Today you have the dubious pleasure of listening- er… sorry, reading the uh- words of my… mouth? Let me start over!
There is one important thing you need to know right now before I continue writing this- this is not Lara!
Guess who! 😉
To all of you who guessed right, HI yes it is @Fyremancer here! To those of you who didn’t guess right… meh, s’alright, next time maybe.
Now that you’ve had a good and proper dose of my special crazy, we’ll move on to more important things. (What do you mean more important? Ain’t nothin’ better than my crazy! *offended look*)
To you fantastic writers out there, a single word to express just what I am thinking when I read through these amazing #200WT submissions- WOW.
How cool is it that something that was inside your head, traveled to your fingertips only to be printed across a blank page and shown to the entire world? No, it’s not creepy, it’s cool.
Let me just say how thrilled I am with these stories and how totally grand you all are! Half the time I’m reading through these stories, I’m just sitting there with my coffee and I’m thinking… (Sorry, the words trailed off because this writer’s mind exploded from overload of awesomeness.)
Anyway, I think you guys have properly consumed the remnants of my insanity so I’m free to end it here with my mission completed- mission being to infect you with my eccentricities. I’d say mission accomplished, right?
And so we move onward to the crazy awesome, mind blowing, selection of beautiful stories!
Happy Halloween, people, y’all are just- just the bees knees, man.
*shakes head slowly, wiping away tear*
A Call in the Dark pt 7 to 13
By Lord Stabdagger
He sat there frozen with fear; he didn’t have the strength to jump. The face was looking straight at him, the eyes still in the sockets, the lips stretched over the teeth. The body was half buried in ice and clearly the remains of a man. His clothing seamed to date from the great war; and as the light quickly faded he saw a rook sack by the bodies side.
In the sack that practically fell apart as he fumbled to open it, was a collection of useful items that could help him survive for a short while, including a old fashioned can opener and a bunch of flair sticks.
For two days he managed to hold out. Using parts of the crates to burn with a box of matches that miraculously still struck after all the years that had passed. He had food, warmth and a gruesome companion for company, but no medication to aid his frost bitten limbs. Of course he was delighted to be alive, but for how long he wondered. Without rescue, he’ll soon be joining his new friend.
For those two days he didn’t hear the woman calling, instead, another sound came that raised his spirits.
The storm had passed but the wind remained relentless in its ferocity, but just like the mysterious voice calling him to safety, the wind carried with it another delightfully familiar sound, that of an engine close by.
He grabbed one of the flair sticks he’d carefully been drying out by the fires he’d kept going, and carefully held the end into a flame. As the airplane grew louder he begged for the flair to still have a spark before it was too late.
He heard the plain fly overhead, willing the flair to light up. Finally, a spark, and the end erupted into life. He staggered to the ledge holding the flair up, his legs in agony and weak. He could hear the plain circling round as the wind picked up in strength, and just as the fire in his hand began to die he watched as the plain manoeuvred round to take a closer look.
He collapsed, exhausted and weary. This ordeal was finally over. As everything went black the sound of that engine rushing past overhead was the most glorious sound in creation. He thought of his wife, her sweet smile, hazel eyes; her childish giggle. The others didn’t make it, but he at least was going home.
His eyes ached as they tried to open. The first thing he became aware of was the sensation of lying on a warm soft bed. The relative silence enhanced the tinitus ringing constantly in his ears that felt like they were on fire. His body was stiff but eager with the need to move and stretch like waking from a deep sleep a thousand years long. His lower legs also felt like they were burning hot, then his hands and finally his nose. He could only breathe via his dry thirst stricken mouth, and from somewhere an echo of a woman’s voice was talking, gradually becoming clearer until he could hear her plainly. “I repeat, can Dr Forrester please report to the Dispensary immediately. Thank you.”
He realised he was in hospital with no recollection of how he got there. He fully expected to find himself stuck on the mountainside. A rush of excitement overwhelmed him and he fort hard to sit up. He took one look around the room, down upon himself, and lay back choked with shock and sorrow. As soon as he was able to take a breath he yelled, venting his anger and frustration into the air.
Half his legs were missing.
“Your extremely lucky to be alive,” said Doctor Conley. “You’ve been in and out of a coma for the past two months. You’ve lost four fingers and your nose to frost bite, and I’m sorry, but we had no choice but to amputate your legs from the knees. Your eyes are permanently damaged but you’ll manage, and we’ll need to keep an eye on you for long-term effects of oxygen depravation. Otherwise, your fighting fit.”
