Taciq slumped against the two figure's heavy hands, letting his ragged fur boots trace themselves along the snow covered ground. He was unsure what frightened him more, the injuries that these "men" had inflicted upon him, or the innate familiarity he had with the land they were trudging over. His hands, or what were left of them, had seen his fingers and thumbs broken backwards on the knuckle, then wrapped against the dorsum. His captors had shoved the exposed portions into burning coals to cauterize the wounds, joking with each other about the "proper" way to make a fried knuckle-sandwich; the morbid humor lost on Taciq between bouts of shock and adrenaline. As the men and their seemingly unending endurance shuttled Taciq up another hill, he could feel his long, blood-clumped hair being wrenched back, forcing his head from it's pious resignation to the vast plain below. The northern lights were out, playing amongst the stars in their curious way - Taciq had always been fond of its green majesty, reflecting off the snow-blanketed fields of his youth. It was during these years he found himself drawn out into the world, more than his family or his community could ever understand. He managed to glance through pained eyes a moment more to see his ancestral home, a small hut some distance from the rest of the village's congregation. The hand released it's hold on his blacker-than-black locks, and they joined his head in falling back towards the frozen earth. One of the men spoke up after a terse moment of silence, "Taciq, we're here. Y'know, you should be honored to be given the gift - The last time this happened was, well, I suppose time IS irrelevant, but this is quite a treat! His almost giddy voice punctuated by the crunching of snow underfoot, as they made their way to the hut.
As they approached the structure, Taciq could hear a hissing on the night wind, like a sharp intake of breath through teeth, again and again. He was once again propped up by his hair, to see that the hut was now surrounded by more cloaked figures, all perfectly spaced, all encircled around his home. A final hiss was drawn from the air, and a man appeared before Taciq. He drew back his hood to reveal a nauseating visage - His face appeared to be fighting with the very fabric of reality to say intact, though as he drew closer, the mirage seemed to dim to a slight fuzz, not unlike static on an old T.V. "Hello, Taciq." the man said, now inches from Taciq's face, his eyes like snow globes, colors swirling and spinning every which way. "You caused quite a headache for us, I'll have to give you this much, you are far more clever than we gave you credit for - I don't think it's ever taken Erol and Synaes more than a day to track down a rebel... And we can't have you getting in the way of things, can we?" - the man reached into his pocket, revealing a balled-up cloth rag, before jamming it into Taciq's mouth - "CAN WE?!" The man turned away from the now gagging wretch, looking instead at his captors, "Get him in position, the birth will happen any moment now."
Erol and Synaes ended their prisoner's march at the entryway to the hut, a cured deerskin seperating the three from the occupants within - One among them, a woman in the throes of birthing pains. Taciq attempted to spit the cloth out, to scream, to do ANYTHING, only to be stifled by the crushing blow of Erol's foot against his bruised torso. With one more kick for good measure, only the woman inside could be heard, her screams getting louder, carrying out onto the winter winds and into the night. Other voices, hurried and excited soon joined in, followed by the unmistakable sound of new life, the whimpering cries of a newborn. Erol leaned in towards Taciq, whispering triumphantly, "Congratulations, you're a healthy one, aren't ya?" Taciq could only let loose what tears were left of him, the streams freezing on his face. "Asuilaak", he thought, as his body began to shake violently. His captors quickly let loose their hold and moved away, the once immobile figure now writhing more wildly and fiercely than his own body could ever hope to imitate. With each convulsion, Taciq seemed to slowly unravel, no doubt a similar scene inside the hut, as the voices of joy were now met with horror and screams. Within that instantaneous infinity, it was done. The once imposing figure of Taciq had torn itself asunder, the very fabric of his being, thread by thread, unwoven from the tapestry of time. Though the act of autoinfanticide caused some degree of difficulty to the men still standing around the hut, examples must be made to those who stand in the way of progress.
