Poison Ivy

Here is my first round story for the NYC Midnight Flash Fiction Challenge. We were divided into heats and given a genre, a place and an object. From that point, you have 48 hours to write 1,000 words or less. My prompts were crime caper, an auto parts store, and a pug.

Greg sat at the sales counter, doodling the same three letters - his hand so accustomed to the lines, curves and dips he didn’t even need to look.

Ivy Ivy Ivy

His mother had dubbed her “Poison Ivy”, insisting he had these feelings only because she was the lone female at work, Kunzelman’s Auto Parts.

“Choosing her is like being half dead from starvation and choosing the only rotten egg in a field of rocks. What other choice do you have?” his mother would rasp, laughing hoarsely; a cackle perfected by 25 years of smoking three packs of Pall Malls a day. The only sound more grating than her laugh was her overweight, yappy pug, Tater.

Greg wasn’t interested in his mother’s opinion, though. Her idea of a relationship was whatever guy happened to pass through the revolving door to her bedroom. He’d rather focus on Ivy - her long hair, a different color each week; her tattoos, a smorgasbord of butterflies, movie characters and Chinese symbols; her six months probation. Ivy was walking chaos and Greg was smitten with her mayhem. She was a stark contrast to his pale pudge, marked by too many freckles rather than colorful ink.

“Hey, Greg, whatcha got there,” Tim snorted as he entered the sales floor from the supply room, carrying a large box.

“Maybe I should ask you the same,” Greg retorted, although he already had a pretty good idea.

Ivy knew she had Greg wrapped around her finger and had used that knowledge to boost her eBay business - a business which consisted of sneaking out parts from the store and posting them online. After a close call with their manager the week before, Greg had told her he couldn’t risk it anymore, so she had turned her attention and affection to Tim.

While Greg was certain Ivy was only interested in a loser like Tim because he could supply her little side gig, it still pained him to hear his cell phone ding with her texts or see them talking in the break room.

The front door to the store opened and Greg looked up to see Ivy come in. She gave Tim a quick wink and held the door for him as he carried the box to her car.

“Hey, Ivy,” Greg nervously stammered. “I’ve missed your texts the last few days.”

Ivy rolled her eyes and she sighed, walking past him to the back room. Desperately trying to get back in her good graces, Greg jumped to his feet.

“There is a big delivery coming in tonight,” he exclaimed. “I think we could sneak up on it, really boost your business.”

She stopped in her tracks and slowly turned back toward her admirer, head tilted to the side with interest, signaling him to go on.

“I know the driver for this one. He is an older guy, bad knees. Jack is the only one who will be here to sign off on it, and he is so old and out of it, we could easily trap them inside or something, grab stuff and go.”

“Go where?” Tim asked, returning.

“Nothing! I wasn’t talking to you,” Greg snapped.

Ivy wasn’t as dismissive as Greg, though, and filled Tim in on Greg's idea. It was set. Before leaving work that day, Greg would disconnect the camera system. In six hours, the trio would park a few doors up and converge on Kunzelman’s, dressed head to toe in black, faces hidden by masks. They’d wait till Jack was signing for the goods, the delivery driver standing close by, and ambush the pair.

Unfortunately, when Greg pulled in at the designated time, he had an unexpected partner in the passenger seat.

“What the hell, Greg!” Ivy questioned, motioning towards the slobbering dog hanging out of the window. “Why’d you bring that mutt with you?”

“My mom had a guy over and he’s allergic. She wouldn’t let me take the car unless Tater could come too,” he explained, cheeks flushed.

Leaving the window partially down, the three crept in shadows to the dumpster next to the delivery dock, serenaded as they went by the wet yaps of Tater. After a few minutes, the canine clamor calmed; the silence as benign as a bomb before the blast. The truck arrived and they watched as it pulled up to the platform, several loads wheeled to the receiving gate.

Quietly, the three started towards the pair of men, Tim carrying the rope and Greg carrying rags to blindfold the two. Ivy motioned her smitten suitors to split up, one approaching from each side of the dock. As expected, it was not difficult to corral their coworker and the driver, putting them inside the truck.

Tim sprinted back to grab his car, while Ivy directed Greg on which boxes to set aside.

“Maybe you’re not a nobody, afterall,” Ivy gushed, flashing him a seductive smile.