“Will I go blind?”
“There is the possibility.”
He held his sleeping baby daughter more snugly while observing every detail through the bandages around his face. “As for your face,” said Dr Conley, “I’ll put you in touch with a surgery who can help reconstruct your features.”
The Doctor left and his wife gave him a reassuring hug.
“I’m so sorry Karen,” he said with a whimper.
“Its ok. You’re here that’s all I need.”
“Did they find the others?”
“…No…but, I was talking to the man who lead the team to rescue you, they found some pretty amazing things on the mountain where you were.”
He looked up to her with teary eyes. “Like what?”
“Things from the second world war, and a whole host of old bodies”
“I need to know,” she said, “how did you survive?” He was silent as he found the courage to recall. “First,” he said, “we were one and a half days ahead of schedule and they wanted to continue to the summit. We would have broken the world record but the storm hit. I argued we should sit it out but Luke was adamant we push on… The avalanche came from nowhere. It was dark. I have no idea how but I found a hole in the rock and was sealed in… I was going to freeze to death, then,…”
“…A woman, calling to me.”
“I have no idea, but she kept calling and, I tried to find her. If I didn’t, I’d be dead.”
“Where was she?”
“All I had was her voice. She guided me to the cave that was recently buried under the ice. There was a body, and crates full of supplies.”
“Darren, the team who found you, also found a forgotten chapter of World War 2. It seams the nazi’s were thinking of building a base up there, as mad as it seams. Clearly the mission failed, but they did make an important discovery. A woman’s body of an X German spy.”
Darren could clearly remember that ghostly voice carried on the wind. Could it be her? Karen took some paper from her bag. “Her name was Gretta Von Howgsen. In 1940 she defected from the nazi party and joined the British war effort. She was on the mountain in 1941 to collect intelligence on what they were doing up there. To cut it short, she was captured then escaped when an avalanche wiped out the mission. She lost her supplies and died of exposure very close to where you were found.” She gave him a moment to take it all in. “With her body they found a diary. This is a translated transcript of her last two entries. Would you like to read them?”
“Read it for me. My eyes aren’t up to it yet.”
“October 30th 1941. I’ve managed to evade capture but I fear I may never make it back to the main land. It seams my fate is sealed. The bunker project was destroyed by the snowfall, but they may try once more. I have no means to deliver my intelligence to British HQ, so it must die with me. It seams the legend of this mountain is true, it is a monster that takes lives.”
Karen continued to read. “The bunker is a pivotal part of the Fuhrer’s nuclear project, the cavern providing perfect protection from the explosion. I can only hope and prey to the mighty lord that the allies put a stop to the plan.
If the lord is graceful may he send me rescue, or else may my knowledge be found and delivered in good time.”
“…She saved me.” He said, and Karen smiled as little Chelsea stirred and settled back to sleep. “According to the rescue team,” said Karen, “they think if she did make it back, we’d have won the war three years sooner.”
“Read the last entry,” he said.
“Death, it seams, can be cruel to those he is about to reap, and often takes the fancy to play games. I know there are no survivors from the bunker; such was the violence of the snowfall. I know there is little oxygen up here, yet clearly, as I would hear my own, a caller is somewhere close by.” Darren looked up as she continued to read.
“How can it be for a woman to be calling for me to follow her? My fate is sealed, but my imminent doom if I leave this rocky hole…”
By Lord Stabdagger
By Lady Stabdagger
He had been running for as long as he could remember. Just him and the open track. The repetitive sound of his footsteps hitting concrete mirrored the beat of his heart. Running was a part of who he was. Where he was running to or what he was running from he couldn’t remember, all he knew was that he wasn’t going to stop. He was afraid to stop; surely something bad happened if he did. He repeated his mantra in his head. Keep running … don’t stop … always move forward … never look back. He couldn’t remember where his mantra came from but he clung to it in his desperation to keep running. Following his track was the only thing he knew. It was like some form of life support for him; like him and the track were connected somehow. Lost in his thoughts he didn’t notice the obstacles that lay ahead in front of him. In one swift movement he tripped and fell to his knees; the wind had been knocked out of him. Fear struck him; he had stopped. Getting up he looked to see what he had fallen over. He shouldn’t have looked back. The reason why he was running became clear. Her saw that face; the one that would haunt him forever.
Author: Lady Stabdagger