Pictures on the Wall

“Don’t worry about taking off your shoes,” Callum said when Sady began to toe off her sneaker.

“Oh. Right.” She wiggled her foot back into her shoe and smiled faintly. Sure, her friendship with Callum was tenuous, but she liked him, and it was high time they did normal things like study together at each other’s houses and things.

“My mum and dad are probably still at work.” Callum started toward the door at the far end of the hallway.

Sady followed, curious. He said little about his family; all she knew was that both his parents worked and his brother had died last year before he transferred in. The walls were lined with artistic photos - woodlands, hills, even a castle. Was someone in the family a photographer? Sady asked.

“My brother,” he said, and he smiled, small, sad.

“Right.” Sady had to stop opening her mouth and inserting her foot. “So...which subject is giving you the most trouble?” They had chemistry, biology, and maths in common for their GCSEs, and Callum had expressed worry about one of his classes.

“Bio, mostly,” Callum said. “The whole citric acid cycle is doing my head in. The whole phosphorylation procedure is...”

Sady glanced up at a photo of a palm tree on a beach. Beside it was a photo of actual people for once. It must have been Callum’s family. Only besides Callum and the man and woman who must have been his parents, there was another boy: blond, classically handsome, blue-eyed, aloof. Sady knew his face - it was Vaughn.

Vaughn had died a year ago, sacrificed himself for his little brother, the one who was more brilliant and loving and was going to save the world. He’d shielded his brother from the world, from Sady’s wrath when she found out; he’d given everything for the brother Sady never knew.

Callum’s brother had died a year ago, right after Callum was released from a long stay in the hospital. How could she not have known? They had blue eyes - the same blue eyes - and the same quirky smile, and -

“...Sady?” Callum stood in the doorway to the kitchen, looking at her oddly.

“Is this Vaughn?” Sady asked.

“Yes. It’s the only one Mum keeps.” Callum’s brow furrowed. “How do you know his name?”

“I met him,” Sady said.

Surprise flared in Callum’s eyes. “What?”

Sady nodded. “At the hospital. About - about a year ago. When my gran was in. He was there whenever I was, and he’d play cards with me and Gran, and...”

“And?”

“And then Gran died, and I left, and I never came back. He told me to stay away, because I got angry with him when he told me -”

“What did he tell you?”

“That he was going to save his baby brother.”

Callum closed his eyes. “So this whole time, you knew?”

“Not at all. He never said your name, never let me see you.” Sady tried to smile. “I was in love with him.”

(500 words)

This Whole Time

“Guys, where’s Damon?” Sam asked.

The director looked up from his script and scanned the crowd of actors and extras who were milling in the courtyard; Damon’s familiar blond head was nowhere to be seen.

Sam, who was still surrounded by make-up ladies, craned his neck. “Has anyone seen him?”

“He got a phone call and rushed off somewhere to take it in private,” Lily said. “I expect that’s where he still is.”

The alcove just below the main stairwell up to the great hall was by unspoken agreement the place to take private phone calls. The director nodded his head at one of the ADs, who peeled away from the cluster near the camera to summon the missing actor.

Several moments later, three more ADs scurried after her. Sam extricated himself from the make-up ladies and moved to follow, see what was the matter. Then the director came tearing past, and Sam knew something was genuinely wrong. Luckily, he managed to get into the building before the ADs began corralling it off.

“What’s going?” he asked.

And then he saw. Damon was curled into the alcove, sobbing wretchedly into his hands. His mobile lay on the floor at his feet, the screen flashing, a tinny voice shouting,

“Son, son, are you all right? What’s the matter?”

Sam knelt down and peered at the screen. The name and the photo were familiar - it was Damon’s dad. Sam scooped up the phone carefully.

“Hi, Mr. Hamilton. It’s me, Sam - one of Damon’s costars. Is everything all right?”

“I don’t know.” Mr. Hamilton sounded shaken. “Is something the matter with Damon? He answered the phone, and then he went insane - accused me of being an impostor or playing some prank on him. He asked me all sorts of strange questions and said he didn’t believe I was his father because his father died when he was sixteen. This isn’t some drama exercise, is it? Because it’s not in very good taste.”

Sam said, “I don’t know what’s going on. I’ll speak to Damon. I’ll have him call you when things are settled down.” Then he disconnected.

Damon had scrunched himself into a corner and was batting away anyone who tried to come near. Sam saw the stark emotion on his best mate’s face and knew it was unfeigned. Damon was an amazing actor, but what Sam saw was raw and uncontrolled. That first day, Damon had explained why he was an engineer - because his father had died when was sixteen and he needed a practical job to help support his family.

Sam felt his heart plummet into his shoes. Everyone had been sure Damon’s semi-amnesia was some extended prank, but this whole time, Damon hadn’t been lying - he’d meant every bit. And now he’d just heard his dead father’s voice.

(471 words)

Doctors' Orders

Alicia was standing on Joey’s doorstep, juggling groceries and keys, when his door swung open.

