Maiar's Work Thread - Short Stories, Novels, Whatever

[Maiar93]

I've just recently came back from a long, long hiatus, though that's a wholly another story: the main question in your heads probably is something along these lines...

'Who is this guy?'

I'm Maiar93, an amateur hobbyist writer. I began my creative journey from this very forum, from a distant backwater location; the YATS Roman Roleplaying Subforum. In that subforum I played a mentally deranged Roman Consul[1] and did all sorts of fun stuff, until the whole thing dissolved into hibernation. After this catastrophic failure I headed my way towards other role-playing forums, where I quickly noticed things were even crazier than my crazy consul. Mary-sues and furries everywhere.[2] I left those forums rather quickly and went on to write stuff at Writer's Cafe, where I've dwelt ever since.

Then I came back. And I discovered a couple of fun competitions and a nice community of nice people.
So, I've came here to share my stuff and receive shares of other stuff. I'd like to begin with a very old tale I wrote around 3 years ago for this fantasy community project. If this tale sparked your interest, there is more material to post as well, although the project hit a brick wall after one of our main contributors died.

The title's "Battle of the Fire". Please gloss over the oversimplifications and unrealistic stuff if that bothers you. I know it bothers me.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Battle of the Fire
On the year 855 a great host of Draeth had invaded Elerath. Once again, the humans thought, but their armies were beaten back because the Draeth army was even bigger than it looked like and bigger than the scouts reported them: a part of the Draeth army had been hidden by magicians with such a strong spell even the greatest magicians on scouting missions couldn't see through it or break it, or even sense it. And so the armies of Elerath crashed with the Draeth, and the Draeth achieved victory on the first day of battle as their concealed troops charged the Elerathian flank. The army of Elerath under the command of General Toba was defeated, and the general himself was taken prisoner. When the night came, a group of 15 Elerath battlemages appeared from the shadows. With their magical powers and weapons they freed General Toba and escaped with him under the cover of darkness. The Draeth commander, General Teraga, was furious. He wanted to find the magicians and kill them, and in his rage he did not listen to warnings his mind was feeding him. The Draeth magicians began their work, and with a simple finding spell they found the Elerathian magicians. They were surprised that such simple magic had worked, and then immediately the information struck them. It had to be a trap. But Teraga did not listen to his magicians, stating that his army was bigger than any army the Elerathians had, and he was so confident on his power that his pride overcame his leadership qualities. And so he ordered the march to the Desert of xxxxxx, the site of a great sorrow.
_______________________________________________
* *
Notes

We arrived at the Desert of xxxxxx yesterday. We have hidden the army from the enemies's sight and spells, but they can smell us when they arrive. Yet, it will be enough. Our might in numbers and quality are great, and perhaps this army is the biggest army ever gathered in Elerath. All our armies have gathered here, and General Toba is leading us. He has to avenge his fallen comrades in arms and his own shame of being captured. We have put ourselves as a bait: they notice us, not the army, and they come to us. Then we will charge them and shatter them like a sledgehammer shatters a rat. If they don't smell us first; but we can change the wind so that it blows towards us so they cannot smell us. We have to do it when they close in, though, as they might get suspicious about our intentions.

The Battle

I eyed the field of battle with my keen eyes in the cover of our magic. I could already smell them; their foul smell makes me want to vomit, but I hold it back and breathe heavily like all of the men under my command. There is a large dune on my army's right flank. There are some of our strike forces hidden behind it; and so are behind the dune on our left, too. It is like a great gate where from a great ambush is unleash, like a final desperate charge from a besieged charge led by the most valiant knights; except that they are the ones in need of desperate actions and deeds. The plains ahead of us have only one large dune, the largest of them all: over five meters high and ten meters wide, so that over a hundred soldiers could stand on it. The Draeth advanced, setting patrols to every direction while moving. They were almost on the huge dune. Then, suddenly, we felt the wind on our backs. The wind had turned towards the Draeth, and they immediately smelled us. At the same time our spell broke, and our army was revealed. Our armies stood ten paces away from each other ,silently watching each other. Then all hell broke loose. I cried out a great warcry, and my men began charging towards the Draeth. Yet one more second passed, and a great figure stepped out from their ranks. A giant Draeth, clad in pitch black armour and helmet, his great claws emanating the sunlight. He let out an even mightier cry than mine, and then his whole army charged us. We didn't stop our charge, and soon our armies clashed like an explosion. I disengaged from the main battle with my unit of battlemages and veered left of their flank, hoping to find a weak spot. As I approached them, I grabbed hold of fire and earth. The trained battlemages of my unit did the same, and together we then concentrated on the ground under their biggest groups of infantry. Like the loud clangs of hammers, great holes opened in the earth and great fires burst out of them, incinerating heaps upon heaps of Draeth. One of my men then suddenly cried out a warning.

"HAMMERS INCOMING!"

We had no time to prepare. A loud and thunderous clap was all I heard before falling to the ground in pain. My eyes were blinded and my body was hurting from the heat, and I heard only pain and suffering around me: my unit's mages were blinded and burned by an explosion of some manner. We who were left stood up on our knees and hands, trying to gather any manner of energy we could. When my eyes finally cleared of the searing light, I saw a wall of monsters lunging towards our unit. Some mages in my unit managed to send weak magical attacks towards them, but with little to no effect - the shieldwall stood. Gathering my last powers, I stood up and concentrated on the element plane. I picked water and put out the flames engulfing my body. My mind recovered from most of the pain, and I grabbed hold of Light and Wind. I struggled to retain my concentration on the elements as new waves of pain sent spears of pain running through my body. I quickly created a Seal and placed it in my mind. I felt the weariness and dark spells leave my mind, and again it was whole. Finally I grabbed hold of Metal, and with a great warcry I unleashed four of the basic elements of life, Fire, Light, Wind and Metal in one great flurry of power. I saw a great explosion in front of me, but I was not thrown backwards. Instead, the company of Draeth were flung back like dolls. I grabbed hold of Light and created another Seal in my body. It cleansed it of the dark magic I was targeted with. But as I felt the relief in my body, I also felt something hot and heavy on my right hand. It was like a handle made out of fire, but the fire only tingled my fingers in a commanding way, as if it wished me to do something. I looked where previously had been a leather glove. I saw magnificent thing. It was a fiery sword, plain but deadly, contesting my attention with the enemy army. Then I understood: it must've been the gods, granting me victory of this day. I raised the sword high up on the sky, and it's light emanated over the whole battlefield. I cried the Elerathian warcry once more, and charged towards the Draeth magicians. It was like I had reborn from the ashes, returned from the shadows to the light; and I moved swiftly like the wind, and my body felt no pain. I was in a blood-crazed fervor. I knew they were weaker than me, and every blow I struck cut straight through shields and armour. At the midst of the battle, receiving as many wounds as I dealt them, I felt like the king of the world.

