All Desires (Love Song Part 3)

Somewhere inside the wind, our hands tangled, and we walked through the side streets of the neighborhood toward my house. It felt like a bubble surrounded us, keeping at bay the traffic and the chatter from other pedestrians clearing the parade.

Jared's voice darted in and out of my senses like a drug, sewing me into a strange shape with its needle.

We found my treehouse, and he pulled me up the ladder.

"It's smaller than I remember it being," he laughed, ducking his head to keep from bumping it on the frame. "It's been a while."

"I haven't been up here since..." Since he left. I gaped. The little room was filled with stacks of books. "How did these get here?"

A smile played around his lips. "I brought them last night. I couldn't wait to see you, but I had a dress rehearsal." He rolled his eyes. "I promised myself first thing after the parade I'd bring you here."

I stared at the titles. Books on poetry, a few English history tomes, some music theory, but mostly fiction novels I hadn't read. He read so fast I could never keep up with him, but I loved fantasy the same as he did. Most afternoons we spent dissecting characters the way we dissected frogs in biology. "Guess I have a lot of catch-up to do."

He stretched out his legs against the far wall and held up a piece of chalk. "Tell me when," he said.

He sketched words onto the plywood floor.

Blushing rose petals

unfold their silken whispers

and sing of summer

"I don't recognize that haiku," I admitted.

He grinned sheepishly. "That's because I just wrote that one. But try this."

Mom's bright green blender

grinds two-week-old leftovers

for our picnic pie

I burst out laughing. "Sixth grade. Ms. Branch failed you because you didn't mention a season."

He shrugged. "I went back to her with a two page essay on why I deserved a pass. I explained how my mom only cooked when we were in school. Picnics only happen in the summer, anyway. She gave it to me."

I shook my head. "Always getting what you want."

He stretched out an arm, growing serious, and I moved toward him. "Do I? Or is it because I do what it takes to win? Sometimes I don't know, Med. You always could see clearly. I need you to clear the air for me."

I sat beside him and leaned my head on his shoulder. He felt so good. Familiar, safe, comfortable. "I'm not so sure I can help you with that," I sighed. "You blind me."

"Are you really blind?" he teased, "or just under a spell?"

"Under your spell."

I unclenched a hand I hadn't been able to relax until now, and a smashed, feathery glob of vegetation fell onto my dress. I stared at it, and the bubble of content popped. A great cracking sound ripped through the air, along with a shattering roar on the roof of the treehouse. I place my hands to my ears and screamed.  

Outside, through the tumult, I could hear a voice calling me. Mark was yelling. "Med, Med," he sounded strangled. "Help me, Med."

An arm wrapped around me and shook me back and forth. I raised my eyes, feeling glazed. Jared's brown irises were worried, and fear was written all over his face.

"What did you do?" I whispered.

"Are you okay?" Jared asked. I could barely hear him through the noise. "We're safe, I'm here."

"We're safe," I said, my voice rising, "but he isn't. What did you do to Mark?" I shook Jared's shirt and pounded my fists into his chest.

"Nothing." He grabbed at my wrists. "I did nothing to him except sing that song. You're the one who came with me, you said good-bye."

I shook my head and quickly, he stooped to the floor. He stood, and inside his hand lay the purple flower Mark had tucked behind my ear, smashed beyond beauty.

"Whatever happened out there," he said grimly, "wasn't because of me. That was you."

___
Come back next week for Part 4 :). Or read Part 1 and Part 2 here. And remember to check out Suzanne Warr's blog hop for more flash fiction!

All Winds (Love Song Part 2)

"Jared," I pulled away. "I can't."

His eyes studied mine and seemed to spot the figure reflected in them. He smiled. "Come on. Let's lead him for a ride."

I cried out, exasperated. "That's not how you break things off with a guy, you hippopotamus."

He grinned at our old term for when the other was acting particularly dense. I always screwed up hippopotamus and ignoramus. "He'll get the message," he said.

"No," I said. "Give me five minutes."

"Five, then," he shrugged.

The thing was, I thought along the incredibly awkward stroll toward my boyfriend, was that I liked my boyfriend. He was funny, and good to talk to, and picked me flowers off the side of the road. I wasn't looking to break things off.

Jared might have been my best friend, but then he... moved on. He always was intended for bigger things. And I didn't mope around like a soap opera diva, I healed.

At least, I thought I had, until Jared's whirlwind tugged off the bandage. What did it look like underneath, after all this time? Was it oozing? Had he ripped the scar clean off? Or was it pink and shiny with someone else's name sharpied on it? I wasn't sure I wanted to know.

Mark was holding a little purple daisy. I swallowed. This really wasn't fair.

"So, um, hi," I said.

He handed me the flower and our fingers touched. I raised mine to tuck my hair behind my ears. "That's Jared," I said.

He nodded. "I know."

"You know?" I gaped.

"He is kind of famous," he half-smiled. "I have some of his songs on my iPod."

"Well, I didn't know," I grumbled.

"Only for the last six months or so. He rose up fast. Don't have that song, though." He raised his hand to the back of his rusty neck.

