deepundergroundpoetry.com

A small favour

Here's a bit of background information on this.
It is one of the first stories I really dedicated myself to writing, it was also the first I ever did solely on my phone, with no hard copies.
A friend mentioned at the time she had difficulty reading it because of my punctuation and grammar. I thought it was perfectly fine and she was crazy.
When I returned to finish the story I realise what she meant. I had to spend a long time fixing everything up, and rewriting it  pretty much.
I think it's still hugely flawed, but I find it shows me how far (or not) I've come. If you see anything wrong, please feel free to point it out to me, I would be grateful. :)
What a difference a year and a half makes, huh?
                  ********

Chapter One

Michael bled out on the snowy forest floor. The sounds of his pursuers grew closer. Desperation and blood Thirst spurned him on, willed him to get up.
He raced to get deeper into the sheltering trees. But he could feel himself getting weaker as more of his precious life blood spilled out him.
'I'm not going to make it,' Michael thought to himself.
A Hell hounds cry ripped though the night. Again and again, nearer every time.
He could go on no futher.
'This is it, my end.'
Once more he sunk to the cool, white, blanketed earth, perhaps never to rise again.
Michaels vision darkened and he felt very cold. Just before he blacked out a large shadow fell over him.

Chapter two

Michael slowly regained consciousness. He still felt heavy and drained. He was alive, somehow. He was probably in the dungeons, a fate more feared then death.
But then he realised this could not be as there was a soft blanket under him and his wounds were bound. After losing so much blood the gaping hole on his stomach was still tender, throbbing angrily.
Looking around he saw wooden palings and a straw roof. It appeared to be a cabin. Where could he be? Surely not deep in the woods, but there was no other explanation. Nowhere else was free of the Queen's influence. He had been told his entire second life nothing resides in the forest... nothing good anyway.
One should never go beyond the safety of Sorrow Gates.
He was too weak to move and just stared at the straw ceiling like it would give up it's secrets. Suddenly the small, rickety, door opened. Fear though spread him like poison.  
 
Chapter three

A tall cloaked figure walked in. Wind howled outside and snow blew in from the door. Winter in the Gates is hell.
With cautious eyes Michael tracked the black hooded figure as it glided around the cabin, stoking the fire and making sure every thing was shut up tightly.
Then they approached him slowly as if not to startle him.
Kneeling beside Michael they reached out their hands to change his bandages. But Michael flinched back. They tried again and their hands slapped away.
Standing up they ripped of the hood covering their face, revealing a woman.
Michael gasped.
She was beautiful. Her hair spilled out in soft waves like a midnight waterfall. Her eyes were as blue as the deep end of the ocean and her skin, flawless and silky, was whiter then the snow outside.
"Would you stay still so I can help you!" Her voice felt like taking a breath after nearly drowning.

Chapter four

Michael stayed silent, studying the splendid woman standing before him. Who was she?
"Listen you fool, I'm trying to help you but you're making it very difficult!"
Her words cut him for some reason and his face must have shown it because her eyes softened.
"I saw the Royal Guard chasing after you quite fiercely, mind telling me why?"
Michael silently deliberated with himself.
"The way most things start, a girl," Michael murmured quietly.
The woman pulled up a stool, one of the few pieces of furniture in the cabin.
"So the mystery man can speak," she laughed and it was rich and deep. Just like a shot of good whiskey.

Chapter Five

"So," the dark goddess said, "does Mystery Man have a name?"
She had an easy going attitude that put Michael at ease. He smirked a little. When had every thing gone down a hellhounds gullet? When he'd met her, of course. With closed eyes he remembered.

SOFT brown hair, the colour of river pebbles. Eyes the same shade of moss. The name Rosie suited her soft, gentle manner with a touch of sharp thorn.
"We shouldn't be away from the Gentry," she giggled, clearly having no intention of going back.
Oh, how he dreaded marrying Misca! She was a warrior at heart and didn't want to be tamed. He forced was to be the stronger one, but with Rosie he could be himself.
"Why, are you afraid to be caught with a Prince my little maid?"
She turned sharply and put her hands on her hips.
Rosie tried to look annoyed, but a little tweak of her red lips betrayed her.
"They'll have to catch us first."
Then she was off running in an instant, her sweet laughter trailing after her. Michael's first instincts were to run after her immediately, to tear her down. But he let her run ahead to make the chase more fulfilling.
When he could resist no longer he brought her down in a gentle embrace amongst the Gates spring dandelions. The pollen tickled Michael's sensitive nose.
It was the first time Rosie said "I love you, Michael."
He had only smiled in response.