Then, as I turned my gaze towards an another magician, I was hit with a bolt of wind, which sent me flying several meters backwards. But already before I had even hit the ground, I grabbed hold of Fire and Earth and opened a hole underneath the three nearest Draeth magicians. Fire burst out of it and killed the three instantly. Yet then I saw my assailer. He gazed at me, full of cold hatred and disgust. I quickly tried to grab hold of Water, Earth, Wind and Water to create a shield, but before I could he had sent a barrage of shards to nail my head to the ground. Then and there, I already thought it was the end. But no. As the shards hit my body, they shattered to dust. The magician who was standing in front of me raised his eyebrows, drew his sword and began walking towards me quickly. He smiled at me knowingly when he approached, and as he reached me I noticed his body bend over me, so that his face met mine.

"Hello, Toba."

The air left my lungs, it escaped from there like rats from a sinking ship, and I was breathing heavily. I looked to the ground, and finally I caught my breath. I turned my face to meet his. I saw a very familiar face, but his eyes were flashing white and back to the normal dark-green I was so used to. But something else was disturbing me. I turned my gaze towards his hands that were clutching the sword. His fingers had very sharp ends, like they'd be very sharp nails. The Draeth smiled gloomily.

"You're not used to what you see? Ah.. I do remember your face, human. Perhaps you do remember me, perhaps not...I've..changed, but you are my enemy now, Toba."

I was breathing heavily. My eyes wandered around in their eye sockets, but finally I locked them into the magician

"Carus?"

"He's dead."

The draeth prepared to finish me off. I kept my eyes open. I would face death gloriously, not broken by cowardice. But then I saw sudden relief on the Draeth's face. His clutch on the sword loosened, and the sword dropped. He raised his arm towards his head, like he'd want to protect it from something, but before it reached his head his chest ruptured and blood bursted out. I opened my mouth.

A pair of friendly arms pulled me firmly up from under Carus's body. The emanating sword laid on the ground next to me, just behind Carus's body. A magician I could not recognize clad in full armour patted my back, he spoke:

"All good, sir?"

"Keep on killing them," I responded, shaking my head. Of course it wasn't Carus. And then I went back into the fray.

There I was, a figure of a deadly warrior running towards the Draeth like a hurricane. My enemies received deadly wounds as I stroke with my sword left and right, looking for Teraga and my revenge. The feeling of absolute power was bumping inside me. It made me much more stronger than I would have been without it: I felt like I could do anything. And I wanted to win this battle.

I was on in the thick of the battle, slashing left and right with the flaming sword so quickly that my outlines faded when I stroke. All the way I was fighting my way towards their left, the traditional honourary spot of the army reserved for the commander of the force. My unit of battlemages was still with me. I could sense that even though I could not see them, since every so often I saw dozens of Draeth fly backwards towards their army, or burn to the Hellfires, or get nailed by extremely sharp, long shards. Sometimes they burned, and the fire caught on anything it touched, leaving dozens of more Draeth screaming of pain. I killed two more Draeth with one sweep of my sword, but three more immediately stepped on their place. They tried to force me down with their shields, but I kicked the front man's feet and slashed the second one's skull open as he tried to strike me. Now I was on their backside, and yet another sweep of the flaming sword left them both incapacitated. I turned quickly, the battle calmed slightly around me and I had some time to look around. Instantly I noticed a group of Draeth on my right trying to fight against my battlemages. On my left I noticed my chainmail-armoured warriors fighting the Draeth, who were equipped with half-plate armour, spears, swords and shields. And then and there, as the day was turning to our favour and their forces began to break, I heard a very, very loud explosion and shout. I turned towards it and saw a very big man standing on a small stone cliff, defending it against at least a dozen of my men. They all charged him, but they flew twenty meters backwards in one loud explosion and died instantly. I grabbed hold of Earth and Fire, and like it was natural I opened a hole in the ground next to the tall Draeth, and fire bursted out. But as they were about to hit him, the fires died and the hole in the ground vanished. He turned his gaze on me, and instantly I felt great pain on my left shoulder. For a moment I thought someone had stabbed me, but then realized it was a long, thin and very sharp shard that had pierced my shoulder. I concentrated for a moment, and the shard turned to dust. Then I grabbed hold of Fire and wind and sent the dust towards him as a whirlwind of hot ash. I used the last bits of concentration I had left to grab hold of Fire and Light, sending an orb of fiery light towards him. But the hot ash turned dark and collapsed, and the strong magical attack I had sent towards him exploded between us. "Damn.", I thought, "Magic does not work against this thing..", and I began running towards him with my sword drawn. I locked eyes with him, and could sense that he had hold of the elements he needed. I quickly rolled to the left and heard something fly past me. I quickly grabbed hold of Water and Earth, and concentrated on the ground underneath him. He hadn't moved even slightly. But as I released the elements, something exploded just in front of me. I noticed the elements I had sent had exploded when he had sent something against it; and now I was already very close to him. I jumped towards him like a tiger, my sword ready to strike. But as my feet hit the ground, he drew his sword quicker than any eye could see and sent a quick blow towards me. Only barely I managed to block it with my sword. He moved quickly to my side and attacked twice. I dodged the first one and parried the second. I slashed at his torso, but he easily dodged and caught me off balance, I felt slight pain on my back. He had cut me with his sword, it wasn't deep but it was painful. As I got back up to my feet I turned my back to him, concentrating on Light and Fire, and quickly turned towards him and met his gaze. I saw sudden surprise in them when I released the elements.He put up his arms to protect his eyes, but he was too slow, the light blinded him and set him aflame but he had not burned to dust. Normally a regular mage would be killed by this amount of magical power directed towards him. Nevertheless, I stabbed the mage to his arm, using the opportunity cleverly to my advantage: but he did not shout of the pain or of the wounds I inflicted to him. Instead he pulled my sword deeper into his arm, and did not care that his wound burned. He turned his eyes to me, shouting wildly. And then I was in a world of pain. I heard an explosion so loud my eyes rang for several minutes and I became blinded and deafened for the same amount of time; I felt the fire burning my body and I heard loud screaming and cursing..and then it all faded.