"It was a warning, Mark."

"Or a challenge," he shrugged. "Are we over, then?"

Unable to say yes, I hesitated, and a sweet expression filled his eyes.  "We're not," he said.

"I just don't know, it's all kind of fast," my voice rose at the end. "He came back for me."

"Back? Were you ever his?" he asked.

An image burned my mind of Jared and I riding out a howling storm in my treehouse because I'd lost my house key at gymnastics. Jared smiled at the roar but wrapped his warm arm around me anyway.

I nodded. "He left without telling me anything, but you have to take his warning seriously, Mark. He can do things." As though I'd spoken a charm, a wind swirled at my feet.

"Things like..."

I told him about my cat. And the dead bugs he'd resurrect to feed his lizard, and the tails that grew back overnight. By the end, my hair was whipping around my face. I glanced behind me. Jared was at the apex of a crowd of schoolmates who were held back by some invisible barrier. His dark eyes watched me.

"I'd better go," I said.

"You're going to let him take you, then, just like that?" Mark said.

"I don't want you to get hurt," I protested.

He squared his shoulders. "It's not about getting hurt. He's trying to steal my girlfriend."

Trust his ego to make things complicated. It was another reason I liked Mark, he knew where to draw the line.

Jared's song pierced my mind. You fly, waltzing like fireflies.

I shook my head and with one hand grabbed my hair into a ponytail, and with the other, handed Mark back his flower. "Listen to the song. You have to believe me."

"You're going to ditch me the way he ditched you, then. Two wrongs don't make a right, Med."

My voice rose to a scary pitch, sounding almost like the wind. "I don't know what I think."

He nodded, a new smile I'd never seen crossing his lips. "I'll be hanging around til you do, then." He tucked the purple flower behind my ear.

He raised a hand to the boy behind me, stuck his hands into his pockets, and turned his back on the whirlwind.

___
The last story just begged to be turned into something more, so I hope you don't mind that for the next few weeks, I'm going to play out Jared's love song. Very exciting details coming up :).  Reread Part 1 here, and for more awesome flash fiction, check out Suzanne Warr's blog hop.

Love Song

Jared was the prettiest rose on the float, his dark bangs falling across his forehead as he glanced at his guitar, his fingers picking out a melting progression, the grin claiming his brown eyes as he looked... and found... me.

Mark tugged me close. "You see those costumes, Med?" he asked. "You want to be up there on that float?"

"Sure," I moved closer to the colossal bouquet of roses on wheels.

"I didn't mean it," he laughed.

The brown eyes shifted seasons as they saw the arm wrapped around me, the thumb stroking my arm. I hadn't told him about Mark. I hadn't had a chance to tell him, much less break things off. Mark thought I was his.

I raised my hands, pleading for the boy on the float to understand. He'd disappeared two summers ago. How did I know he'd come back? Our reunion a few hours ago was insane but sweet, then he let me go--again--as he was called off to his performance, a laugh in his eyes.

My best friend had come back as a god. Famous. Smelling like roses.

Grey eyes, he sang, his fingers modulating into a new, darker tune.

Rolling as thunder

Flashing like lightning

As I kiss your girl

All winds

You'll see

His voice, directed but mellow, held me in a spell.

Your hands

Clenching like steel

Shaking like chain link

As I kiss your girl

All desires

You'll see

You think

Darkest of shadows

Bloody as Mary

As I kiss your girl

I frowned as Mark pulled at me, but I shrugged him off. What was this song?

All forces

You'll see

Jared brought his finger to his lips impossibly fast before he launched into the next verse.

You kill

Twisting like jumpropes

Quenching like ice cream

As I kiss your girl

All knowledge

You'll see

His voice wrapped me in a bubble and I couldn't feel Mark's hands anymore. I could only hear Jared's awful verses, beckoning me forward in time with the float.

You fly

Waltzing like fireflies

Chanting with summer

As I kiss my girl

All souls

You'll see

You see

Liquid like sunlight

Clear as reflection

That I kiss my girl

All kisses

You'll see

All winds, all desires

All forces, all knowledge

All souls, all kisses

You'll see

End with me

I met him at the end of the road, on the far side of the park. Somehow, I'd maneuvered to the front of the vying crowd surrounding him. "Did you like it?" Jared asked me, as he handed his guitar up and dismounted the rose throne.

"I didn't understand your song," I admitted.

The dark boy smiled, lacing our fingers together. I struggled under the flood of twin memories that felt as smooth, as invincible, as correct. He led the way through the crowd.

"It's what your lover is thinking at this exact moment," he said.

"He's not my lover," I said.

He nodded, accepting. "He thinks he is. I showed him what would happen if he tried to reclaim you."

I frowned, replaying the lyrics in my mind. "You'd kill him?" I said.

He laughed. "You think I would kill anyone? No, that was his thought. I simply informed him how the battle would end if he actually engaged in his purpose."

"But he'd still die," I concluded.