A man ripped back the hide from inside the hut, revealing an older woman attempting to console the shell- shocked woman on the impromptu delivery table. His crazed eyes scanned the darkness, only to see a pile of clothes at his steppe, and the sound of hissing on the wind.
Alexi Denen awoke to the sounds of angry beating at his bedroom door, “I SWEAR TA GOD, ALEXI, IF YOU LATE TO SCHOOL ONE MWORE TIME, I’M TAKING YOUH DOOR RIGHTS AWAY, YA GOT ME?” his grandma was in a particularly saucy mood today – “better not piss her off anymore than she already is…” he thought as he lurched out of his cotton cocoon. A stabbing intake of breath greeted him as his feet met the cold hardwood, his senses quickly composing themselves. “I’ll – yeah, I’LL BE OUT IN A MINUTE, I’VE BEEN UP FOR LIKE – I’M UP.”, he shouted back at the trembling door, wondering if she might actually break the damn thing off. He smiled at the thought of this aging woman, her frail form betraying the fiery spirit within, busting through the threshold like some kind of over-eager swat trainee, wooden spoon in one hand, battering ram in the other. He stretched his limbs out, feeling that familiar c-c-c-crack of the joints as they lazily obeyed his movements, before grabbing some dirty clothes off the floor and hastily putting them on. The room itself was like stepping into Alexi’s mind, posters of various bands and games, fighting for real estate against the throng of historical figures- the Caesars next to Caesar, an old Sid Meier’s Civilization Promo Poster partially covered by an Oppenheimer Quote and Ghandi, respectively. The floor faired a similar fate, with bunched up rugs wedged between bygone hobbies and linens, a trombone case completely entombed by crusty socks and putrid workout gear. It wasn’t Alexi’s intent to keep things in such disarray, but he often found that his interest of the moment far outweighed any other responsibility bestowed upon him, though the workout gear was starting to smell like he’d better clean it tonight, or it might grow sentience…
Grabbing his backpack hanging off the bedpost, he opened the door and began mentally prepping for the verbal barrage that awaited him in the kitchen. He loved his Grandmother; she had been his only family his entire life, though what she lacked in physical prowess was more than accounted for in her wit. That woman had a tongue that could make a politician look simple (well, even more simple), he chuckled at the notion, and continued into the kitchen, following an aroma trail of cooked bacon that usually meant bad things. “What the heck”, thought Alexi, “Bacon.”
“You know, Grandma, I think you’d make for a great strategist. A real Sun-Tzu. Making bacon so I’d follow the smell right into your trap. I’m impressed!” joked Alexi, moving towards the plates of various breakfast classics. With aim that belied her aging eyesight, the octogenarian landed her spatula square in the back of Alexi’s head. “You donno have time to eat, this is fo-uh my company. GRAB A DAMN POWA BAH AND GET TO YOUH SCHOOL. UNDERSsAND, ALEXI?!” He knew better than to argue, though the monster now growling in his stomach demanded a blood sacrifice, one that eggs and oh-my-god she’s making pancakes could only suffice. With shoulders sagging in resignation against the backpack’s straps, he sighed, mumbling a mix of “yeafinewhatever”.
He motioned to kiss his Grandmother’s head, only to find that the old woman had wrapped her aged arms around him, her hug like a vise, squeezing the air out of him. “Youh be good today, Alexi. I love youh very mach”. This exchange startled Alexi, as his Grandma was usually very… well… very “stoic” when it came to affection. “What’s wrong Grandma? Is – Are you alright?” he said, looking down to see her eyes closed, head pressed against his chest. She relinquished her hold, and with it her affection – “Yes, I’m fine. FINE, NOWH YOUH GONNA BE LATE, NOWH GOH”. With that, Alexi rifled through the box of energy bars above the Refrigerator, and was out the door.
