This is the final installment of the story told through Spark and Pyro.
Dappled sunlight plays across her skin as she strolls through the forest. She enjoys the feeling of warmth, and she feels its morning heat recharging her. Farrah is glad of this; last night took a lot out of her.
A stream burbles as it winds its way between the trees. A mossy stone covers the spot where the water erupts from beneath the forest floor, and Farrah sits down. The sunlight is stronger here, and she closes her eyes to bask in its rays.
Her mind should be skipping through meadows, and enjoying its freedom, but her thoughts turn towards blackened walls, charred flesh and screaming. Glass explodes within intense heat, and the flames roar as they engulf whatever they find. The fire is alive, and it is hungry.
She opens her eyes, her heart racing, and she is glad to see the same peaceful glade. The trees stand guard and birds sing in the branches above. Green and brown surround Farrah, not yellow and red. The bubbling of the stream advises her to calm herself, to enjoy the peace.
Yet she cannot stay here all day. She must find a shelter – a new home, even. She doesn’t think she can return to the manor. Room 23 probably has a new occupant by now. She’s not sure she can trust the doctors any more. They can’t return her to Dr Phelps, but they can find somewhere else for her. No, she must find somewhere for herself.
She reaches the main road as the light is fading, and a chill hangs in the evening air. She walks along the grass verge, listening for cars. None pass by, and she tries to think of where she might be. The men who took her from the manor gave no hint of the location of the underground bunker, but it must have been far from a city.
Farrah leaves the forest behind as twilight dissolves into night. Moments later, a battered red Fiesta pulls up alongside her. The window winds down and the driver leans across the passenger seat towards her. He is a young man, with black curls and grey eyes.
“Do you need a lift somewhere?”
“Yes, I do.”
Farrah opens the car door and clambers inside, struggling to find room for her feet among the rubbish in the footwell. The driver gives her a sheepish grin, and pulls away from the kerb.
“So where do you need to be?” he asks.
“Anywhere, really. Wherever you’re going.”
“I’m just driving down the road to Upper Frampton. That do?”
“That sounds perfect.”
The driver tosses her a quizzical look but says nothing more, and she allows the movement of the car to lull her into a relaxed state. She gazes out of the front windscreen, watching the headlights cut a swathe out of the darkness ahead. Dr Phelps called her a light in the dark, the first spark to start the fire that would beat the eternal night back. But Dr Phelps is dead.
The driver flicks on the radio, and the sounds of the 1970s drown out the screams in Farrah’s mind.
Moving on… I like it!
But where is she moving to!
wow she’s realy battling hard to keep it all tamped down and succeeding I think. Nice you didn’t finish it off smoothing away everything tidily. So one has to comment, there’s still hunger for more in this tale from us readers surely?
I don’t think I’ll be posting more flashes but it is niggling at the back of my mind to expand this out into some kind of novella.
I have to admit that the reference to Upper Frampton and the music of the 1970s made me think she’d gone back in time to escape her controllers.
Trippy story, Icy.
I thought the exact same thing. This makes me curious for more!
Maybe she did…
Nice peaceful ending on the brim of danger. Good story.
Thanks 🙂
So I am wondering now if she really is in the 1970’s or if that’s an oldies radio. But a very peaceful interlude! (Yeah, it feels more like an interlude than an ending.)
I think I may turn this into a novella so you never know!
Oh, wow. I love this. It’s wonderfully vivid and has me desperate to read more. Excellent story.
Thanks!
I was surprised to find the ending so calm and peaceful!
For now…
I think those screams may haunt her for some time to come, that is unless she is put in a position where she needs to cause more, so many more that they cease to have an impact.
I think she’ll learn to stop listening.
I think expanding this out to a novella is an excellent idea. Sounds like her “rescue” didn’t go so well — it’s all going to come down to her. I liked the little details like the make and colour of the car. I also like how after reading about her for not very long, one starts to check the narrative for flammables. That nice young man may well regret he doesn’t clean out his footwells more often.
I’m already having ideas what to do with Farrah.
Love the mixture of peaceful and violent imagery. Works really well :).
Thanks!
The descriptions in this segment are truly awesome. I could easily see and feel everything around Farrah. Well done, and I must say that I’m a little envious. If only I could write as well. It’s nice that she has a moment to rest. With a gift like hers, though, I don’t think she’ll ever have a life of total peace. She might as well enjoy the little moments, since the big ones may never come.
I’m so glad you liked it – and you write just as well, if not better, than me!
So now lets hope she finds some respite. I liked that the door is left open for more about this interesting character.
Let’s see where the novella goes! 🙂