He looked up to this woman of the present. Haughty and strong, yet kind.
"Michael, my name is Michael Zambelli."

Chapter six

"I am Twiller Darling."
Michael blinked in surprise, not expecting such a lovely creature to have a surname. Suddenly the door slammed open, snow caving in with it.
Twiller got up in inhumanely fluid movement, like a cat, with a sigh. She grabbed a shovel and heapped the snow back outside, then secured the door as best she could with the flimsy tie. It proceeded to just blow open again.
Getting fustrated at this point Twiller went out muttering, "Be right back."
Michael tried to sit up which turned out to be a grave mistake. He tore open the barely healed gouge. Warmth spread over his torso and trickled down his back. Pain pushed him down into the cot. DISTRACT YOUR SELF!; screamed his brain.

Chapter Seven

MISCA was as jealous as she was suspicious. So when she had spied him with Rosie he knew he had to act fast.
"Do I have to leave?" She asked tears welling up in her warm green eyes.
He kissed them away before they fell.
"Sam will take care of you, he's a loyal friend. I have a lot of  servant human friends it seems," Michael tried to joke.
Rosie nodded sadly.
"I'll wait for you," she promised.
The Guard came for him not long after. They all but threw him at the Queen's feet. The court preened and clamoured for attention, with their over the top costumes dripping with jewels. Eyes gleamed with lust and bellies showed their greed.
"This is how you repay my kindness?" The tone was calm which was infinitely more frightening, "I make you, a filthy abused slave, one of us. Invite you into my court, into my home and you dare decide to run off with a scullery maid?"
Anger burned through Michael,"Perhaps you should concern your self with your kingdom falling into ruin. But here you will remain, growing bloated on blood wine!"
The court coward back. The Queen rose from her throne made of human bones to approach him.
Her Highness reached out and gripped Michael's stomach, slowly plunging her fingers in until they brushed his spine. Michael bit his lip, tasting a familiar sweetness, determined not to cry out.
"Take him away," the Queen commanded, gesturing for an attendant to wipe her bloodied hand.

Chapter Eight

MICHAEL clutched his side, trudging his way to the Killing Field. He did not regret a thing. Except not letting Rosie fulfil her promise maybe.
Then, miraculously, his captors started falling, one after another, into ash.
Misca rode up beside him crossbow in hand with her hunting partners not far behind.
"Misca why?!" He cried out thinly. Her smile was grim. "I do love you my so called fiancé."
Michael didn't question her.
"This Queen is finished, a dried up old bitch. This land needs a Queen and she failed in her duty to find another."
"And you would be that Queen?"
"Regardless what you think of me, you know I'm a good leader. I have my supporters."
Her eyes narrowed and her mouth was turned up in a red scar, "And besides, she's waiting for you." She flicked her wrist and rode her black stead away into the night.
Michael wasted no more time in running.

Twiller walked in carrying a massive rock propping it against the weak door. "That should stop it. It's got to clear up soon."
How am I to escape now? Michael thinks with difficulty though the agony blooming in his middle. 

Chapter Nine

A moan of pain escaped Michaels lips dispite his desperate bid to suppress it. Twiller turned to him, her eyes drifting thoughtfully from his face to his middle. The intensity of her gaze unnerved him.
She stretched one of her long pale limbs out before him. Her dark marine eyes glittered with what looked like mirth.
"You need to feed again, it would seem."
Michael's throat was suddenly as dry and barren as Misca's pussy. Extreme Thirst made his fangs descend longer and thicker then ever before.
He hadn't been this desperate since his first life as an 'outside' slave. Sleeping, near naked, in a tangle of bodies. Ironically food was all around him but the punishment for stealing was...severe.
Twiller dragged a long, wickedly curved nail along her wrist. The blood that flowed was luscious and had a sweet, delicate scent that belied her forceful nature.
The thought occurred to Michael that he might now know why her nails were stained vermillion.
Twiller brought her wrist down against his parched lips and twisted her free hands fingers in his hair.
"Drink, Michael." Commanded Twiller.
He complied, sucking hard, taking her wet nectar deep within him. The fulfilment was like no other. Twiller's hand tightened in his hair and she seemed to enjoy the feeling also. Michael felt his strength returning.
This time it was a moan of pleasure and release.

