Submission - Greylands, Part 1: Fletch

by Kathi L. Schwengel
Please note: some strong language

Fletch stood with one shoulder against the wall, and his arms folded across his chest as he watched Mosh escort his latest stray across the camp. The boy had a thing for waifs. This one looked to be in her late teens, slight, blond, and with that guarded, dirt-smeared look on her face so common on the streets. Desperation mingled with determination. Still, she seemed . . . different some how. Fletch couldn't put his finger on it, but she set his nerves tingling.

"Watcha doin'?"

Fletch slid a narrowed glare at Pipsqueak as the boy sidled up beside him. "Baking a fucking cake, Squeak. You?"

"You're spying on Mosh."

"And if I am it'd be your business -- why?"

Pipsqueak shrugged and Fletch turned his attention back to the little parade on its way to Jack's quarters. Maverick had his tour guide hat on, playing it to the hilt, and no doubt scaring the crap out of the girl in the process.

"What do you know about her?" he asked, jutting his chin in the trio's direction.

Pipsqueak sat on an upended crate, his feet dangling above the ground. "Her brother got his brains splattered by the coppers trying to lift some groceries."

"And you guys rescued her?"

Pipsqueak grinned. "It's what we do."

Fletch snorted. "What you do is bring us closer to getting found."

"Jack doesn't mind. Why should you?"

"Jack's an idiot."

Pipsqueak's eyes rounded in shock, and he launched off the crate. "You'll be in for it when I tell Maverick what you said!"

Fletch grabbed him by the shoulder before he could get away. Pipsqueak yelped as Fletch yanked him back and, lifting him off the ground by both shoulders, slammed him against the wall. He resisted the temptation to hold the boy there by his throat.

"You're not going to cause me any trouble, Squeak," he said, his voice deadly soft. "Because if you do, the rats will be picking their teeth with your bones. You understanding me?"

Pipsqueak's eyes, tears brimming at their edges, took on a whole different kind of round. His chin began to quiver.

"Lose your voice, kid?"

Pipsqueak shook his head. "No," his voice hit the notes of his namesake.

Fletch cocked his head. "Well?"

"I got ya," he said. "Loud and clear."

"Your two pals even look crossways at me, I'll think you told them something. You understand that?"

"Crap, Fletch!" The boy squirmed in his grip. "Won't say nuthin' to nobody. I swear it."

Fletch held him a moment longer, then nodded. "Good boy," he said. He lowered Pipsqueak to the ground. "Now make yourself invisible."

Fletch waited until Pipsqueak angled toward a group of kids before he turned and left his vantage point. There were quicker ways to Jack's private quarters than through the shock zone Maverick had taken, and Fletch knew them all.

He didn't knock when he reached the door, and Jack didn't turn when he entered the room. Their fearless leader stood in front of a large fireplace, hands clasped loosely behind his back. Not for the first time Fletch considered the chances of success in a quick knife throw.

"Careful, Fletch," Jack said, and his low voice slithered across Fletch's nerves like an icy-hot finger. "Thoughts like that can get a man strung up and left for the rats. I hear it's an unpleasant way to die."

"I'm sure there's worse."

Jack turned and the smile on his narrow, clean-shaven face held not a bit of warmth. "I know there are," he said. "I invented them."

He walked to an antique sideboard and poured himself a drink, then took a seat in the only leather upholstered chair in the room. Fletch remained standing, his arms folded across his chest. Compared to what existed beyond his door, Jack's quarters were downright opulent. Unlike Jack, they actually gave the impression of warmth and sincerity.

Jack crossed his legs and took a swallow of the blood red liquid in his glass. He surveyed Fletch with eyes so dark they appeared black. "What are you after, Fletch?"

"Mosh's latest stray," Fletch said, without a moment's hesitation.

"Since when are you interested in training?" The dark gaze narrowed. "You're not thinking of building your own little army and taking me down, are you, Fletch?"

"We both know an army wouldn't work on you, Jack. I believe holy water and a sacred ritual are more in order."

Jack laughed. "Your sense of humor is what keeps you alive. There are only two reasons a street rat would pique your interest. You're either horny, or up to something." He took another drink, savoring the liquor. "Since I'm well aware you take care of your carnal needs above ground, I'm betting on the second reason."

Fletch shrugged. "So long as she gets trained and doesn't bring the roof down on your head, I figured you wouldn't give a crap."

"I don't trust you," Jack said. "There's no disputing your skills, but your motives are always a bit foggy."

"No more foggy than yours."

Jack tipped his chin up and Fletch fought to keep the flinch from being obvious. Jack didn't scare him, like he did the rest of his fawning subjects, but Fletch had a healthy dose of respect for what the man could do to him. He forced his breathing steady, kept his stance neutral, and his hand well away from the small of his back where one of his five knives was sheathed.

