Incandescent Rage

(this is the third part of Claire’s story. The rest may be found here   )

That was a mistake.

What was she thinking?

She hasn’t yet brought herself to drop the flower—could she even if she wanted to? Its broken stem oozes with something that’s not honey, sticky and warm against her sweaty fingers, gripping tight—

Claire’s heart pounds in her ears, beating in tune with her frantic footfalls, each step crushing insects and leaves alike beneath her filthy shoes; she’s making noise, so much noise, enough to scare off all the forest’s creatures and quiet their sounds—

Festooned in Flowers

(this is the second part of Claire’s story. The rest may be found here   )

Breakfast is icy.

There’s something wrong with the house, something beyond the crushed lawn and torn siding outside. Claire struggles to swallow half-frozen scrambled eggs and too-chunky orange juice; her parents don’t fair much better.

Finally, finally, she reaches the end of her mandatory presence (denoted by her father getting up to do the dishes, and her mother receding into her morning emails). Neither of them notice when she leaves. They never do.

Outside Your Window

(This is the start of Claire’s story. The rest may be found here   )

Bonk.

Claire pulls her blankets tighter, burrows a bit deeper into her bed’s comforting warmth.

Bonk.

She pointedly turns her back on the window.

Bonk.

Her patience breaks.

“Will you stop already?! I’m trying to sleep here!”

The glare she directs at the darkness outside her window could power her entire town, if it were ever properly harnessed. It is her most powerful weapon, and it frustrates her to no end that the darkness appears to be immune to it (as are her teachers, classmates, and parents).

Mycelium

“There! Do you see that?”

An endless twisted thread; a mat writhing beneath the surface. Sprouting bodies receding into the rotting soil; corpses blossoming into ghostly light. Ribs crunch beneath Abigail’s feet; a smile lights her face.

Her companion tarries, unwilling to venture in; Rob’s mothers told him so many times to stay away from the burial pits, not to risk whatever ordinance might yet be buried among the numinous dead.