Friday, May 25, 2012

Leading (Friday Fiction)

Hi everyone, I know it's a holiday weekend, but I am hosting Friday Fiction and while the linky widget is up late, I hope the story hits the spot. To join in the fun, just add your name and story to the linky list below. don't forget to read and comment! 

Author's Ramblings: This was a snippet of flash fiction I saved for this weekend. Enjoy! (Best read listening to Francesca Battistelli's "Lead me to the cross". Have a great weekend!

“Lead me to the cross, where your love pours out…” The song continued to fill the air as Callie sang softly to herself, gathering up the basket of flowers from the pile of horse blankets nestled beside her. She slid out from the pick-up truck and tucked the basket in the crook of her arm as she closed the door and squared her shoulders.

She could hear the rumble in the gravel road as others arrived and voices filled the air of the now-fading fog. She could see a few others with flower-laden baskets on their arms as they all approached the cemetery, a singular thought in mind.

The cool grass bent beneath her cowboy boots, damp with dew and soft accents to the pristine rows and markers for the task that lay ahead. 

She was first, the one leading, as they began the solemn walk among the white gravestone markers.

With tear-filled eyes, but a light heart, she plucked the first flower from her basket and laid it before the first header stone.

“Thank you.” She whispered.

(c) Sara Harricharan

Monday, May 21, 2012

Quest (Flash Fiction)

Found on Google images. I own nothing.

“Quest?” She stepped out of the closet, her arms filled with plastic hangers, some broken, some not. “What kind of a quest?”

“I’m not sure.” I perched on the edge of the bed and watched her painstakingly separate each hanger into color coded piles. There were some days I wondered about this woman.

“I see and you are telling me this because….?” She let the words trail off as she gathered up the plastic rainbow once more, with all intent of heading to the laundry room.

“Because they said before I left, I’d need a mother’s blessing.”

She froze in the doorway, a mask on her face as if she didn’t quite trust herself to look at me. “I’m not your mother, Kyle.” She said, at last.

“No. But you’re the closest thing I have to a mother.”

(C) Sara Harricharan

Friday, May 11, 2012

The Lighthouse Inheritance (Friday Fiction)

Hi everyone! I've the pleasure of hosting Friday Fiction this week! Yay! The linky widget is below, feel free to link up to your story and don't forget to read and share. Happy Mother's Day (in advance!) To all the Mom's on this coming weekend. Cheers!

Author's Ramblings: I'm finally out for the summer! Whew. The semester's been a bear and I am so glad to be out and at least, getting some sleep (mostly, sorta-kinda!) and anyhow, this is my summer project for the moment, and I just had to share. I hope you enjoy the read!

Found on Google Images I own nothing. (Bristol Manor in England)

Rani nudged the car door shut with one foot and wobbled dangerously as the movement nearly threw her off. She winced, waiting, relieved when the door slammed shut and her foot rested trustingly on the now solid surface. 

She readjusted the armful of bulging binders, purse, water bottle and leftover lunch, even as the thick straps of her duffel bags dug into her shoulders. “Keys, keys, keys…” she muttered to herself, inching up the walk carefully.

It wouldn’t have hurt to come back for a second trip, but the yawn that escaped as she made her way towards the old manor, was proof enough that she’d probably be napping somewhere on the nearest flat surface.

Once the front door was open, that is.

She made it up the tall circular stairs and absently wondered at the old manor’s grandeur. When her great-grandfather’s will had specifically mentioned her and a certain seaside inheritance, she was sure it had been a mistake. In fact, she’d been completely convinced of it.

So had her adopted parents.

And then of course, the letter had arrived, and a request from the estate’s executor, requesting her permission for legal purposes. She’d ended up trekking halfway across the country with little more than her wits and the useful items from her university dorm room.

Thankfully, there were more useful than useless items in it and now as she sagged against the front door, she tried to recall the odd conversation with said estate executor the week before.

“…ah, Miss Relkins, see, your great-grandfather mentions leaving you a special guardian by the name of Noir and a manor to house you both. This is in addition to the original inheritance of the lighthouse and-”

“A manor?”

“Yes, now-”

“No, wait. A manor? The old-fashioned, giant house of brick and mortar kind of manor?”