Jack placed his glass on the table beside the chair and stood. He crossed the five feet between them with measured steps, and stopped well within Fletch's personal space, but Fletch kept still. They were the same height, nearly the same build, though Fletch probably had a little more by way of lean muscle. In a fair fight he could've taken Jack.

In Jack's world the term 'fair fight' didn't exist.

"One of these days," Jack said, "I'm going to take you apart and see what kind of snake you are. Then I'm going to kill you."

"No doubt you'll try." How Fletch managed to keep his voice level, he couldn't say. It took every ounce of self control just to stop his fight response from kicking in full gear.

Jack's thin lips pulled up at the corners. "I'll do more than try."

A knock on the door broke the tension, and Jack turned back to his chair, flicking a gesture that swung the double doors inward. Fletch let out the breath he'd been holding as Maverick led Mosh and the girl into the room.

"What're you doing here?" Maverick grumbled.

Fletch looked sidelong at him. "Stand down, Scotty," he replied. "I don't want your job."

"Like you could ever have it." Maverick stepped in front of him and tipped his head to Jack. "Mosh has a new one for you."

Fletch moved behind Maverick's bulk to get a better view of the girl. She had to be about seventeen, he guessed, only slightly older than the over-sized sweatshirt that disguised her figure. Both looked to be covered with an annoying amount of grime.

She turned to look at him. The depth of her blue eyes pulled him in, past the guarded street look and the fear and uncertainty, to that little spark he had felt all the way across the camp.

If Jack didn't give her to him, Fletch would take her. Either way, the treasure would be his.

****
When Kathi told me she'd created a new character to add to the Greylands cast, I was excited to see what she'd do with him. Now that I've read it, plot pieces are suddenly falling into place for the rest of the story.  Read, enjoy, comment and then check out the rest of the story! 
Greylands, part 1: Adopted , by moi
Greylands, part 1: Adopted (cont'd), by Anonymous

Greylands, part 1: Firefly, by Chelsea Miller

Submission - Greylands, Part 1: Firefly

by Chelsea Miller

Firefly watched longingly as Mosh walked away with Alexis. She hated when he brought new girls to the Shadows. Pipsqueak nudged her from her gazing, “Are you forgetting something?” Firefly sighed and ripped off a wing from the bird she was roasting and handed it to him a little roughly.

“What has you so fired up?” Bull asked her with a suspicious look.

“Nothing.” A sideways glance to where Alexis and Mosh had disappeared gave her away.

“You got a thing for the new girl or somethin’?” he joked and leaned his shoulder into hers with a chuckle. Fly growled and shoved him back.

“Don’t be stupid, Bull.” Her face reddened, lips a tight line. Pipsqueak sputtered a laugh, bits of meat flying from his mouth.

“I get it, she likes Mosh!” Pipsqueak said after swallowing the escaping food. Bull rolled his eyes, “Thanks for coming out, Squeak.”

Firefly bristled and peeled some of the bird meat into her hand. She stood suddenly and strode away from the boys, as they burst into laughter behind her. Tears threatened as she pulled back the curtain that acted as a door to her room.

****

Not everything has to be dark in the Shadows ;) Thanks to Chelsea for her lovely submission! 

To read more Greylands:

Greylands, part 1: Adopted , by moi

Greylands, part 1: Adopted (cont'd), by Anonymous

Submission - Greylands: Adopted (continued)

I've received two submissions now for my short story series, and I'm thrilled to show you the first of them. Read, comment, show your support! Interested in participating? Read the original story here, write your own (any word count, any genre - art included), email it to me at theravens.quill (at) gmail (dot) com.

Enjoy!

Greylands: Adopted [continued]
by Anonymous
Please note: Contains some strong language, intense violence, strong sexual content and alcohol/drug use

Alexis hesitated, but the man was persuasive: “Y’all right, lass? It’s not that high a staircase. C’mon, Mosh, hurry her up these parts if you got to.”

Mosh forcefully but smoothly guided Alexis up the steps. The three of them marched towards the even darker top of this space. Meanwhile, the crackles and hums of the countless city dwellers faded from her psyche like the very flames that kept materializing and extinguishing inside of her. She had a feeling this underworld was where she was supposed to be, or she would have felt the rumble of Jake’s familiar ghost instructing her to run—it didn’t matter where, just as long as she ran.

“So what exactly are these ‘Shadows’?” she pressed, after what felt like far too much breathing time between her and the two men.

“See for yourself, young lady,” quipped Maverick once they arrived at the top. Mosh, taking a break from the manipulation of his shirt hole, kept sudden guard behind Alexis in case she was so shocked from the sights that she tumbled back. Shocked she was, but slack and disbelieving at the same time.