Greg hardly had a second to savor her sentiment before it was interrupted by the sound that haunted his dreams - yapping Tater. The mangy mutt had squeezed through the window and was running towards Greg, announcing his freedom. Greg looked back at Ivy, fearing her reaction.

“Shut him up or I’ll turn him into tater tots,” she snarled, all affection gone.

Greg chased the dog in circles, trying to keep him from the road. Tim and Ivy loaded the goods into Tim’s car before climbing in. Greg stood in Kunzlman’s parking lot, Tater in his arms.

“Better luck next time, loser,” Tim chided.

“You’re such a sucker,” Ivy spat at Greg, leaning in to Tim and kissing him deeply, clearly not their first.

Greg walked the short trip back to the car, feeling defeated. As he opened the door, a blue light caught his attention; a shining beacon in his darkness.

He picked up the receiver of the pay phone, dialing 911, a devilish grin spreading across his face.

“Hello, police. I’d like to report a robbery.”

Tender Meat

Here is my second round story for the NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge. We were divided into heats and given a genre, a character and an object. From that point, you have 3 days to write 2,000 words or less. My prompts were fairy tale, a warden, and a due date.

Catherine, Cat to her friends, looked at her reflection in the mirror, marveling at the body she hardly recognized. Her normally flat stomach protruded, a basketball beneath spandex. The full breasts filling her swimsuit looked nothing like the small mounds that they were a mere nine months ago.

“I love you, baby girl, but I can’t wait till I can see my toes again,” she said to her belly, rubbing it gently. Her husband laughed at her insistence that the baby was, in fact a girl. But, Cat had her ways of knowing.

Cat grabbed her phone and sent her husband a text as she headed to the backyard.

Going for a swim. Love u!

As soon as she stepped outside, the oppressive heat and humidity that defines summers in Louisiana enveloped her. Cat’s grandma, a woman full of old-world charm, used to say that the air was so thick in Chalmette, it could be served up on a slice of bread with some raspberry jam. At the thought of jam, her stomach rumbled. It seemed that she was always hungry these days.

“First a swim,” she said aloud.

Walking to the deep end of the pool, she jumped in, toes pointed and nose held. There was something magical in the weightlessness of her pregnant body in the water that amazed her. Cat crossed the pool to the stairs and sat, her belly distorted by the water line. As she relaxed, a shimmer from the other end of the pool caught her eye.

“What in the world?” Cat said, crossing towards the large glimmer.

She took a deep breath and slipped below to retrieve whatever had made its way to the pool floor. Unable to reach the bottom, she turned upwards, resigned, but found herself unable to distinguish up from down. There was an odd light shining from all directions.

Cat kicked frantically, desperately refusing the urge to inhale. Darkness began to creep in from her peripheral as she flirted with unconsciousness. Cat broke the surface and gasped. Looking around, she saw this was not her backyard, nor her pool. She had gone into the water at home, and now found herself somewhere unknown. She made her way to the shoreline of the large lake from which she’d somehow emerged.

Exiting the water, her hand instinctively shot to her belly. Sensing its mother’s panic, the baby shifted within her. Cat exhaled, her greatest fear put to rest, and looked around. Nothing around her was the least bit familiar.

Cat ran recklessly into the woods behind her. Panic numbed the pain as branches bit into her bare arms and legs. As she reached to deflect an annoyingly persistent jagger bush, she touched rough fingers. Frozen by fear, she quit resisting, temporarily resigned to the unknown captor. The haze of denial faded as Cat gawked at the hand that held her. It was large, grey and covered in wiry white hair. Cat looked from hand to face. A massive creature stood before her. If it weren’t for the pain she felt from her bleeding scratches, she’d have been certain this was a dream. Pus oozed from boils all over the mammoth, disgusting troll that held her.

“Eck will be so happy,” he growled, grabbing up Cat and throwing her over his shoulder.

Cat punched the troll as he carried her into the woods, but her blows went unnoticed. They came to a small, windowless stone structure. Before he could knock, another troll emerged, even larger than the first. Her captor set her on the ground and the new troll circled her, examining her closely. Cat felt naked, wearing just her bathing suit. He reached out his enormous, hairy hand and set it on her pregnant belly.

“Good work, Crone,” the troll grunted. “I’ll see to it that you get a double share of the panacea when its time.”

