Round 19

[Chaos]

You guys worry me sometimes.

And would someone *please* fumigate the damn coatroom? It's really starting to smell funky in there...

[Chaos]

AD1

The sobbing was obviously coming from the tower. Selena could barely hear it now, with the storm raging its way across the island, but every now and then a brief lull in the nearly constant thunder allowed Selena to hear the helpless, desperate cries that she was sure would drive her insane if it didn’t stop. Soon.

She hurried to light several of the candles and hurricane lamps in the Great Room of the crumbling castle, as the tremulous electrical wiring had succumbed to the will of the storm, plunging the castle and surrounding area into darkness.

With the room filled with the light of the flickering flames, Selena sat still on the damask-covered love seat, straining to hear the piteous cries from above. A while later (maybe a few seconds, maybe a few hours, Selena just couldn’t be sure…), there was a pause in the battering storm and the plaintive sobs of the baby could once again be clearly heard.

Selena closed her eyes and sent out a brief plea for courage before she rose from her seat, pulled a lovely sconce from the wall for a portable light, and began climbing the winding staircase that spiraled up through the center of the castle. Clad only in a loose, flowing white cotton nightgown, her feet bare, Selena shivered. She thought briefly about going back to her room for her robe and slippers, and then discarded the idea. Best to go ahead and get this over with, she thought. Selena made her way to the top of the main staircase then opened the first door to her left to access the dank, narrow staircase to the Tower.

In its heyday, the tower had functioned, more or less, as a prison for the fools who were presumptuous enough to attempt an attack on the strongest keep on the island. Selena knew that her ancestors had tortured and left to perish many of those prisoners, just as she knew that its infamous title of “The Bloody Tower” had not been earned in vain. Residents of the castle ever since had claimed to hear and see the most impossible things; Selena had long questioned the lucidity of these people, yet now she found herself in the uncomfortable position of having to reevaluate her feelings on that subject.

She knew that she was alone in the castle, except for the ancient cook and her equally ancient caretaker husband, so logically, Selena had absolutely no explanation for the crying she could now quite clearly hear coming from the Tower.

At the top of the stairs, Selena paused before opening the main Tower door. As the sound of the child’s cries washed over her, Selena suddenly felt an indescribable sadness and a deep and profound loneliness. She was overwhelmed by these feelings, nearly to the point that she was ready to abandon her investigation altogether. She shook it off and grasped the metal handle of the heavy wooden door and shoved inward.

As the door shuddered and creaked its way open and Selena stumbled into the room, two things happened simultaneously: the crying abruptly stopped and the temperature in the room dropped dramatically. Suddenly, Selena could see her breath hanging in the air on each exhale, and the chill in the air seemed to seep through to her bones.

As she tried to adapt to the unnatural cold in the Tower, Selena visually examined her surroundings. She knew it had been a number of years since anyone had bothered even setting foot in this room, so the layers of dust on every surface and the cobwebs on the walls and ceiling neither surprised nor dismayed her. Among the other debris, Selena could also see piles of small bones and feathers, presumably the remains of the birds and other small animals that had made their doomed way into the Tower by way of the enormous, open parapet windows.

Selena made her way around the damp room, noticing as she did so that the air seemed to be growing warmer. She changed direction, intending to walk the other wall in search of the source of the crying, but she’d taken only two steps in that direction when the debilitating cold returned. Teeth chattering, her breath frozen in front of her face, Selena tentatively moved one step further away from where she’d just been. Immediately, the crying began anew, louder and more intense than before.

At this point, Selena’s most fervent wish was that she’d just ignored the crying sounds when they had first woken her from a dreamless sleep. Even so, she again changed direction to return to the darkest corner of the room.

Selena held her sputtering flame in front of her, trying to illuminate as much of the area as possible. She peered into the gloom, trying to determine the identity of a large bundle pressed completely into the stone corner. She began to make her way toward it, cringing as she felt the small bones and other debris disintegrating beneath her bare feet.

