Free Fiction Fridays!

I have a few short stories on Wattpad lingering and since I seem to have more traffic on my blog, I'm going to try something new called #FFF or #FreeFictionFridays. I'll leave a short story or a chapter every Friday, and if you blog and would like to join me, please do! And leave a link in the comments, I'll happily visit your blog to read. 

This story is from a vision I kept having from about the age of five, the light through the trees, the helicopters, with no idea why this visual returned over and over, I used the image like paint and clay and sculpted a scene.  #SFF

What They Leave Behind  
Kylie is being blamed for Sadie's disappearance, and no one is buying his alien story. How will he prove his innocence? 

I remember hearing a helicopter. The leaves soaked in sunshine made them translucent, but I couldn't see anything. A clear summer day, and I was playing with friends near the Airforce base. Helicopters certainly weren't unusual.

The only time I left their sight was when I went under that tree for a little privacy. Helicopters, and sunlight, that was my only recollection. When I came out, one of my friends shouted, "What happened to your head?"

Sure enough, I reached until I found the wet, warm spot, and had a look. Blood! My head didn't hurt. And I had no idea what happened. I didn't remember being scared. I know now, the head bleeds profusely, but this happened when I was seven years old.

I walked with my friends to the base; my mom approached me, fast and frightened, asking what had happened.

"That's probably when it started, Doctor Murphy, the missing time. Isn't that what they say?"

"Who?"

"The Abducted. They always mention missing time, and."

I stopped. I wasn't sure what they said. I might have heard Dillon say something, once. Dillon's been trying to keep me sane through this.

"What about the other time, with Sadie?" he asked.

"That's what we're here for ... " I settled back into the chair. I knew he'd make me go through it again. I much preferred the times when I couldn't remember anything. This wasn't going to be fun.

"Sadie and I were walking, out on 9D. Pretty dark, you know. It was last Monday, just after the sunset. There are always lights, by the way, floating around, especially right before they come."

I had to take a breath. I couldn't control this wavering pain in my stomach, the wave machine, and my hands were shaking. I rubbed the sweat on my pants and re-crossed my legs, stiff from sitting here too long. I'd hate to lie down, never know if he wiped the couch.

"Just go slow," he said.

Yes slow, the images always run in slow motion.

"The darkness was unreal. With the new moon, you could see the stars to infinity. We started walking toward the river, and first, our legs slowed, then our arms. I looked at her and everything on Sadie's face vibrated, every line and wrinkle. And then the lines on the trees vibrated like maybe they were slowing down, too. Or their matter was breaking up? It's hard to put into words. Dillon said that's what happens."

"And you and Sadie hadn't been drinking? Or anything?"

He did that fatherly thing again, where his glasses dropped down his nose.

What if we did use drugs? We didn't, but come on. It's a judgment call. He's calling it.

I watched out his office window. His daughter was playing with dolls near the woods.

"That's when we saw it," I said.

"And when they took her?" He flexed his jowls as he took notes.

He loved this part and wanted me to say it again. I nodded. "They said they were watching, and that Sadie had a contract with them."

"That's what they told you?"

"Yes, not like we talked, but they did. They said her family had a contract from years ago. Why don't you ask them a few questions? Honestly, I think you really should."

I couldn't breathe again. I watched the little girl through the window. Dust particles floated through the beam of sunlight. I wanted to float away with the dust.

"Why do you suppose they didn't take you?" he asks.

"Said they did, many times. Guess my number wasn't up for this trip?" I laughed, sort of. But it wasn't funny. My nerves were impossible to settle. They're always watching. I screamed for them to release her.

"That was only a week ago ... "

"Yes. Well, Kylie, you're still under investigation for Sadie's disappearance. I believe you, somehow, I do. I've heard a case or two, similar to yours, and yes, there was missing time with those cases, but how to get the police to believe it, and a lawyer, not so easy."

"Unless she comes back," I said.

He looked at me; man, he can drop eyeglasses on a dime, and said, "Yes, if she comes back."

"They hang around military bases, you know, like the one in Maine, where I lived as a kid."

Doctor Murphy stood up. "The officers are here." He put his clipboard down, and briefly checked on his daughter from the window. Then he went to greet the officers, waiting in the next room.

"Time's up," said officer Frank.

I was already standing, and he took my arms by force. I didn't resist. Doctor Murphy winced.

They could hang me for this.

I told them everything I saw. How she split in two: one bubble and one transparent body. Her "earthly" body or whatever you call it, disappeared - poof, without a trace. I'm the only trace. Everything leads to me.

Doctor Murphy said he believed me, but I don't buy it. I'm escorted, or more accurately, towed, to the police car. Head shoved under and in, like a deranged killer. Or someone they think is trying to get by on an insanity charge.

Where's the body? Just tell us where the body is? That's what they'd asked. I stopped telling them what happened to her body.