“Joey, hey!” She smiled brightly at him. Maybe one day he would see the brightness in her smile meant I love you.

“Hey, Alicia.” He blinked at her, surprised. “What brings you here?”

“You mentioned the other day that your cupboards were bare and I know all your favorites, so I swung by the grocery store on my way home,” Alicia said. “I thought maybe we could hang out and cook together.”

Joey continued eyeing her as if she were slightly mad. Alicia’s throat tightened, but she kept wearing the bright smile just in case. When they were dating, they’d cooked together often.

“That’s really sweet of you,” Joey said, “but I’m going out for dinner.”

“Oh.” The bags in Alicia’s arms suddenly seemed so much heavier. “I should put these away before you go...”

“She has a key,” a familiar voice said from somewhere deeper in the apartment. “She can lock up after herself. Right, Alicia?” A woman appeared behind Joey, and she smirked from over his shoulder.

Alicia’s heart plummeted into her shoes. Jennifer, the girl Joey had dated before he’d met Alicia.

“What are you doing here?” she demanded.

Joey missed the hostility in her tone. “You two know each other? I ran into Jennifer in the park when I was running this morning, and we got to talking. We thought we’d go to dinner and catch up.”

“I’d heard about the accident,” Jennifer said, “but I didn’t really understand it until I talked to him and he didn’t remember me.”

“Jennifer and I have loads in common,” Joey said. “We must have been great friends back in the day - shame we drifted apart.” Then he noticed Alicia’s crestfallen expression. “Would you like to come with us?”

Jennifer placed a proprietary hand on Joey’s shoulder. “I’m sure Alicia has other plans for her evening.”

“My plans mostly involved you,” Alicia said in a low voice to Joey.

His brow furrowed. “So you would like to come with us?”

Alicia swallowed hard. “Yes. Just - let me get everything put away.” She didn’t know if she could handle watching Jennifer flirt with Joey the entire night; judging by Jennifer’s smirk, she planned to do exactly that.

Joey smiled. “I don’t know that I’d be much help. You know your way around my kitchen better than I do.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Jennifer, do you spend much time with me? I’ll bet you know the kitchen better than I do.”

“Alicia’s always been very domestic,” Jennifer said, her tone strychnine-sweet.

“Really?” Joey asked. He glanced at Alicia. “You never seemed the type.”

Alicia gave a small shrug. “One of us had to be.”

“From when we roomed together?” Joey asked. “Jennifer told me all about it.”

Roommed together? Alicia glanced at Jennifer. Is that how you spun it? But she remembered the doctors’ orders, and she said,

“Yeah. Have fun. See you around.”

(500 words)

Knowing and Not

The silence that settled over the room could have been sliced with a knife. Connor sucked in a deep, shuddering breath.

“What was that?” Lena’s words were sharp, icy shards. Connor could feel them in his lungs when he tried to breathe again.

“I –”

Lena had one hand up to guard; her other hand was hovering near her hip right above the grip of her ever-present gun. Her entire body was tense, but her eyes were wide, startled. Almost angry.

There were a quarter of a million words in the English language, and Connor knew every single one of them, but none of them could adequately convey what he needed to say right then.

“Connor, are you in shock?”

He had an answer for that. “No.”

“Then tell me - what was that just then?”

Words skittered through Connor’s brain, battled for some semblance of syntactical logic, but none of it was working. “I -”

Lena nodded for him to continue.

Connor closed his eyes and uttered, for perhaps the first time in his life, “I don’t know.”

There was definite anger in Lena’s eyes now. “You just kissed me, and now you’re saying you don’t know why you did?”

“I don’t!” Connor cried. He dragged a hand through his hair, turned away from her. She caught him by the wrist and yanked him back around to face her.

“Connor, you can’t just go around kissing me. I’m your bodyguard. It’s my job to keep you safe, to teach you to keep yourself safe.”

“I know that,” Connor said.

“Then you know that it means leaving me behind to save yourself, even if it means I must die.”

Connor swallowed hard. “I know that too.” He did know it - intellectually, the same way he knew the sun was warm and the grass was green and a pretty woman could look like roses damasked red and white and love was an ever-fixed mark.

“Then why the hell did you kiss me?”

“Because I’m in love with you!”

The anger drained from Lena’s eyes in an instant, turning her eyes dark and hollow.

“Oh,” she said in a small, timid voice.

Connor hadn’t known she could ever be timid. “Lena -”

“No.” She shook her head, reached for her cellphone.

“What are you doing?” Connor asked.

“Calling my supervisor to let him know you’re safe and I need to be transferred. Immediately.”

Connor’s throat closed. “Lena, don’t -”

“You know I have to.”

Connor shut his eyes, bowed his head. “Yes, yes I do.”

(420 words)

Aftermath of Confession

Laura dialed her own number with shaking hands. She had to erase the last four digits and retype them three times before she got it right. She counted the rings on the other end and felt her throat close when it sounded like she would get voicemail. But then she heard her own voice curled with Crawford’s sleep-slurred accent.

