Good evening - a day late. For those who haven’t been tuned in, I’ve been taking summer classes for my grad school creative writing program. The semester is coming to a close and of course, true to form, I’ve gotten heinously ill. My fever climbed up to 103.8º and I spent the weekend in bed instead of doing what I usually do best—writing. As it is, my final portfolio is coming due and I spent more time working on it than on my current installment in Kylie and Ryker’s story.
This week, I’m sharing an excerpt from FaeBound, one of the two stories I turned in for my creative writing portfolio. Originally, the idea was for a short story contest that had specific prompts and requirements. While I liked the OG concept, I made substantive changes to the story over the semester and it’s now a full blown ~6500 word short story. An excerpt from the beginning of the story is this week’s post, though you can read the full story if you subscribe to the paid version, or you can choose to use your one time free preview on the full story.
Now that the semester is over, I hope to return to a more consistent schedule, put out a mid-month news letter, and work on some of the bigger changes to my overall website and brand. Thanks for sticking around this summer through my course workload—your support means the world.
Don’t get caught. Don’t get caught. Don’t get caught! Terror drove the movement of every muscle in my body, and I repeated my mantra over and over to keep panic at bay. Each breath I drew sent an ache through my already burning lungs as I raced, eyes darting back and forth in search of any source of light that wasn’t moonlight. My feet pounded over the debris of the forest floor, the crunch of dead leaves and snap of dried twigs barely audible to my ears over the thundering of my pulse. But I knew the creatures chasing me heard every footfall like I was a stampeding elephant crashing through the trees.
Rushing water began to overtake the other sounds of the forest and I slowed, straining my vision to see the embankment. Pale moonlight shone through the break in the trees ahead, my stomach bottoming out at the width of the stream it illuminated. With some effort, I broke a dead, spindly branch nearly twice as tall as myself and half as thick as my wrist from one of the trees before leaving the safety of the cover they provided. A fallen oak spanned three-quarters of the way across, and hesitation crept into my limbs, stilling me. I weighed my options as my heart hammered against my ribs, fear and self-preservation urging me away from the water.
There was a bridge over this stream somewhere, I remembered, though in the dark I couldn’t risk trying to find it. A hawthorn grouping was nearby, too. Safety. I’m so close. The silence around me was only broken by the gushing current, fueling my anxiety. They were close. Swimming wasn’t a necessary skill for working in the orchards and vineyards Da owned, and I peered in apprehension at the fast flowing water, wishing I spent more time learning after Keenan O’Sullivan nearly drowned me the first time. It didn’t matter that I wasn’t a strong swimmer as I hoisted myself onto the massive oak, praying it held my weight so I could make the jump to the muddy shallows on the other side glinting in the low light. Falling into the water and drowning would be better than what waited for me if I was caught.
Clutching the small branch, I crawled across the tree trunk, inching along until I was sure it would hold me. Pulling a few deep breaths into my lungs, I stopped close to halfway, lowering the branch into the water. A stronger current than I’d anticipated battered at the slender wood, and I swallowed my fear as I waited for the branch to hit the bottom. When it finally touched down, a foot remained above the surface. Damn it all. My balance shifted, and I ditched the stick as I slid toward the side of the log.
Scrambling for purchase, my fingernails clawed against the damp bark and I fought to control my breathing as I righted myself. The silence permeating the woods slid uneasily over me, settling its weight along my body. Coaxing my unwilling limbs further, I navigated over branches, forcing my breathing to remain steady. The telltale glow of magic cut the darkness, marking a hawthorn tree downstream. More like a bleeding river. I didn’t dare waste my breath bemoaning my odds aloud, nor risk drawing more attention to my position.
It didn’t make a difference.
Murmuring began to filter through the rumble of the water, and my pulse beat painfully in my veins, like it too wanted to escape my current situation. At first, the words were nonsense, a low hum of continuous speech in my head as I reached the end of the makeshift bridge. I picked my footing with care as I leveraged my body upward, keeping myself as centered to the log as possible to hold my balance. It’s just like jumping from tree to tree in the orchard. I can do this. Words began to stand out from the babble, though the language was one I didn’t recognize.
I crouched low, coiling strength into my tired legs as I prepared to make a running leap over the remaining distance to the bank. My heart beat a staccato rhythm in my chest as I pushed off. Movement flickered in my periphery and I turned my head, horror washing through me. An enormous wave was barreling toward me, its unnatural height growing with the volume of the chanting that surrounded me. A scream built in my lungs, and I lost my footing as the wall of water crashed into me.
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xo
Grace