Jared grabbed my shoulders, turning me to face him. He stared seriously into my eyes. "I don't want him to die. It's why I warned him. Do you remember, Med? When there's something I want... I can't help getting my way."

Another memory burst across my mind. My cat, run over by a car. Jared gently taking the mangled form from me. His brown eyes assuring mine, then closing as a frown furrowed his brow. "What I want..." he whispered. And then a white ball of fluff, still red, jumping from his arms to dash under the porch, where he licked himself furiously.

"What are you?" I whispered.

He shrugged, his fingertips touching my cheek, and I felt heat warm my flesh. "What I left to become. Yours."

"But I already was yours," I said, confused. "You didn't have to leave."

His eyelashes lowered as he raised my chin. "I didn't know."

Our lips brushed, but I couldn't close my eyes. Behind him, Mark was watching.

___

Happy Valentine's Day!  I love you, my friends. :)

Stinky Tactics

The trunk wasn't all that comfortable.  A wedge of uneven wood dug into my spine right on the bone, and my arms, curled round under my knees and tied at the wrists, pressed tightly into the rough sides.  If I could've seen, my cloud of breath would be a frigid white.

The cousins really hadn't been very nice, forcing me into here, but I didn't really blame them.  If I didn't show for the dinner, they would get the award--the award I'd stolen from them to begin with.

They didn't deserve it, but Master Yi only said, "The world isn't concerned with justice, only rewards.  Justice just makes a mess of things."

Case in point.

I scraped my nail against the wooden lid, hoping to attract a mouse or a roaming cat.  There had to be some biting creature in the vicinity... this was a pantry.  When scratching didn't bring anything near, I slowed my breathing as my exercises taught and sank into deeper senses, listening past my own heartbeat for the scurrying flutter of a smaller mammal's.

The cousins had done a bang-up job of clearing the area.  And the cats were a little too efficient, in my estimation.  They probably deserved their warm spots by the fire.  I sank even further, searching for the tiniest thread of life.  Silence surrounded me, and the stone of the foundation was so cold, so inanimate.

And then I heard it, a scratch many times more miniscule than the one I'd sounded.  I zeroed in on the creature.

It was a stinkbug.

I groaned.

But I'd freeze into sleep if I didn't get out of here soon.  And if I left my discovery up to human eyes, I'd suffer detention on top of frostbite.  As Master Yi said, "Pride is the grave's siren."  

Stinkbug it was.

I funneled my plea to the round-plated bug, inviting it to my dark and cozy home.  No one would disturb it here inside this protective shell.  It could hibernate in peace until spring and find plenty of food when it woke.

I shivered.  It crawled so slowly.  How far away was the thing?  By something big and cold and smooth... maybe a jar of pickles?  I encouraged it to use its wings.  This really was a nice place to hide.  The stinkbug flew to my trunk, crawled instinctively under the crack in the lid, and touched my knee.

The thing about encouragement is that it doesn't give you real control.  I doubted I could just encourage a bug to pick a lock.  I wasn't even positive the stinkbug would be big enough to do the trick, but since it was my only resource, I had to try.  Wise Master Yi said, "Don't use your tools, believe in them."

Whatever that meant.

Only one, intense purpose would fit inside the bug's tiny body, so I put all my thought into opening the lock.  I took a deep breath, and switched places.

Warmth beneath me.  A strange urge to crawl from home.  My claws dig into porous wood.  Out from the comfortable cave.  Down the side, onto hard metal without as many footholds.  A dark crevice, just the right size for my body.  Crawling inside.  Comfort.

An urge to crawl further in, to poke my legs into the tinier cracks.  Unable to budge the surface.  Forcing my way in, jamming my shell forward, shoving with all six legs.  A sudden, great movement creates a comfortable cave.  Tiredness.  Rest.  Sleep.

An earthquake jars me awake.  Great rumbling noises threaten my tight wedge, and make me creep from my place.  I climb out of the darkness into a sliver of light and hold still.

The light disappears and instinct encourages me to a safer home.  I know this home.  I slip into the crack in the wood and crawl deep inside the darkness.  I touch warmth.  Home.

Abruptly, I was hyperventilating inside the trunk.  That was just too close a call, I could have been a stinkbug forever if its instincts hadn't guided it right.  Maybe that's what Master Yi meant by "believe."  I blew out a breath of laughter, trying to calm down.  It'd done it, the bug had released the lock.  I kicked my legs upward with as much force as I could muster, and jarred the lid.

I heard a tiny whirr and paused.  Smiling, I offered the bug a fold in my clothing.  Then I kicked again, trying to release the latch.  A third and then a fourth kick, my spine killing me, and the lid flew open.  I laughed out loud, wanting to cry, and thrust my legs over the edge.  I cranked out a powerful sit-up, tied arms behind me, and tottered over to the doorway.

Those cousins were going to regret ever locking me in that trunk.  Stinkbug style.

___

Today's prompt was "Show someone fighting for their freedom."  I'm completely disgusted by stinkbugs, but they could have their uses, too, right?  How do you think the main character will use his stinkbug to gain revenge? :)