“You’ve got Laura,” he said.

“Crawford, it’s me.”

As always, at the sound of his own voice, he became more alert. “Laura, what’s wrong? Are you hurt? What’s happening?”

“I did something bad,” she said, and self-loathing swept through her when her voice caught in a sob. She didn’t know if the emotion was her own or backlash from Crawford’s male hormones or what, and she was tired of second-guessing herself and who she was because she was trapped in his body. Dammit, she still had her own soul. Didn’t she?

“What do you mean?” Crawford asked. “Is it the press? What did they catch you doing?”

Laura shook her head, swiped one of Crawford’s big, rough hands over her - his - stinging eyes. She was the one crying; right now they were her eyes. “No. They don’t know anything. And I don’t think they will. I’m so sorry.”

Crawford sighed. “Look, I’m not going to get angry. Just tell me what happened.”

Laura took a deep breath. Crawford’s voice shook, and she hated that too. “I told Riley.”

“Told Riley what?” Crawford asked patiently.

“How I feel.”

“How do you feel about Riley?”

“I’m in love with him.”

“What?”

Laura hadn’t even known her voice could hit that note. She cringed. “You said you wouldn’t be angry.”

“I didn't think you’d just gone and made my best mate afraid that I’m in love with him!” Crawford hissed.

“I didn’t mean to,” Laura said. “It just came out, and now - now he hates us.” When she closed her eyes, she could see the expression on Riley’s face - revulsion and fear and fury.

“You mean me. He hates me,” Crawford huffed. “What did he say?”

“He didn’t say anything. He just got up and left.”

“Did you tell him out in public?” Again with that unnaturally high note.

“We were in a café. Don’t worry - no one else heard.” Laura sniffled. “I’m sorry. I just - couldn’t do it any longer.”

“Do what?”

“See him every day and not tell him.”

“Yeah, but as far as he knows, you aren’t you - you’re me.” Crawford groaned. “Riley’s the best friend I’ve had in forever. Are you insane?”

“I think so,” Laura said quietly.

On the other end, Crawford was silent. “This can’t go on. I’m borrowing money from Deanna and I’m flying over there as soon as possible, and we have to tell everyone.”

“Okay,” Laura said, and again, “I’m sorry.”

“You should be. I worked hard to keep your life intact.”

Laura sniffled again. “Crawford --”

“Don’t bloody well apologize again. Just - pick me up at the airport.”

(497 words)

One More Chance

“I thought you looked familiar,” Kylie said quietly. She had both hands, white-knuckled, curled around her purse.

“We did spend a lot of time together.” Henry had his hands tucked into his pockets. The posture was familiar, but now that he was clothed in a five-thousand dollar Armani suit instead of ill-fitting clothes from the open door mission he was a different man.

Kylie nodded. “You didn’t lie about that much, did you? Your name, the subjects you liked in school. The little things.” She tilted her head to one side. Her dark eyes were curiously blank. “The things people who are in love with each other should know about each other.”

Henry swallowed hard. “You didn’t care how rich I was then. Why should it matter now?”

“It doesn’t, in the grand scheme of things.” Kylie worked one hand loose from her purse and reached for the door. “Of course, in the grand scheme of things, it’s not about how rich you are - it’s about who you really are. And who you really are is a man who can never be with me.” She turned away and pushed the door open.

Henry caught her shoulder. “Kylie, wait.”

She glanced back at him. “Yes, Your Highness?”

He flinched. “It’s not like that in my country. I’m allowed to marry the woman I love.”

“I’m happy for you, Highness,” Kylie said.

“Then why are you leaving?”

“I was in love with a man, but I don’t think he really exists.”

Henry closed his eyes and sighed. “Kylie, I promise, everything I told you about me was true - where I was born, how I grew up. I just had to be sure that you wouldn’t care about stupid things like - like titles.”

“Your title can’t be that stupid, that you felt the need to hide it.”

Henry opened his eyes, and Kylie could see the raw hurt in his expression, but she couldn’t shake the feeling of betrayal, that the entire time she’d been fighting to get over Ben and reconcile herself to her feelings for Henry the entire world had been in on the joke.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Henry said.

“You could have told me. Before you left,” Kylie said. “I spent months imagining the worst - that you’d died from exposure or been killed or-”

“I’m still alive,” Henry said quietly. “And I still love you.”

Kylie shook his hand off. “I’m in love with Henry, but I don’t know who Prince Henry is.”

“Prince Henry is the man who was grateful for peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, hot chocolate, and a warm blanket in the middle of winter,” he said.

“Did you think you could reveal your identity and I’d fall into your arms?”

“No. But I hoped you’d at least give me a chance.”

Chances were what had gotten her into this mess. Kylie took a deep breath and decided that she could do like Ben always said and take one more.