There was a long pause on the other end of the line and finally, a cautious “yes.”

“Is it inhabitable?”

“Er, I beg your pardon?”

“I’m graduating this weekend, I can swing by there on my way home. Be a good way to relax and decompress from the stress of the past few years. Be nice if I didn’t have to stay in a hotel though.”

“…I see.”

“I am still a university student and as a universal rule, we are mostly broke.”

“I see. Very well then, I shall meet you at the manor, say, the weekend after?”

“I think so. Not sure. I’m not all that brilliant with a map.”

“GPS is a wonderful invention, Miss Relkins.”

“To those who can afford it…’sides, I still mix up my rights and lefts.”

“Shall I mail the keys?”

“I guess, if it’ll reach here by this weekend.”

The rest of the conversation had become rather boring from there and Rani had sworn the man to promise to repeat some of it when they met tomorrow. She knew she certainly hadn’t gained or processed any of the new information he’d shared and hoped there wasn’t anything particularly pressing. 

The words of a guardian in the manor had worried her for a minute, but when she’d asked the charming Mr. Ceasar, he had stiffly, but politely informed her that said great-grandfather had never kept any pets and if Noir was to be a pet, then they had never met.

So…you’re not a dog…and I don’t know what you are…ooh, maybe you’re a cool security system, all digital and stuff. Noir. I bet it’s an acronym and probably stands for something really awesome, like…yeah, I’m dead tired. Sleep. I so need to sleep. Remind me to never do this again. Ugh. No, wait. Inside first. Keys, keys, keys….had them a minute ago, ha! There we go! And in we go.

The heavy wooden doors creaked open and Rani shuffled in, bleary eyes taking in a clean entry way and light streaming in from further down the hallway. She half-heartedly kicked the door shut behind her and continued her shuffle forward, pausing to yawn into one shoulder. 

Her gaze skittered over the empty entry way, noting the lack of a welcome table and even a shoe rack. She stopped at the first room she found and wasn’t surprised to see everything covered in plastic and sheets.

She eased her armful down on the nearest armchair, allowing her duffel bags to fall to the floor as she trooped over to the plastic and sheet covered sofa. With a weary flick of the wrist, she drew them back and took in a rather nice, if somewhat old-fashioned pattern on a velvet covered settee.

“Wow. Nice.” Another yawn came forward and without a second thought, Rani flopped onto the newly uncovered surface. She fished her cellphone out of her jeans pocket and pressed a few buttons to send the customary text to her mother to announce that she’d arrived and was going to take a nap for the next few hours.

She’d nearly drifted off when the cellphone buzzed with a reply and she squinted at the screen before a sleepy smile settled on her face.

Several minutes later, Rani Relkins was fast asleep.

It wasn’t the sound of the car coming up the drive that caught his attention.

It wasn’t even the key in the lock or the door coming open.

It wasn’t the footsteps in the hallway or the sounds of things falling to floor.

No, it was rather, the calm, even breathing of someone entirely too unguarded for their own good that brought Noir out of the kitchen and towards the front of the manor to investigate. He stuck his head through the first parlor and grey eyes arched upwards to his head of white-blond hair.

After a few minutes of incredulity, the man ventured further into the room, taking note of the items in the room and a closer look at the young woman herself. He watched her for a good long minute, searching for resemblances that didn’t seem to be there, and poked at her cellphone with one finger, before he finally gave a huff and walked out.

From the lines and shadows in her face, he knew she’d sleep for a while and he made a mental note to warn Kane and Iylida from barging into the manor in their usual way. The duffel bags suggested the newcomer intended to stay.

The cellphone informed him that she’d received two text while sleeping—and had slept on. He counted that as pure exhaustion, his encounters with the younger generation and their mobile devices leading to no other conclusion.

Returning to the kitchen, he continued his lunchtime preparations, adding vegetables to the soup stock and checking on the dough he’d left to rise in the warmest corner of the room. The heavy weight settled around his neck seemed to lighten, just the faintest as he went about his work and the grey eyes darkened in sorrow.

Yet another master had come. 


Things would be complicated for a while, once more.  They always were, when the master was alive.

No, wait, not a master, this time, a mistress.

© Sara Harricharan