______________________
* *

From The Memories of a Merchant a week after the battle:

That day my intention was to travel to the military camp near Contested Lands, so I could sell supplies to the soldiers for a good price. Salt, fish, pork, wine - I had those all with me, and lots of other supplies like arrows or bolts. I had to travel through the desert of xxxxxx. It was still unknown what had happened to our army there, or to their army: our magicians found no signs of life in the desert. Perhaps it was safe to travel there, perhaps not. But I did not care. Another reason to travel by the Desert of xxxxxx - you would gain knowledge of what happened in the field of battle. Strangely enough there was no foul smell of rotting corpses or the sorts in the area when I arrived. Seemed like the armies had vanished along with their commanders! Then I saw something very bright in the horizon. I rode towards it with my men and the caravan. As we reached the location of the bright object, we noticed it was the ground. It was translucent. We could see our own mirrored figures on the glass. But when I looked past my mirror-figure, I gasped. There was a man's face there. His expression was terrified and he seemed to have pains. His hands were on his sides, and one of them was loosely holding a fiery sword. I turned to the rest of the men and pointed the location to them.

"So here died General Toba, one of the greatest magicians of our time... rest in peace."

One of my men had stepped forward and he spoke these words. He was Amarc, a regular soldier from the Army who had volunteered to protect this caravan. I turned towards him, and asked how he'd knew it was Toba.

"I served in his army during the war when the Draeth were not in control of the Contested Lands. But now both of our nations have suffered great losses in this battle. I suspect all the soldiers of both the armies lie here, under this glass."

I was a mere merchant, and I was almost gasping when I heard someone talk so casually about this sort of a thing. I made a decision.

"Well, Amarc, I want you to go back to Ellethar and report this to the king. Tell him to send a force to investigate. But we have no time to wait here - let's continue the journey."

We mounted our horses and limbered the wagons on the pairs of horses we had brought, and continued our journey. Later I sold the supplies to the supply officer for a great profit, and we decided to go back home by the same way we had came - through the desert. I saw Amarc there with an investigation unit, and they recognized General Toba and his sword. I asked why they didn't use the sword, but they didn't answer. They just told me that I wouldn't understand it. I asked them again with a more commanding voice, irritated at their lack of trust, and they finally answered:

"The King received a sign by a dream. A prophecy. It told that only one man could take the sword. Only that man could use the sword, and use it to cleanse the lands of the Draeth, be cursed those unholy creatures.

I was dumbfounded by these words, but I didn't show it. I thanked the man and mounted on my horse again. As I left the desert, I saw more and more people riding towards it. Some were soldiers, but most of them were regular townspeople. I still don't know what to think of it. But I think I will keep waiting.

I will try to make it a habit to post at least one writing a week. This will gradually improve my writing if combined with constant reading. Currently reading "House of Leaves", by the way.

Finally, I will also take up any collaboration projects if anybody feels like it. Thanks to everyone for taking the time to read this and have a splendid day![3]

---

[1] I was rather inexperienced at the time, and when I now look at what I wrote - what back then was, I felt, a great accomplishment - it amounts to nothing else than plain madness. I mean, my character had bloodthirsty servants who beat up every visitor for money, entered armed into the Curia, besieged a minor Gallic city with around three full-stacks for 3 years when Rome was being besieged by Hannibal and so forth. I regret all of those actions (with a tinge of humor in my eye), and I'm thankful that that character was swiftly executed.

[2] I've nothing against furries, but I prefer pseudo-realistic roleplaying to insane roleplaying. Then again, the line could be harder to draw than one expects.

---

[3] Except you there, you who skipped to the end. I see you. Have a good day.

[Maiar93]

Prologue of a novel I'm working on. It's called "The Orphanage"; a couple of people get trapped by a hurricane into the cellar. A metal door leads into the darkness of what used to be the catacombs of that manor.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

A rolling wave of pitch-black clouds stretched over the sky, advanced warily across the darkened landscape. Hailey watched as the surrounding fields were slowly consumed by darkness. They were cut off from the rest of the world, and to top it off, stuck in an old manor with a bunch of orphans. The building could as well sail across the Atlantic Ocean than weather a storm, and their only hope would be the cellar down below. It was a dark place, deprived of light, and not suitable for children. But it was still a whole lot better than being snatched up by a big mean hurricane.

The staff members present were not many; the work was hard and the pay small, so most people would come there only for a short time. Those who came to stay received no sympathies from her; if they wanted to torment themselves, she would encourage them to try. But most of all, she suspected, they were all big softies at heart. Each of them shared a love for children, although they might've not been so well matched in other areas. To name a few. Hailey was there, of course, she was the leader; she had brown curls and a stout nose, a pair of green, almond-shaped eyes and full lips, but some wrinkles already covered her skin. Then there was Arthur, a volunteer, and great with children; it was a wonder that we was so horrible with adults. He had short black hair and small brown eyes, and was quite handsome. Henry, their cook, a solid voice of wisdom, the son of a former Jamaican slave: he was dark of skin and stout of build, his head was shaved clean, and he had a brown goatee board. James, their official tomboy, old enough to be Hailey's little brother and very fond of music; he liked Mozart and Liquid Tension Experiment. He had short hair, dirty blonde, and no beard to speak of. Anna, their very own female priest: she was slender and short, but bore a pair of fierce green eyes. Funny that they should be having one here, away from the rest of the world, right amidst a group of people who were rather conservative in their own way. Not that she was hated, of course, but some did give her disapproving looks. Some more than a few. It was all the same to Hailey what she was, though. She had been raised in the good old American way, kiss the cross and serve your nation, but life had taught her to not look at who a person was in his life. There was a thing that Henry had used to say a while ago. All that really matters... if you're ripped clean of all your titles, jobs, anything, that is... is your sense of duty. Some call it personality. I call it a sense of duty. Maybe it would soon come true. The storm should rip apart any semblance of barriers anyone had built around him or -herself, and for good.

Talking of barriers, their animals had been left without them for quite some time now. Hailey had, with the help of Henry, brought inside their small pony and a few old hens. The pony was being cared for by the little girls, and she supposed the hens were as well, although that should've been the boys' duty; she never saw them do anything else than play or laugh or run into a wall, so to see them feed a hen, well, it wasn't that likely.
As for the children, they had plenty. Orphans, all of them, as none of the men or women in the manor had seemed to take interest in one another: not even after spending a good while with each other. Bad chemistry from the beginning. There were eleven orphans in total, five girls and six boys. There was Jennifer, a dozen years old and the oldest of them all. As it was, she was also the gravest of them all. Each orphan had a history here, and Jennifer's was not easy to think of: she had lost her parents in a robbery, and the only place which had had space had been Hailey's. Ever since she has been with her, even moving into the 'Jackson's Manor' when she had started the orphanage.

