Okay… this is a week late. I'm so sorry. Computer crashed and then I lost my damn plan. Grr. Yeah.. uh.. nothing much happens in this chapter/prologue.. but I wanted to get something up. This was written for an original ficathon. I've never done one before, so I hope this is okay. Oh, and I haven't thought of a good title yet. My muse went away about.. five months ago, now? You'd think it would've returned by now, wouldn't you..?
Written for Bleeding Air.
Genre: Romance, humor, perhaps supernatural, if used in a unique way.
Likes: A little suspense, and a hot sadist as one of the main characters.
Dislikes: Cliches, mary-sues, characters with no layers, and vampires!
Words/phrases to use: "I can't believe I get paid for this."; "Your chihuahua laughed at me." "It. . . it poked me!"
Sunday - 3.16am
It was the scream that woke her.
The long shrill cry pierced the night and sent chills down Emmy's back. Green eyes fluttering open instantly, she sat up quickly – wincing as the world blacked out for a second. One hand pressed against the side of her head, she wondered whether the scream had simply been a part of her dream. A nightmare, perhaps?
Eyes adjusting to the darkness around her, she sat as still as she could and waited.
Letting out her breath, which she hadn't even known she was holding, Emmy allowed herself to relax slightly. Jeez, she thought, rotating her shoulder to loosen up her muscles, remind me never to sleep outside on the ground again…
Once the sharp aching pain in her shoulders and back had subsided into a dull, thudding numbness, she leaned back against the small wooden booth and surveyed her surroundings. She was far too agitated to go back to sleep now.
Shifting to make herself more comfortable – well, as comfortable as one could get on the hard dirt ground – Emmy let her eyes drift across to focus on a moderate sized booth opposite her, which had a row of solid clown heads. She grimaced as she stared at their pale vacant expressions and wide, gaping mouths – open in a silent scream. For some reason, that made her shiver harder than the scream in her nightmare had. That was exactly the sort of thing that made Emmy both hate and fear Amusement Parks.
There was just something about clowns that… scared her.
How little kids found it entertaining to try and shove balls down those porcelain throats was beyond her. It wasn't even as though the prizes were any good – a plastic toy water gun, a little fluffy keychain, a cheap toy car? None of those seemed particularly appealing to her. All she saw, when she looked at carnival workers, were amateur scam artists.
She let her gaze drift up towards the 'big prizes' that no-one ever won. Or maybe not so amateur…
Shutting her eyes tight, she tried to erase the picture of the stupid clowns from her head. She hated Amusement Parks. Hated them with a passion. Though, the clowns weren't the only thing she disliked about them. There was also the loud, jarring, tinny music… the grotesquely painted faces, the twisted house of mirrors, the…
No. She wouldn't go there. She wouldn't dwell on it… lest she start to freak herself out.
Maybe she should've just let Hart stay with her… Even she had to admit that she didn't detest his company as much as she made out that she did… I mean, he's definitely cute and – no. She wouldn't go there either.
She opened one eye to glance at her watch. 3.21am. Okay, only four more hours until she could finally get out of this God forsaken place...
The funny thing was that the deathly silence surrounding the place was getting to her much more than the carnival music ever did. Damn. She knew that she should've brought her iPod with her. Now, why hadn't she?
Emmy was wondering where she had last seen her iPod, when she heard it again.
Emmy's first thought was not a very comforting one.
Oh, God… it hadn't just been my imagination!
Neither was her next one.
Oh, God… Beatrice!
At that, she jumped to her feet, holding her hand out for support against the side of the rough booth. Getting up suddenly, after having sat down for lord knows how long, was not a particularly good idea. But there was no way she was just going to ignore the screams.
She murmured a short curse under her breath, her legs feeling like jelly beneath her. Thank God for the booth there to rest against… after what seemed like forever (though probably only a minute or less), she was able to steady herself and straighten up.
The only question running through her head now was… where had the scream come from?
Emmy had absolutely no idea.
She looked left… and then right… and then left again. There was silence in the air again, and no way to tell from which direction it had originated. After a split second of indecision, she shot off and ran to her right. She tried to tell herself that she had a fifty percent chance of heading in the right direction…
…which also meant a fifty percent chance that she was heading in the wrong one…
Too busy going over vague statistics in her head, Emmy was unprepared for the short lane, which she was running down, to end suddenly. "Woah!" she breathed, skidding around the sharp corner and throwing her hands out to keep herself balanced. Leaning too far backwards, she felt herself falling. Letting out a short scream of her own (though more startled than frightened), she waited to fall flat on her back in the dirt.
Only… she didn't.
Her eyes now closed, she felt a pair of strong hands grip her upper arms and pull her back upright. Apparently the person had pulled with a bit too much force though, and she went tumbling forward instead – actively bringing her (and her saviour) crashing down to the ground.
This is slightly different from my other stories – which will hopefully get updated soon! ;P
The chapters are slightly shorter in this one, so I shouldn't take too long updating. –shouldn't-. This story isn't going to be too long either. Maybe anywhere between 5-10 chapters long? Depending on the length of each chapter.
Once again, I'm so sorry for the wait.
Nic. aka dangerous-fox.