Junior year in High School was, so far as Alexi could tell, the definition of the doldrums. Aside from prepping for ACTs/SATs/LCATs and every other god awful acronym they could throw at him, it seemed like the wonder of two years prior, coming to the “real school” had all but faded, and the real fun was two years away. His peers had grown on him like moss on a fallen tree. Though he was perfectly complacent to troll the forest floor with his fellow fell-flora, it seemed no matter what he did, the creeping moss of incoming freshmen and hostile cliques alike did their damndest to strangle what peace he could find. “C’est la vie”, thought Alexi, as he sped through the maze-works of suburbia on his old, possibly stolen bicycle. He had found it in his yard one morning, the front tire looking as if it owed loan sharks a large debt that it just couldn’t pay. No matter, though, a simple surgery ala tire replacement, and Alexi was off. Nearing the campus, Alexi could see the myriad of beater cars, mommy missiles, and mud covered Tonka Trucks slowly inching their way through the parking lot. “Another day in paradise”, he thought, pulling up to the bike rack and jamming his tire into the holder. Unwrapping the energy bar, his stomach roared again as he walked towards the commons area. Apparently, his body had not forgiven him for the morning’s tease.
As the last bites of the “N-R-G xTREME VANILLA POWER MAX BAR” fought his cotton mouth down his throat, Alexi found his way to his compadre’s (or so he called them) spot amongst the sea of raging hormones and Axe body spray soaked adolescents (Jesus Christ, you KNOW they can’t even smell it after a while, and then there they are – just permeating that STANK out like some kind of hellish bioweapon). Niessa was first to see Alexi coming, the group an eclectic mix of metal band t-shirts, Rastafarian themed shorts, and loose and skinny jeans for good measure. “Here we see a stray rejoining with the flock in the wild, this is very dangerous, as the watering hole is a prime spot for predators to swoop down on unsuspecting prey” thought Alexi in his best David Attenborough impression, as he turned to see a freshman boy getting what appeared to be his Egg McMuffin repurposed as a facial cleanser by some of the larger, slower upperclassmen. Alexi grimaced a bit, shaking his head free of facial expression before greeting the gang. “What’s up… me droogies?” he said, adding the last bit in as everyone had watched A Clockwork Orange the weekend before at Niessa’s place, and had taken to using the slang as some kind of “in” code. Alexi hadn’t much cared for it, being only the fourth day of its reign, he figured it best to acquiesce until it could die with the week’s end. Josh, Alexi’s best friend, who had the odd habit of effecting fake accents when he got excited, jumped up from the circular bench they had claimed, and in a half-hearted British tongue responded “Viddy well! Viddy well! Hey you weren’t on skype last night – BRO you missed out on some shit. Like, wait, did you get the Game of Thrones torrent I sent you?” Alexi’s eyes widened with realization, once again victim to his one track mind. “Yeah, shit, I, um, had to help with something last night – shit, what’d I miss???” he asked, the earnestness in his voice definitely heard, as seen on Josh’s now Cheshire smile. “Nope, not sayin’ shit, you gotta find out for yourself, but I’ll say this much-“, Josh motioned his hands to his chest, imitating a full bosom, “Those TITTAYS man, I seriously think all this death and violence with all the sex n’ stuff is turning me into like a masochist or something. Like I was watching Lord of The Rings, and like those fight scenes gave me the weirdest-“ “Christ- okay, I got it. What the fuck” interjected Alexi, before laughing out loud. This was why he liked Josh, despite whatever else he was, he had a strange perception on life, one that Alexi enjoyed immensely, however morbidly crass it came across as. “You guys are weird.” The two looked up to see Niessa smiling at them, “but he’s kinda got a point”. Alexi felt his throat tighten a bit, the standard involuntary response his body performed to make sure that, under NO circumstances, would he be suave or normal in any sense when talking to his crush. Niessa was an anomaly in his mind. She came from a wealthy family, and by all accounts belonged with the “Preppy” clique in the quad outside. Though, with her, god how he loved it about her, she was far more interested in “Nerdy” pursuits, and could whoop complete ass at everything from Settlers of Catan to World of Warcraft. I suppose, it didn’t hurt that she happened to be the most gorgeous girl he had ever seen. Long black hair falling over a face that all those Renaissance artists tried to emulate out of stone, but always failed to capture, with a frame that Alexi still couldn’t quite find the words for, partly due to his inability to break eye contact, as if each glance made him guilty of some crime, yet each moment was more insatiable than the last. “Uh, Alexi? Yoohoo?” Niessa’s hand waved in front of his face, his senses flying back to reality. “Huh? Wha-“ Alexi mumbled, looking around to see the commons area clearing out, students marching about in various speeds to their morning class, a sort of ordered chaos. He heard his name called out to see Josh on the far end of the room now, an unmistakable snigger on his chubby face. “C’mon, you can walk me to class.” said Niessa in her always-cheery voice. Alexi nodded his head slightly in agreement, and they were off.
