Tuesday, January 10, 2012

52 Week Short Story Writing Challenge - #8

Background: I have been sitting down to write a short story every week but lately I’ve been suffering severe writers block both in short stories and the novel series I’ve been writing recently. So this is my attempt at writing something while I’m in the middle of my writers block.

Short Story #8 - The Nymph

Ellie sat at the edge of the garden, looking down at the river that wound its way down the hillside. It glowed with light reflected from the dimming afternoon sky, turning the surface a pale purple as the sun collapsed behind a tree-covered hill. Her sister Rika was laughing nearby as she played with the farmer’s son from down the cobblestone path, the children hiding in the trees as dusk neared.
Supper is almost ready,” their mother called. “Lucas, it’s time for you to go home now.” The blonde-haired boy looked up and took his hat off, elegantly bowing.
As you wish,” he said. He turned to Rika, gently kissing the knuckles of her hand. “I will see you tomorrow.” Rika blushed crimson and nodded, giggling as she ran to the open back door. Ellie got to her feet, brushing clean the skirts she wore but stopped midway back to their house. The darkening yard always had a multitude of noises, from birds to small creatures flitting through the trees but there was nothing. Only the sound of the rushing river gave away her ability to hear at all.
Ellie turned to start walking but something caught her eye, by the stone fence. She turned to find a stranger there, looking down at a small figure in the palm of his hand. The figure wore wings and a dress of the palest blue, little ears pointed as she gestured in varying directions. Ellie took a step and the figure froze, looking at Ellie with horror etched across her elfin features. The stranger noticed her too and walked to the gate, their face hidden by the depths of the hood they wore.
Panicked Ellie ran inside the house and locked the door, taking the stairs two at a time until she flung herself in her room and shut the door. She turned on her heel, leaning against it with her eyes shut but screamed when she opened them. The figure was standing before her, a masculine hand covering her mouth. Her screams were dimmed and suddenly she was over his shoulder and out the window. The free-fall to the ground below terrified her but the stranger landed with the litheness of a cat.
The river raged nearby as the stranger carried her writhing form over it, the nymph leading the way. Ellie managed to kick the stranger in the stomach and she rolled to the ground, taking off running the moment she stopped. The skirts she wore were heavy and her hair came free from where it was pinned; her breath was laboured as she pushed herself to run faster.
She could hear the boots of the stranger thudding against the ground, the slight tingle of the nymph’s harsh but beautiful laughter. It scraped through Ellie’s head and left it throbbing. A tree root jutting from the ground became her undoing as she lifted her skirts and prepared to leap over it, the fabric snagging on a loose branch. She tumbled to the ground and a heavy weight came down on her, knocking her unconscious…
They never did find her body, only the stains of blood from a shock animal attack. Only the nymph and her master know the truth.

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