Starting Over

The Prompt: Describe a lake or river as seen by a young man or woman who has just committed a murder. Do not mention the murder.


It was early still. The sun shone high in the sky and reflected across the calm surface of the lake. It beat down on her, warming her skin until beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. She slid off her shoes and dangled her feet over the edge of the rough wooden dock, her toes just barely grazing the water. It was murky beneath the dock, impossible to see more than a few inches below the surface, not that she tried very hard. She preferred to ignore the uglier depths that lay just out of sight. Straining to see something that would mar the beauty of the lake seemed pointless to her.

She allowed her gaze to drift across to the opposite shore. The edge of the ground blended into the lake, but she couldn’t see just where the change from water to land occurred. Trees dotted the earth around the rim and plants grew dark and thick into the water itself. That was where they blurred together. She couldn’t discern a difference, couldn’t separate them. They wove together and intermingled until her eyes grew weary of staring and she was forced to blink and look away. That was how people changed too. Slowly, imperceptible to anyone watching, then suddenly they were a different person. Looking back, that one moment where he stopped being himself was lost in a sea of other memories.

A duck glided across the water and sent ripples toward the docks. She toed the water, sending a small splash in its direction, but the duck was too far away to even acknowledge the intrusion. The simple, playful act brought a small smile to her lips. She should have been more affected by everything that had happened, at the very least shouldn’t she feel some remorse? Guilt? She felt nothing except a sick sense of relief. It had been a long time coming. And now she was here, watching the lake as the day slowly passed. The gentle movement of the water kept her calm and relaxed, perhaps for the first time in years. There were others around, families with young children, and yet she felt secure on her perch on the dock. No one looked at her and saw anything other than a woman simply enjoying the view. The past was ancient history now. She could start over as the woman by the lake, let her new identity reflect its own image. The lake would be her fresh start. A new life. Calm and put together like the gentle lapping of the water at the shore, the ripples that danced across the surface. Her murky past hidden underneath. No longer scared, she could draw her strength from the lake.

She drew her feet out of the water and stood, the splintered wood of the dock coarse against her bare feet. In just a few steps she had moved to the cooler grass. Her toes dug into the soft ground and a smile played across her face once again. Things would be okay now. She had taken control for the first time and now she was safe. Things would be okay.

Prompt #17

The Prompt: A Rainbow

The light streaked across the sky as Isa stared out her bedroom window. She recited the colors in order.

Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Indigo. Violet.

A rainbow. A perfect rainbow, arced above all the houses and trees, dipping low to each side outside of Isa’s view. It hadn’t even rained earlier. Those were the best kind, Isa thought. Usually rainbows were an apology for the rainstorms, but occasionally one happened out of the blue like this. Just a random spark of happiness to brighten everyone’s day.

Isa smiled up at it. Nothing seemed quite so bad with a rainbow in the sky.

Sounds came from downstairs. They must have been fighting again.

Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. Indigo.

They were always fighting lately. Cam deliberately made their father angry, like she was trying to bring out the worst in him. Isa couldn’t stand the yelling. It was a Sunday. Why couldn’t they just let things rest for one day a week?

Why couldn’t Cam just keep her head down and do what Dad wanted?

Isa always tried her best not to be noticed. It was safer that way. She was younger so he didn’t care as much about her as long as her grades were A’s and she didn’t stir up any trouble. Cam was a different story. She always had all kinds of friends and though her grades were good she rebelled in other ways.

There had been the shoplifting, and the drinking. Lately it’d been pot and college boys. She would come into Isa’s room late at night with the smoky sweet smell clinging to her clothes, ready to regale her with a story about her adventures that night.

Isa mostly tried not to listen.

Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue.

They were screaming again. She didn’t bother to question why Mom wasn’t stopping it. Their mother spent most of her time out on the patio with a cigarette these days. The stress smoking had gotten worse since Cam started high school.

Everything had gotten worse since Cam started high school.