Project #74: Critical Scene

Pick the scene from a story you've always wanted to write, the scene that will make your readers hold their breath, start to cry, scream in fear, throw the book across the room, chew their nails down to the quick. (Picking one from last week's plot bunnies would be super welcome, actually.) Don't bother setting up too much background - jump right into the middle of the plot and set people's pulses pounding, and make the moment work. Without bringing in clichés, without overdoing the drama. Write the scene that, were your novel turned into a movie, would get those actors nominated for Oscars. Ready, set...write! 100-500 words.

Overview #73: Plot Bunnies

So this week I winged it solo. That's fine. It was a little soul-baring, to throw out some of my stupidest but most well-loved plot kinks and unwritten plot bunnies, but it was also fun remembering them and thinking about how much I want to write them or even read someone else's take on them. They're the stories that I write in my head to fall asleep at night, and even though I don't know the details, I know how reading them would make me feel, and I want to make someone else feel the same thing. I had fun, though, being a giddy teenage girl again and throwing all my crazy novel fantasies out in the open. I'm hoping, one day, I'll have the time to come back and give some of these stories the lives they deserve.

Bulletproof Kink #3

Theme: heartbreak hotel. Minus the hotel.

It goes like this: leading lady is a teenage girl whose grandmother is dying, so she hangs around the hospital after school every day for three months, keeping her grandmother company. While there she meets a boy and, while they’re both abrasive and abrupt at first, they become friends. They talk and play cards, bring each other food and jokes and make up ways to entertain her grandmother. He, too, is there every day, but the girl doesn’t know why, and she doesn’t talk about it, until she finds out, near the end, that the boy has a twin brother who is dying, and the boy, who suffers from a terminal illness of his own, is going to give up one of his lungs to save his brother, and then likely die shortly thereafter as a result. During this three months, of course, girl and boy fall in love, and the boy insists that the girl stay away after the operation, because he doesn’t want her to see him dying. The day before the operation, the girl’s grandmother dies, so she never does see the boy, and she never finds out who his brother is (because they are fraternal, not identical twins - I like to think they will be chiaroscuro twins, one blond and one dark), and she misses the boy fiercely because she knows she will never see him again. Then one day at school, across the cafeteria, she sees a new boy who has a familiar smile, and they get to talking and become friends, and one day, when she goes over to her new friend’s house for a study date, she sees a picture in the foyer, and she knows that the boy she loved is dead and the boy standing before her is breathing with his brother’s lungs. Living boy falls in love with girl, but she knows she will always love his brother and cannot give him what he wants, and there is a walking away at the end. I would want this to feel the way the novel Plum Wine made me feel at the end.

(358 words)

Bulletproof Kink #2

Theme: bulletproof plot kink - alternate universe!

Leading Lady: is a hard-working grad student in biochemistry who spends all her time in the lab, teaching, or doing martial arts for stress relief.

Leading Man: is a civil engineer at an architectural firm who loves his job and his wife and wants to have kids and a dog.

Conflict: Leading Man goes to sleep in a hotel in Chicago at an engineering conference and wakes up in an alternate universe where he is an immensely popular film star and not married to his universe’s version of Leading Lady. Complications ensue, wherein Leading Man tries to get home to his wife, Leading Lady is dragged into the shenanigans, and we all know Leading Man is in the wrong universe because in his universe his father died and that’s why he took the practical route of becoming an engineer instead of an actor, but in this universe his father is alive and there is something of an emotional breakdown the first time leading man calls him.

Resolution: this tale calls for a broken heart. After a year of being in the new universe, Leading Man surrenders himself to the fact that he is never going home and asks Leading Lady to marry him and she, against her better judgment, says yes. Every morning when he wakes up she asks him, “Which one are you?” and he always says, “Yours” until the morning when he doesn’t.

(242 words)

Bulletproof Kink #1

Theme: bulletproof plot kink - amnesia!

Leading Lady: is a young working professional who enjoys life, is decently pleasant, has easy hobbies (movie night with the girls) and is newly-married.

Leading Man: is Leading Lady’s husband, also a young working professional, who likes to play sports and spend time with the guys but is an amazing cook and loves his wife.

Conflict: amnesia! Leading Man suffers head injury during a sports game and wakes up in hospital with no memory of who he is or what he used to do. Doctors recommend that he be allowed to remember slowly and without outside interference, i.e. the emotional overload of a worried but now relieved wife, so Leading Lady must pretend she does not live in her own home and that she and Leading Man are simply close friends (she is his closest friend; she moves in with one of her movie night girls). Chaos ensues when an old flame of Leading Man discovers his memory loss and attempts to win him back.

Resolution: Leading Man comes home from work (because he has retained his skills, just no memory of his projects or his coworkers) and finds Leading Lady asleep on couch with open wedding photo album on her lap, realizes the truth, and there is happily ever after, and also possibly some catty comeuppance for evil old flame.

(227 words)

Gender Role Reversal #1

Theme: gender role reversal!