If the ground level was a city, she thought, then this upper level was some kind of a cross between an apartment complex and a jungle, with compressed one-room cells in the filthy walls, bordered by slime and hanging twigs with leaves. There were some pitiful strings of malfunctioning light bulbs, which made this whole forward-stretching abyss resemble some kind of nightmare factory. She could not see beyond the first several rooms on either side; everything far ahead was pitch-black, but she assumed there were simply more of these rooms ahead, since Maverick, ruddy-faced and smug, was now leading her in a very careful way through the deeper darkness. Mosh remained behind them all the same, and swept his black hair out of his eyes—not that it would help much, since one could barely see anything in the hallway, anyway…but in every room was a different story.

“Those piggy authorities on the outside, they say we are the evil ones, the uppercased ‘Shadows’ living in these secret slums,” explained Maverick, his arm increasingly secure around Alexis’s terrified body, “but we took that shit name and turned it ’round by applying it to this particular sector: this hotbed of decadence where many of our inhabitants can come and go as they please, cool off, engage in the kind of nastiness that wouldn’t be too comfortable down in the main grounds, even though the condition is goddamn near the same as ’tis up here…”

She could feel that small but precious chicken frothing in her stomach and threatening to shoot back up, when she witnessed the kinds of images and acts that she had vaguely seen before in her childhood, but was more protected from in her family environment: old, badly-scarred and bloodied men beating each other to bony pulps in a mud pit, while their significant others watched on in admiration; a young woman being straddled by another woman atop a concrete block, both with disfigured faces and with foul oils slathered all over their naked bodies; two teenagers—they looked to be around Alexis’s age—pricking each other constantly with needles and injecting their sweet heroin into the other’s veins, all while crack-headed obese people in the background sat naked on pillows, their bodies drenched in discoloured beer and wine, with saliva and vomit messing themselves and the walls; people loudly snorting cocaine, their sweat and hyperactivity like blinding, bleeding heart twitches in the darkness; people playing dead while their partners violated them with the help of others, often taunting them with dangerous tools like knives and sparking wires for more dominating; older people taking gleeful advantage of their young counterparts by rolling around on them, and with them, in apparently raw sewage, whipping each other hard with vines and howling over each other’s oozing wounds, while smoke and exotic dance music seeped from the unseen vents of the wide, echoing black corridor…

“I’m going to throw up,” Alexis belched; she threw herself into Maverick’s arms, and no longer cared what could possibly happen. Maybe this is the ultimate trap. What if Jake had warned me away from this place but I was ignoring him unconsciously in my sadness?

Mosh cleared his throat and tried unsuccessfully to coax Maverick more quickly through this area, even bringing up the tragedy that had recently happened to the girl, to sharpen the man’s senses.

“Bloody hell, you waited until now to tell me this?!” hissed Maverick to him, “It’s too fucking late for me to speed through here, now that she’s seen more than enough of it!” He quieted down and was gentler in comforting Alexis now, as she sobbed and choked against his rough attire. “S’all right, sweetheart, there’s nobody here tryin’ to kill themselves, it’s nothing like that,” he half-whispered. Meanwhile, Mosh slipped and rushed over to the cell connected to the hall speaker system, and urged the moaning tenants to turn the music down, for the sake of their “guest.”

“No shit—we got another stray?! Mosh, you dumbass, when are you gonna stop being so friggin’ sentimental wi’ that crap…” growled the ugly, bearded, stringy-haired man in rags, spitting through broken teeth while his albino, shell-shocked partner lay curled up in the corner in a black sweatsuit, spent for now. Their cell was papered with old photographs of women and stocked with towels and sanitizing gels.

“Look, are you gonna be a bit more respectful, Toxman, or will I have to get Jack to come back here and straighten you out…?”

Toxman shivered into a hilariously alert state, his bone-rattling almost on par with the rhythm of the tribal soundtrack. “I-I’ll be good.”

Mosh then pulled a small shrink-wrapped sandwich from his back pocket that he had been saving for later, and handed it to the other man. “Here you go, Powell. I can always get one of these some other time. Looks like you need some nourishment now. Keep overstressing yourself with this mess, you’re gonna explode like a tangled mop one day like Toxy here—”

“Get out, man, this is our space!” bellows Toxman, in a surprisingly powerful belt.

“No it’s not, Tox. We’re all in this together—but by the same token, you get outta your place, and we’ll have to put you back in your place…or worse, if it has to come to that.”

He sauntered back out; Maverick had long since disappeared into the deeper Shadows with Alexis, past all these surrounding rooms—which was the better idea all along. He knew his way around, though, even in this more remote and cold end-section where it was literally pitch-black and nothing else. Even minor aids like cigarette lighters or flashlights would drown in the darkness of this spot. The only way one could navigate it was with tell-tale bumps and grooves in the ground that only the most experienced of the people could discern—and it was not a high number of people.

