Siobhan Muir takes her fifth #SwiftFicFriday win!
Check out her story below and congratulate her on Twitter 🙂
“You certainly have a way with the guards.”
The smooth, cultured voice came from the cell to my left, and someone leaned forward into the limited light seeping through the bars from the smoky torches burning in the aisle.
I couldn’t be sure he was speaking to me. I didn’t know if he meant it as a compliment or sarcastically. I still struggled with the basic niceties other people naturally understood.
“I wasn’t going to let them have their way with me.” I rubbed my arms with my hands, grateful I didn’t set my own clothes on fire.
“Nor I. I may not be the greatest being out there, but I draw the line at taking a woman against her will.”
I suppose that was comforting, though what he’d be able to do when iron bars separated us was unclear. I glanced around to find a place to sit, but the grime made me wrinkle my nose and avoid all surfaces. Who knew what crawled on the two stone walls. I shivered and wrapped my robes tighter around me.
Robes that aren’t mine anymore than the ability to control the fire in my hands.
Nothing made sense. I once heard people pinched themselves to wake up from either dreams or nightmares or weird occurrences, but I’d never had to do that before. There were a lot of things I’d never done that had occurred in the last hour or so and that seemed to be the new normal.
So I pinched myself.
“Ow!” Other than pain, nothing had changed.
“What’s happened? Are you all right?” The figure relaxing in the other cell leaned forward and his eyes glowed like a cat’s for just a moment.
“I’m fine. Sort of, but not hurt. Much.” I frowned. “Who are you?”
Come back on Friday for the next prompt!