Fiction: Legendland Challenge: 20 Ficlets of Cara and Mord Sith Training (1-10)
These were written within a day for the legendland's Challenge BB Alt - Click for related posts
- My choice was 20 ficlets (500-1000 words) and subject: Cara Mason and her Mord Sith Training, along with a little Dahlia on the side and we had to use from These Prompts
Like I said these were written within a day (10 am to 5.30 pm - with breaks), so excuse any crappiness.. I am editing for mistakes right now. :P
Note: I took the liberty of creating one character, named Laevia, serving as the head of Mord Sith at the time of Cara's abduction. :)
[1] Prompt: Water
Word Count:
{Title: }
Her lungs were burning, they were on fire but she couldn’t move.
The senior Mord Sith was firmly holding her by her hair, pulling it hard, but that pain was nothing compared to the fear she was feeling. The fear that she would perish on the spot, that she would die a gruesome death and no one would mourn her.
Not the Mord sith that deemed her insubordinate and unworthy, not her friends who would have forgotten about her by now, not even her parents.
Her abduction was so traumatizing that there is not doubt that they would want to erase any trace of that from their memories.
Cara couldn't blame them if they tried to forget it and leave it behind.
She was lost anyways and if there was no way of her coming back they should at least
move on.
At first she blamed them for not coming after her or trying to find her but now she could see it clearly.
There was no winning the Mord Sith.
They weren't human, they were devils from the other side.
They had to be.
Otherwise how could they cause so much suffering at a straight face?
How could their heart bear the sight of a little girl covered in her own blood, her own sweat, her own vomit, be responsible for it and not flinch, not falter?
No, Cara firmly thought. They couldn't be human, they couldn't have a heart.
Her explanation was that they had no heart that is why it was possible...
And the water kept burning her.
She blinked, furiously grasping at her last bits of strength still residing in her body, but ready to flee like rats from a sinking ship...
She tried to scream, but her mouth was already open trying to get some oxygen, suffer some kind of instant mutation rendering her a fish that could breathe under water.
It was a feeble hope, a child's fantasy and though Cara was a child, she was no fool and after everything she had seen, there was no room in her mind for fantasy.
“Help” she would scream if she could.
"Help I am just a child, just a little child that deserves love and a hug and to be happy" but all her pleads would fall on deaf ears.
On ears that would enjoy such words, such screams and Cara didn't know if it was her pride or the futility of all of this that was causing her not to scream, not to plead.
Was it that she had given up hope -the hope that wasn't even there to begin with? Or was it that if those were her final moments she wanted to preserve some of her dignity, so that when she would see her parents in heaven, she would be able to say:
"See mom? Dad? I made you proud. I was strong till the very end. I didn't act like an animal or a coward no matter how much it hurt and burned"
"I died being your daughter and I hope that no matter how much you tried to forget me, to erase these horrible events or even my existence, at least if I was ever mentioned you knew that I died a human being.
A human being and I didn't shrink into nothingness on my own account"
I am Cara Mason and if these are my final moments, here I go world!
Here I come death. I open up my arms and embrace you as you twist the knife in my gut and my soul...
~ Fin~
[2]Prompt: Promise
Word Count:
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"No, please don't cry. Please Dahlia. I can't do this without you..."
Cara pleaded with her only friend in the world. In this obscure, forgotten and tormented mini version of the world inflicted upon them by the Mord Sith.
She wanted to say that things would be okay. She wanted to say that any moment now, if they shut their eyes hard enough and blinked, everything would prove to be a nightmare and both Dahlia and Cara would wake up in Cara's bed, hugging each other just like most of the nights Dahlia would slip in her house, so that they could talk and embrace and feel like the world could be a not so bleak place anymore.
She wanted to scream these words out loud.
This is a lie, a game, a nightmare. And sooner or later we are going to wake up. We are going to laugh at all this once it is over. And we will be there, standing tall, unaffected, untainted. Two little girls finding their place in the world, in a world that was bright and happy within their mother's arms.
A world in which their fathers came home to a smiling wife and children that were happy and fed and not cold.
Because they deserved a world like that.
They deserved to be happy and unique and remembered as not two victims, two girls that were taken away into “horrorland”, but as two girls that would be free to choose their own destiny and even more than that, shape it.
All people want to feel like they are shaping their destiny, like what they do, their actions and choices make a difference and influence their life and fate in an efficient and unmistakable way.
Could Cara say that now? Well maybe...
She could say that her actions were ultimately leading her to her death.
At least that was what the Mord Sith was telling her.
“If you don't change your ways, you little moth, I will squash you beneath my boot and enjoy it as life is choked out of your body and your insides are one with the ground where rodents and worms al,ike will vanish you into oblivion.”
And while Dahlia was crying, Cara on the other hand wanted to scream at the top of her lungs not necessarily for help...
It could be anything, any word, any letter, any sound, but it had to be grating, it had to be piercing, so distinct and scary that it would- even for a fraction of a second- cause the hateful Mord Sith to tremble, to shudder, to be afraid and if not afraid, then at least make her falter, hesitate, blink even.
Just get a reaction out of her, one not of disgust or disdain, but of terror, or doubt.
Yes, that was worth dying for, because at least her death wouldn't be of one little girl that the Mord Sith got and broke down, but rather of girl that contradicted her fate to the best and last of her abilities.
“I will set you free one way or the other, Dahlia, I promise.”
~ Fin ~
[3]Prompt: Dark
Word Count:
{Title: }
She couldn't make out anything in this darkness.
This blackness that was her cell every time the head Mord Sith sent her to this prison, built especially for those who still resisted, for those who still held faith; how she couldn't herself understand.
It was so dark and smelly in this cell. Nothing but jagged rocks all around and bars, iron bars that prevented the little girls sent there for disobeying, from comforting each other, from supporting each other.
At least if they were in the same space they could find each other in the dark and hold hands or embrace each other to protect themselves from the cold and the filth and the fear.
And then with no light and no other sound than the sound of their heartbeat, they could at least shut their eyes and pretend they were at their own house and the one holding them and keeping them company was their mother, their sister, their best friend even. Someone they knew and trusted and loved.
Someone they turned to - foolishly or not- whenever they were scared or in trouble, or needed to be held and told that everything was going to be okay.