“Thank you, Eck,” Crone proudly replied, smiling broadly.

“When are you due?” Eck questioned her.

Cat stood silent. Crone struck the back of her legs, sending her to her knees.

“I will ask nicely one more time,” Eck pushed. “If you would like to make this difficult for me, I am more than happy to do the same for you.”

“Three weeks,” Cat mumbled.

If he was pleased or angered by this response, he gave no indication. Eck grabbed her arm and pulled her into the building. He opened a large steel gate and pushed her into a cell, slamming it shut. The cell had two stone slabs with blankets and a hole in one corner. A small mound began to stir on the far bed. Cat scrambled to the corner, ready to defend. To her surprised relief, a very pregnant gnome stood in front of her. The woman was short, with a long braid of red hair running down her back.

“Come sit down,” the gnome said to Cat. “My name is Kai. We don’t see many of your kind around here.”

“Where is here? Where am I and who are they?” Cat urged.

Kai told Cat that they were imprisoned by the trolls that terrorized the many creatures of Enderland. She had been captured two months ago while collecting berries. The trolls of Enderland survive on the tender meat of other creatures’ newborns, and make an elixir, known as panacea, from the baby’s blood and mother’s placenta. This gave the trolls everlasting life. Eck was their leader, overseeing the prison and preparing the feasts.

“I’ve seen several others come and go,” Kai explained, becoming upset. “I kept hoping I’d escape, but it is impossible. I’m due any day now. My poor baby will never have a chance. My husband will never see his child’s face.”

Cat put her arm around Kai’s tiny shoulders. Eck appeared, surprisingly quiet for a creature his size. He passed a tray into their cell. A piece of bread and mystery meat filled the two plates.

“Eat,” he ordered, walking away.

Kai ate without hesitation; a great relief to Cat, who was famished. Perhaps if she had listened to her stomach earlier and gone inside to eat a jam sandwich, she would not be in her current predicament. Although a part of Cat wanted to refuse the food, she knew for the baby’s sake and her own strength, she needed the nourishment.

As Cat bit into the meat, she saw Kai grab at her belly, a panic-stricken look crossing her face.

“No, Kai!” Cat commanded. “You cannot have that baby yet. I need more time to get us out of here.”

Cat finished her food, watching Kai closely. There had been no more contractions and it seemed as though she might get the time she needed to work this out. She gathered their plates and put them back on the tray. Cat set down the tray just beyond where Eck originally left it then helped Kai to the bed. Her plan would best work if Eck did not realize the gnome would soon give birth.

Once Kai was settled, Cat sat herself in between the tray and the door and began wailing loudly. Eck, hearing the racket, came towards his prisoner.

“Enough!” he barked. “I’ll give you something to cry about if you don’t shut up. Now give that tray here.”

Eck reached his hand into the cell towards the tray. As Cat reached with her right hand to push the dirty dishes towards him, her left hand shot out, plucking a single wiry hair from the troll’s gargantuan hand.

A great roar emerged from the angered troll. The sound terrified Cat, who jumped, dropping the hair. Eck entered the cell and grabbed Cat by the neck, pinning her against the wall. Just then, Kai screamed out as a contraction gripped her, unable to keep the labor pains secret.

The beast dropped Cat, no longer interested in revenge. She fell hard on the dirt floor. Eck sauntered over to the bed, an evil, eerie grin spreading across his already terrifying face. With his back turned, Cat scrambled to the fallen hair and held it tightly in her clenched fist.

“It seems I have some things to get in order,” Eck laughed as he stood over the frightened gnome. “It will soon be time to dine.”

Eck left them, the tray and his anger temporarily forgotten. Knowing there was no time to lose, Cat grabbed a spoon off the tray. In the dirt, she drew a rough sketch of Eck. She laid the hair in the center of the drawing and then traced a large circle around it.

“You see, Kai,” Cat explained. “Where I come from there is another kind of magic, voodoo magic. I am a descendant of the great Marie Catherine Laveau, the true voodoo queen.”

Turning her attention to the drawing, Cat began to chant softly. Her eyes rolled up in her head as she called for the energy of her lineage to be upon her.

“May the power of all my grandmothers be with me now. Let us use the gift granted to us by Bondye to strike down those who mean us harm. Throw the soul of my enemy into the deepest bowels of Hell.”