Soon enough he found some soft light ahead, illuminating a small and seemingly dead end; it was lit with a few torches on the cleaner, rocky walls, and the ceiling was surprisingly high and pristine-looking. Alexis looked sicker and whiter than ever, of course. Yet Maverick was smart enough to have found her some more nourishment in the form of a few candies and some water from a nearby fountain, rusty but reliable, filled with their own water that they had pilfered and preserved themselves. Also bordering the space were some narrow alcoves and boxes for more storage items, and Maverick was in the middle of patiently lecturing the girl on forms of courtesy and organization in these parts.

“…Well,” he could hear Maverick concluding, before nearing a half-hidden door, “we’ve gotten the worst out of the way for this little tour, I think. You ready to meet Jack?”

Greylands: Adopted

With fear and trepidation, I present the first part of the short story series. First of how many? That depends on you. I'll go based on feedback and submissions - and not just on the number of them, but also how the plot works out. I foresee a lot of changes based on what I get back.

I'm more excited to see what you decide to bring to the table in response. Can't wait to read it!
For the basic plot idea: click here. Quick run-down of how this works:
Have a blog and want to post it there? Email me the link and I'll post it here.
Don't have a blog and want the whole story posted here? Email submissions to theravens.quill (at) gmail (dot) com
Any genre, any word count, just give me a head's up if mom would blush.

Greylands: Adopted
Please note: Some strong language is used

Alexis kicked an empty soup can along the street. Her hands were shoved deep in the pockets of her grey jacket, hood pulled up against the rain. The jacket had once been green, faded over years of too much use. It had been hers since she was ten, and even then it hadn’t been new – a hand-me-down from her big brother Jake. Back then, the sleeves had fallen well past her fingertips; at least now she could say it almost fit.

“C’mon, Jake, will you just tell me where we’re going?”

“Shut up, loser, we’re not going anywhere,” he replied over his shoulder. A friendly wink took the sting out of his words and he fell back to throw an arm around her. “Why? Have somewhere you gotta be? Saying you don’t just want to spend the day with me?”

“I spend every day with you, loser,” Alexis replied in the same vein, letting a rare smile shine through the grime on her face. “S’why I know you’re planning something. We never go this way.”

They couldn’t afford anything this way. The commercial area of the city had become more of a wasteland than anything else over the last few years. Dilapidated signage, broken windows, glass-strewn streets – that’s pretty much all you’d find around here now.

Jake bumped against her and jerked his head towards one of the three shops still open along the street – a second hand clothing store, a second hand furniture store…and the grocer.

Alexis’s stomach grumbled at the sight of it. How long had it been since she’d eaten? Last night? No, yesterday morning. A sandwich of stale bread and slightly off lunch meat. It hadn’t done much to satisfy her then and now she felt it even more.

He leaned in close to her ear, his breath warm on her cheek. “What do you say, little sister? Feel like something more than wormy apples for dinner tonight?”

His meaning sunk in and her brow furrowed. They’d done it before: she’d go in and chat up the chubby grocer behind the counter while Jake went through and picked up the small items they needed. That was before, though, when there were still enough grocery shops that they could make the tour, never hitting the same place twice in a week. With only one left around here…and they’d just come last week…

“I dunno, Jake. This guy doesn’t seem as stupid as the others,” Alexis hesitated.

“You going to make me go in on my own?” he pushed, the teasing in his tone only slightly louder than the guilt-trip he was trying to pull. “You know I’m useless by myself.”

Her stomach grumbled again, conscience and hunger warring inside of her. As usual, her stomach won.

“Fine, but go for the boxed stuff, all right? He’s less likely to care about that then the fresh food.”

“Deal,” Jake grinned and took pulled her ahead.

The streets were crowded with people rushing to get out of the rain. Not that many of them had anywhere to go. Doorways were crowded with people who called the streets their home, and those with actual homes to go to hurried into shops to stare longingly at the food they could barely afford.

Alexis and Jake pushed through them all, Alexis feeling like a salmon swimming against the tide. In this city, she always felt she was going the wrong way in a crowd, pushing against instead of going with the flow of the world.

Outside the door, Jake zipped his jacket over his ragged t-shirt to appear more like he belonged in the store and Alexis mimicked him, running her fingers through her shoulder-length blonde waves and pulling it back into a ponytail. For a moment she was grateful for the rain; it washed some of the scum from her cheeks and made her hair look less like a grease-pool. How long had it been since she’d showered?

The door pushed open with a cheerful jingle, a complete contradiction to the glower of the shopkeeper behind the counter. Alexis put on her brightest smile and approached him. Jake followed behind her.

“Good morning,” she greeted.

The man – Chuck, his nametag read – grunted and responded to her smile with a sullen nod, eyes narrowed. Every time he was like this and it made Alexis’s stomach tighten. We won’t make it, not this time. He knows what we’re doing. But so far they had been lucky. She had to believe their luck would hold one more time.

“Crazy weather we’re having, huh?” she started, making sure to stand right in Chuck’s line of sight. “You’d think it was August or something with all this rain, not February. Where’s the snow?”