But right there in that Creator-forsaken place, there was no one they could hold, no one who would say to them that this was a nightmare and it would soon be over, no one who would be merciful enough to lie.
No one but their imagination, or the last remnants of hope within them, taking pity on them and feeding them a fantasy that would be their demise, but at least they would go there with a smile.
Cara could hear other girls breathing, others choking, coughing.
This was hell and everyone there was destined for torment. There was no escaping the claws of torture, but some at least hoped they would escape the grip of reality and embrace madness.
What you can't understand cannot affect you right? Then at least they wouldn't be free of fear.
But Cara didn't want to lose herself. She believed that she at least owed herself some dignity till the very end.
Cara crawled along the wet, disgusting floor and made her way towards the bars of her cell.
Grabbing the bars, squeezing them until her knuckles turned white, scratching them until there was only a bloody mess in the place of her fingernails, would be her way of telling herself.
“This is you Cara, You are in a prison, you may never see your parents or sister again, you may never see the sun again, but here, now, you are alive and sane and though everything and everyone around you is falling, you will hold on to these bars and they will be your contact with reality."
"This cold piece of metal that could rip through you, will be the reminder that you once had a life and that there still is one beyond these rock walls.
And even if you don't get to live it, then, at least, your mother and father are alive.
Then, at least, your sister, this young frail thing you were always looking after, will grow to be strong and healthy and brave and she will remember you. She will always have a place in her heart for you.
~ Fin ~
[4]Prompt: Dawn
Word Count:
{Title: }
Cara woke to a whisper. She though it resembled the sound of her name, but was afraid to open her eyes.
It wouldn't be the first time the Mord Sith would be playing a trick on her, calling it “training”.
She shifted uneasily and held her breath.
She knew that was a dead give away that she was no longer sleeping, but if she could keep herself from the sight of a hateful woman for even one second, she would take it.
She didn't even move when she felt a light tap on her side.
“Cara?” a voice came again.
“Cara, wake up, hurry”
She knew that voice, she knew that soft, sweet tone.
She turned to the direction of the voice and opened her eyes.
Dahlia, her only friend, came into view.
A frail, needy thing, skinny; her dirty clothes clinging to her bony body.
Cara sat up trying to make as little noise as possible.
"What's wrong?” she asked and couldn't miss the irony in her own words. Nothing was right anymore and it would never be again.
“This is our chance, Cara. Stand up, let's make a run for it” her friend mouthed hopefully.
Cara took a look around, not failing to notice the sleeping Mord Siths all around.
“Are you insane? There's no possibility for us to make it. You think that even one of these Mord Siths doesn't know what we are up to?
They have told us already. We are not the first.
They were once like us.
They already know what we are thinking, what we want, how we are going to try to go about it.”
“No, Dahlia, no!“ Cara shook her head.
“You are telling me you are afraid? That you are a coward?”, Dahlia feebly challenged her more to voice her own insecurities rather than chide Cara.
She was obviously shaking.
“No, Dahlia. I am telling you I am smarter than that. And that's why I have kept us both alive for so long“ Cara reminded her taking hold of her hand, rubbing it fondly as soon as she got it.
Good,old Dahlia, always impulsive, always thinking that running was going to solve her problems.
But Cara knew better than that.
Even if they could leave undetected, where would they go?
They had no idea where they were, no idea if there was a village in any direction.
And how far would they have to walk?
For how many hours? For how many days and nights alike?
With no food, no water, no means to protect themselves against the cold or the attacks of wild animals.
As much as she hated to admit it, they were safer there.
The Mord Sith may have been cruel, but they needed them alive.
Maybe not exactly unharmed, but definitely alive - Cara heard Laevia say so herself.
Their numbers were dwindling, they needed new recruits - and that was what mattered.
Because if they stayed alive one more day, it would be one more day of seeing the sun, feeling its warmth and one more day of planning their escape.
“Trust me, we will not survive otherwise, Dahlia” she whispered back.
And when Dahlia opened her mouth to protest, not noticing how Laevia, the head Mord Sith had woken up and was looking at them, Cara kissed her to save both their lives.
And Laevia just chuckled, right before touching them both with her agiel.
~ fin ~
[5] Prompt: Blood
{Title: )
There was so much blood, so much blood. Seeping everywhere, spreading everywhere faster that water, faster than she could think.
How could a thing so sticky and vile be so quick? So fast and soundless?
It was almost like Cara imagined a hired assassin to be.
A D'Haran even.
She could still remember the stories her father told her once when he was warning her of the dangers, if she ever wandered off alone without him by her side.
Blood and a searing pain. So much pain, coming from everywhere, from more places than her mind could register.
It was like her body was a map of where it could hurt, a map of pain and not the carrier of her soul and existence.
It was as if she had lost control of her own body.
She couldn't move it, she wasnt even asking it to move, but there it was, jerking and convulsing in every possible direction.
And she could sense every muscle, every tendon, every inch of her skin aching with anguish, straining to maintain at least a single position, the one causing the least pain as a form of self-survival.
But it couldn't, she couldn't.
Not while the Mord Sith was still kicking her and touching her with her agiel any chance she got. She was yelling, shouting... Words that Cara couldn't make out and didn't care to.
If there was death for her near, she prayed it would engulf her any minute now, taking her away from all this suffering and disappointment.
“Is this what you are life?” she wanted to yell. “Is this what you are? Is this the only thing you can offer? A few years of happiness and nurture and then solely abandonment and anguish?”
“Because if that is what you are, I do not want you anymore. You can leave me anytime you want, the sooner the better, so that I could settle comfortably into nothingness. Nothingness is better than this constant torment swiveling around me like a stairway to hell”
And right in that moment, bathed in her own blood, hemorrhaging from every pore of her skin, burning within each knuckle of her body, Cara Mason prayed.
She had never allowed herslef to pray before or beg.
The Creator had already abandoned them years ago.
It was common knowledge by now.
That was why there were legends of Seekers, of people who were brave enough and strong enough to fight against the forces of evil that were at loose in the Midlands and beyond.
No one knew if “She” was still around. They only knew that the Keeper was only wreaking havoc.
“If you are there Creator, dont hear my prayers. Don't listen to me when I ask for you to help me.
I don't want this, I dont need this.
I don't need your help.
If you wanted to help me, you would have done so already, you wouldn't wait till I reached the hundredth time.