“-won’t have this kind of behavior in my house! It’s disgraceful!” Isa cringed at the tone in her father’s voice. Her door was closed, but he still rang loud and clear.

Cam’s response was no better. “I’ll do what I want! It’s not hurting anyone!”

“That’s not your decision to make!”

Isa tried to tune them out, turned her attention back to the rainbow.

Red. Orange. Yellow. Green.

“You’re too old to act like this anymore! Look at your sister! She hasn’t started acting out and she’s been in high school for a year!”

“Only because you’ve got her locked away terrified in her room!”

Isa shuddered. She hated when the conversation- argument became about her. It seemed like it was the only time Dad ever noticed her. She wasn’t a fan of his attention. It never led to anything good.

“Look around this house, Dad. Isa never leaves her room, Mom’s outside pretending everything’s fine, it’s all on you!”

“I will not be spoken to that way in my own house!”

Red. Orange. Yellow.

Cam’s response was too quiet for Isa to hear, even though she strained. The arguments were bad, but the endings were worse. Sometimes Cam locked herself in her room, sometimes she joined Isa in hers. Lately she’d taken to fighting back with everything she had and the fights never ended.

She rarely got quiet.

Isa couldn’t hear a thing. She considered getting up from her window seat if only to open the door, but decided against. If anyone wanted her they’d come looking. It was safer in her room.

Then suddenly, a door slammed. The front door. Turning her gaze from the sky, Isa saw Cam’s blonde head retreating from the house at a near run. She didn’t look back, she didn’t even pause. Just continued until she was around the corner and out of sight.

Another door slammed, this time coming from inside the house. Her father’s study. She doubted he’d come out until dinner when her mother would plead and cajole him to join them at the table. It would be a tense meal, but usually Cam didn’t get back until they’d all gone to bed.

Red. Orange.

Isa waited up that night for the click of the front door, the soft beep of the security system or her sister’s soft footsteps on the stairs, but they never came. She waited up until suddenly she was opening her eyes to the bright light of morning and there was no hint that Cam had ever entered her bedroom.

She tiptoed down the hall to her sister’s room and peeked in. The bed was unmade, but that was nothing new. Cam was a slob. She wasn’t there and there was no sign she’d come back during the night.

Breakfast was quiet with no Cam to stir up trouble. There were no lectures about breaking curfew or the shameful behaviors Cam was exhibiting. There was no Cam.

Not a word was said the whole meal and Isa retreated back to her bedroom. She took up her usual seat at the window and watched not the sky, but for Cam to return.

Red.

She remained in that seat for hours, staring out at the grass and watching for Cam to come flouncing up the path, but she never did. Afternoon arrived and she was still gone.

The knot in the pit of Isa’s stomach tightened. Cam had always come back before, but there was always a question of how long that would last. She was eighteen. No law said she had to return. No reason for her to ever set foot in the house again. She’d certainly made that point clear several times.

Isa felt sick and the grass swam beneath her eyes. She’d been watching it for too long. She blinked rapidly to get the green haze out of her head and caught a glimpse of the sky. Yesterday’s rainbow was long gone and the sky was a clear blue, not even a cloud in sight.

Just a blank sky, nothing to distract her from Cam’s absence.

Nothing.

Prompt #16

The Prompt: A Sunset

The sunset cast an orange glow over the two figures. The light danced on the woman’s hair giving it a darker tint than its usual blond. She rested her head on the man’s shoulder and sighed contentedly. It was good to know that even with all the atrocities in the world, something this pure and beautiful could still exist.

They stood, watching the sun sink slowly beneath the curvature of the earth until they could no longer fool themselves into believing it was still sunset. Night had fallen and with it a chill that settled over the couple. Stars glittered in the sky surrounding the moon, but they could hardly be called beautiful. Where the sun was soft and warm, the stars were hard and bright like cold metal. There was nothing comforting about them.

