“Meet us at the spot where we made our pact…”

Prompt: You receive a phone call from your two best friends. “Hey, we’ve done something terribly wrong and need your help. We can’t talk about it over the phone. Please meet us at the spot where we made our pact back in high school. You know the place.” Nervously, you grab your coat and car keys.

“What in the world are they up to now?” I wondered as I sped down the empty highway, hoping there were no cops around to give me a ticket. Of course Helen and Jackie have always been extremely dramatic. The last time they called like this they’d skipped out on a restaurant bill and were acting like they’d robbed a bank. At least I knew they weren’t in jail. There’s always a next time. I grinned at my own dark humor; it always came out when I stayed up past two.
It only took ten minutes to get to the beach. It was just as dark and deserted as it was that night in high school when we made our pact to stick together no matter what, all for one and one for all. I couldn’t believe we thought that sneaking out after curfew to go to the beach to eat donuts and quote Dumas was incredibly rebellious. If anyone ever asked me how I knew that neither Helen nor Jackie would ever end up in jail I’d tell them about that night and that would be all I’d need to say. Of course this would explain why shoplifting a stick of gum from the gas station still seemed extreme and egging a car was just earth-shattering. It was a police commissioner’s car, but still.
My feet sank into the sand and I realized that we were more one for all than all for one, seeing as how I was always the one driving out to meet them and convince them that they were not as badass as they thought they were. Maybe I should do something outrageous, like get a tattoo. Something classy and in white, so it wouldn’t stand out too much.
I finally saw two figures huddled in the shadow of the trees at the far edge of the beach. Something was wrong, they were too quiet. I walked faster and by the time I got to them I was almost running and out of breath.
“What’s…. wrong…?” I gasped collapsing next to them. They were both staring at me with real fear on their faces and suddenly I was terrified to hear what they’d done this time.
“Liz… we’ve…” Helen choked and started crying.
“It happened so fast. We were driving down one of those side streets that go by the park and… We didn’t see him…” Jackie was shivering and her eyes wandered wildly.
“Didn’t see who? What happened?” My mouth was so dry I could barely get the words out.
“Liz. He’s dead. We killed a man.”

"Behind her the noise escalated…"

Behind her the noise escalated but Raye didn’t move. She waited for Elementa to catch up. Her sister was slow in her magnificent power and without equal. Well, almost.
A thousand years they’ve been at it, Raye always a few steps ahead, slowing down every once in a while to keep the relentless pursuit interesting. It was almost like when they were children and the game of catch got a little too serious. Now it was very serious and Raye promised herself she’d stop the chase time and time again as she watched the earthquakes split the ground at her feet or as her dress got soaked with tsunami spray. She could have kept it up for another thousand years but she was tired of her sister wanting to kill her.
Raye listened to Elementa advance, ripping the age-old oaks out of the ground with her second favorite – tornadoes. Raye waited for them, her moonlight hair whipping in the wind, her feet itching to flee with the last beams of the fading sun. She didn’t move as she waited.
The sudden quiet was almost deafening after the roar of the wind and Raye squared her shoulders in anticipation of her sister’s arrival. She turned slowly, ready for her fury.
“Hello, traitor,” Elementa called out, her voice low and hoarse.
“Hello, Elie.”
Raye had no plan: trying to predict Elementa was a thankless task even when you generally knew what was coming. She just watched her sister, trying to see the tell-tale signs of deadly force before it was too late.
“So, did you slow down to apologize or to taunt me some more, so I would be good and mad?”
As if she wasn’t good and mad already.
“I’m not here to argue. I’m not your enemie, Elie, even if you think that I am.”
“Then what are you waiting here for?”
Elementa’s already flushed cheeks became even redder and her usually copper mane looked like fresh lava rolling down a slope.
“I was hoping we could talk, clear things up. We’re sisters, Elie, we can’t keep doing this. Besides, you know as well as I do that nobody can actually win.”
Elementa glared at Raye without responding. Reason didn’t work and Raye could swear her feet tried to move on their own, to cary their mistress far away from danger.
“Come on! What do you want me to say?” Raye exclaimed.
“An apology would be a good start.”
“Elie, you know I didn’t mean for things to go like they did,” Raye almost pleaded. “I didn’t know it was serious with Michael…”
” Serious?” Elementa’s hair flared up and she stepped closer to Raye, her hands in tight fists. Behind her the twin tornadoes that seemed to have been dying down roared again and started to wheel toward the two women.
“Serious?! He was the one! Do you have any idea how hard it is for a woman like me to find someone who can handle… well, me?!”
She was now so close that Raye could smell the burning rock on her breath, as if her mouth was the mouth of a volcano.
“And you just flit around , happy little Raye, skipping from beam to beam, a smile here, a laugh there and bam! he can’t take his eyes off you, all safe and happy. It’s all a game to you, isn’t it?”
Raye could hear the pain underneath the rage and for the first time ever really understood what her sister was telling her. For the first time she could see beyond the flaming red hair and the bad temper. She couldn’t believe how blind she’d been. Her sister’s scream brought her back to the roar of the tornadoes.
“And now you have the gall to act all innocent and remind me that we’re sisters! You think I don’t know that? You think that makes it all better? Well?! Do you?!”
The heat coming off Elementa was blistering and Raye could feel her hair crackling. She could barely hear her sister even though she was shouting. The tornadoes have torn through the small wood and now seemed larger than life itself, sucking the world into their gigantic vortexes. They kept circling around the women and Raye was just happy her sister was still controlling them. Instinctively she grabbed Elementa by the shoulders, ignoring the pain that shot up her arms from her instantly burned hands. Second degree? Third? She hung on.
“Elie, I’m sorry. So sorry. I had no idea. Please, why didn’t you say anything before now? Please, I didn’t know!”
Raye’s hands felt like they were on fire but she didn’t let go. Instead she pulled Elementa into a hug and squeezed until the other woman wrapped her arms around Raye’s shoulders and squeezed back. Raye’s body was one huge blister. This was it. Another minute or so and even she would go into shock. And then she felt her sister crying, her tears searing Raye’s burned skin. She almost didn’t notice the downpour that started at the same time. The rain would soothe the burns and they’d fix the worst ones later. For now they were just two sisters making up.