Just strike me down for my impiety. Kill me, cause me to perish. It can't be any worse than this I am experiencing right now”.
~Fin~
[6]Prompt: Nightmare
Word Count:
{Title: )
Cara kept her breath.
One minute, two minutes, till her lungs were burning for air and she thought she could take no more of this.
She kept doing it. One, two times, three times.
It had become like a game. A sick game that provided her with no comfort or amusement, just distraction for as long as it took for her to get accustomed to it.
This darkness, this gloominess, this blackness spreading from every corner of her cell all around her. Just like a demon from the stories her mother used to narrate, when her sister and herself were'nt doing what they were told.
“If you dont do this, then a demon, a huge creature of impossible ugliness black and filthy, will come out of the wall of your room when you least expect it, when you are asleep in your beds, your eyes closed, completely oblivious to the sounds and the dangers and snatch you away into hell. No matter how much you struggle or fight or beg, he shall not be wavered or hesitate. He will take you to hell and you will never seen us again.”
Cara could recall every word, every pause her mother made for effect and it was only now that she could laugh....
No, not laugh but at least smirk or chuckle.
“Do you want to be taken away from us, Cara? Do you want to be in a place that is so dark and so ugly and smelly and cold that your body will hurt and fear will be your only feeling? Well, do you?”
Cara remembered how these words always frightened her so much to the point of crying and she would run to her mother, tears trickling down her cheeks, throwing her little hands around her mother's waist, holding on to the strings hanging from her apron, just burying her face in the familiar curves and inhaling the familiar scents of home and baking and safety that was her mother.
“Noooo” she would scream. “Forgive me, mommy. I didn't want to do it. I will be a good girl from now on. Please don't leave me. Don't ever let the bad man take me”.
It was only a few years later that Cara would find out for herself that demons weren't always creatures from the other side.
They didnt always come from hell, although they led you there.
And they weren't always exactly demons.
Sometimes they were people, just like her mother and her -if you could call them that.
And sometimes they weren't even men.
Sometimes they were women, not ugly or dirty, but deceptively elegant and graceful.
Hiding their deadliness behind a facade of beauty.
Just some beautiful girls in leather, holding what could be described as harmless sticks.
Only they weren't harmless and there weren't graceful, unless death's swiftness counted as grace.
Maybe it was, though, because the faster you died the less you would suffer. And if that wasnt grace, it was mercy.
~ Fin ~
[7]Prompt: Light
Word Count:
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Cara didnt know where she found the courage to stand up for herself and her friend. But she did.
It was admirable though. And incredibly stupid.
Mostly stupid because each time she challenged, she was tortured.
Each time she retorted, she was agieled.
Yet, there it was every time she was given an order, the Mord Sith standing right in front of her, standing tall and imposing, scary even, in front of her frail, undernourished and bruised body, was ready to hit, to smack, to push, to shove... Again and again.
She would say:”No”, she would mouth that word every time, even through charred, dry lips, blood spilling at the effort to move her lips to form the shape of these words.
And when she couldn't speak, she would nod negatively.
She would try to lift up her head to indicate that no matter how broken she was, no matter the beating or the humiliation she would receive, she would still deny.
She would still refuse to do what she was told.
She was good with the sword and she picked up the battle techniques easily, but she wasn't going to use those abilities to cause harm to anyone and certainly not at their biding.
They werent animals', dammit.
She couldn't be forced and manhandled and manipulated physically to do what she was told.
She was more than just a body, more than just a potential killer.
If it was merely discipline what they were taught, she could have dealt with it.
Still her heart would ache for a future as feminine as the one her mother had,she would dream of having her own children one day and someone like her father to love her. But she would comply and survive.
But this, this pointless and unprovoked demonstration of brutality and cruelty...
That she couldn't do.
She shouldn't have to do it.
She was just a little girl. One minute she was playing by the river, a doll made from straw and clothes in her hands and the next she was chained like an animal, unfed and beaten.
Now she was thrown in the dungeon.
Solitary confinement they called it. It was all so official and business with the Mord Sith.
Their training was an end in itself.
But what it was, was a prison, a place where little girls just like her were left to come around or come out dead.
They always chose the cell deepest in the caves for her. Where no human sounds, no warmth and no light could reach her.
Sensory deprivation.
Nothing, no sound but her own breathing, no feeling than the hammering of her heart inside her chest.
But, despite anything the Mord Sith could have predicted, it was there that hope lied.
In that dirty, black little cell, smelling of sweat, piss and misery.
Because it was there on the top right corner of her cell that a little ray of light was shining. It was oh so small and feeble.
Just like a firefly seconds before it faded away.
If you blinked you could miss it, but there it was, every time, reminding Cara that there was always a light at the end of the tunnel and maybe always hope at the end of a torment.
~ Fin ~
[8]Prompt: Alone
Word Count:
{title: }
This was always her fear.
That she would be alone forever.
That no one would be by her side. Not because he or she would want to be.
If she became a Mord sith, her sisters would be by her side, but that would be due to the twisted sense of loyalty and sisterhood that the senior Mord Siths were forcing upon them.
It was more a routine, out of habit that it was out of real purpose or sentiment.
They didnt feel close to each other. There was no love. No altruism.
They were together so long as it would serve the purpose that was set on them.
There was no real quest, just a mission that was one not of nobility or honor, but of fear and imperialism.
They had to serve Lord Rahl, but lord Rahl was an evil man with too much within his grasp, not knowing when to stop.
Why would they serve such a man?
Why couldn't an army of women, as powerful and as resilient as them, make their own path, shape their own destiny?
One that would entail helping the ones in need, rescuing the innocent and alleviating the suffering?
If they were as strong and forceful as they claimed, why did they need a master?
Why did they need to be given a purpose? Couldn't they find it on their own?
Cara pursed her lips and clenched her teeth as the whip came in contact with her naked back, again.
She tried to twist her arms away from the hold of the two older Mord Siths, but she wasnt strong enough.
She hadn't slept well in weeks and hadn't fed in days.
She could feel her own strength slipping away. If she was standing right now, it was merely out of will power and not true resistance.
The whip hit harder again and again, each time harder than the previous one, but Cara had nothing to hold on to.
