Word count: 1,925 | Completed: No | Style: Serious (for once)

#1: Flicker

She was always there, cross legged and serene, rocking slowly back and forth to her music. She played an urhu, uncommon in western market places. Its lonesome oriental tone wove its way through the small shopping center, past the newsagent, finally fading gently near the busy road. He was new to the district and had been surprised the first time he had heard her gentle music as he bought the weekend paper. Curiously he had searched for the source of the music, expecting a speaker set into the ceiling. He had felt rather foolish when he’d almost tripped over her, nearly knocking the instrument from her hands. She’d smiled up at him and continued playing, as if he hadn’t just trodden all over her crumpled hat. It had a few sultry coins in it, some stones cruelly thrown by a willful young boy who jeered at her strange instrument. He had apologetically left a ten dollar note before hastily walking away, embarrassed at his clumsiness.

The next week she was there again, and he came to listen properly. He stood there for a good half hour, listening to the unfamiliar and beautiful notes wandering past. She wore a simple pair of boots, scuffed at the edges, grey pants and a faded red T-shirt. Her hair was shoulder length and pulled carelessly into a ponytail, but so much had escaped the elastic it was almost as if she was wearing it out. Her face was always shadowed, such was the angle she bent over her instrument, but every now and then he caught a glimpse of a pointed nose, arched eyebrows, smooth forehead, deep brown eyes. He marveled at how beautiful she was, plainly clothed and sitting in the middle of dusty brick and concrete, how her beauty filled her music with such life. Eventually he stirred himself and left a twenty dollar note in her crumpled hat.

And so he came every week, each time contemplating the unearthly notes she wove and leaving at least twenty dollars in her furrowed hat before strolling away. He began to look forward to the weekends, his house was so lonely through the week. The stuttering radio and empty fireplace became almost unbearable during those solitary hours, but under the pretext of collecting his weekend newspaper he stayed and listened and felt like he was re-living time past. Then came the Wednesday that he looked out at the blue sky and decided he wouldn’t wait for the weekend. He would see if she was there on a week day, maybe even pluck up the courage to ask her name. And so he went to the newsagent, listening intently, but to his dismay he heard nothing. As he rounded the corner he was beginning to panic. But there she was, standing and arching her back. He had never seen her stand before, and was surprised to see that she was almost the same height as him. She began to count through the money in her hat, brow furrowed.

As he moved closer he saw that there were dark patches underneath her eyes, that her hair was slightly damp. She started, finally noticing that he was there, and a coin slid from her hat and clinked on the pavement. She smiled, weariness almost erased as her lips curved. He smiled too, picking up the errant coin and putting placing it in her hat.
“Hello,” he said for want of something to say.
“I’m Aaron. Aaron Metford.” Inwardly he winced at the mundanity of the introduction, cursing himself for not thinking of something more dynamic. She tipped the coins into her pocket and jammed the hat on her head, smiling wider and replying “hello then, Aaron. I’m Aslente.” They stood for a minute, awkwardly glancing at each other’s faces and staring away.
”I’d better be going…” she said finally, turning to pick up her urhu. Both glad the awkwardness had passed and cursing that their conversation had died before it had begun, Aaron muttered a farewell and strolled back to his house. That night his radio lay silent and he stared at the wall above the fireplace. Though in reality he had achieved nothing that day, he felt refreshed, no longer just an anonymous face in the crowd. Aaron felt that, for the first time in his life, he wasn’t just He. He was Aaron Metford, and that counted for something.

#2: (Need to insert story here)

#3: The Birth Of An Inferno

Her arms bolted by steel cuffs to the walls, her clothes hanging in filthy tatters off her slight form, Aslente looked as broken as a human could be. Underneath a curtain of matted hair, hey eyes were closed as if she slept. Of course, she had not been allowed to sleep for days, it was part of the process. Jacob stood in the doorway, his shadow skewed unnaturally across the large room, coldly evaluating his progress. Silently he stepped onto the cold stones, closing the door behind him.

He had broken aberrations like Aslente hundreds of times, he had broken stronger aberrations too. She had hardly reacted when they had ambushed her, the tranquiliser thudding into her rump before she had even turned to face them. They had only turned the dampener field in her cell to a relatively low setting, that was enough to stop her from using her unholy abilities to aid in her escape. It had been so easy, too easy, to subdue the fire of evil within her. But try as he might, Jacob could not completely break her spirit. She refused to beg for mercy, she hadn’t uttered a single sound since her capture. Jacob suspected that there were still embers within her, ready to once again set alight her unnatural abilities. Those abilities he must tare from her.

