I’m getting very bad at being able to post this every Friday as well as to comment on other people’s contributions, so from now on my 7 month old daughter will just have to wait!!  I’m finding this week’s prompt quite difficult- I have quite a few ideas and am not sure which route I want to go down!!  I best get started and see how it goes.  Next week is good Friday and I’m away for a week so I may post whatever I produce from the prompts but they may be a little bit late or tagged on to the one I complete in a fortnight’s time.  Hope everyone has a lovely Easter by the way!!

‘Shhh…., did you hear that?’

Phoebe quickly turned the lantern towards where the noise had come from.  ’It sounded like somebody digging’.

‘Perhaps it came from up above- perhaps people are walking above the ground?’  But he knew the sound seemed to come from below.  He grabbed hold of Phoebe’s hand and began to pull her further into the tunnel.  ’We can’t go back the way we came, we have to keep going forward.  Come on!’

Phoebe didn’t like to be told what to do, but she knew Arthur was right.  The ground smelt clean and damp and she noticed tiny crystals in the wall.  They sparkled all the colours of the rainbow as the light reflected from them.  Some were purple, some were green, some even bronze, all the colours mixed with the black of the soil, somehow making them shine more brightly.   In the distance colours appeared to be racing towards them, like a ball of dust caught in a vacuum cleaner.  ’Oh no’, she thought, ‘what now?!’

‘This doesn’t look good’, Arthur shouted and his legs froze waiting for the storm to hit.  There was a howl and they first felt a breeze, but then it got louder and deeper.  Something was being carried by the wind and was tumbling faster and faster towards them.  ’What do we do now?’ Phoebe screamed, struggling to stand against the strong winds.   The colours and the dust gathered pace and rushed towards them.  Neither of them knew what it was that was being blown into their path and then suddenly without warning there was quiet.  All they could hear was a dim ringing and a bright purple light shining a few meters from them.  Phoebe looked into these lights and realised they were eyes.  Lilac and light shades of blue staring straight at her.  The creature appeared to have scales; red, blue and green.  The claws at the end of thousands of tiny legs were sharp and probably capable of scratching the pair of them to death.  Then suddenly a screech and it jumped over them spinning off into the distance.

‘Wow!’  Arthur’s heart was racing though he wasn’t sure how to feel.  He was amazed he’d even managed to still be standing after the shock from what he’d seen.  ’We must be getting closer to your family Phoebe!  That was a creature they call ‘Shook’ which only to be found close to the centre of the city’.

‘What?  Why….why didn’t it just eat us?’  Phoebe stood still shocked.

‘It doesn’t eat like us, it feeds from the air.  It will only attack if it needs to, so I guess it didn’t feel threatened by us.  Come on.  We have to keep going.  We really can’t be far now’

Further into the darkness they went.

It’s funny how you don’t really know where a story is going to go until you start to write it.  As I wrote this and other parts to this quest I’ve realised that at the moment I’m just writing the story and some scenes will be important and others won’t.  Now that I have the skeleton of this scene lots will probably change and it will only be included if the scene is important in some way, so I think that perhaps the creature has to leave a message of some kind, or something behind that the 2 characters can take forward with them.  But I wouldn’t have gotten that if I hadn’t started to write this scene in the first place.  The story is so fragmented at the moment but I’m hoping as it develops further certain scenes will start to cement together.

Arthur looked into her eyes.  He’d never seen eyes so deep with sadness.  Something pouring out of her had made him stop and look.  It wasn’t like he needed a fairy.  In fact, he’d only been passing through the market to get to the library, but he just couldn’t bring himself to leave her.

The fairy just sat on the bottom of the jar, her knees up to her chin.  It was as though she was waiting for someone, looking deep, deep into the distance far from the edge of the valley.

‘How much for this fairy?”.  The words just came out.  He never bought things he didn’t need and certainly not living things.  He’d never even owned a pet snail, never mind a fairy!

‘Ah yes’, the sales man replied, ‘She’s a bit of a moody one that one, but, she’ll work hard.  Cleaned all my store she did, using a bit of magic.  Hmmm, she’ll set you back a good number of acrons and shells will that one’.

‘I’d be prepared to pay 5 acorns and 2 shells.’  Arthur knew he could go as high as 10 acorns if needs be but he had been saving to buy a new pair of shoes.

‘Oh, I couldn’t let her go for less than 12.  Most of the other fairies are 15 at least!”

Arthur realised he would have to do some serious bartering if he was to take her home.  Was he really prepared to lose all 10 acorns?  He tried to get away with just 8 acorns.

’11, I won’t go less than 11.’

‘Look, all I have are 10 acorns and if I’m completely honest I don’t even need this fairy.  It’s just… well, for some reason I feel compelled to buy her, but if you won’t take less than 11…..’Arthur began to walk away.

Worried that he was about to lose the sale the man hurriedly chased after Arthur holding the fairly in his hand.  ’Fine, fine, alright…10 acorns should do it.’