She was trying hard not to cry out, not to scream and though she tried with all her might, every now and then a sob would escape her throat. A lament, the swan song of her innocence and faith.
Her childhood was over and she didn't know what it was now.
She didnt know what she was.
She was certainly not a little girl anymore.
At least not inside of her.
She may look like a little girl, but inside she felt cold and old.
Older than the soil her feet were sinking in now as a rain started pouring down.
She was suddenly brought to her knees with a swift kick by Laevia and losing her balance she sank face down on the now wet ground.
Her skin was covered in mud when she was pulled back up from her hair.
It was unmistakable. She was alone.
Alone as she would ever be.
And in this moment, the futility of her fight hit her so clearly, she could laugh.
Nothing of this mattered.
She was going to die anyways and she may as well, since there was nothing good in store for her anymore.
She was sure she was asked to speak, to reply to something, but the words were all mumbled and it all came back as the roaring of a thunder to her.
She was slapped hard when she didn't speak and her face was pushed to the side.
When she opened her eyes, the first face she saw was Dahlia's.
It was Dahlia crying, sobbing, having lost faith... An easy victim to the hands of Laevia should she be alone and something inside of Cara snapped.
Desperate to make it, she tried to get Dahlia to look at her and as soon as their gazes locked on each other, she was sure Dahlia understood.
Neither of them was really alone.
~ fin~
[9]Prompt: Gift
Word Count:
{Title: }
It had already been two years. Not that it mattered.
Time was dragging so slowly there than it did when she was with her family.
At least when she was with her family, she had something to hope for, to expect.
A hug from her dad, a tasty treat from her mother, a little more playing with her sister.
But here, here time meant nothing.
Nothing other than more pain and more rules that painted her world black and red.
It was her birthday, though. The day on which she was born.
Two years ago her mother had made her a cake and given her a kiss on the cheek, lifting her up in her arms and twirling her around, dancing around happily.
“You are a big girl now Cara” she had said. “I'm so proud of you, I love you”
And she had answered that she loved her mother too.
And when her father came back, although they weren't rich, he had brought her a beautiful ribbon the color of the grass.
He had told her that it matched her eyes and had clumsily fastened it to her hair.
“You are so beautiful, my daughter” he had said.
“Your face and your intelligence are my pride. I love you so much”.
And Cara had taken her sister, Grace, by the hand, playfully twisting the ribbon on her hair and dancing as soon as they got close to the river.
Taking off their shoes, they had sunk their feet into the cold,clear water holding each other's hands and discussing what they would do in two months time, when it would be her sister's birthday.
Maybe they would ask for a picnic or for their father to take them to the forest.
That would be adventure, they thought, and their little, innocent eyes were filled with images of fairies and knights or even beautiful princesses that would give them their place as soon as they laid their eyes on them.
How wrong they were.
Of course, there were fairies and knights.
And Cara was certain there were a lot of princesses in this world, but none of what they expected would happen now.
Two years was a long time and Cara could almost see her sister now.
All grown up, almost to her own height now, her blond hair falling down her back in graceful locks and wearing all the dresses Cara had left behind, either because they reminded her of her sister or because she had no others.
Maybe it would be some kind of tribute to her. A commemoration of her. But it didn't matter.
And if Cara died now, at least she knew that her sister was safe and although her father didnt want her back - or so she was told - at least her sister would always remember her. She was just too young to react.
Suddenly, she felt a hand around her waist and was ready to scream, clenching the bars of her cell tighter. She couldn't see who it was in the dark. But then she heard Dahlia's voice and her pushing something through the bars inside her clenched fist.
She squeezed it and realized it was a piece of bread.
“Happy Birthday Cara” she said.
~ fin ~
[10]Prompt: Lost
Word Count:
{Title: }
“If you wanna leave so bad, go! Leave already!” the Mord Sith challenged her and Cara and Dahlia didn't know what to think.
Was she playing a trick on them? Could it really be so easy? Cara thought.
Would they let them - her go just like that?
They always told her she was too troublesome to matter or ever account to anything.
She would never be a worthy Mord Sith, but if being a Mord Sith meant she had to kill and hunt and maim, Cara wanted nothing to do with it.
She'd rather be their servant, wash their laundry and polish their boots than kill anyone or cause any harm.
She had been kicked and slapped and whipped and beaten and still, when she was asked to kill Iola, the weak girl everyone was making fun of, she couldnt. Maybe she was weak, but did that mean she deserved to die?
Who said that? Who could pass such judgement other than the Creator?
She had voiced that question once.
“I don't see the Creator anywhere” was the mocking reply she had gotten.
And it was true.
She had pleaded and begged so many times.
She had prayed the way her mother always did when she was asking for her father to be safe, but nothing ever happened.
The agiel would still touch her skin, paralyzing her, numbing her senses with gut-wrenching pain and no salvation would come.
It was no wonder then, that she had done it.
It must had been the twentieth time Dahlia had asked her to.
“Wake up, Cara. Let's go. We will run and never look behind”
It was just as futile as all the previous times, only this time she felt like she owed it to Dahlia and herself to try.
It was what imprisoned people did anyways, wasn't it? Try to escape at any cost?
So she did.
She grabbed Dahlia's hand and together they tiptoed around the sleeping Mord Sith and started running the minute they entered deeper into the woods, not caring about the wild animals, or the snakes or the monsters that perhaps lay in the darkness.
They couldn't be worse than the ones they slept next to.
Ten minutes passed by, then twenty, thirty and their childish hearts kept beating faster and faster, first with the excitement of the danger, then out of joy.
They had done it, right?
If no one had found them by now, surely they could hide from now on.
It would be difficult at first but they could do it, right?
They had survived that hell-hole so nothing could be worse.
If they could go on for days without food or water, of course they could do it again, if it meant they would be free.
But they were wrong.
First they heard some sounds, then some voices and they froze in their places.
Laevia was there and she wasn't furious. Only amused.
“Oh we found the little mice. Look at them how cute they are, holding on to each other like that, trembling!”
They needed to run, to scream, but thirty minutes on the road and they hadn't encountered anything.
No person and no house.
No one and nothing in sight for miles.
There was no leaving again now.
So, instead, they clung to each other, shrinking, wishing they could just melt into each other, mold into one unity, one item that could disappear before Laevia got her hands on them.
“Hey little mice. Did you get lost?”
