The muscular gelding that pulled the coach moved skillfully at a measured trot, his hooves striking the dusty road in perfect synchronicity. A sheen of sweat had gathered on his arched, dappled neck and every once in a while his ears would quiver, taking in the symphony of the warblers. The driver that loosely held the gelding’s reins was a very average man with pronounced features and sandy, flyaway hair. He had been driving the girl who was in the back for several miles and his thoughts had wandered to a place too distant to find.

Diana sat properly on the bench of the coach, her slender hands clasped in her lap, nestled between the pleats of her poppy printed traveling dress. She gently inclined her head to get a perfect view of the passing countryside of Norfolk, England, through the small, oval-shaped window of the coach. The land was somewhat different from her home in Denmark, with its rolling hills and she was intent on not missing a single detail. Diana’s translucent blue irises reflected back the matching refracted light from the bright sky, which was splashed with swirling cirrus clouds. Her hair, a fiery orange, fell in slight waves, engulfing her intent, thoughtful face. Continue reading →

Writer’s note: I don’t share Lilith’s perception. Some of my best friends are skaters.

“All right, peoples, listen up! As of today, we are going to have to establish a new system of training, because most of you, with a few exceptions, SUCK!!!” Lilith wiped her sweaty, acne-marred forehead, because the day was warm. “Nothing personal,” she added as an afterthought.

Lilith Nuccizoni strode back and forth in front of the assembled St. Ignatius track team, her arms behind her back. Occasionally, she would make a fist and punch the air as if it had offended her. This was done to make clear that a specific point in her rant was worth remembering. Frank Lagenheffer stood in her shadow, nodding and saying “Yeah” or “She’s right, you know” whenever Lilith paused for breath. A clipboard dangled clumsily from his fingers. Continue reading →

It was shortly after 3:15 a.m. in Creston City. Few of the residents were awake at this time, and only several cars moved throughout the streets. Most businesses were closed, and the buildings still open were for their graveyard shifts.

Across the city, clocks changed simultaneously to 3:25. It was a seemingly unimportant occurrence and on any other night would seem routine. Throughout every house, apartment and business there was an instant tremor. The shaking wasn’t noticeable at first, but it slowly grew like ripples in water, until objects rattled and various items from inside every house of the city fell from their perches.

Nobody thought to run to the windows. It was rare for an earthquake to be felt, but not impossible. Outside, not far above the city, an arch of lights blinked on. The shaking became mixed in with the roar of an engine and the hiss of something spraying out. Continue reading →