After Thought - Heather Small (best book club books for discussion TXT) 📗

I get mad, my mind seems to work quicker, more efficiently.

A stop at the pub doesn’t sound like a bad plan. I’ll just have a small drink, maybe a shot of whiskey to de-fuzz my head. Entering the door, I found my way to the bar and slid across the leather seat. After a moment, I glance around for the bartender and then, I see him.

He smiles as he catches my eye and gleaming, his red hair lit the wall. “You will never catch me,” he says.

I laugh, “You have caught yourself, my dear.”

Just for a moment, his face lit up, but only for that moment. I turned slightly to reveal Detective Grimes sitting at a table across the room. I had noticed when I first walked in that he had chosen the same establishment to unwind his day. It was perfect, really.

He makes a move to run, but knows it is too late.

“We could have been great, you know,” His hand lingers on my hip for just a moment too long and I simply answer with a smirk, “I think not.”

Night is falling

It’s cold.

Too cold for a Fall evening, but my worries do not lie with the chill.

No, my mind is focused on getting home. Being alone in this wood when darkness falls is not advisable. Tales of what lives in the shadow of the trees have haunted me since I was a child.

The carriage wheel screams as it rolls over a large rock and I find myself gasping at the sudden noise.

“Don’t be so childish,” I whisper to myself.

Shuffling my heavy lace-lined skirts, I hold myself tall. I come from a proud family, little bumps in the night do not scare me.
“Yeah, that’s right. I’m not scared of you invisible demons.” I laugh, now encouraged by my braveness.

“Is that right?” A dark voice comes from behind me. Slowly, I lift my eyes, but dare not turn my head in the direction from which the voice came. “Maybe I should try a little harder,” it hissed.

My heart flutters in my chest, adrenaline rushes through my veins. but, before I can think of a reply, the carriages slams to a stop. The sudden halt throws me across the velvet seat and almost into the floor. It was like God, himself, put his hand down in front of the carriage.

Heavy breathing and a small whine fills my ears. Is that me?

Oh, God, that’s me.

From the darkness, a laugh which curled my stomach to the point of bringing tears to my eyes, echoes around my protective barrier. Suddenly, my hand flies to the black diamond encrusted cross that dangles from my neck. Prayers flood my mind.

“That won’t save you,” scratches the voice, now right outside the door. “Nothing can.”

Slowly, the door creaks open, blood drenched claws edge around the frame followed by fur and teeth. My vision darkens and my grip on life begins to slip away. Black diamonds scatter across the red-stained carriage floor in front of my eyes as I prepare to take my final breath.

“Are you still not frightened?” it laughed.

It takes the last of my energy to draw myself up to look the demon in his lifeless eyes, a pained smile grows on my lips, “Not even a little.”

Do you believe in magic?

Green smoke splashed back into my face as I tried to stabilize myself.

“Stupid!” I scream at myself. “Now, he’s getting away.”

I race toward the door left ajar by his escape.

Outside the air is clean, dry, I cringe.

“Well, this won’t do for finding him,” I say, feeling a smile stretch across my face.

Closing my eyes, I can feel the tug of magic as it makes its way from my core.

First, my shoulders begin to tingle, then the wonderfully prickly sensation makes it way down to the tips of my fingers and I grin.

That's it.

Black ivy tattoos itself on my hands, then arms, drawing darkness into the air around me.

Crawling up my neck, the dark design surrounds my eyes and I open gray-toned portals to my soul, or what’s left of it.

As the clouds gather, I feel the rain begin to drench my skin.

“Find him.” A simple statement escapes my lips and lightning flashes in front me, then again and again it strikes.

Then from somewhere in the shadows, a flash of light illuminates the area around me and the blond-haired man I have been seeking flies across the alley and into the adjacent wall.

Smoke follows him and a quiet laugh escapes my throat, “Gotcha.”

Scrambling to his feet, I can see the burns across his face.

Oops. Another silent laugh. I might just get into trouble for delivering damaged goods.

“What do you want?” He yells at me.

The satisfying tingle is retracting with the ivy and my eyes blaze a bright blue. “You.”

“Why?” He asks and I realize that he is not crying, not begging. He is different from the others. “Tell me why!”

I have to ball up my fists to keep the magic contained. I do not like being told what to do, and I never have been able to figure out how to control my anger.

So, before I kill him, just to have the satisfaction of his blood on my hands, I shrug and step away. “Orders.”

“Whose orders?” Shaking my head, I sigh. I’m beginning to lose my patience and that’s just dangerous.

“Shut up and hold still.” I say as the ivy, once again tattoos itself across on my skin. Almost before my sentence is complete, silver threads shoot from my finger tips.

Instantly, it wraps around my prey – totally encompassing him.

I sigh as I gather my package and step into the darkness, “Werewolves.”

What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger

Everything you need to know about me can be summarized in three words: waste of space.

Yes, that’s me, the girl everyone forgets the moment they meet her.

I am sitting here in my chamber, dressed in a scratchy gown in the one hue I despise the most, pink.

“It’s a surprise,” mother had said. “And in your most favorite of colors.”

I shake my head as I pull at the lace encompassing my neck.

You know, if I disappeared right now, no one would notice. I would bet my life on it.

“Come, child,” I hear my mother call for me from the bottom of the stairs.

And, just as I rise to answer her call, I am summoned again, but this time I comes from beneath my balcony.

Quickly, I walk past the open French doors dividing my dwelling place from nature.

“Who’s there?” I whisper, so that my mother does not hear.

“It is me, love.” He stands, tall and handsome, just inside the moonlight. “Come to me.”

And before I know what I have done, I am standing beside him, and he smiles, “Beautiful.”

A blush creeps into my cheeks as he grabs my hand and pulls me into the darkness.

But, just as I begin to let myself go with him, I hear a scream from above us.

“What are you doing, child!?” It is mother. “Your father will have your head! I will see to it myself!”

I let a small laugh escape my lips as I turn to my Romeo.

“Well, what doesn’t kill us, makes us stronger,” I say as I replace my hand in his.

Kissing it lightly, he leads me away… far away.

Prank Call

 It happened again this morning. That same voice, deep and slow across the crackling phone line. I should have it disconnected, but I won't.

Everyday it is the same thing. The phone rings at 9 a.m. sharp just as I am about to walk out the door. I pick it up and the caller slowly breaths into the mouthpiece. My heart pounds in my chest and I wait because I know there's more.

“I know what you did,” he drawls. Another deep, slow breath and then the quiet click of the receiver.

I always wait until too late to scream, “What did I do?” These calls are driving me crazy. I haven't done anything wrong, yet every morning I get the same call claiming my guilt.

I wonder what would happen if I didn't answer the phone. Would he call again? Or maybe stop by the house to deliver the message in person. That's a terrifying thought. If he knows my number, I'm sure he knows where I live.

After the caller hangs up, I always return the favor and then leave as quickly as I can. One never knows what people like that are doing.

For all I know, he could be sitting across the street in a smoke-filled, black car.

Or worse.