Leading Lady: ex-military, skilled with weapons and unarmed combat, a little abrupt on the interpersonal action, but efficient and well-meaning; honorably discharged after a black ops mission ended in the death of most of her team.

Leading Man: certified super-genius and the mind behind the newest solution to renewable energy; beautiful and aloof and abrasive and under threat by various terror groups; also possible target of political/industrial espionage.

Conflict: abrasive genius and no-nonsense bodyguard stuck together for the foreseeable future, dodging danger and getting to know each other and, ultimately, falling in love. Bonus points for awkward conversation, attempts to teach Leading Man how to use a gun, and other fine romance cliché moments. Also maybe Leading Lady on duty while Leading Man is on a date? And comfort after emergency/gunfight/attack.

(142 words)

Teen cliché plot #2

Leading Lady: girl working simple/menial job; comfortable, finished with school, in a big city, but a bit lost as to directions in life

Leading Man: an actor, handsome, fresh out of drama school and on his first big project, a primetime family-friendly adventure show

Conflict: bodyswap! gender confusion due to body swap - potential for shenanigans to abound. Leading Lady falls in love with Leading Man’s best friend!

Basic arc: in the beginning, adjusting to each other’s bodies and working up a compromise to make sure they don’t ruin each other’s lives; Leading Man in Lady’s body just has to keep up with work and friends; Leading Lady in Man’s body is at the end of shooting and just has to finish some stunt scenes and then head home. In the middle, Leading Man confesses to Leading Lady’s best friend and she helps him maintain the charade. Leading Lady, so far from Leading Man’s home, feigns partial amnesia due to a stunt gone wrong. In the end, bodies and souls are restored, revelations are had, and romance blooms.

(179 words)

Teen cliché plot #1

Leading Lady: young, professional, working in a city. Possible backstory as a young widow or perhaps her fiancée died? An eclectic mix of hobbies and likes, a solidly loyal friend or to.

Leading Man: a prince of some random unheard-of country in Europe (because that’s easy), on a quest to find the best woman for him (since marrying commoners is acceptable on The Continent these days).

The ruse: Leading Man disguises self and two bodyguards as homeless people and actually lives the homeless life. Starts at one end of the country and moves westward, traveling through big cities and small towns and looking for a kind soul.

The meeting: Leading Lady is a charitable soul and occasionally brings food to the homeless men who stand on the corner near her apartment building, and one day she brings food to one of Leading Man’s bodyguards.

Conflict: Leading Lady continues to bring food to the ‘homeless men’ and even makes conversation with them; Leading Man is humbled and grateful for her charity but does not know how to tell her who he is; Leading Lady is still heartbroken over her dead fiancée husband.

Resolution: Leading Lady needs time to mourn, and Leading Man realizes he needs to give her time, so he returns to his country, and later they meet and realizations are had and there is happily ever after.

(229 words)

Project #73: Nanowrimo plot bunnies

It's been a terribly long time, and I am so, so sorry. But...I'm back, and WE are back with a vengeance! I'm not going to lie - I don't have the energy to do Nanowrimo this year, not with other writing projects coming back to haunt me. But...brainstorm! Use 500 words or less to spit out a plot you've always wanted to write but never had the chance to do. Store it here and inspire a friend, or give it a chance to air and get some feedback and maybe, one day when you have writer's block, you can come back here to the plot bunny farm and give something a go. If it's ridiculous or bizarre, cliché or genius, let us know what it's like. Go, fight, write!

Forgotten

It was late by the time that Sarah and Chris were finished for the night. They had gone from his small dorm room to sitting in a booth at a local restaurant. Chris had suggested dinner after Sarah's stomach let out a loud rumble around seven o'clock.

"I don't know that I can thank you enough for helping me Chris," I said as my fingers absently tore a bread stick to pieces. Chris had read and reread the case file at least a dozen times, and I was sure that he was bored silly by now. "Is there any way that I can make it up to you for stealing your night? I'm sure you had other plans and many things to do today." I really wished that I could see his face. Just a single glimpse to connect to his voice.

"It was my pleasure."

I felt the slightest jostle to my plate and heard Dianne move by my feet. Chris was feeding her my bread.

"What time is it?" I asked. I didn't want the night to be finished, but I did have classes the next day and mom would be worried if I didn't come home soon. She had called at least five times, but I had ignored it.

"About nine-thirty," he said.

"I should go," I muttered with a small frown.

"Can I walk you home?" he asked after a moment.

"I would like that." I could feel a large smile replace the frown.

We stepped out of the restaurant into the cool night and I shivered slightly. Although it was officially still summer, the nights could get a little chilly and I had forgotten my sweater. I hadn't counted on being out after all.

A slight weight settled around my shoulders as Chris draped his jacket around me. I pulled it close with one hand, taking in the smell of it. "Thank you," I said.