The woman sighed again, but this time there was no calm in her soft breath. Her body was tense, prepared for anything. Night was not a time for her to relax. The man was hardly any better, but he slipped a comforting arm around her shoulders, murmuring soothing words into her ear. The day had been so perfect, but perfection never could last.

The woman turned to her companion, suddenly spiteful. “He won’t come.”

“He’ll be here,” the man replied automatically.

“He doesn’t care. He’s proven that time and time again.”

“He’ll be here,” the man said, effectively ending their spoken conversation. It was an argument they’d had a dozen times before. One that she could never win. The woman fell silent, a hard glint in her eyes. On the surface she had given up hope he would come, but there was still a small part of her that wanted so desperately to be wrong. Only on rare occasions did she ever even acknowledge the hope still existed, let alone listen to it.

They waited as the cool breeze turned into an icy gust of wind, forcing the two closer together for warmth. The woman shivered and pulled her cloak tighter. “He won’t come,” she repeated, but the man didn’t respond to or even acknowledge he’d heard her. “We’ve been out here all evening.”

“He said he’d come,” the man said, not even glancing at his companion. He was staring off into the distance, looking at nothing and everything all at once. “He said he’d come and he will.”

The woman fingered the wool in her cloak. “I’m tired of waiting for him.”

The man sighed and dropped his arm from around her shoulders. “I’m sure you can think of something to do with your time. Be creative.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. We’re always waiting for him.”

The man crossed his arms and looked away. It was something he couldn’t argue with. They were always waiting. The woman knew he would never agree with her, accept that he wasn’t going to show, but she couldn’t help adding one last barb. “He’s never going to come.”

Sighing, the man glanced down at her, really looking at her for the first time that night. “Stasia-”

“Don’t call me that anymore. Someone hears that and it gets up the chain and we’re done for.”

The man smiled wryly. “No one’s around to hear anything.” But he didn’t say her name again. They had learned to be always on their guard. They had grown up in the resistance, away from the brainwashing of the government. They had been in the longest and had managed to hide from the death camps set up for people just like themselves.

Stasia sank onto the ground. She hated hearing her real name. It made her remember her childhood, much the same as the life she led now, but it seemed fun as a kid. She learned to excel at hide and seek long before most kids knew what it was. She began learning to fight before she was ten. Back then it had all seemed like a game. Now she knew it was life and death.

“Stasia, Ollander.” A voice came out of nowhere, startling Stasia into a fighting stance. If it was government officials with stun guns she knew that would be useless, but it was a habit ingrained in her since childhood.

A man stood beside a tree, his face shrouded in darkness from the shadows. Stasia would have been hard pressed to make an identification, but Ollander didn’t seem too concerned. “I told her you’d be here,” he said, a smile gracing his face for the first time that night.

The man stepped out of the shadows and Stasia recognized his face instantly. She turned away, not wanting to look at him any longer than she had to. Luc was the third member of their trio and Ollander’s brother, but he had become a spy in the government. Stasia was never sure anymore if he was on their side or informing the government of their every move.

“I have news,” Luc said.

“You always have news,” Stasia replied coldly. “Or have you forgotten your duties?”

Luc glanced at her, but turned back to Ollander. It was clear he’d get more from his brother than his oldest friend. “They’re looking for you two, you’ve got to go underground.”

Stasia snorted. It wasn’t a new idea, the government was always searching for them. Going underground would mean stopping anything they were planning, possibly permanently. It was times like these she wondered about Luc’s loyalties. “Is that all?”

“No, they’re looking for you two specifically. They know your names and faces. Leave the resistance in someone else’s hands for a few months. You’ve got to get out of the city. I can get you out tonight.” Luc sounded sincere, but he was the best liar Stasia knew.

She exchanged a quick look with Ollander. They had lately lost any older members trusted enough to take over, and none of the new members had the contacts to keep everyone together. Finally Ollander spoke. “It would be impossible to hand over the leadership to someone else. We stay.”

