What inspired me to write this piece? Wow, let's see. Um... all my fiction work is actually just...
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A New Name/ Nickname
Frozen in fear and frozen in bitter cold.
I’m not having a great night. Morning. Same thing. Slowly I raised my head to where he stood. He was – my age, maybe older. I’m thinking twenty one. And he was devastatingly handsome. Pushing the annoying yet obvious thoughts out of my head I focused on describing him. He had eyes like two emeralds polished and glimmering, his cheekbones were somewhat prominent and his hair was a dirty blonde falling messily round his head.
Gathering all the courage and spirit I could muster I stood up. “Can I help you?” I asked confidently but politely.
He completely ignored my question. A large smile spread across his face curving to his right, tilted. He was wearing jeans and a hoody. Not that what he was wearing really mattered, just that he was dressed like he was from a gang or something. Which I found somewhat worrying.
“What are you doing out here girly?” He asked, sounding concerned. I could bet a million pounds he wasn’t concerned on the inside.
“My name isn’t girly, it’s Grace.” I crossed my arms and pouted. I felt blonde on the inside.
“Mine’s Kaspar.” His grin looked like it could swallow his face.
“Well, Kaspar.” I sighed, agitated. “Could you move out of the way?” I said sternly.
He didn’t waver, he didn’t move just one bit. And his smile couldn’t get any wider then it was at this point.
“Please?” I tried; it came out a bit desperate that time.
“I’m sorry girly but…” He took a step forwards cornering me against the bench, my thighs touching the cold wood.
“No… STOP!” I screamed as loud I could, grabbing the heel next to Kaspar’s foot and holding it up menacingly, as much as I could make it look so. The actual pointy heel aiming at the man’s face.
“Feisty. Nice.” He said. Taking another step towards me. I had no choice but to sit on the bench at this point, he looked scary. Towering above me like that.
He leaned forwards so his hands were on the bench, on either side of me; and his face was but a breath away from mine.
No way in hell I was going to let him get me. I brought my knee up catching him in the groin. I brought my other foot up, placing it on the bench and pushed giving me enough momentum to stumble over the seat. I dropped the heel, my only weapon. My only weapon apart from my own fists and kicks. I’m hoping that ingenuity and strategy also comes into play from my part, but maybe I’m just going a bit overboard now.
I fell to the ground, my thoughts cracked and shattered from my mind. Who am I kidding? I really am defenceless. I scampered upwards, cutting my hands and legs on the rough ground. I could hear him coming after me.
A hand, that most certainly wasn’t mine, clamped around my mouth. Another wrapped around my waist dragging me backwards and hoisting me up.
I struggled for my life. I screamed, it just came out as a muffle. I kicked and trashed, but he pulled me closer to him, the hand around my waist just held me even tighter. I was finding it increasingly hard to breathe.
And what after this night, I was never to breathe again? And why did it just have to be me?
“Now listen here girly, I need you. I’m not going to tell you at the moment but I will tell you. So you just need to shut up…”
“Just let me go!” I screamed, yet due to the hand round my mouth it turned into more of a ‘Juv wet me fo!’
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that girly, come again?” He teased me. He was teasing me. I am not happy.
I screamed and yelled with all my might. This wasn’t much at this point. But I just screamed and yelled. I would not let him get to me.
“I thought you might say that, but I’m very sorry. I just can’t. In fact I think you might rather like it where you’re going.”
“Juv wet me fo!” I shouted continuously.
“I’ll let you go, eventually.” He whispered, his warm breath tracing across her neck. With that he hauled me over his shoulder. I thrashed at his back, so so desperately. “Maybe.”
I felt myself dip and I felt myself fall. I screamed, again. All of a sudden I wasn’t feeling very brave anymore. He pretended to drop me. This is war.
I must say, she did put up a fight. She is a very funny girl. She looks about nineteen, maybe even twenty, I can’t be sure.
We do miss you, a lot. It feels different. You were always there to keep me and father grounded. And now you’re not here. Everything feels a lot more manic.
This whole celebration and event is so time consuming. Father has no idea what he’s doing. Yet I am absolutely sure it will go to plan. It has done for centuries.
There is simply nothing that could go wrong.