Arthur put his hands into his pockets and delved deep to grab his 10 acorns.  Suddenly these were replaced with a very small, unhappy fairy in a jar.  He took a long careful look into her face.  She hadn’t moved, still staring out into the distance.  Arthur hoped he could help her in some way and perhaps come to understand why she appeared to be so unhappy.  Thinking that he was unlikely to get into the library with his new purchase, Arthur decided to turn around and go back the way he’d came.  He would certainly have to wait a while for a decent pair of shoes.

And so the two faces left the hustle and bustle of the market and headed out towards Arthur’s hut, neither really sure of what would happen next.

Sleeping beauty?

When Lucy went to bed that night she felt cold.  Cold and incredibly tired.  She felt as though she would happily sleep for weeks and weeks and felt the need to make up a hot water bottle.  She took her favourite blanket fleece from the top of the wardrobe and wrapped herself up in it’s warm fuzziness.  She placed 2 pairs of socks onto her feet and got together a pair of gloves and hat before finally jumping quickly into bed.

All night she tossed and turned like the leaves in a strong wind.  She had no control and it felt as though she was hanging rather than lying down.  She dreamt strange vivid dreams.  She was walking through forests eating fruit.  She could smell wild strawberries and was drinking freshly made lemonade with ice.  She became warmer and warmer as though being consumed by flames.  She tried to raise her arms for help but suddenly the feeling subsided.  The flames dimmed and with eyes still closed Lucy began to unravel from her sheets.  She felt a hole amongst the duvet and the water bottle fell through it forcing her to wake from her slumber.  She felt different.  She could smell everything- he Mum’s perfum (she would give it back), the cheese sandwich, the nail varnish remover and the breeze from the open window letting in spring.

Stretching her arms upwards and slowly opening her eyes Lucy reacher for her hat, but she couldn’t.  She couldn’t feel her arms!  She tried to stretch outwards but to her absolute shock and surprise she no longer had arms.  Instead she found an enormous pair of purple wings.  Lucy screamed and stared where her feet used to be- they were gone.   As if by magic something had happened to change Lucy into a butterfly.  How on earth was she going to deal with this?

Tilly couldn’t help but stare at the painting.  Despite the noise of excited bidders and the shouting from the auctioneer the painting seemed to transport her somehow.  The grey white topped mountains and the vast sky above.  The deep green of the valley below with the fresh smell of spring- she was sure she could hear the sound of birds and the timid step of a deer.  Her eyes were drawn to the log cabin again.  Just as they were last night before she’d spoken to her Mother.  There seemed to be a life inside the cabin- she’d tried to comprehend what she had seen.  She was sure that if she’d stare for long enough a person would walk by the window.  It had happened just before supper last night, she was sure it had.  She had tried to tell her Mother that the painting was magical in someway and that it shouldn’t be sold.  Her Mother had had the painting valued and she had explained,’ It’s worth a great deal of money Tilly and goodness do we need it.  We had no idea that we even had an Uncle Albert and for him to leave something of so much value to us we can’t just very well keep it’.  Tilly’s eyes had welled up because she knew that her Mother didn’t believe her, perhaps her eyes were playing tricks on her.  And now outside the auction room perhaps her Mother was right.

Tilly looked over to the lot number being held up by the auctioneer, ‘Next we have lot 179.  A very beautiful chest of drawers from the….’.  Tilly looked at the painting’s lot number,’ 183′.  Only 4 more lots to go.  They would need to wheel it away soon.  Why did it feel so real to her?  The painting was real, it felt real.  She lightly dusted the painting with her fingers.  It felt cold.  Ice cold.  She drew her hand away and frowned.  A boy came out of the log cabin.  Right in front of her eyes, he had come out!!  Tilly’s eyes got wide and she sheltered the painting from view.  Could this be happening?  She could see the boy beckoning her with his arms, he looked to be trying to say something to her.

Tilly looked over her shoulder quickly.  She could see her Mother making her way into the auction room, they would need the painting any minute.  Tilly couldn’t let that happen.  She knew in that moment that her whole life would change.  She had to stop the sale of the painting no matter what it’s worth.  She took hold of the wooden frame and began to lift it from it’s stand.  It felt incredibly light in her hand and a soft breeze from the valley moved her hair away from her ears. Where could she hide?  There were so many people around she started to walk slowly towards the entrance trying to remain calm.  Out of nowhere a man with a long brown beard stepped over to Tilly and the painting.  ’Can I ask where you think you’re taking the painting young lady?’.  Thinking on her feet all Tilly could reply with was, ‘I need to show it to an auctioneer, I think the frame may have been chipped on the way here-it…..it may have altered it’s value’.  The man frowned, ‘Let me have a look and I’ll tell you if it’s value has changed’.  All Tilly could do was hold the painting towards the man.  He held out his hands waiting for Tilly to give him the painting, but she couldn’t.  It was stuck.  Literally stuck to her hands.  The man tried to pull the painting from her but it wouldn’t budge.  His eyes became angry as he tried to shake the painting from her, ‘If you’re not careful you will end up in a lot of trouble young lady, now give me the painting!”  Somehow her feet were out of her control, just like her hands, and all she could do was run.