As she drew closer, reaching the bundle at last, the volume and intensity of the despondent sobbing increased until Selena wanted to throw back her head and howl along with it. Apprehensive now, wishing she were anywhere on the planet but in this room, at this time, Selena reached out a trembling hand to remove the crumbling cloth that covered the top of the bundle. As she pulled it away, a powerful gust of wind swept through the Tower, extinguishing the flame of Selena’s candle.

In the same moment, a jagged bolt of lightning split the sky, illuminating the whole of the Tower room. This brief moment of intense light allowed Selena to see the scarred, crudely-made wooden cradle she had just uncovered. Burned into her mind (her eyes, her soul) was the arrangement of small human bones that were all that remained of a forgotten child.

By instinct rather than any real ability to see in the near-darkness, Selena tenderly lifted the rotting blanket under the bones to transport them downstairs. Selena was filled with a powerful maternal instinct and she vowed that she would not rest until this child was identified and properly laid to rest.

As Selena made her way down the stone stairs with her precious cargo, the crying in the Tower room ceased, the cold receded, and Selena knew that neither would ever return.

Smiling, her eyes slightly unfocused as she cradled her gruesome discovery, she began to softly croon a familiar lullaby, “Hush little baby, don’t you cry…”

[ThatWickedWench]

Whoa, nice one, Chao. Nice.

[HIM]

OK, I did this at the last minute so I stuck to something I knew and figured yall would like. There’s been so much talk of the cloakroom that I thought I’d use that. So here’s the submission from HIM.


The Cloakroom

I was working late and heard the thumping and banging from across the office. Intermittently I thought I heard voices too. I went walking in search of the sounds coming up to a room just this side of the lobby. I flattened my ear against the door and listened closely; now I was sure, that was moaning, ever so soft now but definitely moaning coming from the cloakroom. Work ended hours ago and I had thought I was the only one left; even most of the lights were off. I was wrong… somebody was workin’ alright but there sure wasn’t any paperwork being processed. I tapped on the door and suddenly it fell silent in there. Who could it be hiding in there and just what sordid activities were going on? Could it be that vain but oh-so-hot receptionist in there with our boss? Nah, that prick has an office he could use. I’d just have to open that door and look.

As soon as I had grabbed the handle, there was a little, clearly female, ‘yip’ sound uttered from inside so I opened the door anyway, I just had to. My; what a sweet surprise, not one, not two but three of the sweetest young ladies from the office were looking wide eyed at me from within that half lit room. “How dare you; of all the presumptuous…” she trailed off as she saw me no longer looking into her beautiful flashing blue eyes as I instead panned my view down the length of her frame and then back up the next girl, locking then on her infinitely deep brown eyes and noticing the slightest tweak of a smile I think. My smile was chiseled in stone. Between the three of them, there was almost enough clothing to cover one person. I transferred my gaze to the third face and was rewarded not with a startled or frightened look but another pair of shining brown eyes, a growing smile and a definite look of hunger. I looked down at her nearly nude body and she was twirling a large bird feather against the underside of her breast, it looked so very soft. There was plastic sheeting on the floor and several ‘toys of opportunity’ lying strewn about. I had clearly interrupted a party.

I knew now what had been on the menu but it appeared that I may have just made it as a last minute addition. It’s a good thing that this was a fairly large room. They didn’t say a word, looked at each other briefly and when they turned back to me I received three smiles and three hands reaching out to me. I pulled the door shut behind me.

During the next few hours the noises coming from that room surely sounded like a hurricane and the entire tower must have shaken like there was an earthquake. When we next cracked that door we were barely lucid, it was about 2:00 am and we all staggered together into the ladies room and helped each other clean up. I went back and rolled up the plastic and all the toys and they went into the trunk of blue-eyes’ car. I’ll bet all four of us were late to work the next morning, not just me.

From then on a few of us worked late a lot more often and instead of a nod or raised eyebrow when we passed each other in the hallways there were always warm knowing smiles. It’s always nice to have a good working relationship.

[Chaos]

Damn, HIM, why ya gotta encourage the coatroom 'hos?

