Krys A Night
Writer
- Reaction score
- 26
I turn my face away from the from the window, going from looking at a dingy street to a dinger apartment. The slight multicolored neon lights of the bar across the street comes through my window, washing the letter sitting on my table in a blood red light, fitting for what it is. I knew that something was wrong when I got the letter, so few people use the old fashioned way of sending letters.
They finally found me, after years of running, years of hiding as I made my way through my life. They would make sure that I wouldn't be able to run, as they would have people watching my apartment for blatant signs of power. They don't know what I know though, and they don't know that I promised myself long ago that I would never go back to the family, not if my life depended on it.
I pull the shade on my widow, going into my bedroom, throwing things almost haphazardly into a duffel bag. As long as I breathe, I refuse to go back to them. I guess now that they've come out of hiding, declared war, and won they have time to track down the errant soldiers.
I pick up the letter, reading through its contents one more time:
Dearest Bast,
You have ben running for much too long. Come home to us where you know you belong, you cannot run from who you are. You know the longer that you remain amongst the humans, the more of a chance that they have to burn you at the stake like they did so long ago.
Think on it.
Sincerely,
Hera
I could read between the lines there, she was looking weak because of the one aspect of her kingdom that she couldn't control, the rebels who tried to refuse who they were. Not just to seem normal, but because they could see through the lies that made the family, the family.
A touch of power sent the paper up in smoke. I spun on my boot heel, reaching out and tugging the shadows around me like a familar cape. I was blocks away before they realized that I was gone, and they had no trail to follow.
_________
Comments and critiques are welcome.
They finally found me, after years of running, years of hiding as I made my way through my life. They would make sure that I wouldn't be able to run, as they would have people watching my apartment for blatant signs of power. They don't know what I know though, and they don't know that I promised myself long ago that I would never go back to the family, not if my life depended on it.
I pull the shade on my widow, going into my bedroom, throwing things almost haphazardly into a duffel bag. As long as I breathe, I refuse to go back to them. I guess now that they've come out of hiding, declared war, and won they have time to track down the errant soldiers.
I pick up the letter, reading through its contents one more time:
Dearest Bast,
You have ben running for much too long. Come home to us where you know you belong, you cannot run from who you are. You know the longer that you remain amongst the humans, the more of a chance that they have to burn you at the stake like they did so long ago.
Think on it.
Sincerely,
Hera
I could read between the lines there, she was looking weak because of the one aspect of her kingdom that she couldn't control, the rebels who tried to refuse who they were. Not just to seem normal, but because they could see through the lies that made the family, the family.
A touch of power sent the paper up in smoke. I spun on my boot heel, reaching out and tugging the shadows around me like a familar cape. I was blocks away before they realized that I was gone, and they had no trail to follow.
_________
Comments and critiques are welcome.