~ Fin ~
FIND FICLETS 11-20 HERE
Comments are appreciated, in this post or the next. :)
- My choice was 20 ficlets (500-1000 words) and subject: Cara Mason and her Mord Sith Training, along with a little Dahlia on the side and we had to use from These Prompts
Like I said these were written within a day (10 am to 5.30 pm - with breaks), so excuse any crappiness.. I am editing for mistakes right now. :P
Note: I took the liberty of creating one character, named Laevia, serving as the head of Mord Sith at the time of Cara's abduction. :)
[1] Prompt: Water
Word Count:
{Title: }
Her lungs were burning, they were on fire but she couldn’t move.
The senior Mord Sith was firmly holding her by her hair, pulling it hard, but that pain was nothing compared to the fear she was feeling. The fear that she would perish on the spot, that she would die a gruesome death and no one would mourn her.
Not the Mord sith that deemed her insubordinate and unworthy, not her friends who would have forgotten about her by now, not even her parents.
Her abduction was so traumatizing that there is not doubt that they would want to erase any trace of that from their memories.
Cara couldn't blame them if they tried to forget it and leave it behind.
She was lost anyways and if there was no way of her coming back they should at least
move on.
At first she blamed them for not coming after her or trying to find her but now she could see it clearly.
There was no winning the Mord Sith.
They weren't human, they were devils from the other side.
They had to be.
Otherwise how could they cause so much suffering at a straight face?
How could their heart bear the sight of a little girl covered in her own blood, her own sweat, her own vomit, be responsible for it and not flinch, not falter?
No, Cara firmly thought. They couldn't be human, they couldn't have a heart.
Her explanation was that they had no heart that is why it was possible...
And the water kept burning her.
She blinked, furiously grasping at her last bits of strength still residing in her body, but ready to flee like rats from a sinking ship...
She tried to scream, but her mouth was already open trying to get some oxygen, suffer some kind of instant mutation rendering her a fish that could breathe under water.
It was a feeble hope, a child's fantasy and though Cara was a child, she was no fool and after everything she had seen, there was no room in her mind for fantasy.
“Help” she would scream if she could.
"Help I am just a child, just a little child that deserves love and a hug and to be happy" but all her pleads would fall on deaf ears.
On ears that would enjoy such words, such screams and Cara didn't know if it was her pride or the futility of all of this that was causing her not to scream, not to plead.
Was it that she had given up hope -the hope that wasn't even there to begin with? Or was it that if those were her final moments she wanted to preserve some of her dignity, so that when she would see her parents in heaven, she would be able to say:
"See mom? Dad? I made you proud. I was strong till the very end. I didn't act like an animal or a coward no matter how much it hurt and burned"
"I died being your daughter and I hope that no matter how much you tried to forget me, to erase these horrible events or even my existence, at least if I was ever mentioned you knew that I died a human being.
A human being and I didn't shrink into nothingness on my own account"
I am Cara Mason and if these are my final moments, here I go world!
Here I come death. I open up my arms and embrace you as you twist the knife in my gut and my soul...
~ Fin~
[2]Prompt: Promise
Word Count:
{Title: }
"No, please don't cry. Please Dahlia. I can't do this without you..."
Cara pleaded with her only friend in the world. In this obscure, forgotten and tormented mini version of the world inflicted upon them by the Mord Sith.
She wanted to say that things would be okay. She wanted to say that any moment now, if they shut their eyes hard enough and blinked, everything would prove to be a nightmare and both Dahlia and Cara would wake up in Cara's bed, hugging each other just like most of the nights Dahlia would slip in her house, so that they could talk and embrace and feel like the world could be a not so bleak place anymore.
She wanted to scream these words out loud.
This is a lie, a game, a nightmare. And sooner or later we are going to wake up. We are going to laugh at all this once it is over. And we will be there, standing tall, unaffected, untainted. Two little girls finding their place in the world, in a world that was bright and happy within their mother's arms.
A world in which their fathers came home to a smiling wife and children that were happy and fed and not cold.
Because they deserved a world like that.
They deserved to be happy and unique and remembered as not two victims, two girls that were taken away into “horrorland”, but as two girls that would be free to choose their own destiny and even more than that, shape it.
All people want to feel like they are shaping their destiny, like what they do, their actions and choices make a difference and influence their life and fate in an efficient and unmistakable way.
Could Cara say that now? Well maybe...
She could say that her actions were ultimately leading her to her death.
At least that was what the Mord Sith was telling her.
“If you don't change your ways, you little moth, I will squash you beneath my boot and enjoy it as life is choked out of your body and your insides are one with the ground where rodents and worms al,ike will vanish you into oblivion.”
And while Dahlia was crying, Cara on the other hand wanted to scream at the top of her lungs not necessarily for help...
It could be anything, any word, any letter, any sound, but it had to be grating, it had to be piercing, so distinct and scary that it would- even for a fraction of a second- cause the hateful Mord Sith to tremble, to shudder, to be afraid and if not afraid, then at least make her falter, hesitate, blink even.
Just get a reaction out of her, one not of disgust or disdain, but of terror, or doubt.
Yes, that was worth dying for, because at least her death wouldn't be of one little girl that the Mord Sith got and broke down, but rather of girl that contradicted her fate to the best and last of her abilities.
“I will set you free one way or the other, Dahlia, I promise.”
~ Fin ~
[3]Prompt: Dark
Word Count:
{Title: }
She couldn't make out anything in this darkness.
This blackness that was her cell every time the head Mord Sith sent her to this prison, built especially for those who still resisted, for those who still held faith; how she couldn't herself understand.
It was so dark and smelly in this cell. Nothing but jagged rocks all around and bars, iron bars that prevented the little girls sent there for disobeying, from comforting each other, from supporting each other.
At least if they were in the same space they could find each other in the dark and hold hands or embrace each other to protect themselves from the cold and the filth and the fear.
And then with no light and no other sound than the sound of their heartbeat, they could at least shut their eyes and pretend they were at their own house and the one holding them and keeping them company was their mother, their sister, their best friend even. Someone they knew and trusted and loved.
Someone they turned to - foolishly or not- whenever they were scared or in trouble, or needed to be held and told that everything was going to be okay.