We ambled slowly down the road towards my house, Dianne knew the way so I let her lead us. We kept up a slow conversation as we walked; mostly question about like and dislikes, and from time to time I would ask him to describe what he saw. He would always paint a vivid mind-picture of whatever he saw- Crimson flowers and wet grass; each petal and blade sparkling with a recent watering.

I knew when we had reached my house, the wind in the reeds around the porch whistled in the breeze. I turned to Chris, "thank you again Chris. I enjoyed every moment," I said.

His voice smiled when he said, "I enjoyed it too. Let me know if you need help again."

"I will." I offered one hand towards him and he took it. His handshake was firm and steady; slightly calloused too, as if he worked with his hands a lot.

"Have a good night Sarah," He said and he stepped away from me. I heard him walk down the path and down the street and I faintly heard him start to whistle.

It took me a moment to realize that he had forgotten his jacket.

Little Extra Help

"Please have the case file read and be prepared to discuss it tomorrow in class," Professor Spinelli announced and I felt a stapled sheaf of paper placed in front of me.

I hadn't heard of the case on any of the tapes that I had yet listened to. Maybe it was on one of the next tapes, but I didn't hope overly hard. If it had been in the book then we wouldn't need the handout.

Perfect...

I shuffled my notes into a neat pile and placed them in my bag along with the packet of papers. Dianne was already on her feet, anticipating the walk to the library; which is where I would usually go after this class was finished.

"Office," I commanded her as soon as we were out the door of the lecture hall. After a moments pause, instead of leading me left she turned to the right.

53...54...55...56...curve to the right... up the stairs.

I was only distantly aware of keeping count of steps and direction in the back of my mind, my predominant thoughts resting on my problem as I walked towards Joyce's office.

***************

"Well hello Darlin," Joyce said as the door to the office swung closed silently behind me. I could hear the smile in her voice, "what can I help you with? It's not your usual pick up day."

"I have a bit of a problem," I said and leaned on the counter, "Professor Spinelli gave us an additional case to read and I didn't know if it was by any chance on tape somewhere." I handed her the case file.

"Hmm, I don't believe so my dear," she said, "in fact I'm almost positive that it's not on tape."

I knew that it had been a long shot, "I guess I'll figure something out," I said and turned to head home. Maybe I could get my mother to read it to me.

"Wait," she called as my hand hit the door handle, "what about the boy that reads for you. You might be able to have him read it to you a few times."

"He's probably busy," I mumbled, but I couldn't squash the little bit of excitement at the thought of meeting the man who read for me, "and I don't know his name, or where to find him."

"It can't hurt to ask," she said brightly, "His name is Chris Hensley, and he lives over in the dorms." She gave me his building and room number.

"Okay," I said and gave a little smile. I hoped I wasn't blushing.

**********************

After a little confusion in getting Dianne to go where I wanted I finally found myself on the proper floor in front of the right door; after asking a few people to direct me.

After a moments hesitation I knocked firmly on the door. The thin wood was no barrier against the squeak of furniture and a growl of irritation that I could hear from behind the closed door.

"Maybe this wasn't the best idea," I whispered to Dianne.

The door was pulled open quickly and I heard Chris's voice say, “Look, Eric’s not here, and I’m not going to keep giving you his stuff --” The irritation in his voice was very evident.

“I don’t know who Eric is," I said. I was pretty certain now that this was not a good idea.

"Hi,” Chris said. I wasn't quite certain of the emotion in his voice with that one short word.

“I think you have the wrong room," he said. I couldn't help loving the sound of his voice, of feeling like he was a friend. "One floor up or one floor down - those are both girls’ halls,” he said.

“I’m looking for Chris Hensley,” I said, even though I knew that was who I was talking to.

“That’s me,” he said.

“I knew as soon as you spoke,” I said and could have smacked myself for blurting that out. Instead I reached up and tucked a lock of hair behind my ear. “I listen to your voice all the time.” I could feel myself blushing.

"You do?" he asked. I wasn't sure if it was surprise or something else that colored his tone.

“Yeah. You read textbooks for me.”

“Oh. Right. What can I do for you?”

My smile faltered just a little at that. I ducked my head; a habit from my seeing days, in an attempt to avoid eye contact. My grip on Dianne's harness tightened in nervousness.

“I didn’t know where else to go. Professor Spinelli handed out an additional case for tomorrow’s reading assignment, one that wasn’t in the book, and it wasn’t on the tape, and when I went to the office, Joyce said maybe you could help me...”

“Of course,” Chris said. “Do you have the case with you?”

I nodded. “It’s in my bag. I’m really sorry - I can come back later if it’s a more convenient time for you."

“Now is fine,” Chris said, "my roommate’s out but why don’t you come in and have a seat?”

"Thanks," I said and stepped past him into the room, catching a hint of sweat and some aftershave that was quite appealing. Dianne lead me to a chair. He didn't close the door and I nodded slightly in approval.

I heard the bed squeak just to my left, close enough that I could almost feel him.