She had been there several times when she was younger, although rarely venturing further than the first few hallways, and never past the first crossroads: the light would become too shallow in those parts, too dark for you to see anything. Literally anything could be lying in that endless-seeming darkness, forgotten there by its former owner(may he rest in peace). But the cellar was simply too big for a full inventory. A shame: what treasures could've been lying down there, they were now missing out on it. Who knows what wealth those things could've brought to her family.

Hailey Jackson turned away from the window. She had seen enough clouds and bad weather for today. Positive thoughts would be too much to ask for, but at least there was company to be had in the house. Yet as she was about to open the door of her room, step out, and find the others, it was opened inwards. Anna stepped in, wearing a combination of a black tunic and breeches, a golden cross hanging from her neck. She gave a cry and took a step backwards, as if to catch her balance, and laughed.
"I am so sorry," said Anna, "I was looking for more matches. For the trip below."

"Oh, I've already taken them away. They're in the kitchen, Henry's there right now. Packing up all that we need."

They were silent awhile, standing awkwardly by either side of the doorway.

"The kids will have a hard time down there." Anna finally said.

"They've seen worse. I doubt some darkness and a few noises will frighten them, after what they've gone through."

"Yes, but... are you sure if it's safe down there?"

"Oh, playing on their inner curiosity, are we? We will not let them out of our sight, don't worry about that. And why would they choose to go any further than the safe-room in any case?"

"You make it sound like a stroll in the park," Anna muttered under her breath. She did not approve of Hailey's methods.

"You make a good point," she finally said, "but we still can't know what's going to happen. We're going down there in any case, so I don't know why I'm arguing against you anyway. I suppose... just my motherly instincts." Anna finished with a laugh.

Hailey smiled in return and stepped aside to offer her entrance, but Anna refused it politely. "I have the matches to fetch. Can't trust Henry with those." She laughed and flashed a parting smile towards Hailey, and vanished around the corner with a few swift strides. She's not your regular Christian, Hailey told herself, and not for the first time.

A moment later, she made up her mind to follow Anna into the kitchens. As it was, she found herself wanting a cup of coffee to settle her mind. But then something bumped in her legs, and she gave a small cry.

When Hailey turned to stare, frightened by the sudden collision, all she saw was only Kenny - one of the orphans - standing abashed by the doorway, not daring to step inside.

"Oh. It's just you, Nicholas. Come on in." She tried to make her voice sound kind but tired, and to her surprise, it more or less sounded the result. In any case, she really needed that coffee. As horrible as it tasted.

Nicholas looked up, confident. He was harder than he looked like, but still his voice had an ominous tremor to it - as though he had been on brink of tears, but regained control of himself - to wake Hailey's doubts. When he opened his trap, out came a flood of words. He spoke swiftly and his tone was pitched.

"Uncle Arthur and Uncle James are fighting. Henry told me to bring you. Don't know what it's about, heard some words here and there, the storm most like."

"Be so kind as to lead the way, Kenny." Hailey said, trying to picture Arthur and James having an argument. The absurdity of it almost made her smile.

[Maiar93]

Chapter 1, titled "Hailey". I'll be using an external storyteller - pov type mixup.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Hailey trailed quietly after Kenny. He led her through boring corridors and white doors, dark rooms as well as lit ones, until Kenny finally stopped.

"The living room," she said, unsurprised. "Wait here or come in, do as you wish."

She swept in the large living room, illuminated by several lamps and candles, decorated richly in comparison to the rest of the manor: worn, red satin chairs were scattered about the place, left wherever their last users had last used them, and a dusty Persian carpet covered most of the wooden floor. In it were pictures of small things and large things, but always they were beautiful, as though times past had never known evil. James and Arthur stood in front of a large, robust window, arguing, and light was pouring in through the heavy glass panels. She doubted that the light would last for long; even know it was feeble and almost white, and it was no longer warm. Henry was sitting on one of the satin chairs, brooding over the scene, dark hands intertwined. He flashed a look at Hayley

"We should not be up here, Arthur, Henry, all of you. It's not as far as you think it is. It'll be down upon us before any of you can say "You were right, James," if you go on like this. Sleep? Don't be stupid, Arthur."

"Sleep is what we need. Or at least a breather. We've been working all day, James," replied Arthur, stiff-necked and gentle.

"I don't see a whiff of this said hurricane. It's coming tomorrow, as everyone has kept saying since a week ago."

"I swear, I saw it..."

"Off with your nonsense, James!"

Hailey quietly entered the living room. The other arguer seemed to be Arthur, an old-fashioned gentleman with what some would call a noble heart. But Hailey thought that he was somewhat snobbish. Anna was there, holding the hands of Michael, Jennifer and Emily, and Henry Cole. Henry Cole was their very own black cook, a lean fellow with brown, gleaming eyes.

"It's not nonsense, I saw it with my own eyes!"

"You're just one person, James. We others could vow to never have seen a single sign of the hurricane approaching right now; yes, it is going to come tomorrow; yes, we will have to retreat; but now there is no hurry."

"No, you don't understand... it's not..." James couldn't continue any longer. He suddenly noticed Hailey, who stood watching the two with an exercised look of annoyance. Though she was annoyed, she also felt amused: James had been arguing like a child of nine, while Arthur's comments were more suitable for a parent than an equal. An amusing combination altogether.

"What's this all about?" asked Hailey.

They fell silent awhile. Finally Arthur broke the silence.

"James said that he saw the storm approaching through a window. We all looked, but we could only see the clouds."

James answered him fervently. He hadn't calmed down yet.

"No, but I explained it to you! The clouds mean that a strong wind is driving them. Did you see any end to the clouds in the horizon, Arthur?"

"I did, actually. I could see them ending right at the confluence of sky and earth."

"That means that the storm is right behind those clouds."

"Surely such a big storm would look more ominous? It doesn't look like it at all. And we need that night's rest, James. What do you say, Hailey?"

Hailey looked at them both in turn, as if confused. Finally she said slowly to James:

"Show me the window which you saw the storm through."

"It's the only window in this living room. You can see it clearly. I've read about this stuff, I know what I'm talking about."

Hailey walked over to the window James had pointed at and looked outside. She could clearly see the clouds James had talked about in the horizon, black bulges blanketing the sky like cancer. At the confluence of sky and earth, just like James had said, the clouds began to fade from view. Something seemed to be driving them onwards.

"That's odd..." she murmured to herself, but the others were listening intently.

"Does it look like the storm?" asked Henry quietly.

"Yes, does it?" added Anna. She must've been curious to find out. They had just talked about it, after all.

