'ello people! I just wanted to post this little one shot before going back to focusing on Fear Saga, enjoy and please comment!
The girl walked calmly, stoically, through the mudroom and out the backdoor into the soggy heat of summer. She leapt off the small wooden porch and broke into a sprint, bare feet slapping as she ran up a logging road into the woods. Gnarled roots jutted out of the path at random spots, but she avoided them skillfully and with a repetitive ease. She took a left at the top of the trail, panting slightly from the sharp uphill run. Never slowing pace, she darted across a small clearing and skirted around a bed of ferns, knowing the thorn bushes that lurked in the lush greenery. Running past the small wooden shack, the girl vaulted the stone wall and was in the forest for earnest now. Avoiding the rusted barbed wire someone (herself) had seen fit to spray paint hot pink, her bare feet picked out a path, seemingly on their own. Her not-so dainty feet were almost completely silent on the loam of rotting leaves as her pace slowed to a leisurely stroll, meandering un-hurriedly. The crackling of dry twigs and leaves made the girl look up from watching her own feet. Casually slipping her hand into her pocket to touch the knife that always resided there the girl slipped into a crouch, taking cover behind a lumpy-shaped rock. Before her was a small dip in the ground, about ten feet across, and filled with leaves and pine needles, providing a soft bed for the person the crouched there. It was a woman, hunched over tightly with her back to the girl. The girl could see the ridges of the woman’s spine through her thin, raggedy t-shirt and felt a twitch of pity of someone so thin. The woman uncurled slightly from her tightly hunched position and the girl clapped a hand to her mouth to keep the gasp from escaping. Something had torn the woman’s arm apart in long, narrow gashes and blood was oozing lazily from the cuts. It looked like someone had taken a knife and tried to peel away the woman’s skin. The breeze shifted and the girl’s long fringe blew across her face. The woman stiffened and stood, slowly uncurling her lanky body and turning to look at the girl. She frowned, most likely at being found out, and the girl frowned too, but for a different reason. The woman was tall and very pale and thin, with brown hair and cold, cruel eyes. Those eyes were a pale pink at the moment, showing the woman’s displeasure at being found in a moment of weakness. The girl smiled wolfishly, she had found her.
“Bridget” She said, it wasn’t a question. The woman’s eye’s cleared, leaving them a piercing green that were just as terrifying as the pink eyes. The woman’s mouth opened slightly in shock and the girl could see her sharpened teeth jutting out slightly.
“You are Bridget Whiplash” the girl said, smirking lightly at some un-heard joke. Bridget recovered quickly from her shock at not only being found by a human girl, but being called by name by said human.
“And who are you?” She asked, voice laden with sweet poison.
“Like hell I’ll tell you that” she girl smirked wider and Bridget advanced a bit more, slipping slightly on her own blood. The girl involuntary twitched her hand to her knife at the movement and it was Bridget’s turn to smirk, like that little toothpick would do anything against her own knife, which was securely strapped to her leg.
“I need medical, supplies, you will help me.” Bridget stated, she would not take no for an answer with her deep, almost black, colored blood spilling over the forest floor. The girl raised her eyebrows, and turned, beckoning Bridget to follow her. The girl ran off swiftly, leaving Bridget to follow at her own pace, which was a bit slower then normal due to blood loss. Bridget followed the girl’s sent thought the trees, thinking as she walked. She had a plan. She would let the girl bandage her up, then ask her about how she had learned her name. Then she would kill the girl and find the person that had cut up her arms and kill them also. It was a good plan, Bridget liked it.. Following the girl past a beat up little shack and down a steep hill, a large yellow house came into view. Kicking aside a few chickens that came to peck curiously at her leather boots, Bridget followed the girl’s sent up the small wooden porch and to the back door. Bridget paused for a second before entering, goose bumps erupting because of the chilly air conditioning. The girl had already set up the supplies on the kitchen table and Bridget walked over, swaying slightly as she tried to keep from dripping blood on the kitchen floor.
“Sit” the girl ordered and Bridget jumped up on the table, holding her arm out to the girl, all the while watching to make sure she didn’t poison the wounds or something. The girl ran a little piece of gauze under the kitchen tap and dabbed at Bridget’s cuts, clearing away the little bits of crud that had found their way into the slashes. Switching pieces of gauze, the girl dabbed a bit of a stinging liquid to the cuts.
“How do you know my name?” Bridget asked as the girl worked. The smirk the had been gracing the girl’s face since Bridget had first seen her grew wider as she contemplated the question
“No comment” she said smugly. Bridget waited patiently till the girl had finished wrapping the slashes in a white bandage till she jumped off the counter and pinned the girl’s head against a cabinet.
“No comment?” she growled softly
“No comment, Isabella” Bridget let go, stunned. No one, I repeat, no one knew Bridget’s given name. She had given it up at age six and there were no records of it, she had made sure of that. No one that knew her name was still alive. The girl slipped away form Bridget’s choking hands and pointed to her shirt.
“I’ll get you a replacement, I don’t want to clean blood off the floors” Bridget, still in a bit of shock, shrugged causing a few drips of blood to fall to the wood floors. The girl sighed, not pleased, and walked up the stairs. Bridget didn’t bother following her up the stairs and instead resumed her seat on the kitchen table. A notebook was sitting next to her on the table and she picked it up idly, flicking thought the pages filled with messy pencil scrawl. The handwriting was awful and the spelling even worse, but still Bridget’s name jumped out at her. She skimmed over the page quickly, eyes growing wide.
“It’s not polite to snoop” The girl was back and holding a deep red t-shirt. The color of human blood, how appropriate.
“Family?” Bridget asked briskly
“Out” the girl matched her cool, calm tone
“Nu-uh, nice try”
“Anything keeping me from killing you as a stand?” The girl smiled disturbingly
“It’s creepy, ain’t it?” she said, ignoring the question and pulling the notebook from Bridget’s hands “Someone being able to control your every more, your every twitch just by putting pencil to paper” The girl’s smile never faltered has she pulled a pencil out of her pony tail and started to write. The edges of Bridget’s vision grew dim and she found her self slipping into a tunnel of darkness.
Bridget sat up quickly, her hammock swinging gently with the sudden movement. She was in her darkened room at the Vampire Inn, sitting in her hammock that served double purpose as a bed and a comfy place to watch TV. Bridget sighed and rolled over, pulling her blankets to her shoulder. It wasn’t often she had a dream that she found disturbing. when you lived as long as she had, you learned to shake off the horrors of dreams quickly so you could focus on the horrors of the real world. She rolled over, hammock swinging gently again as she drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
Somewhere, a notebook closed.