Stasia smirked. She knew she shouldn’t be pleased that Ollander was on her side and not Luc’s, but she couldn’t help feeling a small sense of triumph. “Then stop the resistance, these are your lives we’re talking about. You need to go underground or you will die.”

“Then we will die,” Ollander said, shrugging. It wasn’t something any of them wanted to happen, but they had prepared for that day years ago. Anyone a part of the resistance understood that death was inevitable. The fact that they had managed to survive for this long was shocking in and of itself.

Luc slammed his fist against the tree, his anger surprising Stasia. He had always had perfect control over his emotions which made him the ideal spy. The sight of him losing control made Stasia question his motives. He knew they would all die eventually, his anger could be planned, a ruse to separate them from the rest of the resistance. “Damn it, Ollie, you are the resistance, don’t you understand that? If you die, the resistance dies.”

Ollander shook his head. To value one’s life over the life of others was exactly what the resistance was fighting against. No person’s life was more important than someone else’s. “Do you have any useful information for us?” He asked, and Stasia felt a surge of warmth. Ollander was the truest member of the resistance. Everyone else, including herself, had doubts occasionally, but Ollander was a true believer.

Luc ignored his brother’s question and turned to Stasia, who looked pointedly away. “Don’t listen to my pigheaded brother. You understand the long term. The resistance as a whole is more important than your stupid rules. Get out of the city, hide, keep safe. Come back in six months and this will have died down.”

Despite herself, Stasia felt a pull to Luc’s words. It sounded like a good plan, everything would be back to normal in only a few months and they could go back to leading the resistance together. But she shook her head. Ollander was right and that was final. They would stay.

Luc ran agitated fingers through his spiked blond hair. “That’s it then, isn’t it? There’s no going back once you leave here.” Stasia slipped her hand into Ollander’s and looked down at the ground. She wanted to apologize to Luc, offer him something, but there was nothing to say. Luc gave a disgusted sneer. “You two just signed your death warrants.”

It very well might have been true, but it was the price to pay for fighting the government.

When Stasia and Ollander were safely out of hearing, Luc growled softly. He had failed in his mission. The separation of Stasia and Ollander from their pitiful resistance was something only he could accomplish, and he had failed. They were the only powerful ones in the organization, the only ones actually doing any damage. With them out of the way the rest of the resistance would be wiped out and sentenced to the death camps.

But he had failed. He pulled out his communicator to let his superior know that Stasia and Ollander would not be heading to the government house he had set up. Luc had really thought this was the plan that would work. Now Stasia and Ollander were going home safe and it was his life on the line.

Prompt #15

The Prompt: If I could be anywhere other than here…

“If I could be anywhere other than here…” Pete murmured to himself. He didn’t need to finish the thought. He’d done so a hundred times before since he had been captured and imprisoned, imagining all of the places that weren’t nearly so bad as his tiny jail cell. In fact, the more difficult task would be to think of all the places he wouldn’t rather be. Almost instantly an image of a grave slipped into his mind.

He shook his head roughly. That wouldn’t help him keep a clear mind which he so desperately needed. Thoughts like that were better left in the past.

Pete stood up slowly and walked as far as he could away from the wall he was chained to. If he tried he could just barely see into the next cell. The occupant there was new; its previous inhabitant had been executed after giving up everything he knew. Pete hadn’t tried to speak to the newcomer. Friendships never outlasted the executions. Besides, anyone in here could be a spy trying to gain his trust to receive information.

But Pete was desperate for some kind of distraction. The man in the cell had his head in his hands and was facing the wall. His hair wasn’t long enough to suggest that he’d been captured more than a few weeks ago and his dark skin and hair suggested he came from down south. Pete tapped his fist on the metal bars to gain the man’s attention. He jumped in shock at the noise and turned to Pete in fear. Pete was surprised to notice how young he looked. He wasn’t a man at all, but a boy. If he was older than fifteen he would have been surprised. “Hello.” His voice was raspy after weeks of speaking aloud to no one but himself. The boy stared at him wide eyed without a word. “It’s okay to talk. They don’t care what we say in here.”

