in the air as he showed off just how big and useless his mouth was.
“Of course,” I said. Rider didn’t count, right? After all, how could I date a guy who was literally transparent? So it wasn’t like I was breaking some cardinal rule of best friend-hood by not telling them about him. Besides, they’d never believe me if I did, anyway.
EL COMPUESTO
by kbaccellia
The front door creaked open.
Xochil stood in the doorway, the lighting giving her an almost angelic glow, softening her usual warrior appearance.
Relief hit me hard. “You’re one crazy…”
“You too?” Our stepfather gave both of us one of his long suffering looks that aged him into an old man. He let out a loud sigh and quickly yanked Xochil inside. He then glanced over at Mami who nodded. Both extinguished their candles.
“Go to your room, now,” Luis hissed.
I didn’t wait for Xochil. Once in our room I quickly bounced into bed without changing. I pulled my faded quilt up to my chin and waited. I didn’t know what was worse. Knowing we’d broken curfew or the unknown.
Icy fear surged throughout my body. I just knew it would be a matter of time before the men rushed into our room and seized both of us out of our beds and throw one of those red blankets over our bodies. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting and dreading the worse.
Muffle sounds and then loud pounding on our door meant what I feared the most. They had followed us.
BLACKBIRD
by lizjonesbooks
Once upon a time, there was a Pennsylvania farm boy whose head was always in the clouds. Aren't all farm boys like this, by their very nature? Of course they are. All cliches have their source in the real world, after all. The ones inclined to dream will always dream, and the responsible ones will be checking the weather.
Our farm boy is what you might call a responsible dreamer. If it's night, he's stopping on yet another muddy trek to the barn to check for new lambs, watching his moonlit breath drift up towards the frozen stars, marking their changes in the past four hours, remapping the sky.
This never grows old for him, this evidence that what seems so still and quiet can utterly change while his eyes are closed. If all is well in the barn, he may hold his hand up, black against the sparks, and try to catch them at their tricks.
The fat moon is most cooperative of the bunch, settling ever so gently into the side of his hand before the bitter wind drives him back to the warmth of his bed. With stars, he's never sure if what he sees is really the movement of the star, or his own hands, shaking with cold.
Days, he checks the sky because there's no radar yet to tell him what the clouds mean for the advisability of cutting hay. No matter what story the sky holds on a given day, what he most hopes for is to hear the sputter and drone of a plane in the distance, perhaps one of the barnstormers like he saw at the fair, or maybe an airmail plane.
He hopes more than anything that it will settle in his father's field, in search of gas. And when it takes off again, he will stow away somehow, perhaps clinging to the wings behind the pilot's seat. And it will take him somewhere unimaginably wonderful.
THE WORLD THROUGH DEXTER'S EYES
by Vickie M
Yesterday, Mom and Megan introduced me to the beach. I saw this big, bowl of water and began drinking from it, thinking it was all mine. But, then I saw others around and knew I had to share. Being an only dog, I often think the sun shines on me, and it does, but it shines on everybody else, too. On the positive, though, we are never alone, because of this connectedness in life.
I stood there proud on the sand, like a stallion, STUD, Chippendale, ears blowing back with the wind, with waves crashing in. It put me in another world, and I thought to myself, ahhh, I love water. After this, from then on, I would be drawn to water. I knew in my dreams, I would fall asleep, on a limb, over water, looking down on the dark, royal blue, titanic waters, stars in the sky. I love waterfalls, oceans, streams! Words cannot explain how I feel about water. Then, an extra big wave comes up, and I run for my life and remember from some distant memory . . . .