dSavannah note: Thank you to all of twelve of you {per my site stats} who stopped by last week and read my first entry for #FictionFriday. I really appreciate it, more than you know. I also appreciate your comments.

Yes, the accent was difficult to read, but it was also difficult to write. I actually ended up sorting every word in the story to make sure I spelled everything wrong… consistently. It was, as one of you pointed out, to show how bad off society has gotten. Education has slipped; it’s a wonder my poor {unnamed} character can write at all.

A couple of you (thanks writer pals Gareth and Jerry) said you wanted to read more in that world, which is something I had not even thought about, so now I’m thinking I might write a few more stories in that setting. Definitely writing a story from Preatcher Skinth’s point of view. (Or should that be a frowny face?)

I wrote today’s story, a marked departure from the dystopian, scary world of Point Fair, a couple years ago, but the first draft was kind of confusing, especially as to what character was talking when. My thoughts gnawed on how to fix it for a while, but then it came to me, and I did the edits in like 20 minutes. Not that it’s perfect, mind you, but I like it much better.

So, enjoy story #2:

The Family Business

Ana found herself in a strange place: back flush against the wall of a cave. Lights shimmered around her and confused her. She felt like she should be in some crazy 80’s fantasy film, the way the cave molded around her and the lights glittered and strobed.

She also felt like this had to be a dream, but her little sister, Maya, was with her. And when she grabbed the child’s arm, Maya squealed.

“Stop that! It hurts!” the girl protested.

Definitely not a dream.

Oddly, Ana’s side of the cave, the side where she stood with Maya, seemed somehow lighter than the other side: the side where their great-aunt Asha stood. That side seemed darker, and more…ominous somehow, she decided.

Her little sister tugged on her hand.

“I want to go,” Maya cried, but Ana couldn’t do anything about it. She didn’t see a way to leave. A place to turn, or to hide. No exits. Nowhere to go.

This is a theme of my life, she thought to herself. Nowhere to go.

And I’m not good enough to go anywhere if there is even a somewhere to go.

And I’m just stuck here, in this cave of lights, this cave that smells faintly of fear and honeysuckle.

She stood up straight. “Honeysuckle!” she whispered to her little sister. “Do you smell it? It means spring!”

Maya cocked her head a little to the right, in a gesture eerily reminiscent of her own gestures. “Yes,” she whispered back. “Yes.”

And Ana felt her little sister release her hand, and go searching for the source of the lovely smell.

“Who are you?” Maya asked, staring up at the old woman who stood in the dark. “Why don’t you come out in the light and help me find the special smell?”

The old lady just looked down on her, her mouth in a grimace. “I am your great-aunt. Your mother did not want you to know about me.”

“Why not?” the little girl asked, suddenly shy. Her mother also grimaced like that. A lot.

“Because I am not always good.”

Not always good? Where the fuck did that thought come from? Asha wondered. Like I’ve ever been good. Like I’ve ever cared. She brushed at her long dark skirt, tried to smooth it down.

“Your mother is just…” she paused. What could she tell this urchin, this child who looked so much like her sister, her mother, her niece; what to tell this small, glowing face?

“Your mother is…”

She found she couldn’t answer.

Ana suddenly found herself away from the back wall of the cave. Her little sister was lit up, like in a dance movie where the director wanted to highlight the star’s lithe legs, or long neck. Ana was drawn to that light, to her little sister, to her innocence and kindness.

“You shall not have her!” She found herself in front of the child, confronting the old woman. Her great-aunt. Her great-aunt, who, she realized with a start, did not look that much different than she did.

The woman laughed.

“Whatever would I want with her? I have no use for children. I have no need for the ‘pitter patter of little feet’ or unicorn noses or other such nonsense.”

“What does a unicorn nose smell like?” the little girl asked, unperturbed, peeking around her sister’s skirts.

The old woman squinted and raised her left eyebrow, then smoothed down her skirt again.

“How the hell should I know, kid?”

“Well, I only thought you might know, since this is a unicorn cave.” Maya stepped boldly in front of her big sister. “You’re standing in the dark part of the cave, the part where unicorn babies are sleeping. You should probably come to the lighter side. We don’t want to wake the babies.”

Ana stared down at her little sister. What kind of nonsense was she spouting? Unicorn cave. As if!

But the old lady, their great-aunt, started moving toward them. It also seemed she brought cold with her, cold from her side of the cave to theirs.

“If you’re so smart, why do the babies like it cold?” Ana glared down at her little sister. She couldn’t help it. So the cave felt cold on one side, warmer on another. So it featured an impressive light show. And her weird Great-Aunt Asha was there. But that didn’t mean it held unicorns.

And…she was the adult. She was supposed to be the one saving the day here. Not her stupid little sister with the goofy bow in her hair and an unhealthy obsession with crayons.

“I dunno,” Maya shrugged, and pointed to a very dark corner. “You could ask the unicorn.”