As Cat exclaimed this, she raised the spoon high in the air, slamming it down, piercing the heart of the drawing and driving the troll’s hair into the dirt. Eck, who was outside the cell, fell immediately to the ground as the spoon buried deep into the rough floor. Using the tray, Cat pulled in the keys that had fallen from Eck’s motionless hand.

“Is he dead?” Kai asked.

“I’d rather not wait around to find out,” Cat said, opening the cell door.

The pair cautiously crept out. Opening the door, Cat glanced around, checking for Crone or any others. To her relief, they were alone. The women took each other’s hand and darted into the woods, protected by the cover of a moonless night. As they crossed into the trees, Kai picked up a squirrel, whispering a message in its ear before it ran off.

“I can’t stay here. I still haven’t figured out how I got here in the first place,” Cat told Kai. “I was swimming at home and found myself in a lake.”

“Then we have to get you back to the lake,” Kai told her. “The portal will move when the sun rises in the morning.”

Kai led the way, Cat following closely behind. Twice they stopped when Kai was overcome by labor pains, but both women knew that they could not stay in one spot for long. Finally, they reached the rocky shoreline. Fifty yards out, a light could be seen on the surface of the water. It was as if the moon, absent in the night’s sky, had been placed in the water and was shining from below.

“What about you?” Cat asked Kai. “I can’t leave you here like this.”

As if on cue, several gnomes stepped out from the tree line, spears in hand.

“I’ll be ok. Now go,” Kai reassured her.

The two women hugged and Cat slipped into the still water. She kicked toward the light. When she felt the familiar feeling of indistinguishable direction, she let the water carry her to the surface rather than resist as she had before. She was relieved to find herself in her own backyard when she broke through to the night.

Cat exited the pool, rubbing her belly, in relieved disbelief that she was actually home. Her baby stirred inside of her.

“I think Kai is the perfect name for you, my little voodoo princess,” Cat said. “You will be my greatest adventure.”

Inside the house, Cat opened the fridge and pulled out the raspberry jam and a loaf of whole wheat bread. Time for that sandwich.

The Raven's Measure

Here is my first round story for the NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge. We were divided into heats and given a genre, a character and an object. From that point, you have 8 days to write 2,500 words or less. My prompts were suspense, a motorcyclist, and fragile.

He doused the remnants of their fire and scanned the horizon in all directions. From the northwest he observed a small, red glow. He guessed it was another group of travelers, likely the three women they had driven past earlier that evening. To the far south, a bloom of red blazed on the dark horizon. A house? A church? He made a mental note to avoid the area tomorrow, even if it added to the already long journey. Such destruction was usually accompanied by trouble.

He took the head and heart of the rabbit that they had roasted for dinner and walked a hundred yards from the now smoldering fire. Placing it gingerly on a rock, he knelt down and prayed.

“I accept this fragile world which has been left to the few. May He who keeps us safe accept this offering to His loyal feathered servants. I give up to You the Raven’s Measure.”

Before he had walked ten paces, the birds descended and began to feast.

“Abe,” he heard Becca call, her voice urgent and weak.

He quickened his pace to where he had prepared their sleep sacks, hidden by what was the front corner of a house once ago in simpler times. It not only concealed them from any passerby, but it also protected them from the night wind.

He bent down and took Becca’s frail hand, which was sweaty despite the chill.

“I’m having contractions. It’s too early,” she groaned.

“It is fine,” he comforted her. “A lot of women think it is time when they still have a while to go. Just squeeze my hand when the next one comes.”

He pulled his sack closer to hers, hoping he wasn’t fooling himself. By his calculations they had another few weeks to get to where her people were before the baby came and a proper sacrifice could be found. She clamped down and moaned. He counted. Another squeeze 1,354 seconds later. He figured that to be just over 20 minutes. He counted to 1,822 and she clutched tightly for the last time before fading off to sleep.

***

He was walking along a small, tree-lined road. There were so many leaves that the brightness of it almost burned his eyes. He was so accustomed to the green of rot that he’d forgotten the shade of life. As he approached the largest of the trees, he could see something nailed to the trunk.

A black, feathered fowl, the nail through its chest, hung for all to see. Scrawled in blood below it read, “Another raven dead.”