It was mindless babble, but weather was a good place to start. Usually. Today, Chuck just grunted. “Either way all it does is drive people into my store who can’t pay for anything,” he spat, eyes fixed on the mirror in the corner, angled to see the whole shop. Alexis was familiar enough with the place to know there was a blind spot near the granola bars in the back, right where Jake was headed. She knew when he disappeared from view because Chuck’s gaze moved back to her and she breathed a small sigh of relief. Now time to focus his interest.

“Have anything new come in this week? And, you know, cheap?”

He snorted. “Cheap? No. Got some apples come in, forty bucks a pound.”

Alexis let out a loud breath. That was double what she remembered her parents paying as a kid. “That’s a bit out of my price range. What about tomatoes?” They were local and sometimes she was lucky.

The bell at the door chimed again as someone else came in and Chuck’s eyes jumped to the door. Out of habit Alexis turned to glance over her shoulder and her heart raced to see two uniformed officers – one tall and skinny, the other short and fat, just like a bad nursery rhyme – strutting in towards the fresh fruit section. One of them hitched up his belt, weapon obvious in the holster at his hip. She worked to keep her face free of the terror inside of her, not wanting to show Chuck that the cops made her nervous.

“Not for a month,” the shopkeeper answered, returning his focus back to the tomatoes.

By now Jake should have grabbed whatever he was going for and another level of tension eased in Alexis’s chest.

She gave a disappointed shrug. “I guess that’s it for me this week then. You think you could keep some tomatoes aside for me next time they come in? I think I could pay for one.”

But Chuck was not one for sympathetic pleas. He crossed his arms over his chest. “You come in when there’s food, you can pay, you get it. I’m not saving anything for maybes.”

Alexis opened her mouth, whether to thank him or curse him she couldn’t be sure, but Chuck cut her off with a loud yell.

“You! Stop! Thief!” He pointed over Alexis’s shoulder and she whipped around to see Jake drop the fruit in his hands and run towards the door.

“Alexis, run!” he shouted at her, but her feet were glued to the ground. “Run!” he repeated, and this time his urgency moved her to action. He reached the door before she did and the first gunshot fired, the second a moment later. The jingle of the bell was lost in the ringing of Alexis’s ears. She screamed as Jake crumpled to a heap in the doorway, bits of brain and hair sticking to the glass of the door, a second pool of blood spread out beneath the second hole in his chest.

Her brother’s blank eyes stared ahead, met hers and as if from his ghost as he left the world, she heard him again in her head. Run.

So she did. She jumped over Jake’s body, shoved through the half-open door, blood from the glass smeared across her palms, and began to run. But just like before the crowds were moving against her, pushing her backwards into the waiting hands of the cops, who grabbed her wrists and wrestled her arms behind her back, snapping the cuffs on so tightly in pinched.

“Only thing worse than a good kid turned thief is a pretty one like you,” one of the men hissed in her ear – the fat one, Alexis guessed by the smell of bacon on his breath. His words suggested sympathy, but the way his nose brushed against her hair as he inhaled her scent made Alexis gag.

Her eyes scanned the crowds for someone who would help her, but it was like she wasn’t there. Everyone’s eyes focused blankly ahead, or on the ground. No one wanted to notice one more injustice they couldn’t fix. Their emptiness filled Alexis with bitter fury and she lashed out, struggling to get away from the strong grip on her arms. Jake was dead – these bastards had killed him, and now they put their hands on her?

She kicked and pulled, struggled and screamed, but the tall one only laughed at her efforts and landed a blow across her cheek so hard she saw stars.

“That’s enough of that,” he said, perfectly shaped nail poking in her face. “You come along quietly or you end up like your friend over there. Those are your options. I’ll give you five seconds to consider them.”

Alexis wanted to spit in his eye. She wanted to reach her knee high enough to get the pig right in the jewels…but she was starving. Her anger grew, but her rebellion died and she glared murder at his boots.  

Tears stung her eyes and she bit down on her tongue so hard she tasted blood. Jake was dead. It meant she was alone, but it also meant he didn’t have to live in this festering shithole of a city anymore. She would be happy for him for that. Even if she had to bite most of her tongue off to stop the tears from falling.

“Good girl,” the tall one approved, and squeezed her skinny arm tight enough to leave bruises. Alexis dragged her feet between them as they pulled her along the street.

“Get out of my way!” a shout reached them from ahead.

“How about you look where you’re going, asshole. Move!” came the angry reply.

The street congested with a growing cluster of oglers as the fight started and the cops exchanged a glance over Alexis’s head. The fat one let go of her to push through the crowd.

“All right, all right, let’s break this up, huh?” he called, grabbing one man by his collar to pull him out of the way.

The curses and shouting between the two people grappling on the road got louder as the fat cop reached them and grabbed one of them by the hair. In an instant chaos broke out as both fighters turned on the cop and started yelling and kicking him. Alexis wanted to cheer them on.

