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Short Story / Fantasy Fire And Feathers Revised
There were many stories circulating about Nichole. Some thought she was a witch, others tagged her as a whore; but nothing in her demeanor this day would indicate that she was either. In her early thirties, Nichole had ‘appeared’ in the destitute town of Webster three years ago. She kept mostly to herself, disappearing for three or four days, twice a year. Her absences were as mysterious as her presence and speculation about her was perhaps the only entertainment in the hillside town of less than 500.
No one had ever seen her in any of the stores; she didn’t have an obvious job and even her closest neighbors said she never had visitors. None, except for a small group of ragged little neighborhood misfits. They surrounded her now as she sat on the front steps of her century-old, rundown house.
They were of varying ages, these little ragamuffins. Stacie was the eldest. At 13, she had struggled wildly but in vain, beneath the body of her drunken stepfather. She had hung her head in shame as her mother screamed “It’s your fault. You tempted him”. She was slender; and tall for her age. A mere child, but with the budding body of an enchantress. A beauty-to-be, but for now, just a flaxen haired child who’s amber eyes quickly lowered, when glances passed her way.
Bobbi was 10 years old and as plain as a blank sheet of paper. Her hair was all colors and no colors. There were streaks of sun baked blonde mingled with faded brown and auburn. Though it was hard to determine the natural color, one could assume from the intensity of her sad brown eyes, that she was a brunette. Bobbi had a good idea that her parents had wanted a boy, but she couldn’t understand why it would make a difference. Her father had disappeared when she was just a toddler. Her mother was distracted with either a new boyfriend, a new baby, (there were 2 of them now) or a new shade of hair color. Bobbi often slathered her own hair with the leftover colors. Her mother never noticed.
Nathan loved Stacie and would often declare that when he grew up, he was going to marry her. He was small for his 9 years, but tough enough to hold his own when necessary. Two large front teeth gave him a lopsided appearance, and tightly curled, red hair hung in ringlets to frame his freckled face. He owned three red shirts and one long pair of checkered trousers. Faded red suspenders kept the trousers in place, but raised the hems of the legs to just above his ankles. Nathan remembered everything that had ever happened to him. He especially remembered when violent flashes of lightening had roused him from a sound sleep. He had run, frightened and screaming to his mother’s bedroom. But his mother wasn’t there. Trembling, he had waited and waited, but she hadn’t returned until darkness fell again.
Margee was a wispy child with straight, sandy hair and almond shaped green eyes that peered out from behind wayward strands of unkempt bangs. She was 11, and like Nathan, had never had a birthday cake. She lived with her frail, demanding grandmother in a three room shack with bare floors and barer walls. Her bedroom consisted of a cot in the corner of her grandmother’s room. Margee ached to know about her mother and father but when she asked , Grandmother would whine for a glass of water – or for a window to be opened or closed – or for a fly swatter to demolish what Margee secretly named the ‘invisible fly’. She tended to her grandmother’s needs without question or resentment ; but at night in her own corner of the room, she dreamed of freedom and adventure.
Maxi was only 6 with the wisened face of one who knows too much. There were old scars on his torso and he walked with a slight limp. Wide blue eyes highlighted his round baby face and spikey blonde hair danced around his head in various layers of length. He was pleasingly plump but could run like the wind. Maxi watched his surroundings intently and jumped at sudden sounds. It was hard to tell what he was thinking because for the past 3 years, he had not uttered a single word.
And so, on this day this small group gathered around Nichole; eyes wide in wonder. Dirty little faces with streaks of white, where perspiration beaded ever so gently towards the ground. Nichole never perspired, yet her skin glistened. Today, with the sun shining directly on her olive face, she tossed her dark head and shimmering black hair swayed to reveal vibrant red feather earrings. She knew what the neighbors said about her. “Her” children told. And when they told, Nichole would laugh her soft laugh and say , “Don’t worry child. Grownups don’t understand. Then she would spin the colorful tales that kept the wayward little group enraptured.
They were tales of adventure – stories of campfires – and children who danced around these campfires. Children who by chance, had the same names as the adoring youngsters who surrounded her now. Children with broken
spirits – children of the world and children of neglect and abuse. These were “her” children. There could be no mistake. They had endured the same heartaches that from time to time, still haunted Nichole.