From overhead, Abe heard the deep, throaty “kraa” of the feathered servant descending upon its prey. His sacrifices weren’t enough. The fragile balance had been broken. His time had come.

Abe startled awake.

Dawn’s first hint of light was beginning to invade the hazy darkness. The thick smell of smoke and death, two scents indistinguishable from one another, was always strongest upon waking. It was as if every day began with a reminder of the hell that their world had become.

He walked to the case attached to his motorcycle and grabbed water. He drank a little and ate just enough jerky. Rationing was intuitive. He gathered up his sleep sack and created a small nest in the sidecar. It was the only protection that he could offer Becca’s delicate, pregnant body as they traveled the unpredictable roads.

Nudging Becca awake, Abe brushed her thick, black hair from her forehead and checked for fever. Her clamminess from the night before had departed and he sighed, relieved. He handed her the water and double the jerky that he had eaten himself.

Becca ate slowly, savoring the food and watching Abe closely as he cleaned up the camp site. She had heard him again last night, yelling and screeching in his sleep. She was growing ever more leery of his sanity. It wasn’t so scary initially when he obsessively watched the birds that circled; not even too alarming when he started talking about them incessantly. When he began to pray and offer them sacrifices, though, Becca knew the strong, cunning mind that had kept them both alive had deteriorated to a much more vulnerable state.

The pair had become a living metaphor of the dying world around them; fragile and desperate.

“We need to get going. There may be trouble south of here and we’ll need to avoid it,” Abe told her, securing their supplies.

Becca climbed in the sidecar and Abe started the reluctant bike. Becca couldn’t be certain, but he appeared to nod to a raven perched on a dead tree a few yards away before pulling the motorcycle onto the road.

They drove for hours, passing two small communities. Becca had long ago given up asking Abe to stop and talk to other people. He seemed fine with the isolation. Hour after hour, day after day, on the bike, not even small talk between the two of them. She no longer missed coffee dates with her girlfriends - a luxury that was hard to believe had ever existed. What she wouldn’t give, though, to ask another woman questions about pregnancy or nursing. As soon as they made it to her family homestead, a stronghold which she was certain still stood, she would have everything she needed. The baby kicked hard inside of her enormous stomach, reminding her that advice or none, motherhood was close.

As the sun began to set, Abe pulled the motorcycle and sidecar up to a trading post, the first that they had seen in almost a week.

“You can get out and stretch, but stay close,” Abe ordered as he was collecting a couple of their small furs and some jerky with which to barter.

Gasoline was hard to come by and Becca hoped that he would be able to fill the tank with what little they had to offer. A small dog approached Becca cautiously as she leaned against a tree, watching the evening colors careen across the sky. She extended her hand and the brown and white mutt sniffed. As she was about to pet the dog, her stomach tightened and she yelped in surprise and pain.

Startled, the dog ran off.

“Damnit,” Abe yelled. “Why didn’t you grab him? You know we need something to offer as the Raven’s Measure when the baby comes.”

Becca, bent over in pain, looked up at Abe, anger and disgust burning in her hazel eyes. As the contraction released its grip, she lowered herself to the ground.

“I am sick of hearing about your precious ravens! They are nothing but lowlife scavengers,” Becca exclaimed. “You have lost your mind if you believe otherwise.”

Abe walked back to the bike and filled the tank with the gas that he had been able to haggle from the traders. He knew that he should be worried about the grunts and groans she was making, but he was too focused on her words. Didn’t she know that without the proper sacrifice it was all for naught? They were all three damned - him, her and the baby. The balance must not be broken.

He had walked this tightrope, negotiated their survival in a realm of ruins, for what seemed like ages, even if it were a mere several months. It wasn’t by mistake that they had made it as far as they had. If that were to continue to be the case in this ever-fragile world that was left, no misstep could be taken. Every decaying body they passed on their journey could have easily been them. They would be a grand feast for the ebony servants that circled the skies. Abe couldn’t understand why Becca didn’t see this.

Returning to the tree, Abe offered his hand and pulled Becca up from the ground. They walked back to the bike and he helped her get situated as comfortably as possible for a woman in her condition. Reaching into his bag, Abe drew out an apple, green with some spots of red and a few that had started brown. Becca drew in her breath. It was the first piece of fruit she had seen in two months.

