Happy Monday, all!
So today’s piece of fiction is half flash fiction, half fan fiction. Flash fiction because… it’s short. Fan fiction because the two characters featured in this scene are from the novel I’m writing! (Can you write fan fiction for your own characters? I don’t know, but today we’ll pretend you can.:) )
Look at the ceiling… out the windows… at the cold stone of the floor… at anything but what’s right in front of you. Look at anything that could make you forget the pain.
Myghell gritted his teeth and turned his head to the side, staring at the dirt ground into the shoulder of his shirt. He looked at the stone blocks of the castle wall against which he leaned. He stared at his left arm resting on his knees, determined not to see his right arm where he cradled it against his chest.
He groaned and smiled all at once. The little girl was barreling towards him with brow furrowed and arms pumping. He moved his left arm in an attempt to cover the bloodied cloak that he’d crudely used to bandage his wounded arm. Too late. “You’re bleeding!”
“A little.” “You need someone to take care of you.” She looked around the great room full of groaning men and scurrying medics, and Myghell shrugged the shoulder of his good arm. “No one’s available right now, but it’s alright. It’s just a scratch.”
She frowned, crossing her arms. “Scratches don’t dump blood all over your cloak. Lemme see.”
“I’m fine, Kahtcha.”
“But I want to take care of you!” She got down on her knees and poked at his bloodied cloak, pouting when he brushed her hands away.
“You’re not even supposed to be in here.”
“Blood doesn’t scare me.” Her brown eyes glowed defiantly. “How was the battle?”
Myghell smiled wryly. She asked the question as though she were asking about a peaceful flight across the Shire. “Bad.”
“We did. But the war isn’t over.” Myghell bowed his head. “It won’t be over ’til we win.”
“What was it like?”
Myghell hesitated, remembering the frustration of times past when he’d been shut out from conversations and retellings that were deemed to be unsuitable for his young ears. “It was loud… and bloody… and… frightening.”
“But you weren’t scared.” Kahtcha sat on the floor next to him and hugged his good arm, proud of her mighty warrior.
“But you aren’t scared of anything!” “Everyone’s scared of something.” “I didn’t think you were,” Kahtcha murmured, scooting closer to him.
Myghell grinned. “Guess for the first time, you’re wrong about something.”
Kahtcha giggled and leaned her head on his arm. His eyes scanned the room, then he glanced down at her. “Close your eyes, sweetie. I don’t want you to see all this.” She obeyed so fiercely that her nose wrinkled up. “But I can stay?” “For now.”
They sat in silence. When she finally spoke again, her words startled him.
He turned and saw that her eyes were still closed tightly. “For what?”
“For being scared so I don’t have to be.”