Suddenly they saw a bright flash in the distance. Everybody began counting the seconds, awaiting the thunder-crack to arrive. Hailey counted eight seconds.

"8 kilometers away," Henry said with his deep bass voice. It reverberated strangely in the room.

"As for the storm," Hailey began, "I'm not sure, but..."

Raindrops began to fall on the window glass. Hailey leaned closer, trying to get a clearer view of the clouds, but soon it became an impossibility. Rain started to pound the roofs and windows of the Jackson Manor.

"It sure does look like it," she finished awkwardly. "I mean, the storm seems to be coming... somewhat sooner than we expected. Maybe they told about it in the news, but we haven't had the chance to see anyway."

Everybody fell silent. More people began to trickle into the living room: children wandering in, looking for their friends; staff members tending after the children; people just looking for a conversation; people who had heard the arguing. There were now eighteen people in the room, and it truly began to feel a little crowded inside. Hailey found herself in an awkward position: the rest of the folks were assembled behind her like an audience, and she herself stood much like a lecturer preparing for her speech. It would be appropriate to introduce each of the six staff members now present; Anna with her golden locks; Henry with his deep, level gaze; Arthur in his own dry self; a subdued James, and in addition to them, two volunteered workers: Julian and Chuck. Chuck had a nickname in the orphanage: everyone preferred to call him Chuck Norris as per the famous film star. Usually one could hear cries of "Norris!" or "Fetch Norris!" on daily basis if one worked in the Jackson Orphanage. And scattered all around were the children. Hailey knew what she had to say: it did not please her in the slightest. She began to feel stressed.

"We have received some news. I fear that this means a turn for the worse, folks, and an earlier departure." She cleared her throat.

"It is a fortune that we have everything prepared already, so that we are all ready to go, for James noticed something odd about the clouds earlier. He said that the storm could already be seen in the horizon, although the others couldn't see a thing. Now, it sounds nonsensical, but we could actually see it from the movements of the clouds. Something was driving the clouds, and we could see the line of clouds ending in the horizon: the hurricane is right behind them. We should descend into the cellar as fast as possible in order to avoid the first wave of the hurricane. It will still likely take several hours before the storm is truly upon us, but the 'first wave', so to speak, will arrive in approximately one to three hours. That's the best guess I can make right now. But now we have to deal with this situation fast. Henry, take Nick and Michael. You three, take the supplies downstairs. There's a large room in there, filled with tables and chairs and other wooden furniture. Anna, take the other children downstairs. The rest, take what you don't want to lose in the hurricane. I'll go get the matches."

Those with assignments departed after a while, and those with no such obligations began to wander around, searching their minds for things they wanted to save. Arthur just looked at Hailey, though. As she was about to leave, he walked up to her and tapped her shoulder.

"Do you think there would be torches down there?"

Hailey whirled.

"Yes, of course. It's an old cellar, Arthur, you should know it. I wonder why you even have to ask such a thing."

"Just curiosity. I didn't know that about the cellar before. So there are hallways lit with torches down there..."

Arthur trailed off, now seeming to be talking to himself instead of Hailey. As for why he had asked, Hailey had an idea. If she remembered correctly, Arthur had once said that he feared the dark; he had even given a name for it. A mental condition, he had said, called by the name of nactophobia. She wasn't sure if that was the correct name for it, though. The matches, she reminded herself, and scurried off to fetch them.

When everyone had gathered what they needed(Henry and the boys were carrying the boxes filled with cutlery and canned food downstairs), Hailey counted their number and then led everybody downstairs. The stairs hadn't been tended to in years; there were several cracks here and there, and an incredible amount of dust. It flew off into every direction you could possibly imagine whenever someone descended a step, and so the cavalcade walked down the stairs into the cellar, releasing an astonishing amount of dust and grime as they went. It clung mainly to their clothes, unfortunately, so that everybody had to clean their raiment at the doorway. The doorway, the metal door standing by it looking out of place, led into a large, candle-lit room. There were also torches on either side, lit and illuminating a large area. They were better for illuminating large areas, as they lit up a larger area than a dozen candles ever could; they also only required one match instead of the three or four a dozen candles would.

While the others were still looking around their new, temporary home, Henry was checking on the furniture's condition like an expert at least; they were dusty but sturdy, ready to serve for a few more years yet. There were plenty of them just lying around, three large square tables around which up to eight people could dine; three on the sides, and two on either end; there would even be some space left over. There were wooden chairs piled on top of each other at the far corner, but Henry left them alone for the moment. He went to check on the candles.

The old storage room had a plenty of room for everybody to find their own little corner. Space was found even for the children: in the far corner of the room, which had been cleared out specifically for that purpose. Bedrolls had already been placed on the ground, and the kids now bounced on them bare-feet or nudged sleepily back and forth. A couple of them were standing, sitting, whichever suited them, looking at the entrance into the dark, unlit corridors, wondering what lay beyond. Anna was reading the Bible aloud, trying to drown their possible fears under religious words, and slowly, it did seem to have an effect. She was in the middle of the story of Job, when suddenly one of the children raised his hand. It was Michael, Anna didn't notice it, but some of the children were pointing jeering stares at him.

"Yes, Michael?" Anna finally said.

"Um, nothing important... I just thought to ask what's... uh, what's beyond that door."

He pointed at the cellar door which led into the manor catacombs. Anna answered without even looking that way, managing a light tone.

"Just darkness and corridors, Michael."

Suddenly she got an idea.

"But I've heard tales about the catacombs, Michael."

"What kind of tales?" asked Michael with such interest in his voice that only children could manage it.

"Scary tales. They say there are bad things in there. Things nobody wants to know about."

"What kind of things? Please tell us a story!"

"I will think about it. But only if you go to sleep nicely and don't ask for it anymore today."

Anna turned away and smiled at her own ingenuity. The children would never enter the corridors, now. But since it wouldn't hurt to be sure about it, she concluded to trouble Hailey with locking it.

[Scottish King]

Nice work you have here! Look forward to reading more of it! I also decided to post some of my work on that Writer's Cafe site. + rep

[Maiar93]

@ Thanks a lot, Scottish King! Posted Chapter 1. I hope you enjoy it, and I'll take a look at your writings tomorrow.

[Maiar93]

Chapter two... "Anna."

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

The children had laid down on their bedrolls, some scared, some excited, but all way too active by half to actually fall asleep. Despite all this, though, they remained silent for the most part: they weren't the most sociable kids. They heard the sounds of thunder, and it was as though the whole manor had been brought to life by the storm; above, the whole manor was creaking, crumbling down, though they could only hear it faintly through the thick layers of stone. The door was a different matter. If you put your ear to it, you could hear the commotion upstairs quite easily. For now, it didn't seem like the manor was falling apart entirely. That was a relief.