“We will share it,” she told him, feeling guilty for her earlier outburst.

Abe shook his head. “No,” he said. “You need it. You and that baby.”

Becca bit into the fruit, its smooth skin against the roof of her dry mouth, and began to giggle. Although slightly bitter and mushy, Becca thought it must be the most delicious apple she had ever eaten. She turned towards Abe and extended the apple to him, trying again to share, but he simply shook his head and started the bike.

When she was done eating it, she threw the core behind her. A raven dined.

***

Becca stood alone in the middle of a long, dark tunnel.

She could see a dim light on either end. She heard a child - no, children - laughing and playing. It echoed so loudly that she was uncertain from which direction it came.

The laughter was interrupted by a flutter of wings.

“KRAAAAA!”

The children began to scream.

Becca wanted to run to them, but she was torn on which way to go. She had to save the children. How could she save the children?

A bolt of pain pulsed through her, pulling Becca from her sleep. She tried to sit up, but the pain kept her pinned down. She felt something wet running along her thighs. There was no more denying it. She was having this baby.

Turning to wake Abe, Becca discovered his spot empty. Gingerly pulling herself up, she began to walk into the darkness, listening for him. She spotted a small fire and headed toward it.

“Abe!” she called softly.

Just as another wave of pain overtook her, Becca saw him, arms spread to either side, a conspiracy of ravens on all sides. She gasped, partially in pain but mostly in shock at the sight. Abe turned in time to see her crumble to the ground.

The birds took flight.

Abe lifted her, slipping his arms under hers and gently dragged her closer to the fire. He ran back to where they had made camp and grabbed both sleep sacks. After getting her set up on the bags, he ran once again to the parked motorcycle and grabbed the limited supplies that they had.

When he got back to the fire, Becca was responsive, although he wondered how aware she was. He poured small sips of water into her mouth and murmured words of comfort as best he knew how. Although Abe was a caring man, expressing it was never his strong suit. Especially now. His whole focus was mere survival, on maintaining the balance.

Time passed slowly. Becca slipped in and out of consciousness. As the night dragged on, dehydration, hunger and pain held her awareness at bay. Abe kept lifting the blanket and checking between her legs, although other than a baby’s head, he didn’t know what to look for. Occasionally Becca would scream out in pain. Abe worried that these fits would attract unwanted attention, but it seemed as though no other people were around.

Abe stared out into the darkness, convinced that the ravens were there watching, waiting. He had tried to bond with them earlier, to prove to them he knew their power, that he understood the fragile balance of the new order. After dinner he had left his offering, the remnants of a squirrel. He feared the Raven’s Measure hadn’t been enough. Every day it became harder to find them proper reparations.

Now the baby was coming, and he had no offering. Surely this new life required payment, otherwise they were all three doomed to die. He weighed the options. He could offer up Becca in exchange for the baby. The baby would die, though, without its mother for food. He could offer himself, but Becca couldn’t drive the bike, and they wouldn’t have any way to finish the journey. He could offer the baby itself. But how could society ever rebuild if new life was not given a chance?

Becca screamed and Abe pulled the blanket down to check. The baby’s head had almost fully emerged. He grabbed a towel and gathered up the baby girl, wrapping her securely. He tied off the cord and laid her on Becca’s chest. Becca looked at her baby girl and smiled before slipping out of consciousness.

From behind him, Abe believed he heard the sound of dozens of ravens’ claws moving across the hard ground. Decisions needed to be made as the sun was beginning to rise.

“Ahhhhh,” Becca called out, her eyes flitting open momentarily, her body twisting in pain.

“Hush now,” Abe told her. “You did real good. That is a fine looking little girl. Just rest.”

Abe grabbed the wet rag laying nearby and reached down to clean Becca up, only to quit cold. Another small head was blooming from the womb. He removed his shirt and wrapped up the baby. A perfect little boy.

Becca didn’t stir as Abe cleaned up the site and loaded the bike. They had been on the road for close to an hour before she awoke, panicked.

“The baby! Is the baby ok?”

Abe motioned to her lap. “Your little girl is perfect. Everything is just fine.”

Becca brought the baby to her breast and began to nurse.

“Her name is Eve,” Becca said, smiling.

Far away, the Raven’s Measure had been paid.

The fragile balance was restored.

A baby boy wailed.

Birds feasted.