[RedneckDiva]

I knew there was a reason I liked HIM.

[ThatWickedWench]

OMG I made it as a character in HIM's story. Wow, looks as if it was a good time too. Well, I for one, have green eyes... but I'm definitely certain that they were Blue for the first 16 years of my life. Yup, ask my mom.

[Tricia]

I've fumigated the cloakroom.

sheesh Chaos...
it just smells like sweat and leather... two of my favorite scents!

I'm asking for the extension... I am not quite there yet.
Almost... so close... I just need a little more time in the cloakroom.

Why do we call it a cloakroom anyway? I've seen a lot of things in that room... but a cloak isn't one of them.

So Sunday night please!
(I'm begging myself)

Well of course I will grant you an extension dear child.
(patting myself on the head)

Sunday night then!

[sidra]

that's good for me, too. i have written one sentence. ONE. i am such a loser! argh!

i will write more sentences tonight. i promise.

[Too Lazy to Login Chaos]

Bitchy Chaos
Come on, guys...the extended extension was for Sunday night...here it is Monday night, and I still see no stories from Tricia or Sidra!

Yoooooooohoooooooooo! Tricia? Sidra?

Stories please, ladies, tout de suite!

I'm itchin' to write the next story, peeps...let's finish this round out and get on with the next one!
/Bitchy Chaos

[ThatWickedWench]

For real.
I mean Sid, Tricia... I am speechless. My words weren't THAT bad, were they?
And where the heck is Diva in all this?? *starts typing email to Diva*
Pause real life for a few hours and jump on in here, people.


...Please?

[sidra]

sowwwy... i'm sowwwy...

your words dont' suck, wench, i do. but you probably know that... heh...

seriously, i can't get it together. if i can' write something decent in the next hour or so then i'm just going to have to shoot myself right in the head. bang. dead sid. she's useless. useless!!!

[ThatWickedWench]

Awww Sid. Take a break from burittos hon. Shake the lettuce out of your bra. Knock the cheese off your shoes. Take a long, hot steamy bath. Yea. That's it. Relax. AND WRITE A FREAKIN STORY WHEN YER DONE I KNOW YA GOT IT IN YA.
OKay.
That is all.

[RedneckDiva]

Yeah, where has that hussy Diva been in all of this?

Oh wait, I'm that hussy!

Sorry. Will write. Doing it right now. Doesn't matter that I've got forty seven gazillion children runnin' amuck in my house, by damn, I am writing a story!

If it sucks, blame it on the kids.

Sorry!

[RedneckDiva]

Okay, finally!

RD1

Janelle woke to the sound of the alarm clock blaring just inches from her head. She squinted her eyes shut when she found the glaring light of day to be too much, then slowly moved her hand from under the covers and smacked the snooze button as hard as she could. She opened one eye and nearly screamed when she was visually assaulted by her three year old’s nose consuming her field of vision. “Good GOSH, Meredith! Do you have to get so CLOSE when you wake me up?” The fuzzy-headed preschooler giggled and began a labored climb up the side of her parents’ bed. She vaulted over her mother and landed between the groggy, half-awake mother and the still-snoring father and laid there happily in the warmth between the two of them.

Janelle sighed and rolled over towards the middle of the bed. She curled around her youngest child, who snuggled in cozily. “Mere, we gotta get up. And I don’t wanna,” she spoke into the mass of tangled curls on top of her child’s head. “I don’t wanna either, but my tummy wants a Pop-tart. So we gotta,” Meredith replied. And in one smooth motion, the all too energetic child burst from under the covers, causing her father to groan and cover his head. “Roger, you need to get up, too. Now,” Janelle said as she stifled a giggle and jerked the covers all the way off his underwear-clad body and ran from the room. She didn’t stop running until she reached the kitchen, where she flipped on a light and began making enough noise to wake the dead. Soon, her two sons staggered, not unlike zombies in a horror film, into the yellow kitchen and rubbed their eyes slowly. Zac, the oldest, laid his head on the table and immediately began snoring. Janelle shook her head as she watched Zane, who was awake enough to begin his mischief for the day. Her youngest son took advantage of his unaware brother by shaking salt onto his head which was as full of messy curls as Meredith’s. Poor Zac had no clue. She gave Zane a faux stern look and then focused her attention back to the coffee pot, the appliance that would soon bring forth the life-giving fluid that fueled her days.