“Frank, help!” the fat cop yelled to the tall one. Frank maintained his hold on Alexis and began to move towards his partner.

Somewhere in the mass of crowd, something grabbed Alexis’s hand. She turned behind her to see a boy about ten give her a wink and smile, and nod for her to follow him. It didn’t take much to escape Frank with his focus so scattered, and in a moment she was running with the boy away from the crowds down the length of the deserted street. He took a hard left into an alleyway and only there did he stop to let Alexis catch her breath.

The boy disappeared behind her and a moment later she heard a click and her hands were free. She rubbed her wrists to get the numbness out of her fingers.

“Thank you,” she said.

The boy shrugged, as if he hadn’t just done something like save her life. His mop of brown hair fell into his eyes and covered the splash of freckles that covered his pasty skin. “We saw you needed help. Someone has to stand up to those coppers, right?” he squeaked. 

“We?” Alexis asked.

The boy’s smile widened, showing two missing teeth, and he glanced back towards the crowd. Alexis followed his gaze, her own eyes widening in understanding.

“The fighters?”

“Mosh and Bull,” he said. “That’s their thing.”

It took her a moment to realise he was referring to people. “Mosh? Bull? Strange names.” The boy shrugged again. “What’s your name?”

“Pipsqueak,” he answered. “Who are you?”

“Alexis,” she replied, and watched as Pipsqueak shook his head in disapproval. Maybe he thought her name was too boring.

“Squeak? You down here?” a familiar voice hissed from the edge of the alley. Pipsqueak let out a strange mouse-like call and a hulking shadow moved into the light. Alexis leaned closer against the wall, suddenly feeling that coming into an alley with a stranger, even a child, hadn’t been the wisest idea. She wished Jake was with her. He would know what to do.

Her chest tightened and once again she shoved her tongue between her teeth.

“You get her?” another voice asked.

“You got eyes, don’t ya?” Pipsqueak answered, climbing up on boxes of garbage and sitting down on top, letting his feet dangling over. “She says her name’s Alexis.”

“Strange name,” the smaller of the two – and not by much – replied. Black hair dripped with rainwater and blood ran from his nose, his t-shirt torn across the chest, yet an impish smile was on his face with no hint of discomfort or anger at his recent fight. “Mosh,” he said, using his arm to wipe his face.

“Bull,” said the other massive boy. These two looked to be around Alexis’s age, but easily twice her size. For being the larger of the two, Bull didn’t seem to have done much better in their skirmish. His left eye was already nearly swollen shut.

“Are you guys all right?” she asked, concerned.

Pipsqueak joined the other two in a laugh at her expense and Mosh clapped a hand on her shoulder that nearly brought her to her knees.

“Sweet of you to worry, but we’ve got this covered,” he said. “Glad we could help. Try to stay out of trouble, all right? These cops, they have no mercy.”

 Bull nodded his bald head, eyes grim. “Damn right. Think they own this place now. Forget there are still more of us than of them.” His expression softened. “I’m sorry about the guy you were with.”

“My brother,” Alexis said. “I’ll be fine.”

Jake would have been proud to hear the strength in her voice. He had trained her pretty well in what she needed to do to survive. She would be all right on her own.

“We’d better get going,” Pipsqueak said to Mosh and Bull. “Jack’ll be angry enough about what happened.”

Mosh groaned, lips twisted into a grimace. “Probably right. Better go and face the ringleader before his brain explodes.”

Alexis blanched and Mosh’s eyes widened. “Sorry,” he said. Alexis waved him away.

The three boys all gave her a nod as they walked past her, heading towards the opposite end of the alley – what appeared to be a dead end. She watched them, trying not to think about what she was going to do next.

Mosh, the first of them to reach the end, paused and turned back around. “You have someplace to go?” he called to her.

Alexis wanted to say yes, to not seem pathetic and helpless. But the truth was she really didn’t. She shook her head.

“Better come with us then,” he said. Pipsqueak’s jaw dropped and he looked from Mosh to Alexis to Bull. Bull grunted his agreement and pushed against the wall until something moved and he disappeared into it.

“Jack’s going to kill you,” Pipsqueak muttered.

Mosh shrugged. “He’s welcome to try. Worst that can happen is he kills her, but he’d at least make it quick.”

Alexis stared back at him, considering. He was right, a quick death by Jack would be better than a slow death by starvation, or rape and torture by Frank and his fat friend. So she followed them to the end of the alley.

Mosh stood by to let her go first and Alexis stepped through what turned out to be a makeshift doorway in the brick. Bull stood on the other side, waiting for them to pass and go down the crate-and-stone steps to the cement floor below so he could seal it shut again. For the second time Alexis wondered if she had made the wrong decision. Sure, these guys seemed normal and helpful, but where the hell were they taking her? Secret passageways behind buildings? Bricked up doorways?