But right there in that Creator-forsaken place, there was no one they could hold, no one who would say to them that this was a nightmare and it would soon be over, no one who would be merciful enough to lie.
No one but their imagination, or the last remnants of hope within them, taking pity on them and feeding them a fantasy that would be their demise, but at least they would go there with a smile.
Cara could hear other girls breathing, others choking, coughing.
This was hell and everyone there was destined for torment. There was no escaping the claws of torture, but some at least hoped they would escape the grip of reality and embrace madness.
What you can't understand cannot affect you right? Then at least they wouldn't be free of fear.
But Cara didn't want to lose herself. She believed that she at least owed herself some dignity till the very end.
Cara crawled along the wet, disgusting floor and made her way towards the bars of her cell.
Grabbing the bars, squeezing them until her knuckles turned white, scratching them until there was only a bloody mess in the place of her fingernails, would be her way of telling herself.
“This is you Cara, You are in a prison, you may never see your parents or sister again, you may never see the sun again, but here, now, you are alive and sane and though everything and everyone around you is falling, you will hold on to these bars and they will be your contact with reality."
"This cold piece of metal that could rip through you, will be the reminder that you once had a life and that there still is one beyond these rock walls.
And even if you don't get to live it, then, at least, your mother and father are alive.
Then, at least, your sister, this young frail thing you were always looking after, will grow to be strong and healthy and brave and she will remember you. She will always have a place in her heart for you.
~ Fin ~
[4]Prompt: Dawn
Word Count:
{Title: }
Cara woke to a whisper. She though it resembled the sound of her name, but was afraid to open her eyes.
It wouldn't be the first time the Mord Sith would be playing a trick on her, calling it “training”.
She shifted uneasily and held her breath.
She knew that was a dead give away that she was no longer sleeping, but if she could keep herself from the sight of a hateful woman for even one second, she would take it.
She didn't even move when she felt a light tap on her side.
“Cara?” a voice came again.
“Cara, wake up, hurry”
She knew that voice, she knew that soft, sweet tone.
She turned to the direction of the voice and opened her eyes.
Dahlia, her only friend, came into view.
A frail, needy thing, skinny; her dirty clothes clinging to her bony body.
Cara sat up trying to make as little noise as possible.
"What's wrong?” she asked and couldn't miss the irony in her own words. Nothing was right anymore and it would never be again.
“This is our chance, Cara. Stand up, let's make a run for it” her friend mouthed hopefully.
Cara took a look around, not failing to notice the sleeping Mord Siths all around.
“Are you insane? There's no possibility for us to make it. You think that even one of these Mord Siths doesn't know what we are up to?
They have told us already. We are not the first.
They were once like us.
They already know what we are thinking, what we want, how we are going to try to go about it.”
“No, Dahlia, no!“ Cara shook her head.
“You are telling me you are afraid? That you are a coward?”, Dahlia feebly challenged her more to voice her own insecurities rather than chide Cara.
She was obviously shaking.
“No, Dahlia. I am telling you I am smarter than that. And that's why I have kept us both alive for so long“ Cara reminded her taking hold of her hand, rubbing it fondly as soon as she got it.
Good,old Dahlia, always impulsive, always thinking that running was going to solve her problems.
But Cara knew better than that.
Even if they could leave undetected, where would they go?
They had no idea where they were, no idea if there was a village in any direction.
And how far would they have to walk?
For how many hours? For how many days and nights alike?
With no food, no water, no means to protect themselves against the cold or the attacks of wild animals.
As much as she hated to admit it, they were safer there.
The Mord Sith may have been cruel, but they needed them alive.
Maybe not exactly unharmed, but definitely alive - Cara heard Laevia say so herself.
Their numbers were dwindling, they needed new recruits - and that was what mattered.
Because if they stayed alive one more day, it would be one more day of seeing the sun, feeling its warmth and one more day of planning their escape.
“Trust me, we will not survive otherwise, Dahlia” she whispered back.
And when Dahlia opened her mouth to protest, not noticing how Laevia, the head Mord Sith had woken up and was looking at them, Cara kissed her to save both their lives.
And Laevia just chuckled, right before touching them both with her agiel.
~ fin ~
[5] Prompt: Blood
{Title: )
There was so much blood, so much blood. Seeping everywhere, spreading everywhere faster that water, faster than she could think.
How could a thing so sticky and vile be so quick? So fast and soundless?
It was almost like Cara imagined a hired assassin to be.
A D'Haran even.
She could still remember the stories her father told her once when he was warning her of the dangers, if she ever wandered off alone without him by her side.
Blood and a searing pain. So much pain, coming from everywhere, from more places than her mind could register.
It was like her body was a map of where it could hurt, a map of pain and not the carrier of her soul and existence.
It was as if she had lost control of her own body.
She couldn't move it, she wasnt even asking it to move, but there it was, jerking and convulsing in every possible direction.
And she could sense every muscle, every tendon, every inch of her skin aching with anguish, straining to maintain at least a single position, the one causing the least pain as a form of self-survival.
But it couldn't, she couldn't.
Not while the Mord Sith was still kicking her and touching her with her agiel any chance she got. She was yelling, shouting... Words that Cara couldn't make out and didn't care to.
If there was death for her near, she prayed it would engulf her any minute now, taking her away from all this suffering and disappointment.
“Is this what you are life?” she wanted to yell. “Is this what you are? Is this the only thing you can offer? A few years of happiness and nurture and then solely abandonment and anguish?”
“Because if that is what you are, I do not want you anymore. You can leave me anytime you want, the sooner the better, so that I could settle comfortably into nothingness. Nothingness is better than this constant torment swiveling around me like a stairway to hell”
And right in that moment, bathed in her own blood, hemorrhaging from every pore of her skin, burning within each knuckle of her body, Cara Mason prayed.
She had never allowed herslef to pray before or beg.
The Creator had already abandoned them years ago.
It was common knowledge by now.
That was why there were legends of Seekers, of people who were brave enough and strong enough to fight against the forces of evil that were at loose in the Midlands and beyond.
No one knew if “She” was still around. They only knew that the Keeper was only wreaking havoc.
“If you are there Creator, dont hear my prayers. Don't listen to me when I ask for you to help me.
I don't want this, I dont need this.
I don't need your help.
If you wanted to help me, you would have done so already, you wouldn't wait till I reached the hundredth time.
