After a wonderful weekend in London seeing the Christmas lights and stunning landmarks, it’s back to reality with a bang. I hope you all enjoyed your weekend. Here’s a challenge to help you back into work mode:
Write a story or poem on the theme Christmas Eve
Last week’s challenge was to write a story or poem on the theme flashback. You crated some beautiful pieces:
Steve Walsky sent in a really lovely poem. Please visit his site to read it:
https://simplicitylane.wordpress.com/2016/12/05/flashbacks-poem/
Simon Farnell sent in a thought-provoking piece. You can read it on his site:
https://sfarnell.wordpress.com/2016/12/10/monday-motivations-flashback/
Geoff Le Pard sent in a tear jerker. You can read it via the link below:
https://geofflepard.com/2016/12/11/limes-are-the-sourest-fruit-mondaymotivations-shortstory/
And now for the infamous Rajiv Chopra and another slice of story in the Mary Jane series:
Mary Jane opened her eyes, and all she could see in the dark was a pair of glowing eyes. She almost screamed, and then managed to suppress her voice.
‘Who are you?’ she asked in a whisper. Harley Quinn was sleeping by her side.
‘Ah, you have forgotten me,’ said a voice full of malice and spite.
‘Frodo?’ she asked, a bit hesitatingly.
‘Yes, it is me, Frodo. You seemed to have forgotten me, or how much you liked me. Ah yes. Now you are my prisoner. I will make you pay for your forgetfulness.’
His voice thrilled with malice, and he raised a knife to his lips. He held a candle with the other hand, and the light danced up and down on the blade. The blade seemed to smell blood, and the light danced to the smell and anticipation of blood being spilled.
Mary Jane shrank back, and seemed to cringe. She closed her eyes, expecting to feel sharp steel on her skin at any moment. Her blood seemed to congeal inside her, and the pain seemed to reach her nerve endings.
‘Please, Frodo,’ she whispered, eyes shut tight. ‘Just think of the good times we had. We sang, drank and danced together. I did not betray you. I just ran from Spidey, and then I met Harley. Can you blame me for accidentally falling in love with her? You were always my chosen one, my precious.’
She opened her eyes slightly, and peered into his face half hidden in shadow. The flickering light lit up the shadows in his eyes. He looked at her and closed his eyes. He seemed to be thinking, dreaming of something.
Images of the past flashed in his brain; the memories of the two of them sitting and drinking coffee, smoking a pipe, and singing. He remembered that she was the only one who did not laugh when he spoke of The Dark Lord, and of the days of dragons and Elves.
He reeled back, eyes closed, as memories of the happier times with Mary Jane flashed into his brain. After a while, he sat up and looked at her, chest heaving with emotion.
‘My precious,’ he repeated. The memory of the time when she had first said that flashed into his brain, and for a moment he was transported to that evening not so long ago, when they sat by the riverside, watching the sun go down. ‘My precious,’ she had said then, and she had said it again now.
‘Quick,’ he muttered, almost like a madman. ‘Let’s go.’
Untying her knots, he pushed her up to a standing position. ‘Wait,’ she whispered. ‘We must take Harley with us.’
‘Must we?’ he asked, almost in anger.
‘Yes, my precious, we must.’
Quickly freeing Harley, they got up to leave. Crawling slowly, Frodo opened the door, and they crawled outside.
Stillness permeated the night, and they crawled in the dark. Freedom beckoned them, one step at a time. Finally, they reached a window to the road, and the cold blast of the night greeted them with a refreshing newness.
A thud, and a body fell to the floor. A hand grasped Mary Jane’s ankle, as she was slowly climbing out of the window.
‘No…’said a voice filled with anger, hate and malice. ‘My preciousssss…she cannot leave…Frodo wanted her all for himself did he? No…Precioussss is mine…Mine… Mine…’
A sudden memory lit up Mary Jane’s brain, and she was transported back to a night in her old home, when she was woken up by a voice saying, ‘Preciousssss, Preciousss, Precioussss.’ How could she have been so blind, so as not to have noticed that first sign of Sam’s descent into madness. The desire for freedom, and a strong distaste for Sam filled her suddenly, and she kicked with all her might.
A scream resounded in the night, and Sam’s bloody face, and his screaming voice was the last image that she took with her, as she and Harley made their crazed dash back to freedom.
***
Esther Chilton 
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