Anna found Hailey talking with James by the largest of the tables. James was groping his hair, she noticed, though his back was to her. When she caught Hailey's attention, she could see a fearful expression in her eyes.
"Just calm down," Hailey said, frustrated. "You're waking the whole household, and what you're saying doesn't help either. Calm down."

"The whole household's already awake, they can't sleep because of the storm. And they can't hear the other sounds either, but I can. I heard them while taking my supper in that corner table. Like someone was dragging a body!"
Hailey was silent, shocked. Anna stopped where she was and looked at James with new eyes, suddenly doubtful.

"It's bloody crazy," he continued. "Look, I'm trying to calm down, but it's crazy, so crazy it's driving me crazy as well... just hear me out, listen, hear me out, and... do what you want, I guess."
Hailey had recovered enough of herself to answer faintly: "Go on, then."

"As I said, I was dining by the corner table over there, taking spoonfuls of that soup Henry cooked up... I was savoring the taste of pork on my tongue, when I heard it. Right behind the wall, I heard something that sounded like something was being dragged away. It didn't had a hard sound to it, but... well, it sounded just like a body. A dead body, limp and rotten."

He paused, as if thinking hard. Both of the women were transfixed by his voice, though more due to horror than interest. Before they knew it, James was on it again.

"Then I heard a voice. Don't ask why, but when I heard it, I thought of a grave being opened. It said something, but I couldn't understand it all. I think it was part in English and part in...well, as I said, I couldn't understand the other part. The English part, as far as I can remember, went: 'The dead' or 'Death'. I'm not sure. I don't know. Maybe it was something completely different. Maybe I didn't hear it at all."

He didn't sound very convinced, but Hailey smiled in relief. "Then it was nothing. Drop it out of your head, James. The storm makes all sorts of noises: perhaps the dragging was one of them."

James relaxed.

"The storm, yeah. I think it was the storm. What else?" His last words hung ominously in the air as he returned to finish his meal.

Anna looked at his receding until it had settled onto a chair. Then she walked closer to Hailey, who by the look on her face didn't like James' imaginary noises.

"I swear one day he'll cause more traumas for one of those kids. Why did I take him here in the first place?"

Anna smiled. "Because he had a good voice. Because he seemed formidable. And because he loved children."

"I suppose that's true. But he's careless."

They were silent awhile.


"I'm asking about the door," Anna finally said. She pointed at the wooden door, which was the only thing that stood between them and the dark tunnels of Hailey's catacomb. It hadn't seemed important to her before, though after what James had said she found herself revering it to some extent. Now that she thought about it, it was the only thing separating them from eternal darkness.

"Is the door locked? The kids could wander out... you don't know what they'll do. They're scarred and reckless."

Hailey smiled sadly. "It's not the kids who I'm worried about."

"Who?"

"I don't want others trying to find the source of these "sounds". It's stupid and dangerous besides."

Anna found herself quickly agreeing. "Yes, but is it locked?"

"No."

"But you have the key?"

"No."

Anna resumed her shocked silence.

"The last time I was in there, I was a kid as little as one of ours. I don't remember where my dad placed it. It's probably upstairs. I didn't remember to bring it down here."

"What? But you always remember the details."

"This time I didn't."

Anna's questions were finally spent. She shrugged and paid her goodnights to Hailey. She must've had a horrible day. Some sleep, and it'll be better tomorrow. The problems end here. She laid down on her sleep roll, drowsy. As her eyelids crashed down like a pair of elephants recently cured from insomnia, she could hear someone walking by. By the time she thought to see who it was, she found her thoughts wandering in the dreamscape, like air in a bubble.

[Tigellinus]

As SK said, you've got quite a few nice pieces of writing here! Good job, I shall be following your wokrs rather closely. +rep

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

I was rather inexperienced at the time, and when I now look at what I wrote - what back then was, I felt, a great accomplishment - it amounts to nothing else than plain madness. I mean, my character had bloodthirsty servants who beat up every visitor for money, entered armed into the Curia, besieged a minor Gallic city with around three full-stacks for 3 years when Rome was being besieged by Hannibal and so forth. I regret all of those actions (with a tinge of humor in my eye), and I'm thankful that that character was swiftly executed.

(Your Roman Consul.I couldn't find the quote tags -_- ) That made my day!

[Scottish King]

I've read chapter 1 and 2 and I must say a good job on both. I like the characters and the mystery surrounding the catacombs.

[Maiar93]

Thank you, dear readers! Your feedback and praise is very appreciated. I just came back from a small holiday to the countryside. Played guitar and created a new blog: How I once caught a Queen and other fishing stories

I haven't posted anything yet, but you can expect writing in a bit. There's still some setting up to do. I will be posting anything literature-related, such as independent pieces I wrote myself, or reviews of books, or articles... I will also be sharing pieces(articles, mostly) from my favourite writers. Anything funny related to chess could also get a spotlight. Actually, I could write my thoughts on political topics as well, though I'm not sure how controversial the topics can be before the National Police comes knocking at my door.

I also brought a holiday present.

Chapters 3 and 4(because Chapter 3 is a little shorter than usual):

James

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

James' plan had been to retire into the warmth and comfort of his night roll, but he didn't feel sleepy at all. James couldn't point a finger to exactly what was causing it, either: his eyes just wouldn't close, rather preferring to trail on the storeroom's stony walls, looking at tables and chairs, piles of crates and dusty corners only recently excavated by people. He tried every position he could think of, thought of the next day and how the storm would already be over, counted sheep... he even tried muttering curses to himself. None of them worked. He felt tense, worried, but not energetic; he could stand up, walk around, but not run for very long. Something was keeping him up, preventing him from sleeping. But the worst thing came a few moments later. He began to hear voices again. Something was dragged, right behind the wall. It was clear as day: something, a limp body, was being dragged away. He knew the sound. His brother and sister had been dragged away the same way, dead after a house fire. The only thing different had been the sound of their scorched skin scraping against the floor. 'Just the storm making noise, she said', he thought bitterly.

