Wednesday, 19 May 2010

A Valkyrian Treat for my Followers and Friends

Now as some of you may know, if you regularly keep up with my sporadic and sometimes lengthly posts, you will be aware that I have currently stalled work on Soul Chaser to focus on writing new and original material to enter into several competitions coming up.
To this I have recently finished the third draft of a new valkyrie short story - its working title being Naughty and Nice OR The Wrong Angel OR The Guardian (would greatly appreciate feedback on title choice once you have read story). It has reached a point where I need fresh, unbiased eyes and probably ones with better grammar and punctuation knowledge than I.
But I am also about to share it all you know because I feel I am approaching a mini milestone that I am quite proud about. Not only am I nearing 20 followers in total of my little viking obsessive blog but also nearing 150 followers on Twitter. Through these many connections I have met some fantastic people, brilliant writers and made some good friendships.
So I dedicate this little story to you all who pay me and my writing even the smallest attention. It is always welcomed and greattly appreciated. I hope you enjoy. Feedback greatly encouraged.

Naughty and Nice/The Wrong Angel/The Guardian

Should I be naughty or nice? These were the mundane questions Kate asked herself as she stared through her favourite bakery window, at the trays of treats just beyond her reach. The sweet smells dancing across her taste buds, enchanting her and many alike around this small shop nestled between the arches of the viaduct bridge.
    She was just about to join the queue leading outside the door and inform the baker of her important treat time decision when she heard a scream, a harsh slap and loud crunch and then a sudden gust of wind blew all the tumult into silence.
    Kate sighed at the vision before her. The bakery now a ruined derelict, the viaduct crumbling down in various places and the bustling crowds around her were no more than the swirling dust blowing down empty streets. She hugged tight the feathered cloak that once was her white leather jacket, trying not to be disturbed by the shivers she felt. Turning around she came face to face with the cause of her most unwelcome interruption.
    “Where the hell am I?” He asked, a man of near middle age in appearance, his tie and white shirt coated in the dust that coated the ground as he got up.
    “I wish you were in Hell. You just ruined my morning tea break.” Kate snapped back, crossing her arms and glaring down at him like an angry parent.
    “Look, I don’t know what’s happened here...”
    “What’s happened here is that you have just died. Presumably from jumping off the viaduct. Thus you find yourself here.”
    “I’m dead? I’m actually dead?” He muttered, looking around him as if expecting to see anyone else appear and say otherwise.
    “Did you think you would survive that fall?” Kate pointed accusingly up at what would have been the top of the viaduct but was now void of bricks.
    “Err...no...I was...”
    “You were committing suicide, killing yourself, so here you are, dead.”
    “What is this place? Is it Hell?”
    Kate laughed. “Hell would be a darn bit warmer don’t you think with all its fires and boiling oil? This is limbo, where dead people end up. You linger here until you’re claimed by one deity or another.”
    “Is that why you’re here? Are you an Angel?”
    Kate was tempted to laugh but having heard that line so many times she just smirked. “Do I look like an Angel to you? Do you see any halo? Any white fluffy wings?” She gestured dramatically at her white feathered cloak, her silver chest plate, her sparkling chain mail sleeves coming down to loop around one finger and the thick leather leg wraps she wore. “Besides you’re not on my collection list. If you were, you wouldn’t have caught me off guard.”
“So, if you’re not an Angel, what are you?”
    “I’m a Valkyrie, the Angel version of the Norse Faith.”
    “Norse? Vikings? Thought they died out centuries ago?”
    “Just because we have a few hundred pagan believers left doesn’t mean we crumble into pixie dust.”
    “So instead of raiding towns and villages you now raid the dead?”
    Kate gave him her first friendly smile. “Good, you’re starting to understand. Now just wait here and someone will be along to sort your afterlife out.”
    “What do you mean sort me out?”
    “Judged. You know? The whole good go to Heaven and bad to Hell? That kind of thing.”
    “So I could still go to Hell?” The dead man sounded very unnerved.
    “I can’t say. Don’t know your life story. Someone will though, just wait here and they should meet up with you in a minute or so.”
    “Wait...don’t go....please! Come back!” The man called after her as Kate strode down the empty streets.
“I’m nobody’s babysitter. If some lazy sod can’t arrive on time it’s not my responsibility.” She muttered to herself storming down the street with huge strides. The world of the afterlife as familiar to her as the world of the living. The desolation, decay and broken landscape didn’t disturb her. She headed for the nearest cross roads of streets, trampling rough and hard over broken glass and rubble. Once she’d found the desired location she knelt down, took out a sharp silver blade from within her cloak and carved a series of runes into the cracked concrete. She leapt back as the expected lightning bolt struck the runes causing them to flash with flames. From within those burning runes came rainbow sparks that lay scattered across the ground like multi coloured diamonds. The sparks become fiercer, more intense; they multiplied and expanded until Kate was left facing a wall of dazzling opal colours which stretched from the walls of one street to the next. She was about to take a step into the kaleidoscope of light, with some sense of relief knowing she could finally back to her chosen treat of the day, when there was a loud cry from behind her and the pounding of running feet.
    She whisked round in a rage, the second interruption to her usually routine day now even more unwelcome than the first.
    “You again? I thought I’d told you...”
    “Please! You got to help me. Back there, was a thing...a creature...” The pale faced and terrified man pointed back up the street which was empty.