Once the coffee pot started gurgling it’s morning song, she pulled out the toaster and stuck two strawberry Pop-tarts in for Meredith, pushed the lever sending them into the fiery depths of toaster-dom, then walked over to the table where Zac was still snoozing on his folded arms. She gently rubbed his back, the way she’d done since he was a baby, trying to coax him into a state of happy wakefulness, rather than the surly way he woke up on his own. He shifted a little in his seat and peeked one eye open at his mother. “Mum, do I hafta go to school today? I’m kinda feelin’ tired. No, sick. Yeah, I’m feelin’ sick. I think I have a fever. Really.” Janelle smiled at her handsome 15 year old, shook her head and squeezed his shoulder. “Well, I tried,” he said with a sigh and got up from the dining room chair. He stood and patted Janelle on the top of her head, since at 15, he already was tall enough to tower over his petite mother. “I’m off to get ready. Cook, I’ll have two eggs, over easy, 3 and one half slices of bacon - not too crisp, mind you - and an ice cold glass of milk for breakfast. And you’ll kindly have it ready upon my return.” He snapped his fingers and Janelle, threw a potholder at him, as he stood in the doorway doing his best to imitate a spoiled rich kid, something he was definitely never going to be. “Zane, go get ready for school. Is it presumptuous of me to figure you want the same breakfast your socialite brother ordered, eh? Or would you prefer the breakfast your oh so finicky sister requested?”and, as if on cue, the toaster popped up two steaming hot Pop-tarts. “Mmmmm, hot preservative-filled jam, smeared between two slices of dry pastry, brimming with carbs. The breakfast of champions, Mom. Super.” She threw the companion pot holder at her youngest son.

“Roger! Get UP! Egg number two is in the skillet RIGHT NOW and you are going to be late for work!” She heard her husband’s dresser drawer slam in response, letting her know he was indeed up, but probably not too happy about it. She put two slices of bread in the toaster, hit the button, then flipped the egg in the skillet. Meredith sat at the table, clad in her Blue’s Clues pajamas and pink feather boa, happily coloring in her Strawberry Shortcake coloring book, Pop-tart crumbs stuck to her cheeks, humming “Jesus Loves Me”. Janelle’s breath caught in her chest, suddenly filled with an overwhelming sense of sheer happiness. Her life was perfect at that moment.

Breakfast was a non-stop hurricane of noise and activity, as her husband and two sons attacked the hot breakfast with the energy of ravenous cavemen fresh from the hunt. Meredith sat in her daddy’s lap while he ate, tickling his neck with the feathers she wore, giggling when he acted like it didn’t bother him. Janelle leaned on the bar and watched her family with a half-grin on her tired face. She always enjoyed watching the boys interact with each other and was glad their father was a part of their lives. He had always been aloof and stingy with his feelings, something she as a young bride had worried was going to cause problems when they had children, but when Zac entered their lives, a red-faced squalling infant, right there in the delivery room, the barriers that had held Roger’s emotions at bay for years, was broken. He instantly became a sensitive, emotional man who realized daily the blessings he had in his wife and now, years later, three children. He looked over at her, staring at him, and winked. He was a lucky man.

He thought she looked tired, but figured she really was just that - tired. She ran herself ragged, running the house with efficiency that knew no bounds, kept track of countless school and social activities for the boys, volunteered at Meredith’s preschool, helped with the boys’ Scouts projects, was always a gracious hostess when Roger asked her to entertain and seemingly had an inability to tell anyone no when they asked of her. He made a mental note to look into a weekend away for the two of them, possibly that weekend. He would call his mother on the way to work to see if she could keep an eye on the kids and began planning in his mind a weekend for his beautiful wife that would allow her to rest and enjoy herself.

Cont...