100 Word Anonymous Writing Challenge #11 (February '15)

[Zoe Mackay]

**PLEASE DO NOT POST STORIES DIRECTLY TO THIS THREAD**​

100-Word Anonymous Writing Challenge for December 2015.​

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The Writing

Theme: Lost
Genre: Urban Fantasy
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**PLEASE DO NOT POST STORIES DIRECTLY TO THIS THREAD**​

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Please PM (Private Message) all entries to @Robert Mackay who will then post the entries into this thread. Entries can be sent from now to February 17th 23:59:59 GMT.

Once the challenge thread closes, a voting poll will be created where you can vote for your ONE favorite entry.

There will also be a guessing portion where you can try to match the Anonymous stories with their creators!

We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of dreams.

 

[Zoe Mackay]

Oops!​

I appear out of shadow, three feet from the dumpster I’d leaned on while catching my breath. I search quickly: I’m left only with aged mustard on my fingers, and something I hope is chili on my robe. Disgusted, I step back into the shadow.

I step out into an alley. This is where I almost caught the wood sprite. Ten feet away is the pile of refuse I’d slipped in. Smiling, I lean down and pick up the stick, now smudged with a green slime.

I clean it off and return my Wand of Power back into my robe.

 

[Zoe Mackay]

Lost & Found

Limbo. A state of being between the living and the afterlife. They used to think it was a place.

I found her up in Queens, by the east river, not far from where she died.

I cradle the leather bound tome. I know the ritual intimately but I bring it anyway. A mental crutch. Maybe this time I'll perform it.

She reaches out for me. Her touch is ice cold, deathly. I savor it anyway.

“Mommy, I don't like it here. I want to go,” she says.

I can't do it.

I found her.

But I'm the one who's lost.

 

[Zoe Mackay]

The Missing Link

She'd walked miles of dim streets, hadn't bothered to wipe the last tears away. Out of the darkness, a couple approached.

Tidying herself briefly, she began, "Thank goodness I found you! I'm..."

"Lost? Get used to it," the man snapped, "We've been here days. So you think you came out at the wrong teleport terminal?"

"Yeah, the streets seem sorta mixed up."

"They are." They started walking past her.

"Please, don't go! I need to get to Holborn."

"Good luck with that. There’s no food, and don't bother trying to make a map. Sorry, we really can't help you!"

 

[Zoe Mackay]

Chicago where?

These damned streets are all corners and bends; can’t get a feel for the land with such tall buildings and strange lights choking the horizon. My Answer-All orb says I’m in Chicago. This information does me no good.

My nostrils tingle. The land might’ve changed, but its darkest inhabitants have not: Skreelings. So much for starting over. What does a recently woken 6000-year-old mage have to do to catch a break?

Three fireballs and a concussive shock later, my enemies are no more. Where to now?

I should’ve asked the Skreelings for directions.

 

[Zoe Mackay]

Buy Back Offer.

“How dare you summon me.”

“I want my soul back.”

“You made a binding deal. You get this city, I get my payment.”

“I’m renegotiating.”

“You know who you’re talking to, right?”

I smiled.

The devil clicked his fingers. He remained where he was. Lucifer tried again. His face contorted with rage.

“I know who you are, alright. You’re the Prince of Darkness. And you’re not going anywhere until I release you.”

He finally noticed the pentagram he stood on. Another on the ceiling above. He glared at me, his eyes ablaze.

“Now, your majesty, let’s make a new deal.”

 

[Zoe Mackay]

Finder's Fee

The missing girl was the only child of wealthy parents, her boyfriend a registered lycanthrope, controlled by silver injections. The cops couldn’t hold him, so the family had me tail him.

I followed him into a church without crosses, where the Cursed could worship. No wonder Mom and Dad hadn't located her. They were Normals, and wouldn’t be found dead here, pardon the expression. I found the girl in a tiny room in the back. She had eloped with the boy. I made her promise to contact her folks and went to collect my usual fee. One pint, Type A.

 

[Zoe Mackay]

Draco Valkyrie

Coop shook, he breathed out and wiped the slick off his skin. The Wolfs lair, set deep into the mountain looked like a sleeping giant waiting to swallow him.

Inside he placed his briefcase close to the Fuhrer, a microphone on his cuff picked up plans of dragons and Stalingrad.

Minutes ticked, sweat trickled. He flicked the switch.

Coop was punched backwards. Tears stung his eyes as air escaped his lungs, darkness crept into his eyes.

He coughed himself awake, his vision dizzy and drunk.

"How…? This can't be."

Their skin slithered into scales. The war was lost.

