6th part of the new weekly story. (First Part) The inspiration for this came from an off hand comment I made on Facebook, and since people seemed interested I decided to follow through. Happy Reading.
“Dear boy just rest you had a nasty case of sea sickness.” Emily said patting Brodie’s hand.
Brodie opened his eyes and looked up at the white ceiling but closed them again quickly.
“Brodie I am going to put a straw to you lips you are very dehydrated.” Emily said in a comforting tone. She carefully put the straw in his mouth and held the cup steady and she watched him sip. She leaned down and whispered into his ear. “Ears are listening.”
“Mrs. Bartloski how is he doing?”
“Oh he will be fine Mr. Webb.” Emily paused. “The silly boy missed too many meals and then he was not feeling well and he got sea sick and he should have never been walking but he thought it would get better with the fresh air.” Emily paused and then talked for the next three minutes rambling on. By this time she had seen that Brodie had opened his eyes and was looking around the room.
“Mrs. Bartloski I think it would be best if we left for Brodie to get some sleep.” The Medic On Duty stated firmly.
Emily could tell her rambling had irritated the man sufficiently. “Okay then everyone out.”
The medic ushered Mr. Webb out of the room and then he looked to Mrs. Bartloski.
“Oh no I am staying right beside Brodie till he can get up and walk out of here on his own. Luckily she had put her hand on his shoulder and when he went to get up she held him down. Luckily he got the message and stayed in his bed.
The medic looked at her and just shrugged his shoulders and walked to the door and closed it softly behind him. Emily sat down beside his bed and got comfortable.
“The book?” Brodie said after he looked around the room to ensure it was empty.
Emily tapped the bag with her cane which was sitting between her chair and the bed. She smiled Brodie was catching on. He asked for another sip of water and Emily obliged him with the cup and straw. After she had placed it back on the bed side tray Brodie spoke. “I saw the raven again.”
“I know I saw it too.” Emily said.
Brodie gulped audibly.
“I told you it is just a sign that the forces of magic are moving.” She paused and sat down smoothing her skirt underneath her. “When I was in Peru near Machu Picchu that darn raven sat on our tour bus at least four times.”
Brodie eyes narrowed suspiciously.
“Nothing happened, I aligned the stones halfway down the mountain from the last UNESCO heritage site we saw and then I bought the most wonderful Peruvian caps for my grandchildren, I was actually able to get all their favorite colors, except of course for Jessica who that summer decided that her favorite color was not pink but purple.” She looked at Brodie smiling and could see that Brodie wanted to ask a question now. “I know what you want to ask, why can’t we go back to our room?”
“Well when you were brought in here and they came and got me our cabin has most assuredly been searched and possibly put under a jinx or a spell, maybe it is a curse, I could never keep those straight.”
“Curses are real?”
“Well the most they could do to us, and by us I mean me is make me a little ill perhaps an upset stomach or some gas.” She could see Brodie getting upset. “You it might make a little more, some throwing up or some other gastrointestinal issues if you stay in close proximity to me.”
“Your bubble of protection that you explained to me.”
“Yes my bubble, but we have to stick together that is why I am going to have them wheel a trundle bed in here shortly and then order some food in here and we shall stay here until we dock in St. Petersburg.” Emily eyed the room judgmentally. “Brodie I think this room is actually bigger than ours, I know it is a converted passenger room, all these room can be converted from crew quarters to passenger quarters as they need but I do think this room is bigger than ours.
Brodie looked around and shook his head.
“You don’t think so?” Emily said eyeing him.
“No ma’am, this room is painted white, whereas ours was painted that brownish beige color, I think it makes the room look bigger.
Emily looked around. “I think you are right.”
The ordered food and did not talk much except inconsequential things even through Emily could tell Brodie had a lot of other questions but every time he seemed to want to question her she was able to deflect or divert him. She directed him to stay in bed even though she could tell he was healthy enough to get up when he tried to argue with her she explained that he was their cover for staying here and not going back to their own cabin. After the medic delivered their food and took Brodie’s pulse he left them to eat by themselves. That is when Emily asked him about his walk on deck.
“And you were talking to Mr. Webb when the raven appeared?”
Brodie shrugged. “I am unsure, I was talking to him and then it made a noise and he stated something about raven’s not being sea going birds.”
Emily nodded. “No they are.” She paused. “Did you happen to notice if he had any scars on his hands.”
Brodie bit his lip trying to recall. “Not that I can recall but he had a book and his hands were under the blanket as if his hands were cold.”
“Yes and when he was in here he kept his hands behind his back at all times.”
Brodie looked at her puzzled. “And what if he did have scars?”
“Oh well some people that belong to the opposition have a curious habit of having specific scars on their hands, sometimes a symbol or a icon branded onto their hands.”
“Ouch.” Brodie said rubbing his own hands. “Do you think Mr. Webb is working for.” He paused. “what did you call them ‘the opposition’?”
Emily smiled. “I don’t like giving them any more power by naming them then they already have. Besides I sort of believe in the adage by saying something’s name is draws it closer to you. I tried calling them the competition but that would mean we wanted something or were vying for the same thing they wanted and that is not the case.”
Not crazy about the title, any suggestions will be duly considered.
The problem I have discovered with this type of writing is if I commit to something in the story there is no taking it back I just have to go with is and write my way out of it.
If you would like to read my last weekly story, A Disinclined Purveyor of Sequential Art her it is. (Written in 2013, the same year my wife left me, so I was a different person back then, and I hope I have learned a lot about writing since then.)
My Response: The prophecy stated that in 60 years if the Stones were not properly aligned then the world would fall under the sway of the demon king for 1000 years. 1956 21 year old Emily the chosen one starts the quest. She arranges half the Stones around the planet, but then falls in love and life happens. Now it is 59 years later, Emily’s husband of 58 years passed away and one of the monks has found Emily and reminds her that she is the chosen one and needs to complete her task. Anyone interested?