Fairy Tale: 3
Thursday, August 21, 2008, 8:42 PM
Uninvited by Alanis Morisette is the song my hero heard while I wrote this part of the story.
Bring Me To Life by Evanesence is the song my heroine heard (thanks, Becky).
The painful wheeze wrenching my body gradually slowed into pants, making my throat burn from the exertion. I tried to swallow and broke out into spasmodic coughs that made tears run down my face.
Cool wetness splashed over the hands I’d cupped around my mouth. I opened my hands, my palms catching the liquid as it fell. Some of the water went into my nose, but I didn't care. The pain and dryness in my throat didn't let me. The water kept coming, even after I had recovered myself enough to take a breath that wasn’t painful.
Suddenly, a bucketful dumped on me headfirst. It was unbelievably cold. Howling, I pushed myself up from the ground and sank onto my knees, covering my head with my arms.
Vaguely, I became aware of a gurgling whuffing sound--like someone was being strangled. Startled, I opened my eyes and jerked my head back. A tiny boy stood a few feet away in front of me, bent double at the waist. His head was pale and bald except for the vibrant tuft of blond hair that looked like it had been gelled into a spike. He couldn’t have been more than three-feet-tall. Beside him, a container almost as tall as he was still dripped water.
I rubbed the water out of my eyes and blinked at the boy. The troll. The unlikely troll who hadn’t killed me.
“Why are you still alive?” I croaked.
The gurgle-wuffing stopped immediately. Then, with his palms still braced against his little knees, the boy darted a look of disbelief at me and I realized he’d been laughing. His eyes were an incongruous shade of purple, beautiful, even as they narrowed and grew murderous at my question.
“Come here to kill him, did you?” he growled harshly in an entirely different tone of voice than he’d used before. I couldn't make sense of it, he didn't give me time. “You think others haven’t--”
My breath froze at the sound of the voice behind me. The warmth of the single syllable he'd spoken was a silken timbre that proclaimed him everything the legends had promised: impossible to escape, sexually appealing, able to kill with just a kiss. I had no doubt, during this moment when I was able to fully acknowledge the sound, that the real troll still lived.
It meant I would be unable to defend myself in his world, because there could be only one survivor.
And I had failed.
Part One <-- --> Part Two