Once, years ago, listening to the radio the music changed to a song that answered a question on my mind. It got my attention. The lights flickered and I knew they were there. "How long have you been doing this?" I whispered.

The Cindy Lauper song, Time After Time played. The station was set to a rock-n-roll only broadcast.

"For years?" I asked in response to the song's title. "What did you do to me when I was seven-years-old?"

You are here to help, this earthy role is not your own. You wanted it this way. It's not good to know too much, or you won't want to stay.

I felt lighter after that and it lasted a couple years. But when my dog was killed, I knew it could only be them. All the blood drained from his terrier body. Why my dog? Never an explanation just cruelty.

And they were sloppy, leaving a sticky residue. The bioluminescent fluid they leave behind like slugs. Even left traces of it on the radio dial after our "conversation".

What if the police found bioluminescent residue near the river? Would that create enough doubt? They'd investigated during the day. Maybe they never saw it glow at night?

"I need to call my lawyer," I said through the wire mesh.

"Yes, at the station."

When we arrived they shut me into a holding tank. I waited for my parents to come with the lawyer. I was innocent. No one believed what really happened.

Why make me suffer you bully-aliens? You couldn't stick around to take the heat? Gonna let the human go down for it?

The bunk was cold and without a blanket to keep warm I crossed my arms and started to cry. I was lost. Even Dillon couldn't help.

A ball of light floated into the room. It bounced about and settled at the foot of the bunk.

"You're crying," it was Sadie's voice.

"Sadie, is that you?"

"Yes, Kylie, I can see you."

"Are you all right?"

"I'm perfect. But you ... I had no idea."

"What? That you could disappear without a trace and I wouldn't look suspicious?"

"You're going to be fine," she said.

"What are they doing to you?"

"I'm fulfilling my agreement. My parents will come. And you, Kyle, have a family here. They're waiting for your "timing". The time must be right or the cross-pattern will hiccup, and mess-up all the timelines," she said, her voice growing distant.

"I have a family?"

"Yes, two boys and a daughter. Your daughter plays with mine."

I sat up on the hard cot and looked around. Was I hallucinating? The light orb grew larger and I saw Sadie through the sheen. Glowing, like an otherworldly God. She smiled.

"I have a family?"

"Yes, Kylie and your dog is here with them."

I rubbed my eyes. Rubbed them until eyelashes fell off.

"When do I get to see them?" I asked, despite the impossibility.

"Are you ready to leave your parents in this world? They won't remember until they die what happened to you."

I nodded.

"Come, Kylie, fall into the orb. I will bring you to them. It's a little soon, but we decided we could not let you continue to suffer, for what you didn't do."

The light orb danced up and down and grew larger. Sadie stood there, bright as day, looking much the same only more beautiful and filled with a brighter light.

Footsteps came down the hall. I think I heard my mother's voice. I would miss my family."

"Come, Kylie. The conduit is closing."

I stood up and leaped into the orb. The cell door opened. My father and the guard came in first and then my mother. They must have seen something because Mom put her hands over her mouth and the guard reached into the air and came away empty-handed. Their heads were now fixed on the ceiling.

I floated with Sadie in the orb. Dad yelled that the light was too bright and Momma began to cry. She screamed my name while clutching at the air.

I wanted to tell her I'd see her again.

The End

Writers and Loneliness

As a full-time writer, some days feel I’m on the outside looking in. The buffet has been set before me, but where’s my seat?  

I write at my day job, the family café, and it’s by no means alone. While not always the easiest place to concentrate, with the random visitors. I’m thankful I’m not sequestered away, hidden in my dark apartment.

The loneliness, the insecurity, the silence, and the doubts, all writers go through this at some point. I was delighted discovering the name for this malaise and uncertainty. I have my writing groups to discuss anything publishing, but still, it’s hard knowing when to bug them or allow time to pass. 

Where to turn?  Inside.    

One less way to be consumed by fears and doubt -- Write it out!

Everyone has a struggle, whether it’s publishing or personal. I find returning to my journal to explore my fears and doubts has helped. Growing up, I always kept a diary. My single- immigrant mother raised us and surviving was a blessing. Eating a wholesome meal was a blessing. Writing in journals saved my creativity in many ways, and reading the journals years later I’ve gleaned a greater awareness about younger me: the patterns of behavior when the second-guessing strikes, and not be too hard on myself because I see the patterns.

An inspiring quote, by biologist and author Rachel Carson. We’re by no means alone.

You are wise enough to understand that being “a little lonely” is not a bad thing. A writer’s occupation is one of the loneliest in the world, even if the loneliness is only an inner solitude and isolation, for that he must have at times if he is to be truly creative. And so I believe only the person who knows and is not afraid of loneliness should aspire to be a writer. But there are also rewards that are rich and peculiarly satisfying.

-->

-->