“All right. What have you got for me?” he asked

Was it excitement or something else in his voice now? I was so used to listening to him reading dry legal texts that I wasn't used to hearing his emotions. I was uncertain and I didn't like that.

I reached into my bag and pulled out the briefing that was handed out in class.

“Here,” I said. “Will you read to me?”

He took the papers from my hand, "sure," he said.

I smiled at him, "Thanks."

Stranger in his Own Space

Chris had just been about to peel off his shirt and check for cracked ribs - Dan had definitely broken skin today, and there was another unsalvageable shirt down the drain - when there was another knock at the door. Chris growled and heaved himself off his bed. If it was Eric’s lab partner, back for yet another notebook, Chris was going to throttle the kid.

“Look,” he said, “Eric’s not here, and I’m not going to keep giving you his stuff --”

“I don’t know who Eric is.” Sarah stood in the doorway, mouth pressed into an uncertain line. Dianne sat obediently beside her.

“...Hi.” Chris was careful not to say her name; as far as she was concerned, he had no reason to know her name. “I think you have the wrong room. One floor up or one floor down - those are both girls’ halls.”

“I’m looking for Chris Hensley,” she said.

“That’s me,” Chris said. How did she know his full name?

“I knew as soon as you spoke,” she said, and she reached up, tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I listen to your voice all the time.” Then she blushed.

“You do?” Chris asked stupidly.

“Yeah. You read textbooks for me.”

“Oh. Right. What can I do for you?”

Sarah ducked her head. “I didn’t know where else to go. Professor Spinelli handed out an additional case for tomorrow’s reading assignment, one that wasn’t in the book, and it wasn’t on the tape, and when I went to the office, Joyce said maybe you could help me --” Her grip on Dianne’s harness was white-knuckled.

“Of course,” Chris said. “Do you have the case with you?”

Sarah nodded. “It’s in my bag. I’m really sorry - I can come back later if it’s more convenient --”

“Now is fine,” Chris said, and he wanted to kick himself. He sounded too eager, didn’t he? “My roommate’s out. Why don’t you come in and have a seat?”
“Thanks.” Sarah stepped over the threshold into Chris’s room, let Dianne lead her over to the desk, and then she sat down in Chris’s chair. He went to close the door behind her, then thought better of it.

And then he panicked. His picture of her was right there over his desk for anyone to see -- expect her. Right.

He perched tentatively on the edge of his bed, close to her, and he hadn’t felt like a stranger in his own room since he was a child.

“All right. What have you got for me?”

Sarah reached into her book bag, searching with deft hands. It was a touch uncanny, the way she felt without turning her head toward her bag. She handed Chris stack of papers stapled together in one corner.

“Here,” she said. “Will you read to me?”

Chris accepted the paper gingerly. “Sure,” he said.

And she smiled at him. “Thanks.”

(481 words)

Action After Hours

Chris tugged his hoodie up to shield his face - his black eye was painful and obvious, and even the ever-oblivious Eric would ask questions. He jammed his hands into the pockets and started toward the park. He’d deal with the bloody sports tape later.

And then he saw Sarah and Dianne walking along the pavement ahead of him. What was she doing out this late? Blind people weren’t at the same disadvantage at night as seeing people, but campus was downtown, and it wasn’t safe for her, not when - not when a guy like Blake was leaning under a lamppost, drinking from a hip flask and eyeing Sarah like she was his next meal. Chris’s hands curled into fists.

Blake arched an eyebrow when he noticed Sarah’s cane, and he stuck a foot out, kicked a tiny pebble. Sarah jumped, tugged on Dianne’s harness, and Dianne paused obediently.

Something akin to fear crossed Sarah’s face. "Let's go," she said.

Blake peeled himself away from the lamppost and fell into step behind her. Chris automatically ducked back into the shadows; Blake hadn’t seen him yet.

Dianne, on the other hand, had noticed Blake, and she growled. Chris saw Sarah flinch. She called out, “Who’s there?” and then Dianne snarled.

"Hey sugar.” Blake stepped up behind Sarah, and his grin went from amused to dangerous.

Sarah’s shoulders tightened, and she shifted away from him, almost imperceptibly.

"Now don't be like that honey,” Blake drawled. "Tell Fido to calm down and we can get to know each other."

"I don't think that I want to get to know you.” Sarah’s words were bold, but even Chris could tell she was afraid.

Blake raised his eyebrows, circled her like a shark eyeing a fish separated from its shining school. He chuckled when Dianne snarled again, hunkered down in front of Sarah with her fur standing on end.

Blake reached into his jacket, and Chris remembered that Blake liked to keep a butterfly blade on hand; he thought he looked hardcore because he could flip it open like a 1950’s greaser.

Chris stepped forward, into the wan yellow glow of a streetlight. “Leave the woman alone, why don’t you?”

Blake blinked and took a step back from Sarah. “This doesn’t concern you.”