 

[Zoe Mackay]

Lessons

Ruth is sitting on the floor bawling her big eyes out, and I can’t help but smile at her plight.

“My wand is lost!” she rubs at her alligator tears, one of her cartoons playing in the background.

“What happened?” I ask.

I can see her trying to come up with some reasonable explanation that didn’t involve her breaking the rules. I can’t help but be proud…

“A firework…” she says sheepishly.

I fold my arms, assuming my motherly responsibilities, “Ruuuth… you know it’ll hide every time you spell above your means! Good luck finding it… last time took days…”

 

[Zoe Mackay]

Hollywood Walls

Anna pouted in her red silk robe.

"What is behind Hollywood walls?"

The Director smiled.

"Why, nothing. It's all props."

"I mean the walls in dressing rooms, producers' offices, extravagant Hollywood homes."

"You listen too much to rumors."

She stood up.

"As you say, the show must go on."

In her room, Anna pounded on the walls.

"Are you in there?"

A faint scratching.

"Oh!"

She beat on the wall with a hand mirror until the mirror broke and the wall split open.

Her lost undead fans poured out, swarming her body. Her screams of joy were instantly stifled.

 

[Zoe Mackay]

Reality Shift

Hair plastered to her face in the unforgiving storm. Her heart pounded as she ran down the cobblestone street. The reality-shifter was closing in on her, but she wouldn’t let it catch her this time. What’s done was done, and there was no bringing her boy back. Not even if it felt real.

She turned the corner, seeing her sister down the alley reaching to pull her over the fence.

Footprints behind her. Closer. A touch on the back.

*

‘Mommy, why are you crying?’

Her hand touched his face. ‘Because none of this is real.’

 

[Zoe Mackay]

As Above, Below

It’s dark on waking. Sticky grey sludge covers my nakedness. It’s shivery chilly. Above, I hear the Underground’s faint rattle and squeal; closer is the gentle lap of a tide.

A river.

I sit up, considering my whereabouts. Is this still London? A smudge of light approaches – a lantern hanging from a little boat. Its ferryman, a tall, headscarfed figure, extends a hand.

“Who are you?” I ask, blinking.

“I’m the search party.” He wraps me in his scarf, pleasantly warming, and hauls me aboard.

“Where am I?”

“Home, my liege. In time for the War with the Above.”

 

[Zoe Mackay]

Angel Eyes

My wife woke at 3, her eyes shining gold: pure gold.

I tried to stop her, but when I touched her, my skin sizzled. I followed her out of the house. Whenever I asked where she was going, she said "The Angels."

On the second day, I realised we were in London: I could see the Millennium Eye, glowing in a hard to explain colour. There were dozens with golden eyes, like my wife. The Millennium Eye imploded, and they were sucked in.

There's a flat piece of land there now. The Millennium Eye's missing, and so is my wife.

 

[Zoe Mackay]

Interview under caution:

I peered over my deflated airbag and crumpled bonnet at the city wall which had materialised in the road. Stonework curved away as far as I could see, punctuated by magnificent gates. Men wearing tarnished breastplates emerged, shouting.

Odd, I thought dazedly, my acid flashbacks usually involve Big Bird.

I opened the window: “Are you from Sesame Street?”

They rushed away, and returned with an old lady wearing priestly robes: “City … cursed. Wanders… universe. Please…. Map?”

I gave her my GPS and demonstrated. They took it inside… then… they all vanished.

No, I’m not drunk officer. Not yet.

 

[Zoe Mackay]

Give Up The Day Job

It's past midnight. We're watching him waiting in the dark alley opposite for the next poor sucker who needs a fix.

We cross the street and enter his 'office'.

“Vigilantes? I've dealt with worse. Get lost.”

I move to guard the entrance while Dana shows him just how lost someone can get.

It's a perk of the job for Dana. She loves delivering her own, very personal, brand of justice. No-one escapes once she, literally, gets her teeth into them.

Working at night was always his preferred option. Wait till he finds out it's become obligatory.

 

[Zoe Mackay]

Decisions

Damn. My shoe.

It clattered against the roof tiles and dropped at a little girl’s feet.

“Look, Mummy. An angel,” she said.

No. Not an angel. A thief. I scrambled along the roof valley, out of sight.

An angel hovered, blocking my path. “Ready to change?” she said. “Or are you aiming for hell?”

Startled, I took a step back, losing my footing. Hanging onto the guttering I dangled in the air.

“There’s another one,” the little girl said. “But it hasn’t grown any wings yet.”

“Heaven!” I squeaked. “What do I have to do? And make it quick!”