In front of the Denen household, a hissing sound rang out, and with it, two men in suits appeared, side-by-side. They adjusted their clothing, and glanced at each other before climbing the steps and entering the house, knives in hand. Inside, the laughter of women echoed off the empty plates and warm walls, before a stark silence answered back. The group of women seated around the old table turned towards the two men standing in the entryway. "Lada Denen - where is he?" the words were firm, a monotonous tone that both concealed and conveyed the man's intent. Despite Lada's reluctance to subscribe to the stories of the old country, she knew who these men were - Пальцы, or the fingers, though the poorly concealed glimmer of the knives gave Lada the impression that "claws" was a more appropriate translation. Towering over the group of women, the two seemed like giants - At least 6 feet tall, with a bulging physique their clothes poorly concealed. The smaller man spoke this time, moving towards the table, "Lada, my dear, you'll have to forgive Synaes, he can be so short sometimes. The years haven't treated to you well, I see." The smiling man was close enough now that Lada could see the man's hands, massive, calloused appendages with very pronounced grooves on his finger tips. In perfect English, Lada responded sharply, "You don't scare me, dog. I've lived a full life, something you probably can't even fathom. You want to take Alexi so you can kill him like you killed his parents?" she spit on the man's grey Kiton suit, her phlegm a mixture of disgust and lingering egg from the morning course. "Fine, be done with it, but let these two go." She pointed at her guests, two terrified elderly woman whose voices seemed to have escaped with their composure. Both men smiled in sync, motioning towards the hallway to the door with their upturned arms. The two women looked at each other for a moment, before turning to Lada, "T-thanks for the company, Lada, we- we'll leave you be." With that, they scuttled past the men and out the door. The men chuckled again, mocking the frail and awkward hobbling so tied to prolonged fight against earth's pull. "Hm, I apologize for ruining your morning, Lada dear, but then again, you ruined my suit. I suppose that makes us even." The man smiled again as he moved closer still towards the woman. "It pains me to do this, you know. Another time, another life, it would have been you, instead." The man made a stabbing motion with his hand, clenched around the hilt of the blade. Lada rose in tune, again defying her body's appearance, grabbing a fork off the table and stabbing it into the man's arm. "YOU GONNAH HAFV TO DO BETTER THAN THAT, DOHG." her familiar accent and fury returning. Both men descended upon the woman, blades finding their marks again and again, the clanging and crashing of falling plates and utensils upon the floor giving the act an equally visceral orchestra. Lada's fork wielding hand flailed no longer, her body finally succumbing to the trauma, sliding against the old wallpaper to the hardwood floor. The two men composed themselves, their weapons glittering red against the plumes of morning light sneaking through the shaded windows. Synaes turned to the other man, asking in an almost bored tone, "Do you think the boy is ready, Erol?" The smaller man stared at Lada for a moment, her pansy-patterned dress now taking the color of roses, musing, "He doesn't really have a choice now, does he? By tonight, he'll be ours" With that the men disappeared, the hissing sound trailing behind.
Submitted November 12, 2015 at 04:39AM by WojtekMySpiritAnimal http://ift.tt/1NrTUhv WritingPrompts
No comments:
Post a Comment