James pulled the blanket away and crawled over to the wall. As he approached the noises grew louder, and slowly he began to discern a voice, whispering strange words just like before. A cold hand clutched his heart, urging it up to his throat, forcing it to pound his chest like a hammer, but James forced himself to touch the wall, feel its rough texture against his palm. His hand was pale in the dark, reflecting light from somewhere. When his hand connected with the wall, he gave a start and pulled it back. For a moment, he thought there had been no wall there for a time. But that wasn't possible, was it? 'Just reach out farther next time.' He reached out again, further than before, almost extending to the extent of his reach. He felt relieved when his palm brushed past the rough surface of the storeroom's stony wall, though only for a short while. The noises grew louder, as if the thing that made them had came closer. He could clearly hear "death", though the other parts were still blurry, and the scraping... he was sure of it, now. A body.

James moved a little closer, curious and terrified at the same time, and began to move his hand here and there on the wall. He wanted to feel something, anything, to keep him from screaming aloud, but when he no longer felt the wall against his hand, he did almost scream. James felt his heart jump up to his throat again, panic creeping up to him. "I need light," he muttered to himself, and stood up to look for a candle. He found something better. He saw a lantern, filled with oil, hanging from a nearby slot in the wall. He took it graciously, lit it, and looked at the wall again. It was fine in every way except one. A hole, just enough for an eye to peek through, stood where his hand had just been at. He was too afraid to speak. 'I could see what's making the noises. I could see and tell the others about the hole, too. We could stay up next night and I could show them,' he thought, frantically, and began to lean down. The hole was almost on the ground, maybe just a foot above the floor, so he had to lower himself into the ground before looking through. James' muscles twitched in anticipation as he speculated what he could witness beyond the wall; in fact, he thought that his muscles could cramp soon. He hadn't been drinking a lot either. But he had to know. James pressed his head against the hole, opened his eye to peek through, and waited until his eye had gotten used to the dark. And right there on the other side of the hole, a dark, glazed eye gazed back at him. It blinked shut, opened again, and James screamed.

Hailey

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

Hailey
Hailey sat back, heavily, onto her chair. She was quite tired, to say the least, and very angry; she needed to go through the events once more, find out what she believed and what she did not.
James' midnight rampage had left them all fully awake, though deprived of sleep, and with a certain curiosity concerning the cause of his shouting. Hailey had went over to him, talked to him, and heard - as an answer - that James had seen an eye staring back at him through a hole in the wall. She had just nodded, left, as if to forget about it right then, but it bothered her to no end. James was an insomniac in the making: he saw things that were not really there, waking the whole household up in the process. In all likelihood it was just a bad dream, though it was odd. And he had complained about the noises earlier, too.

In any case, James had done things for the Orphanage. He was one of the valuable few who took care of the orphans. And although he was a tomboy, the real James wouldn't do things like that. Then again, he hadn't been himself since the storm broke. It was either that or James was about to fly off the handle. She had already talked to the others: they all thought that James was dangerous. Going ballistic. Arthur even went as far as suggesting that they should restrain him somehow, or at least keep watch on him. Not that he couldn't do anything unnoticed in the relatively small space they were all cramped in, of course, but someone to put him down if need be.

Then again, why were they worried? Why was she worried? In all likeliness it had been a nightmare, although a vivid one, but nothing to fear nonetheless. Was there something so authentic in James' behavior that they were all convinced, deep down in their hearts, though outwardly denying it? James told her he could prove it, of course. Next night, by the eastern wall of the storeroom. Then you'd start to hear the noises. And then you could look through the little hole. What bothered Hailey, though, was what stood beyond that hole. Was it some sort of a room? Could they maybe widen the hole somehow, to get some proper light in there? A hand touched her shoulder. She turned to look. It was Henry.

"What are you thinking about?" he said. The question was odd enough to at least dazzle her.

"What James said, right?"

Hailey wanted to say yes.

"Yes."

"Yeah. It's hard to believe. He has never been even close to 'nuts' as far as I can tell... what made him make the turn?"

"I don't know. I think I'll look through that hole of his, though. When I tell him that I saw nothing, he should come back to his senses.

"Maybe." It was as if he wanted to say "or else", but that was just a fleeting thought.

Henry made to leave, but Hailey pulled him back.

"Watch him until nightfall, please."

Henry's jaw relaxed a little, and he smiled.

"Alright."

The rest of the day went in relative peace with the children playing board games and the adults talking about things they liked to talk about: how the weather was outside, if the storm had already passed, how long it would take for it to leave if it hadn't already. Food was consumed perhaps too carelessly. It continued until nightfall, until the kids went to sleep(well, most of them), and when James left the table, off to brood in some dark corner, and Henry left for sleep. Another hour, and Arthur and Anna went to sleep as well. That's when James walked over to Hailey. He quietly led her to the hole.

"So why do you want to do this alone like this?" Hailey asked.

"If you see it, you'll believe it. And the others trust you." James sounded frightful.

"And you're sure you weren't dreaming, right?"

"Yes! Don't you trust my word either?"

She gulped and turned to look at the hole. Suddenly James clutched her forearm.

"Hear it? It's going again. It began just now."

Hailey looked at James, feeling odd. She didn't hear anything else than James' frantic breathing.

"I don't hear anything unusual."

"Look through the hole, then." He seemed too scared to do it himself.

"Alright."

She looked. There was only darkness on the other side, and she couldn't make any details out. But at the very back, she thought she saw a slightly darker patch of something.

"Get me some light. A candle does just fine."

James gave her a small candle, half-melted from use. She put it as close to the hole as she could, while still being able to look through without burning her eye, and gazed through. The little light that emerged on the other side revealed a plain stone floor, old for sure, but nothing spectacular otherwise. And there, right on the edge of the light, lay a sleeping rat. Next to it was its dinner: a piece of something dark and mushy, almost like...


"Just a rat." She stood up and gazed emotionlessly into James' eyes.

"Get some sleep." was all she could say, and the words hung heavily in the air as she left for bed. She lay down on her roll, closed her eyes, and began to wait for sleep.

Several minutes had passed, perhaps half an hour, when she heard footsteps. Heavy footsteps, like someone was wearing a sack of rocks on his both feet. She opened her eyes.

A shade stood looming over her. It had a long curved knife clutched in its fist, ready to strike.

"Who are you?" she rasped.

The knife crashed down.

And then she woke up. And the first person she saw was James.

"I saw a dream. Someone tried to kill me."

"Well, I definitely heard your scream."

"Did I awake any others, then?"

"No. Then again, I wasn't sleeping. That's why you managed to scare the living pants out of me."

"Shame, that. But I really have to sleep now."

James looked almost insulted.

"Well, sweet dreams."

[Maiar93]

Chapter 5 is up!