Just strike me down for my impiety. Kill me, cause me to perish. It can't be any worse than this I am experiencing right now”.
~Fin~
[6]Prompt: Nightmare
Word Count:
{Title: )
Cara kept her breath.
One minute, two minutes, till her lungs were burning for air and she thought she could take no more of this.
She kept doing it. One, two times, three times.
It had become like a game. A sick game that provided her with no comfort or amusement, just distraction for as long as it took for her to get accustomed to it.
This darkness, this gloominess, this blackness spreading from every corner of her cell all around her. Just like a demon from the stories her mother used to narrate, when her sister and herself were'nt doing what they were told.
“If you dont do this, then a demon, a huge creature of impossible ugliness black and filthy, will come out of the wall of your room when you least expect it, when you are asleep in your beds, your eyes closed, completely oblivious to the sounds and the dangers and snatch you away into hell. No matter how much you struggle or fight or beg, he shall not be wavered or hesitate. He will take you to hell and you will never seen us again.”
Cara could recall every word, every pause her mother made for effect and it was only now that she could laugh....
No, not laugh but at least smirk or chuckle.
“Do you want to be taken away from us, Cara? Do you want to be in a place that is so dark and so ugly and smelly and cold that your body will hurt and fear will be your only feeling? Well, do you?”
Cara remembered how these words always frightened her so much to the point of crying and she would run to her mother, tears trickling down her cheeks, throwing her little hands around her mother's waist, holding on to the strings hanging from her apron, just burying her face in the familiar curves and inhaling the familiar scents of home and baking and safety that was her mother.
“Noooo” she would scream. “Forgive me, mommy. I didn't want to do it. I will be a good girl from now on. Please don't leave me. Don't ever let the bad man take me”.
It was only a few years later that Cara would find out for herself that demons weren't always creatures from the other side.
They didnt always come from hell, although they led you there.
And they weren't always exactly demons.
Sometimes they were people, just like her mother and her -if you could call them that.
And sometimes they weren't even men.
Sometimes they were women, not ugly or dirty, but deceptively elegant and graceful.
Hiding their deadliness behind a facade of beauty.
Just some beautiful girls in leather, holding what could be described as harmless sticks.
Only they weren't harmless and there weren't graceful, unless death's swiftness counted as grace.
Maybe it was, though, because the faster you died the less you would suffer. And if that wasnt grace, it was mercy.
~ Fin ~
[7]Prompt: Light
Word Count:
{Titles: }
Cara didnt know where she found the courage to stand up for herself and her friend. But she did.
It was admirable though. And incredibly stupid.
Mostly stupid because each time she challenged, she was tortured.
Each time she retorted, she was agieled.
Yet, there it was every time she was given an order, the Mord Sith standing right in front of her, standing tall and imposing, scary even, in front of her frail, undernourished and bruised body, was ready to hit, to smack, to push, to shove... Again and again.
She would say:”No”, she would mouth that word every time, even through charred, dry lips, blood spilling at the effort to move her lips to form the shape of these words.
And when she couldn't speak, she would nod negatively.
She would try to lift up her head to indicate that no matter how broken she was, no matter the beating or the humiliation she would receive, she would still deny.
She would still refuse to do what she was told.
She was good with the sword and she picked up the battle techniques easily, but she wasn't going to use those abilities to cause harm to anyone and certainly not at their biding.
They werent animals', dammit.
She couldn't be forced and manhandled and manipulated physically to do what she was told.
She was more than just a body, more than just a potential killer.
If it was merely discipline what they were taught, she could have dealt with it.
Still her heart would ache for a future as feminine as the one her mother had,she would dream of having her own children one day and someone like her father to love her. But she would comply and survive.
But this, this pointless and unprovoked demonstration of brutality and cruelty...
That she couldn't do.
She shouldn't have to do it.
She was just a little girl. One minute she was playing by the river, a doll made from straw and clothes in her hands and the next she was chained like an animal, unfed and beaten.
Now she was thrown in the dungeon.
Solitary confinement they called it. It was all so official and business with the Mord Sith.
Their training was an end in itself.
But what it was, was a prison, a place where little girls just like her were left to come around or come out dead.
They always chose the cell deepest in the caves for her. Where no human sounds, no warmth and no light could reach her.
Sensory deprivation.
Nothing, no sound but her own breathing, no feeling than the hammering of her heart inside her chest.
But, despite anything the Mord Sith could have predicted, it was there that hope lied.
In that dirty, black little cell, smelling of sweat, piss and misery.
Because it was there on the top right corner of her cell that a little ray of light was shining. It was oh so small and feeble.
Just like a firefly seconds before it faded away.
If you blinked you could miss it, but there it was, every time, reminding Cara that there was always a light at the end of the tunnel and maybe always hope at the end of a torment.
~ Fin ~
[8]Prompt: Alone
Word Count:
{title: }
This was always her fear.
That she would be alone forever.
That no one would be by her side. Not because he or she would want to be.
If she became a Mord sith, her sisters would be by her side, but that would be due to the twisted sense of loyalty and sisterhood that the senior Mord Siths were forcing upon them.
It was more a routine, out of habit that it was out of real purpose or sentiment.
They didnt feel close to each other. There was no love. No altruism.
They were together so long as it would serve the purpose that was set on them.
There was no real quest, just a mission that was one not of nobility or honor, but of fear and imperialism.
They had to serve Lord Rahl, but lord Rahl was an evil man with too much within his grasp, not knowing when to stop.
Why would they serve such a man?
Why couldn't an army of women, as powerful and as resilient as them, make their own path, shape their own destiny?
One that would entail helping the ones in need, rescuing the innocent and alleviating the suffering?
If they were as strong and forceful as they claimed, why did they need a master?
Why did they need to be given a purpose? Couldn't they find it on their own?
Cara pursed her lips and clenched her teeth as the whip came in contact with her naked back, again.
She tried to twist her arms away from the hold of the two older Mord Siths, but she wasnt strong enough.
She hadn't slept well in weeks and hadn't fed in days.
She could feel her own strength slipping away. If she was standing right now, it was merely out of will power and not true resistance.
The whip hit harder again and again, each time harder than the previous one, but Cara had nothing to hold on to.
She was trying hard not to cry out, not to scream and though she tried with all her might, every now and then a sob would escape her throat. A lament, the swan song of her innocence and faith.