The boy continued to stare and Pete had almost given up hope of a response when he finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “How long have you been in here?”

Pete glanced at the wall, at the dozens of lines that marked his futile attempt to keep track of the days before he finally gave up. “A few months, maybe. Maybe more.”

If it was possible, the boy looked even more terrified. “Months? I thought this was where they-” The slamming of a door echoed through the otherwise quiet prison. The boy didn’t pick up his train of thought again, but Pete knew what he meant. This was where they brought the prisoners to die. Every person in a cell was simply waiting for his own turn.

Pete figured it would be best to draw the boy away from this line of thought. Dwelling on death would only send a person into madness. Their sanity was they had left and Pete wasn’t going to lose that too. “What’s your name?”

“Matthias,” he whispered. “Matty.”

Matty. It was such a young name. Pete didn’t want to think of how young and innocent Matty seemed. It would only hurt more when it came time for his death. Someone so young didn’t belong in a place like this. He should have been off with his parents somewhere, getting an education like they would have in happier times that Pete could hardly remember anymore. A boy as young as Matty wouldn’t know anything more than the war, though. This was what his life had become.

Another door slammed, this time closer to them. Pete pushed away from the bars separating their cells and huddled against the wall as far from the door as possible. A burly guard walked down the aisle, lit by only his own torch. He ran his stick across the bars and those who hadn’t escaped to the back of their cells did so immediately.

“No fraternizin’ with other captives!” He yelled. Pete knew he wasn’t talking to him and Matty specifically, but his body trembled with fear. When all was quiet again he didn’t return to the divider between the cells. He stayed in his corner, alone in the dark.

Prompt #14

The Prompt: “If you were going to be some lame suburban dad why couldn’t you be that for me?”

“What are you talking about?” Paul asked, taking a step closer to his daughter.

Kelly pulled away from him and wrapped her arms around herself. She didn’t want anyone else to touch her, especially not him. “You! You’re just some family guy, raising your two point five kids with your Carol Brady wife and white picket fence! You were supposed to be awesome, have some reason you weren’t around the last fifteen years! Not this.”

Kelly trailed off as she gestured around the house. It was so suburban, so typical of everything she’d seen her friends have growing up. There was the perfect lawn, the nice house, even dinner was the classic suburban dream. He had the perfect family.

“Why not me, Dad? Why not me and Mom? What makes them so special that you settled down?” Kelly’s voice shook and it took everything for her to not break down. He didn’t mean anything to her. He shouldn’t have meant anything to her. She didn’t want to show him that she was weak or that he had the ability to hurt her.

She wanted to be stronger than that.

“That’s not it at all,” he said looking saddened by Kelly’s accusation. “I was so young when you were born, so immature. I didn’t have an idea of who I was. I’ve grown up since them.”

“You never came back! You never contacted me again! Fifteen years went by and I’m only here because I sent you that damn letter!” Kelly’s voice rose and she pulled back even more, turning her back on her estranged father. “You never reached out.”

“I’ve made mistakes…”

“Mistakes,” Kelly scoffed. “I don’t want to hear it.” She’d gone to his house that night with the intention to build a relationship, at the very least hear him grovel and make excuses for the past fifteen years. But now that she had seen what his life was she didn’t want any of that. He had what she’d always wanted.

Only he had it without her.

“What is it that you want from me?” Paul asked. He looked sincerely as though he wanted to please her, but that only mad e Kelly feel worse.

“Nothing. I don’t want anything from you anymore,” she spat. Maybe another time, even earlier that day she had, but Kelly was done. She was finished with him. “I’ll go back to being your point five kid that you fathered and abandoned and you can keep being dad of the year for your other two.”

Paul followed as she hurried to her car. Kelly ducked her head and avoided eye contact as she started the engine.

“Please, Kelly-”

“Have a nice life, Dad,” she muttered as she shifted the car into drive and sped off, leaving her father staring after her.