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

At exactly 8:45 AM, their only clock had stopped working. They spent the dawn trying to figure out how to fix it, finding none. When all seemed to be explored at least twice, they finally dropped it and began to do whatever they thought would pass time the fastest. It was mid-day, a full day after they had descended down into the confined space of the storeroom. Had it really been only one day? The time had gone by, crawling on all fours, as if it wanted them to suffer down there. Could it be James? What if they were all being punished for his sake? That was absurd. They had done nothing to deserve this. They took care of orphans, were benevolent towards them, generous and caring. So why was the storm sent to harry them? What had provoked such a reaction? Who had provoked it?

There was no way of telling day from night downstairs: it was the same light at every hour. They still heard the storm upstairs, though not as clearly as on the day before, but it was enough to say that it would not do any good to venture out of the door. There was another thing about the door that worried them, too. No sounds penetrated through any longer. Now they only heard echoes, some rumbling, the ground shaking above them whenever a lightning sprung down from the skies; enough to know that something was going on. Truth was, she wanted to open the door and see what had become of the manor. It was a tunnel, after all, safe from wind, lightning and rain. She could climb up, scout some and maybe get some fresh air, and descend back into the storeroom. Heavens knew that they needed some fresh air down there. It was like living in a house made of feces; the pots and jars they used for daily necessities were nearing their limits, and the smell just couldn’t be ignored. It made them all halfwits.

When she had talked to Hailey about it, she had told her to never go up there. That was horribly stupid. She thought she could defy Hailey’s order just for the terrifying smell alone. There wasn't like to be anything dangerous upstairs; nothing that could come down into the storage, at least. She needed to ask Hailey about it. Ask until she relented. Perhaps she'd go up there on her own. Anna found her by a pile of crates, sitting on a wooden chair, holding a piece of wood in one hand.

"Upstairs has fresh air. It'll sweep down here the moment I open the door. Just see it this way; we're all tired of the smell of sweat and and piss in here. Some fresh air would change it. Can you see it this way?"

Hailey looked up from the piece of wood, bored. A flash of anger appeared on her face, but vanished instantly.

"I don't know, Anna. Do we know what's behind that door?"

"How about breathing, then? Just open it for a few seconds. Let the stinks flow out, and the fresh air rush in."

"I... I still don't know. I have a bad feeling about this."

Hailey was about to say something more, but Anna wasn't listening any longer. He turned a pair of boiling blue eyes at Hailey, her hands balling up into fists as she breathed, and she seemed to grow in size. When she turned away from Hailey, running towards the door, the room began to spin in Hailey's eyes. Anna reached the door with powerful strides, her features a blur. Pulled open the door. Momentarily, she seemed to calm down. Air rushing in, howling in their ears. That was exactly when it happened.

The battered remains of the upstairs began to fall down the staircase. Anna's scream soon dissipated under the rolling mass of broken furniture, her figure disappearing, and then it was all too much chaotic. Screams filled the air...

[Scottish King]

Good chapters you have here. I wonder what's behind that wall that is scaring James so much? And poor Anna hope she's ok.

Just one correction:

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

He turned a pair of boiling blue eyes at Hailey

Shouldn't that be "She".

Keep up the good work!

[Maiar93]

Busy with secondary school now. I am studying physics, biology, geography, chemistry and maths. Mainly biology, geography and chemistry, though I am taking as much physic and maths as I can make fit within my curriculum.

On another note, do you guys want me to continue this series? I have some free time to continue on chapter 6. And again, sorry for letting you guys down for so long!

[Scottish King]

If you have the time to do so then please continue.

[Maiar93]

I am halfway through Chapter 6. I promise to make it happen if I bodily can.

EDIT - It's done now. I worked a bit later than I normally would, and here it is! I'm quite satisfied with how it turned out.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

657 WORDS

Hailey

Several hours had passed before the adults had managed to clear enough of the rubble out of the way for the kids to re-enter that miserable place. Every man and woman held the horrible knowledge that Anna - or what remained of her - lied somewhere beneath the ravaged ruins of the upper floor. What she had done to deserve this fate, they did not know. But now they had a body to deal with... and as if that wasn't enough, a dozen children to hide it from.

It was James who finally came to Hailey with a solemn declaration of Anna's death. But then, as he had delivered the information, he lowered his voice to a whisper. He was clearly flustered. Nothing in his behaviour hinted at anything else than simple self-conciousness, but when he looked at Hailey, she could see that he was dead serious.

"The body's going to start smelling, the kids'll start to question I know this sounds really bad, Hailey, really bad... but the only choice we have is to hide the body. In the catacombs. Somewhere deep, so nobody will find her. But somewhere easily accessible, so we can retrieve her for... for her burial, later on. When the storm's gone."

They had to hide Anna's body, save the children of the sight of her utter defeat. Hailey was spent. Her courage had fled her, save for a pinch. It was that pinch of fight in her which gave her the strength to argue.

"Look at them. They're crying. They know what's going on, or at least guess. What would hiding her accomplish? They already know..."

James licked his lips thoughtfully. James' self-consciousness began to rub off on Hailey: sweat was beginning to form on her forehead. Or perhaps it wasn't it at all but the death of her friend and colleague.

"It saves them from being forever scarred by the sight of their favorite caretaker - killed and torn apart under an avalanche of nails, broken glass and splinters. You don't want them to feel that pain. Who knows how wicked they'd turn out because of this."

"I understand if you're worried for the kids, hey really... but this won't solve anything. If they see her dead, well... it'll be a shock, for sure. But it could help them. I mean, they are going to find out the truth at some point. This isn't what we want to do, drag her into some dank hallway and leave her there to be... eaten by rats, or something."

"So we'll twiddle our thumbs until she starts to stink and then what?"

"Not then what. By then we'll all be safely upstairs and in the van. If it's still operating. Hell, James, do you even realize that we could be entirely cut off from the rest of the world right now? What does it matter whether we tell the kids or not?"

To that, the once cheerful James couldn't muster anything else than a tired nod and a mumble. That signaled the end of the conversation.

'Each day we spend in this horrible place, something catastrophic happens. Everyone's getting more tired and more demoralized.' A pause. 'Don't they realize that we're about to pull this through? The storm's about to leave. It can't stay over this house for more than a couple of days.'

Those were her last real thoughts of the day, as then a convenient bedroll stumbled across her way. She couldn't hold back the combined forces of a massive headache and an exhausted body and so fled into the warm, soft confines of her sleeping bag.

As more and more adults fell down in exhaustion, a slender figure huddled down behind an intact desk. She bit back her tears, but they came anyway. And as if that had been the final blow to an already crumbling dam, all the built-up anger, frustration, sadness, and fear suddenly burst out of her like a raging tsunami. That was exactly when she saw the open door looming right in front of her.