Tuesday, February 10, 2015


For today's Finish That Thought, I wrote a sequel to The Wall. If you haven't read The Wall, then you may want to start there. Otherwise, this can be a stand alone too.

Ada could see the little girl hiding behind the desk. The little girl had only transformed halfway, tusks protruding from the corners of her mouth, but blond ringlets still adorning her head.  Her eyes held the look of having seen too much in her short years.

Ada stepped forward, her wings fluttered aimlessly on her back. She kicked the dead body out of the way, probably the girl’s father. He had died easily. He hadn’t even tried to defend himself. She walked straight up to the desk, and she put her hands down heavily upon it. She heard the girl scurry, trying to push herself further back of course, as if she knew what was to come.

When Ada squatted down, she held out the poisoned knife. It was the same one that had taken the life of her childhood friend Hannes, a few years before the Wall had fallen. The child trembled as their eyes met. Her tusks receded as she saw kindness in Ada’s eyes. Ada slid the knife into the sheath adorning her leg. She reached out her palm to the child, and the girl sat her hand in hers, warmth of touch feeling their bodies: something Ada hadn’t felt since the years began.

The girls’ pupils were dilated, black orbs swimming around in her head.

“My Momma said fairies were nice. She used to tell me and my brother stories of your kind.”

“Where is your brother?”

“Dead,” the girl said, her face was deadpan and she had stopped trembling.

“I suppose the stories were of wood nymphs, rather than fairies. Few realize fairies are full sized.”

The girl shook her head, “My Momma had a best friend who was a fairy. She told us about how they used to play, before the Wall changed everything.”

Ada moved her hand to cradle the girl’s elbow, and she helped her up, careful not to let her bump her head on the desk above her. The school room floor was slippery with blood, and Ada slipped as she brought the girl into the light. She caught herself by pushing herself up from the dead body who lay still in the chair. Only sleeping, she told herself. She’d been telling herself that all along to assuage the guilt that continually crept into her soul.

The little girl’s blonde ringlets spilled from her head. Ada’s grip on her hand was heavy, and the girl had started squirming as she took in the killing room. Ada was surprised she didn’t run to her father. She had seen many children do that, try to find protection in the arms of the dead.  She took the girl into a chokehold, and she bent down towards her, caressing her face with her hand.

“What your mother told you about fairies, none of it was true.”

She drew the knife, and she sent the child shape shifter to a better place. At least she hoped so. 

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