Her childhood was over and she didn't know what it was now.
She didnt know what she was.
She was certainly not a little girl anymore.
At least not inside of her.
She may look like a little girl, but inside she felt cold and old.
Older than the soil her feet were sinking in now as a rain started pouring down.
She was suddenly brought to her knees with a swift kick by Laevia and losing her balance she sank face down on the now wet ground.
Her skin was covered in mud when she was pulled back up from her hair.
It was unmistakable. She was alone.
Alone as she would ever be.
And in this moment, the futility of her fight hit her so clearly, she could laugh.
Nothing of this mattered.
She was going to die anyways and she may as well, since there was nothing good in store for her anymore.
She was sure she was asked to speak, to reply to something, but the words were all mumbled and it all came back as the roaring of a thunder to her.
She was slapped hard when she didn't speak and her face was pushed to the side.
When she opened her eyes, the first face she saw was Dahlia's.
It was Dahlia crying, sobbing, having lost faith... An easy victim to the hands of Laevia should she be alone and something inside of Cara snapped.
Desperate to make it, she tried to get Dahlia to look at her and as soon as their gazes locked on each other, she was sure Dahlia understood.
Neither of them was really alone.
~ fin~
[9]Prompt: Gift
Word Count:
{Title: }
It had already been two years. Not that it mattered.
Time was dragging so slowly there than it did when she was with her family.
At least when she was with her family, she had something to hope for, to expect.
A hug from her dad, a tasty treat from her mother, a little more playing with her sister.
But here, here time meant nothing.
Nothing other than more pain and more rules that painted her world black and red.
It was her birthday, though. The day on which she was born.
Two years ago her mother had made her a cake and given her a kiss on the cheek, lifting her up in her arms and twirling her around, dancing around happily.
“You are a big girl now Cara” she had said. “I'm so proud of you, I love you”
And she had answered that she loved her mother too.
And when her father came back, although they weren't rich, he had brought her a beautiful ribbon the color of the grass.
He had told her that it matched her eyes and had clumsily fastened it to her hair.
“You are so beautiful, my daughter” he had said.
“Your face and your intelligence are my pride. I love you so much”.
And Cara had taken her sister, Grace, by the hand, playfully twisting the ribbon on her hair and dancing as soon as they got close to the river.
Taking off their shoes, they had sunk their feet into the cold,clear water holding each other's hands and discussing what they would do in two months time, when it would be her sister's birthday.
Maybe they would ask for a picnic or for their father to take them to the forest.
That would be adventure, they thought, and their little, innocent eyes were filled with images of fairies and knights or even beautiful princesses that would give them their place as soon as they laid their eyes on them.
How wrong they were.
Of course, there were fairies and knights.
And Cara was certain there were a lot of princesses in this world, but none of what they expected would happen now.
Two years was a long time and Cara could almost see her sister now.
All grown up, almost to her own height now, her blond hair falling down her back in graceful locks and wearing all the dresses Cara had left behind, either because they reminded her of her sister or because she had no others.
Maybe it would be some kind of tribute to her. A commemoration of her. But it didn't matter.
And if Cara died now, at least she knew that her sister was safe and although her father didnt want her back - or so she was told - at least her sister would always remember her. She was just too young to react.
Suddenly, she felt a hand around her waist and was ready to scream, clenching the bars of her cell tighter. She couldn't see who it was in the dark. But then she heard Dahlia's voice and her pushing something through the bars inside her clenched fist.
She squeezed it and realized it was a piece of bread.
“Happy Birthday Cara” she said.
~ fin ~
[10]Prompt: Lost
Word Count:
{Title: }
“If you wanna leave so bad, go! Leave already!” the Mord Sith challenged her and Cara and Dahlia didn't know what to think.
Was she playing a trick on them? Could it really be so easy? Cara thought.
Would they let them - her go just like that?
They always told her she was too troublesome to matter or ever account to anything.
She would never be a worthy Mord Sith, but if being a Mord Sith meant she had to kill and hunt and maim, Cara wanted nothing to do with it.
She'd rather be their servant, wash their laundry and polish their boots than kill anyone or cause any harm.
She had been kicked and slapped and whipped and beaten and still, when she was asked to kill Iola, the weak girl everyone was making fun of, she couldnt. Maybe she was weak, but did that mean she deserved to die?
Who said that? Who could pass such judgement other than the Creator?
She had voiced that question once.
“I don't see the Creator anywhere” was the mocking reply she had gotten.
And it was true.
She had pleaded and begged so many times.
She had prayed the way her mother always did when she was asking for her father to be safe, but nothing ever happened.
The agiel would still touch her skin, paralyzing her, numbing her senses with gut-wrenching pain and no salvation would come.
It was no wonder then, that she had done it.
It must had been the twentieth time Dahlia had asked her to.
“Wake up, Cara. Let's go. We will run and never look behind”
It was just as futile as all the previous times, only this time she felt like she owed it to Dahlia and herself to try.
It was what imprisoned people did anyways, wasn't it? Try to escape at any cost?
So she did.
She grabbed Dahlia's hand and together they tiptoed around the sleeping Mord Sith and started running the minute they entered deeper into the woods, not caring about the wild animals, or the snakes or the monsters that perhaps lay in the darkness.
They couldn't be worse than the ones they slept next to.
Ten minutes passed by, then twenty, thirty and their childish hearts kept beating faster and faster, first with the excitement of the danger, then out of joy.
They had done it, right?
If no one had found them by now, surely they could hide from now on.
It would be difficult at first but they could do it, right?
They had survived that hell-hole so nothing could be worse.
If they could go on for days without food or water, of course they could do it again, if it meant they would be free.
But they were wrong.
First they heard some sounds, then some voices and they froze in their places.
Laevia was there and she wasn't furious. Only amused.
“Oh we found the little mice. Look at them how cute they are, holding on to each other like that, trembling!”
They needed to run, to scream, but thirty minutes on the road and they hadn't encountered anything.
No person and no house.
No one and nothing in sight for miles.
There was no leaving again now.
So, instead, they clung to each other, shrinking, wishing they could just melt into each other, mold into one unity, one item that could disappear before Laevia got her hands on them.
“Hey little mice. Did you get lost?”
~ Fin ~
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