Bull pulled the heavy door back into place and the cramped space was thrown into darkness. Unable to see, Alexis’s heart rate sped up again and her palms grew sweaty, feeling like she wanted to claw her way out of the nothingness. There was a click and light returned to the world as first Bull and then Mosh flicked on their lighters. Bull led the way, followed by Pipsqueak. Mosh gestured for Alexis to go next and he followed behind her.

“It took about ten years to build this place,” Mosh explained, reading her thoughts. “We’ve got exits all over this city.”

“Go ahead and tell her all our secrets why don’t you?” Pipsqueak snorted.

“Hey, little man, you volunteered to help with his. Keep your yap shut and don’t play the innocent bystander, all right?”

“If you guys don’t want me here, I’m happy to go,” Alexis snapped, tired of them fighting over her. She was used to not being wanted, but they didn’t have to rub it in her face.

“Ignore Squeak,” Mosh answered, eyes narrowed at the smaller boy. “He’s just afraid of getting spanked by Jack.”

“Who is Jack?” By what she’d heard of him so far, he sounded like a grumpy parent.

“The Jack of all Trades. He leads the way around here. Picks us, trains us, sends us out on errands.”

“You don’t like him?” It was a safe guess, based on Pipsqueak’s fear of Jack’s reaction to her being there.

“Are you kidding?” Mosh grinned. “We’d be nowhere without him. Don’t let Squeak’s cowardice fool you. Jack can be scary, but he only wants to protect us. Our secret is what keeps us safe.”

Alexis tried to keep track of the maze they were in as they walked, but after the fourth left-then-right, she gave up and accepted that she’d probably never see the sky again.

Another right turn and the tunnel opened up to a larger, more cavernous corridor. The flicker of lighter fire glinted off metal below and Bull grabbed the back of Alexis’ jacket as she nearly stepped over the edge of a five-foot drop. Her hand flew to her chest to stop her heart from bursting through her ribs.

“Subway tunnels,” he explained, nodding to the abandoned tracks, and she backed away from the fall.

“Thanks,” she gasped, and he, too, only shrugged in reply.

The squeak and scurry of rats made Alexis cringe. The transit system had shut down before Alexis was born, most of the tunnels and street accesses sealed. Large signs were posted outside of old depots warning people to keep out of the tunnels, warning that they were monitored 24/7. Clearly, that was a lie.

As they wandered farther down the tunnels, Alexis was able to see the domed ceiling more clearly, and echoes other than the sound of their boots on the pavement reached them. Voices.

Mosh and Bull extinguished their lighters and let the light of larger fires lead them around the next bend to what was nothing less than a little city. Tents, blankets and campfires scattered the area, forts built out of crates, rope, and plywood balanced on stairs into bunk towers for more people to find places to sleep.

Alexis gaped and she shifted closer to Mosh, staring in wonder.

“What is this place?” she whispered.

Mosh grinned. “This is home. I told you: Jack finds us, he trains us, he keeps us safe. This is where it all happens.”

“Trains you to do what exactly?” Alexis asked, her mouth watering at the smell of meat cooking over a fire. Her gaze fell on some sort of browned and crispy bird. Her stomach grumbled.

“Who’s the chickie?” demanded a girl no more than fourteen on the other side of the fire. She was tending to her dinner with lemon and the tanginess added to the flavours already building in Alexis’s mouth.

“Name’s Alexis,” Pipsqueak answered, sitting down next to her and making a grab for a leg. “Brother just got shot by the coppers topside.”

Alexis focused on the turning bird. She felt Mosh brace, as if prepared for her to attack, but as far as she was concerned, they hadn’t said anything. Her tongue started bleeding again.

“Huh,” the girl replied, swatting Pipsqueak’s hand away. That was the end to her reaction of the boy’s news. “Bring me the spices I asked you for, Squeak? If you did, you can share.”

Pipsqueak gave his gap-toothed grin and pulled a plastic bottle from his pocket. “Swiped it before the fight. I want a wing.”

“Fine.”

“And a leg for Alexis,” Mosh spoke up, hearing Alexis’s stomach.

The girl’s eyebrow twitched. “What’s she done to deserve it?” she asked. “I never seen her hunt.”

“And if Jack had said the same thing when you first got here? Where’d you be, Fly?”

She grunted, her brow twisted. “Whatever.”

“This is Firefly,” Mosh introduced as he pulled a leg off and handed it to Alexis. She brought the greasy flesh to her lips and sank her teeth in glory. When had she last had fresh meat? Months? She moaned in pleasure as she chewed.

“Nice to meet you,” she said after swallowing. “You’re an amazing cook.”

Firefly’s eyes narrowed, but Alexis caught a glint of pride within them. “Damn right I am,” the girl replied, minus a bit of the hostility. “Jack lets you stay here, you bring me stuff to cook with, you get free share – same deal I got with Squeak.”

Alexis nodded her understanding.