Chapter Ten

Michael licked his cracked lips.
"Thank you."
Twiller smirked, "Don't mention it. Now change into these." She threw him a wad of clean clothes.
Michael glanced up in surprise, "Where are we going?"
Anxiety gnawed at his gut.
"Not we, you. I've arranged a little get away car."
"What?!" Michael snorted, "I'm not sure where you're from, but from my experience, one does not simply drive out of The Sorrow Gates!"
Twiller smiled, which made her look much younger and less harsh, "Did you just half quote Lord of the Rings?" Ignoring Michael's blank stare, she continued, "Besides, haven't I proven my abilities by now?"
"Of course, forgive me."
Twiller turned around to let him get changed. It felt strange after the intimacy they had shared.
"You best hurry. After all it's not polite to keep a lady waiting."
Michael stopped mid pant leg, not believing his ears. He struggled to get the rest of the clothes on with his shaking hands. When he finished Twiller grabbed his hand and dragged him outside. The sun reflected on the fresh snow.
"I told you the storm couldn't last," she smirked gently.
A black beast of a car revved in wait, not ten steps away from the cabin. The windows were tinted, even Michael couldn't see inside, would Rosie be waiting? The Gates sun hardly stung his eyes, created for those like him.
"I cannot express my gratitude enough, Twiller. But what will happen now?"
"Ugh, when Rosie mentioned what a warrior you were, I didn't realise she went worrier! What's that look on your face for? Did you really believe she'd just throw you to the wolves and not fight for you at all?" Michael could all but nod dumbly, blushing slightly.
"You know but she is not so weak. But she is also not waiting in the car. You'll just have to wait a little longer, sorry."
"You are cruel," Michael sighed, but not without humour, "aren't you?"
The driver side door opened and Sam got out. Michael's legs were moving before he himself had realised.
"Sam!" he shouted.
Sam greeted him with a clap on the shoulder.
"Yes, yes. This is all very beautiful. However, this is what's going to happen. Sam is going to drive you to where Rosie is. When you regain your overjoyed senses, you'll take this beastie. You'll be on the road for a while."
"And Sam?"
"He's chosen a different path, one that doesn't include you. But I'm sure he'll stop by a few times."
Michael laughed and Sam's smile turned into a shy grin.
"Twiller, I--"
"Nope. We have gone through this already, now go! Any left concerns are mine."
Michael waved goodbye to his savior and got in the passenger seat. Sam got in beside him and put the car into gear. A light engulfed, them taking them away from The Sorrow Gates forever.

Chapter Eleven
Final Chapter

The car pulled up in front of the cheap hotel room.
"She's inside?" Michael asked.
Sam nodded, forever silenced by the throat wound given to him by a 'Noble.'
For a man that can't speak he conveys a lot of truths, Michael thought to himself.
"Thank you Sam. For everything."
Just as Michael was to open the car door, Sam did something that surprised him. He pulled Michael into a hard embrace.
In all the years he had known Sam, from a serious, lean boy, into the burly, hard working man he was now, he had never shown physical affection towards anyone. Just as quickly as it began it was over. Michael gave a final nod to his friend, then got out. He didn't look back.
Like Michael, Sam was now free.
Michael approached the hotel room door. Before he could knock the door flew open and a slap greeted his cheek.
"That's for making me worry, you bastard!" Rosie hissed.
Then she dragged him inside, clamping her mouth on his before he had a chance to speak.
When they were well and truly acquainted again Michael said, stroking Rosie's hair, "I'm sorry it took so long."
"For what?"
"For everything. To break away, to make it here. And remember, we may be running for some time."
Michael felt Rosie's smile against his chest. "It doesn't matter. All that matters is you're where you belong. By my side."
Michael moved so his eyes stared into the green ones he risked everything for.
"But what about-"
"Shh, we have the rest of our lives to figure it out."
"I love you Rosie," Michael said.
She smiled Coyly, "I know... "

The end
Written by Fillenatrix
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 1 reading list entries 0
comments 3 reads 771
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
SPEAKEASY
Today 11:08am by brokentitanium
SPEAKEASY
Today 10:14am by mel44
COMPETITIONS
Today 9:03am by slipalong
COMPETITIONS
Today 8:55am by PatsonTheFriend
SPEAKEASY
Today 1:37am by Grace
SPEAKEASY
Today 00:31am by mysteriouslady