The bounty hunter turned to stone, hatred etched permanently on his features. Veyja stumbled away as the reptilian mass that passed for hair among her kind hissed in satisfaction. Her hand went to her throat and came back stained with a tiny drop of blood drawn by the tip of the hunter’s dagger.
Veyja reached for her headscarf, but the hunter’s petrified grip held it tight. She needed to cover herself. The rioters tearing apart the city hated the Dizadian refugees Caleb was smuggling aboard his ship, but their vendetta against their fellow man would drop the moment they learned of the true monster in their midst. She tore a long swath from the bottom of her thick dress, covered her hair, and tied it around her chin. Not the height of fashion, but acceptable. She only needed to conceal her true nature until she reached the ship, then-- Then what? The idea of revealing the truth to Caleb opened a pit in her stomach. So did the thought of concealing it from him. Veyja darted down twisted streets, avoiding the torchlight cast by the mob. Regardless of what she told Caleb, she couldn’t stay here, not if rumors about her were drawing bounty hunters. The Fading Sorrow rocked gently in the harbor. Veyja burst onto the docks and sprinted toward it. She caught a glimpse of Caleb descending into the hold, a child clasped in his arms. Veyja climbed aboard as Caleb reappeared on deck. A light sprang into his worried eyes when he saw her, and he wrapped her in a strong yet tender embrace, careful not to touch her head as she’d requested. She allowed herself to melt into him for a moment, then broke away. “Are we ready to set sail?” Caleb shook his head. “One of the Dizadian families has yet to arrive.” “How long will we wait?” He looked away. “I don’t know.” “The rioters could’ve found them already.” “I know!” Caleb clenched his fist around the railing. Veyja studied him, drinking in the intensity of his gaze as he stared at the smoke rising from the city. The simple, unyielding goodness of Caleb Tantarov drew her to him more than anything else— willing to risk his livelihood to help the people his city had marked as enemies, refusing to leave even a single family behind. She touched the engagement ring on her finger. Caleb deserved the truth: that she wasn’t helping three Dizadian families escape the violence out of altruism. She needed to get away as much as they did. She was an object of greater and more deserved hatred than they were. Caleb picked up his crossbow and hopped off the ship, peering anxiously into the alleyway. Veyja followed him and placed a hand on his shoulder. “They might not make it,” she said. “You’ll have to face the truth sooner or later.” Just like I will. Caleb dashed forward. “That’s them!” A man and a woman in traditional Dizadian garb rushed out of the alleyway, each one clutching a child. Behind them, torches bobbed closer. The mob poured onto the docks. Caleb hefted his crossbow, aiming a warning shot over their heads. Someone in the crowd returned fire, and the bolt hit the father in the arm. He cried out and nearly dropped his son. Veyja took the child and helped the wounded man to his feet. Caleb reloaded his crossbow and swung it back and forth at the mob. The rioters hesitated, then continued to advance, those in the rear pushing on those in front. “He’s in league with the Dizadian monsters!” “Kill him!” Veyja’s breath caught in her throat. Hundreds of furious men and women poured the docks. They’d storm the ship, set it afire before Caleb could unmoor it. Slaughter the families aboard. Kill Caleb. Unless a greater enemy drew their attention. Veyja turned to Caleb and shoved the boy into his arms. “Get him to the ship.” Caleb stumbled, struggling to hold both the fear-stricken child and his weapon. “Veyja, what—” “I said, go!” A burly rioter lunged at Veyja with a vulgar shout. Veyja tore off her improvised head covering, feeling strangely calm as the snakes on her head burst free. She met her attacker’s eyes, allowing a burst of power to come through her and petrify him. A cry of fear spread throughout the mob. Veyja dashed away and hopped atop an empty barrel on the edge of the dock. The ocean lapped calmly beneath her feet, as if in defiance of the hell engulfing the city. Her hair grew frenzied, a dozen forked tongues lashing the air. Veyja let out a scream of primal fury, securing her place in the rioters’ imaginations as a monster far worse than the Dizadians. The mob stared for a moment. Then, like a warship about to unleash a deadly broadside, it turned on her. Veyja dove into the ocean. An arrow hit the surface to her left, and she swam, not caring which direction, as long as it was away. She’d swim forever to keep Caleb safe. The ship picked her up in ten minutes. Veyja collapsed on deck, shivering violently. Caleb stood over her, face unreadable. Her hair hissed at him. Veyja cringed. He saw her. He knew. She scooted away, wanting to throw herself back into the sea. Caleb knelt in front of her. “That’s why you always covered your head?” “I’m sorry.” Veyja looked away. She could still feel the mob’s wrath, the weight of a thousand fearful, furious eyes boring into her. She could already feel the pain of rejection, the separation that would always be her curse. “Veyja, I thought you were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” Caleb embraced her, pressing her soaked body against his. Veyja choked back a sob. “But I was wrong.” Caleb smiled. “You’re more beautiful than I ever imagined.” A thousand weights vanished from Veyja’s back. She pulled Caleb close and wept for joy. The End *** I wrote this story as a prequel to my earlier flash fiction, Fire and Stone. But the original inspiration came from an illustration from a collectible card game, an illustration a gorgon astride the stern of a pirate ship. I didn't want my character to be a bloodthirsty pirate, though, so instead of plundering the high seas, Veyja uses her ship to smuggle innocent refugees to safety. If you've read Fire and Stone and wonder what happened to Caleb during the 14-year gap between the two stories, the answer is that he died protecting his family from Winthrop the Hunter. I have an outline document buried in my computer files with more notes on Veyja's backstory. Are you intrigued? If so, let me know. Perhaps if enough people are interested, I'll turn those notes into a novella. -Zachary Holbrook
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Progress on Doombear, Rough draft:10%
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"In truth, by leaving, I was seeking only one thing. A journey."
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