“If Jack lets you stay,” she repeated, amused. Her eyes jumped to Mosh. “Word’s out.”

“Of course it is,” Mosh sighed. “People here got big mouths.”

“Bring us food, at least then those mouths’d be full,” Firefly pointed out.

Mosh turned to Alexis who by now was ripping the last of the meat off the bone. “Come on. It’ll be worse if he thinks we’re avoiding him.”

Alexis thanked Firefly again, received another shrug, and then she and Mosh headed off, Bull staying behind with Pipsqueak and Firefly.

They hadn’t gone far when another voice stopped them.

“So it’s true. Mosh, when are you going to learn to stop bringing home strays?”

If the smell of cooking dinner had made her mouth water, this man’s voice turned her legs to butter. A heavy Scots accent rumbled through lips surrounded by unshaved bristles. Auburn hair swept low over his forehead and blue eyes sparked in fun. His arms were crossed over his chest and he leaned against the wall, one leg propped up behind him.

“Tell them to stop being so cute and I would. But come on, look at her.”

Alexis’s face flushed under the new guy’s closer attention, but she stared back, shoulders squared. He was older than she was by a few years. Probably a bit older than Jake, too – early twenties at least.

“You Jack?” she asked, thinking it likely based on his reaction. She was startled when he let out a guffaw and pushed himself off of the wall.

“Me? You must be joking, lass. I’m not a hard-assed demon like Jack.”

“This is Maverick,” Mosh introduced. “He’s second in command around here.”

“Aye, that’s about it,” Maverick agreed. “And who are you?”

“Alexis,” she said.

His eyes narrowed. “That’s a good name for a hardened lass, but you don’t strike me as the type. You’re the damsel in distress and no mistake – blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty. I wouldn’t worry about Jack throwing you to the hounds. He’ll find good use for you round here.” He matched the new glare on her face with a grin. “You two follow me, and I’ll give you the tour before I take you to Jack. More to learn about this place than you’ll ever have time for, but this’ll teach you what you need to know.”

He gestured grandly to the wide staircase going up to the higher level. “Well, Damsel, welcome to the Shadows.”

Calling all Writers

So the last couple of weeks I've been trying to think of a way to make this blog a little more interactive, get a few other voices hopping around here. But what to do to generate some kind of interest? It didn't take me long to realise that - *lightbulb* - this is a blog about writing, how about some kind of writing project?

The idea I have was inspired by both the Thieves Guild in Skyrim and Devin's Flash Fiction contests on her forum (speaking of which, momentary plug for Feb's contest. We got some Bad Cupid going on this month), and will hopefully be enough to draw a few people in.

The process: I'll write a series of short stories following the main plot, and you guys can pick a supporting character/make up your own and write a flash fiction piece about them and how they associate with the plot/setting. It can be anywhere from 5 words to 2k, and any genre you want. The main plot will be literary fiction, but if you can find a way to work some magic/horror/sci-fi in there - go for it.

For the bloggers: You can post your story on your blog and link to me. I'll post the first two sentences of your story here and link it to you. For the non-bloggers: I'll post an email address and you can send them so I can post them here. Just note that if there's anything that would make your mother gasp or blush, please let me know so I can put a disclaimer at the top. No, I'm not trying to take all the fun out - just trying to expand readability.

Although this is an open submission and everyone is welcome, I do ask that you put a bit of effort into editing before subbing. It's a reflection on you that your work is presentable. Not asking for Dickens, just try to limit the textspeak. Unless that is your genre of choice...

And finally.......

The idea: Like I said, kinda Thieves-guildy. The setting is in the future - not very far, but the "when" doesn't  matter. There's been a complete international market crash and the Western world has fallen apart. People are starving, mortality rates have skyrocketed since hospitals can't afford to stay open; schools - never a big priority anyway - have all shut down and illiteracy is breeding once again. The rich hide behind their golden gates as if they can keep the poverty out. The city could be any city, but it's known affectionately as the Greylands by one small group determined to survive.

The story revolves around a youth gang, a collection of cons, buskers, petty thieves, and pickpockets. Not out for notoriety, or to gain any kind of reputation, these kids (mostly 15-24) only want to make it through. They have no hope that things will change, but they don't intend to lie down and die either. They live in the Shadows - abandoned subway tunnels,closed libraries and schools, anywhere they can hide. It's a darker Never-Never Land where there's no such thing as childhood and the only reason you don't grow up is that you're dead by 30.

Uplifting, right? But there is the warmer side - this gang works together to find food no one can afford, a perfect system of partnership. There are deep bonds and, if not hope, an acceptance that if this is the world, they may as well enjoy it.

I've already written most of the first story and I'm loving most of the characters. I'm open to suggestions as to where the plot ends up going, happy to pull ideas from some of your stories to help guide mine. With luck, I'll be ready to post the first story by the first of March and I hope by then some of you have started thinking of ideas to write.

Let me know what you think!