He had spent the past hours reading her case history, but as he stood now in the pale green glow of her contaminant field and looked at her slumped form it seemed near impossible that the crisp papers referred to her. She was reported to be a cheerful girl, academically inclined, irrepressible when she had an idea. He hadn’t seen her eyes open, they seemed turned inward, hiding from the world. Aberrations were supposed to scream, to rant, beg for their lives at this point, yet she remained mute. A slight breeze wafted through the one small window, high in the ceiling. It ruffled her filthy hair, and for an instant Jacob caught a glimpse of her face, unnaturally calm. Turning, Jacob rapped on the door and waited for the guard to let him out. That evening, hunched over Aslente’s case study for the third time, Jacob suddenly found what he sought. Tomorrow, Aslente would be broken.

The continual hum of the contaminant field around her cruelly kept her from sleep. Her wrists ached from their shackles, muscles down her back spasming painfully. She didn’t know how long she had been there, time was immaterial now. That man, Jacob, had come to peer at her sometimes, she pictured a hateful face shadowed by an overdecorated white cowl, but she had never looked at him. He had tried to break her, to strip her down so far that her powers were brought to the surface. Then he would drain them, and she would be lost. He had almost succeeded, but deep inside her heart there was still a spark, irrepressible as the tides that drove the oceans. She kept her eyes closed, picturing his face, feeling the spark dancing in her mind. They couldn’t take the image of him away. She would be strong.

Jacob almost laughed with glee when Metford was brought to his office. He was a tall man, a good head taller than Jacob’s guards, slightly round shouldered and very thin, graceful without strength.
“What is this about?” he demanded in a quiet but commanding voice. Jacob leant back, steepling his hands.
“For so long,” he began, nodding to the guards to wait outside
“she had me puzzled. Aberrations simply don’t behave the way she has behaved. The devil within them should surface, they should rant and scream, and yet she has been silent. They should fight their bonds, she has remained still. I couldn’t finish my work, I couldn’t break her down completle - ”he was cut off
by Metford’s demanding growl
“What are you talking about? Why have I been forced here?”
“Simply put, you are the key. With you, we can finally break her.” Metford leant forward, once powerful hands gripping the edge of Jacob’s desk until the knuckles turned white.
“Do you mean…Aslante?” he murmured, more of a threat than a question. Jacob just smiled and called for the guards.

“Aslante, I’ve brought someone to see you” Jacob said patronisingly as he walked through her cell door. Metford was roughly pushed in behind him, stumbling against the contaminant field and rebounding painfully.
“Come on now, don’t be so rude. I would have thought you’d be pleased to see your guest.”
The thick door closed with a thud, leaving Metford and Jacob in the eerie near-darkness. Jacob tutted, ignoring Metford’s mute horror at the sight before him. Aslante remained still, eyes closed, inscrutable. With a scowl Jacob whirled around and grabbed Metford’s arm, twisting it painfully behind his back. His gasp of surprise and pain seemed to echo against the brick walls, fading slowly into the soft hum of the containment field. Ever so slowly, Aslante’s eyes opened. They fixed on Metford.

For a moment Jacob was silently glad that she was not looking at him. Her violet gaze was so intense as it took in Metford’s face, it made Jacob uncomfortable. Regaining himself, he continued in his level tone.
“That’s better. Take a good look…” he twisted Metford’s arm again. Aslante’s blank face slowly turned to Jacob, eyes boring into his skull.
“Get,” she began, so softly he could barely hear
“your,” something was wrong – the field began to fluctuate, and her arms were moving
“filthy” moving how? The shackles were buckling, bolts coming loose from the wall. With a flash of light the field gave out completely, leaving only the tiny shaft of light from the high window
“hands” she was free now, unsteadily taking a step towards Jacob, who let go of Metford’s arm and began to stumble backwards
“off him!” she finished, inches from Jacob’s face, staring up at him with such angry eyes, eyes that were wrapping around his fears and bringing them up into his conscious. Metford stood behind her, supporting most of her weight, one hand wrapped protectively around her shoulders. Jacob was frozen, all he could do is look at the twin violet suns that burned at him, twisting his thoughts into a tortured chain of fear, twisting his arms and legs to unnatural angles. The spark he had tried to quench had turned to an inferno, which lashed at every fiber of his being until all that was left was a charred mind and broken body. Aslente turned to the cell wall and reached out with her hand, pushing the bricks away with a thought. Silently she lifted herself and Metford far into the sky, high amongst the clouds, until the facility was just a speck on the horizon.

After an eternity they touched down softly on a hill covered in cool grass, collapsing unceremoniously onto the earth. They lay there for the rest of the night, curled up together, warm and safe. Aslente was where she belonged, never again to be taken by misguided bigots determined to rob her of her gifts. Metford stirred but once, snuggling closer in the dim moonlight.

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