    Kate peered up the same street before grasping his shoulders and forcing him to take several steps back. “There’s nothing there. Just sit tight and wait till someone comes to take care of you.”
    “But...but...but that thing! Back there....”
    “You’ll be fine. You shouldn’t be waiting too long.”
    The man glanced over her shoulder suspiciously at the mirage of colours towering over them both. “How will I know it’s safe...there are those other things.”
    “They’ll address you by name.”
    “Ah Mr Coswell! We meet at last.” A voice called out from the top end of the street. The Valkyrie and the man looked up. Kate in disgust and the man in confusion. “I see you’ve met one of the locals too, how nice.”
    “What do you see?” Kate whispered harshly in the man’s ear, still not letting go of his shoulder.
    “What?” he asked now even more confused.
    “Tell me what you see up ahead.”
    “Oh...err...my wife...does this mean she’s dead too?”
    “What’s she saying?” Kate demanded again.
    “She’s asking me to come to her, we’re going somewhere together. She forgives me!” Those final three words were a clear source of delight to Mr Coswell.
    “Mr Coswell that is not your wife.” She took several large steps forward and threw a bright white bolt of the runic energy causing a small eruption of rubble at the spot where the creature was. “That is not your wife because she isn’t dead.” Kate held Mr Coswell firm as he struggled to reach the vision of his wife in an illusion of panic.
    “But...But...how?”
    “Fargo, you should know better than to play a woman, you could never pull it off.” Kate called out with a snigger as from the dust of the impact a strange creature emerged.
    It looked like a man in a tailor tie and black suit except his skin was blue and mottled white, he had snake green eyes and no ears.
    “Katherine, you never do play fair.” His suave, sophisticated voice replied.
    “Same could be said for you.”
    “What do you expect from the Devil? Now if you don’t mind, Mr Coswell and I have a date.” The creature spoke casually strolling towards the tense pair his arms crossed behind his back.
    “He hasn’t been judged yet Fargo. You can’t touch him until then.”
    “Says who?”
    “Those are the rules and you know it. Once his Guardian is finished with him then you can claim him.”
    “I am that Guardian! His soul was quick to damnation after deceiving his wife. Not to mention death by suicide.” A forked blue tongue slithered from its lips as he smirked, its eyes constantly alighting upon Mr Coswell’s horrified face.
    “I don’t believe you.” Kate spoke as she delved her right arm behind her back and it emerged holding a complete tall spear glittering in golden runes. She whipped its spear head in Fargo’s direction.
Fargo laughed, but as he came up his eyes were focused straight on Mr Coswell. With a move as quick as a snake’s tongue a green tendril of lightning arced out over in the dead man’s direction. Kate had just enough time to react and whirl her white swan feather cloak into its path and untie it upon the ground to smoulder and burn to ash in a couple of heartbeats. Fargo hissed and spat at her, clapping his hands hard together spraying poison green sparks that crackled as they hit the floor.
    With one great heave of breath Kate charged at Fargo, her war cry echoing out and rattling the broken walls and glass around her. Within a few feet of him she leapt into the air as high as the collapsed roofs of the buildings.  She threw her spear in a lightning quick strike and landed on the ground again. She stood tall, as Fargo, gaping in shock and possible pain glanced at the rod of metal lodged through his stomach. With a whine and a grunt he collapsed backwards, twitched then lay still.
    Kate made a gesture with her left hand and her spear slowly removed itself from the body and floated to her in one smooth action.
    “What...what was that thing? How did it know about my wife?” Mr Coswell spoke cautiously remaining a few feet behind Kate between the rainbow wall.
    “All Soul Guardians and his kind, Soul Hunters, know about your life story. We use it to judge you, they use it to trap you.”
    “Oh. Did he really mean it then about...me being damned?”
    “Don’t know. You tell me. What made you throw your life away?”
    “My little girl died several months ago. It was in the summer and I was playing with her in the garden. I’d just popped my head into the kitchen to encourage Jackie away from the washing up, turned around and she was gone. The front gate was open.” He swallowed hard. “It was my fault she got out. I forgot to put the latch on after work. I confessed to my wife after the funeral and she left me too.” He looked up at Kate with a face drained of life and love. “I deserve to die. I deserve to go to Hell.”
    “Then...you shall.” A hoarse, harsh voice croaked behind the pair.
    There was a bright green flash, a grunt and a moan then silence.
Kate leapt from her fallen position on the ground and threw her spear one final time. It whooshed through the air and pierced Fargo’s open bleeding mouth as he was about to laugh at his reclaimed victory. The spear left a hole from his mouth to the back of his head. Fargo fell to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Kate charged over, retrieved her spear and spat and cursed over the motionless and draining corpse of the demon.
    Turning slowly she came face to face with where Mr Coswell had stood. Nothing was left of him after he had shoved Kate aside, but a small pile of silver dust. Kneeling over the dust she gathered some into her hands and walked to within an inch of the rainbow wall.
    “Thank you Mr Coswell, I’ll see you on the other side.” She took a deep breath and blew the dust into the kaleidoscope of colours.
    There was a rumble of thunder from the dull white sky. Kate turned to face the powers that lurked behind it without fear.
    “Bah, God won’t miss him, nor will the Devil. He has a brave heart worthy of us.”
Besides, sometimes you have to be naughty to be nice she thought stepping through herself into the world beyond the world.


No comments:

Post a Comment

Related Posts - LinkWithin

Related Posts with Thumbnails