"Clearly she doesn't want to have anything to do with you,” Chris said, moving closer to Sarah, “and the best thing for you to do would be to go away and leave her alone.”

"And what if I don't?" Blake looked Chris up and down, smirking disdainfully.

Chris tugged back his hood. "Then I will just have to make you.”

Blake laughed, spread his arms wide. "Bring it on!"

After twelve years of bare-knuckle boxing, a guy like Blake was an easy match. He was strong, but he wasn’t as fast as he thought he was, and he lacked the necessary form to hit very hard. Chris had to duck and weave to avoid Blake’s knife, but he landed a solid uppercut that sent Blake sprawling. Once he was sure Blake was unconscious, he turned to find Sarah, who was huddled beside Dianne and shaking like a leaf.

"Are you all right?" Chris stood beside her, unsure of whether to hunker down beside her or just keep standing. Was he looming?

Sarah nodded, though she kept her face buried in Dianne’s fur.

Chris offered a hand even though she couldn’t see the gesture. "Can I help you?"

A sound half like laughter, half like a sob spilled from Sarah. “I think you already did.”

Chris glanced back to where Blake was lying on the pavement; he wasn’t sure he’d been that much help. "Can I walk you home? Just to make sure you get there safe. You shouldn't walk alone at this time of night."

“Yes.” Sarah patted Dianne gently, and Chris realized that Dianne hadn’t growled at him once.

“I would be grateful,” Sarah added. “This way.”

Chris actually knew where she lived by virtue of having seen her paperwork in the office, but he walked beside her anyway, letting her interject directions into his long ramble about Kierkegaard. He knew she was shaken, that she wouldn’t say more, but he was sure that if she said too much she would recognize his voice, and then what could he possibly say?

Maybe he could tell her how much he liked her.

Help in the Night

"The time is 11:47 p.m."

A click resounded over the line and I knew I was going to be in trouble. Mom was going to kill me. I slammed shut my text books and stuffed them into my bag. "Come Dianne," I said. I grasped the handle to her harness and commanded, "home."

Dianne immediately started to lead me and we left the Library. I hurried down the steps of the campus Law building as safely as was possible. I could feel the cool night air whisper across my cheek as I picked up the pace. "I can't believe that I let myself lose track of time like that," I muttered. It sounded much different outside now than it usually did; much quieter. I couldn't hear many people around me and the traffic was faint and far away.

I was passing the park when I heard a rock clatter against the pavement, causing me to jump. I pulled Dianne to a stop for a second, listening. I heard nothing.

"Let's go," I urged my companion. A few moments later I was certain that I heard faint footstep behind me and I quickened my pace again.

The vibrations from Dianne's growl reached my hand just after the sound reached my ears. "Who's there?" I asked. I knew it was stupid, but it somehow made me feel better to hear my own voice. As unsteady as it was.

Dianne let out a snarl and I could feel that tingle that let me know that someone was nearby.

"Hey sugar," an oily voice came to me from close by.

I flinched away from the voice.

"Now don't be like that honey." There was faint amusement in the voice now, "tell Fido to calm down and we can get to know each other."

I cleared my throat, "I don't think that I want to get to know you," I said in the strongest voice I could bring up; though even to my own ears it sounded pathetically weak and jittery.

He chuckled from to my right and I could tell that he was circling me. Dianne moved with him, keeping herself between me and Oily. I jumped again when she let out a particularly vicious snarl.

"Leave the woman alone why don't you," a new voice broke in.

"This doesn't concern you," Oily said, though I could tell that he had stepped back a little.

"Clearly she doesn't want to have anything to do with you and the best thing for you to do would be to go away and leave her alone," he said. His tone was deep and carried a strong and soothing quality; a tone of command. Whoever he was, his voice was enough to make me feel safe at the moment.

"And what if I don't?" Oily taunted. He was moving away from me towards the other man.

"Then I will just have to make you," he said.

Oily laughed, "Bring it on!"

I went to my knees and buried my face in Dianne's neck when I heard the first blows, seeking comfort and trying my best to not hear what happened. I covered my ears, but I could still hear the sickening sound of flesh on flesh and the grunts of pain.

A few moments later there was nothing but the sound of heavy breathing nearby. I didn't know who had won the fight.

Dianne growled and I hugged her tighter, fearing the worst. That Oily had won and the strong voiced man had lost the fight and he was coming for me.

"Are you alright?" the strong voiced man asked.

Relief flooded through me at the sound of his voice. I nodded my head mutely, to shaken to say anything.

"Can I help you?" he asked gently.

A relieved laugh burbled up in my throat, "I think you already did," I said. I slowly released Dianne and stood up shakily.

"Can I walk you home?" he asked, "just to make sure you get there safe. You shouldn't walk alone at this time of night."

"Yes," I said and ran a soothing hand over Dianne to calm her, "I would be grateful."

As we moved in the direction of my home he kept up a soothing line of commentary. I didn't really listen to what he said, I just focused on the sound of his voice.

It seemed so familiar...