And so she did.  Backwards.  She ran and ran and before she knew it she was out of the door and in the street staring at the painting and out of breath.  All she could whisper to herself was ‘and what will mother say?’

‘Something fell soundlessly past their eyes into the mice.  There came a thin screech, a flapping of wings and a ghostly…..

figure glanced by their shadows.  The desert was shrouded in mist and all that could be seen were red eyes.  But not just 1 pair, there were 6.  And teeth.  Teeth that could have easily made a meal of the mice, but his creature chose not to.  Instead using its’ wings it settled on the ground by a tall cactus.  Using its claws to move the sticky, sharp spines, it quickly went to work in picking the cactus apart.  Mary and Robert could see  that this creature appeared to be hairy and had gigantic ears.  They found it difficult not to move, thinking that the slightest shuffle would disturb the creature and cause it to come and eat them instead.  It appeared to have gold detachable claws.  Robert noticed that as the creature went to feel away the tough protective layer of the cactus that a claw had been removed.  The creature quickly reattached the claw and continued to feed.  For a second the claw had been stuck, shining upwards towards the stars.

‘What is it?’.  Mary could only faintly whisper.  An obvious question and Robert was thinking the same thing.  ’It would appear to be some sort of bird, or bat?  Yes, it certainly looks like a bat, but obviously bigger’.  Robert could smell the warm sandy air as the creature began to flap its wings.

Hidden behind some rocks, Mary and Robert watched as the creature took to the sky.  In a short while it was gone.  ’What if Phoebe has been captured by one of those?  Did you see the size of it’s teeth?’.

‘It looked like a vegetarian to me.  No need to worry.’  Robert tried to reassure Mary and put his arm around her shoulder,’ we still have the invisible potion left if we need to use it’.

‘I just hope she’s okay’.  Mary looked into the distance.  ’Perhaps we should rest a while?’

‘Just a while then’, Robert yawned and they both unzipped their bags and took out a sleeping bag.

As they both lay down the silence felt uncomfortable.  No sound from the birds or breeze or anything.  Just an emptiness.  Mary reached for Robert’s hand but pulled it back and started to count sheep wondering what tomorrow would bring.

Paul:

Would it happen again?  I can’t bare it.  If it does I’ll have to say something.  But how?  How can I control the anger that has built up for the last ten years?  Ten years older.  Another birthday.  I want to marry her again.  I will.  I’ll ask her again.  Then she’ll have to give in.  She’ll have to forgive me, to forget.  She’ll have to give me a present- or just a card.  Heck, a card will do!!

Paul looked out through the restaurant window.  Every year for the past twelve they’d visited ‘My shell’ restaurant.  Perfect views of the crashing waves.  Every year the weather was pleasant.  You could walk off your dinner.  Take in the sea air and buy a piece of rock from the shop around the corner.  In the earlier years they’d walk barefoot on the sand and feed each other a piece of rock, sucking slowly, wondering who could make it last the longest and both wanting to come out champion.  Maybe that’s how it started Elizabeth thought.

Elizabeth

Eleven years ago.  Eleven years.  Gosh, I’m good.  I mean, I’m stubborn, but I’ll never forget.  I’ll never forget the promise he’d made. Paul had forgotten my birthday first.  My 21st!  I mean, really, how?  I honestly thought he’d been planning something- a secret surprise birthday party maybe?  But, nope, nothing.  Not even a card!  A card?  I mean, you don’t even need to put effort into buying a card do you?  So, after I’d pointed out how unbelievably horrible and disgusting and selfish he’d been that’s when he promised.  He said it.  He made it a reality.  He  said we never have to celebrate his birthday ever again.  We won’t.  He’d said it.  Fine, I agreed and that’s it.  Every year since we still come down here but never mentioning ‘it’, you know, his birthday.  I’m sure he expects me to crack.  To give in.  To give him something.  To even acknowledge that he’s a year older.  But I won’t, I can’t.  It’s the principle.  It hurt.  Heck, it still does.

Elizabeth dried her hands in the incredibly powerful dyson hand dryer.  She checked her hair and make-up one last time and walked out.  The clouds appeared a darker grey outside and she felt a breeze against her neck from an open kitchen door.

‘I can’t cope.  I can’t.  It’s my birthday.  My birthday and I want to marry you.  Again.  I want to marry you again… Let’s get married’.  Elizabeth froze…..

And there it stood.  The gate hung from the wall, the garden littered with rubbish.  The windows boarded up, the rooms bare.  It smelt of urine and looked unloved, naked and bruised.  Red graffiti the only colour against the grey wals.  The home she had known appeared to have vanished.

She remembered the paddling pool in the back garden and the heat from summer.  She remembered ice-creams from the freezer, her brother soaking her with a water pistol and her Mum covering her with a towel.  her family was gone but she wanted the house to be loved.  She didn’t want it to be grey and bruised.  She wanted it to be noisy.  To smell of perfume, of bread and of cake baking.  She wanted it to be littered with toys, not beer cans and to have the sunlight shine through the windows.  At night she wanted someone to close out the world and put the house to bed.   She wanted it to be a home to someone but now it was empty, grey and alone.