Finding a quiet time to write

I’m staying (mostly) on track with my resolution to write 250 words a day and the more I do it the more I realize that the hard part for me isn’t finding the time, but rather finding a quiet time. You see, to really be able to concentrate I need it to be as quiet as possible and unless everybody in the house decides to play sculpture garden for an hour or more that is not going to happen, and I haven’t mastered the art of tuning everything out when I’m trying to be creative. So this is my challenge at the moment.
This morning I decided to try something different: got up early (a sacrifice in an of itself for this night owl) and wrote for about 45 minutes before work. With hubby and the furries snoozing I was actually able to turn out a page and a half of work and finish the chapter! It was wonderful. Thoughts flowed, plot points lined up, and words didn’t get lost in some murky abyss. The fact that I started the day doing something just for me put a smile on my face and made me feel more accomplished than I usually do before leaving the house in the morning.
So here I am, eating strawberries for lunch and pondering whether I should set my alarm an hour early to write a part of my routine. Getting up is never fun, but this is something worth suffering for. Decisions, decisions…

250 Words a Day

I’ve been listening to Mur Lafferty’s I Should Be Writing podcast where in several episodes she talks about getting your writing done no matter what and about setting manageable goals (she also talks about the Magic Spreadsheet but that’s material for a different post). One such goal is to write every day, but set the minimum at only 250 words. Life always seems to intervene, especially when one tries to juggle writing with a full-time job, family and personal needs such as exercise, but we can usually find time to get 250 words on the page.
Last week I decided that this should be manageable and that even at such a slow pace that’s still a chapter or so in 2 weeks. Every little bit counts, right? Right. Anyway, that was the beginning of the week and I was feeling optimistic. Too bad I didn’t take into account the husband and his mighty persuasion skills in the form of sad-face combined with the general human tendency toward laziness and procrastination. Or maybe that’s just me… Ahem. Long story and a few episodes of World Without End later on Sunday I found myself feeling guilty because I didn’t do any writing for almost a week. Bad, bad Olga. So I sat down in the quiet house (husband went to help a friend with a car) and dedicated 2 hours to writing. Could’ve been longer but that’s when husband got home and started barging into the office and talking to me. It’s so hard to say No when they actually want to hang out with you, isn’t it?
So let this sad tale be a lesson to you, and to me: even 250 words a day require dedication and a backbone, because you’re going to have to say No to doing other things all the time. I’m going to go practice resisting sad-face now.