Nichole paused in her story and looked up to see a group of angry parents approaching. Several of the children stiffened in fear. Swiftly, Nichole rose and gently herded the group to safety behind her front door. She stood waiting with feet spread in a determined stance with arms firmly folded across her ample breasts. She looked straight ahead, unblinking with narrowed eyes.
Safe behind the door, the children huddled; suddenly cold in the sweltering heat. But they had never been on this side of the door, and soon, fear gave way to curiosity. Almost as one, they turned to look at their surroundings. Billowing curtains of effervescent violet surrounded them, and a warm breeze calmed even the most timid of them. As they watched, they swayed, hypnotized by the rainbow of filmy cloth that protected them from the world behind the door. Stacie gasped, then smiled as the curtains took on a solidity and, before her eyes, transformed into a lush green forest. Stepping onto a soft bed of moss, she caught the sound of music, wafting through the leaves. Turning, she stretched out her arms to the younger children and one by one, they followed her into the forest. The music strengthened, and slowly, a campfire materialized. Urchins no more – the tiny group of youngsters joined other children already dancing near the fire.
On the other side of the door, Nichole stood her ground – still unblinking, but now with an ever so slight smile playing across her brightly painted lips. The group of angry townspeople moved steadily closer and Nichole could hear their curses. They moved quickly but she saw it in slow motion. “The inevitable – the final confrontation” she thought. She was shoved violently but in her mind, had glided slowly to the side and out of the way. Her smiling eyes followed the angry crowd as they slid through the door and disappeared from her sight.
Inside, the trespassing group raced from room to room, searching for their errant children. They had expected that the children would hide from them – but then it struck them. There was no furniture behind which the children could hide. Only bare walls, and a back door that had long been nailed shut.
Back on the front porch, they searched the landscape for the woman, Nichole; but she too was gone. Impossible! Deafening silence…. Then a soft laugh as brilliant red feathers floated gently towards the ground.
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aprilsawriter reviewed Version 1 -
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This 44 word review has not been unlocked.
riosaris reviewed Version 1 -
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I must say, of all the stories I have read here, this was by far the best. Your wording was exceptional, holding me absolutely enthralled through the entire piece.
Your descriptions of the children were perfect. I could actually envision each scruffy child, each expression.
There is nothing I love more than a story of sorrow turned to joy, in it’s own way. You are quite skilled.
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fruitbat reviewed Version 1 -
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It’s a little confusing in the beginning, I have to say. I really like it as a whole, though. However, there are a few spots that you might want to look at. Maybe you should just skim over it once more. This is still an excellent piece of writing!
waiting4rainbows reviewed Version 1 -
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Excellent. The vivid descriptions of each of the children allow the reader to discern their characters without using dialogue. This approach gives the story a unique feel to it. Very well written. Bravo.
iwannajaniedoll reviewed Version 1 -
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I really enjoyed this piece. The characters are well defined, and the imagery is wonderful. I think your finetuning really paid off. This is great work!
DUNC reviewed Version 1 -
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Suggestions:
-take out “ample breasts”; it’s distracting.
-take out “Impossible!”; the following sentence seems to establish that.
I read the first version and I like this one better. Would be wonderful to hear more about the land that Nichole and the children have arrived at, and what goes on there. It would be a ending most grand!
mysokalledlife18 reviewed Version 1 -
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You have got my attention, this is fantastic. I do not know what was written before hand, but this is beautiful work. Keep writing I’m really interested to see what else you have!
monkeyheadjustin reviewed Version 1 -
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Ragamuffins is such a good word. I dig this story a bunch. It’s nice and short, something like I would write if I had more talent. Bravo with the imagination
rjsaid reviewed Version 1 -
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One step up from my last review. I also read this one over, and while the changes are noticeable, there are still a few problems. Mostly with overusage of commas, and again, strange punctuation in places.
October 12, 2005
Deleted User
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This piece is better than the original, and the original was good. I would like to see more stories like this from you in the future. My only comment is to make sure you provide enough detail about the children, but not too much.
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