Posts tagged “fear

Excerpt from Gabon’s Gift

Posted on 05/12/2013

kirin

Jemma

I gaped at him, unsure of what I’d just heard. He stared back at me, expectantly as if he thought I understood him. “Repeat that please.”

Elijah narrowed his eyes, rather impatiently too. “You heard me.”

“No, I don’t think I did.” I lifted the mug to my lips, frowning at how my arms tingled.

He sighed. “The only time we both can go is next week… or next year, around this same time.”

I nodded, realizing I’d heard him after all. Shaking my head, I lowered the mug to the table and sighed, leaning back in my chair. “And the reason for this is because…?”

“Tax season.”

I threw a scowl at him. “Of course.” Somehow, I’d forgotten Elijah was an accountant and a competent one at that. Not only did he take care of our company’s accounts, other businesses sought his help around the dreaded tax season. I could recall countless times he’d gone MIA because of the overwhelming requests for his assistance and counsel on tax-related matters. “Then I’ll go alone.”

He scoffed lightly, eyeing me with skepticism. “Like your dad’ll let you.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “Whether he or you want to believe it or not, I’m a grown woman.”

His eyes swept over me and then his lips quirked up in amusement. “No one said you weren’t.”

I bristled at his candid statement and spun my chair around, glaring at the window behind me. Then realizing with rising annoyance that I was somehow hiding, I pushed away from the chair and strode around the desk toward him. “In any case, I don’t need either my dad’s permission or yours,” I jabbed my index finger against his chest. “To go across the world for my story.”

Eli only smirked and brushed my hand from his chest, walking around me to sit on my chair. He crossed his arms over his chest. “Sure you can, but will you go alone?”

“Why the heck not?” I jammed my hands to my hips, glaring at him. I didn’t understand why he had that annoying smug look on his face but I sure wanted to wipe it off, trying to ignore the niggling inside that he knew something I didn’t.

He had the audacity to shrug nonchalantly and sweep his eyes around the room as if he’d just come in for the first time. “Well… isn’t it you that despises snakes? Or is that Tessie?”

I glowered down at him, not sure what to be annoyed that he dared to mistake me for Tessie or that he teased me over a pesky phobia. “What about it?”

“Gabon is known for its creepy crawlies.”

Cold shivers immediately trickled down the base of my feet and I inadvertently lifted my right leg. The smile he tucked away only made me more annoyed that I barely registered what he’d just said. Then his smile widened a roguish smile once it finally hit me. I inhaled sharply. “What?”

“Vipers, Jemimah. Pythons. With black eyes and long split tongues.”

I shuddered inwardly, my stomach churning. My skin was suddenly plagued with goose bumps that pressed against my clothes. I moved toward the door as if his words were what I wished to escape from. “That’s not funny, you jerk.”

His face was void of any mischief now. “I’m serious.” He sighed, looking down. “I should’ve realized sooner you wouldn’t know.”

My knees trembled as I imagined thick-bodied reptiles slithering toward me. My worst nightmare was being surrounded by serpents of every color, every blasted one of them marking me as their prey. A whimper escaped my lips and I shook my head in attempt to clear my mind. I barely noticed Elijah standing until he was beside me. I blinked, catching a whiff of Eli’s cologne. Meaning he was either standing too close or I was on the verge of swooning.

I straightened my back and stepped away from him. “I’m fine.”

“Jem—“

“I’m fine,” I clipped in return and swung a glare at him. “No thanks to you.” I plucked at my shirt, not liking the way everything pressed against my tingling skin. “Ugh,” I said in mid-shudder. “I really hate you. Why’d you tell me that?”

“Would you have preferred being greeted by one instead?”

I seared him with another glare, wanting to box his ears. Rolling my eyes, I moved to my desk and scooted on top of it, raising my feet from the floor. At a muffled cough, I looked up to see Eli struggling not to laugh. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” I couldn’t help glancing down around my feet.

“Your phobia for snakes is mildly amusing, yes.” He strolled toward me and I scooted away, still glaring at him. He rolled his eyes and reached for my hand. I moved it away from his reach and he laughed openly then. “Oh boy… I guess we’re not going anymore?”

I had to think. It was more than just a phobia that often gripped me with fear. The thought of going alone to a foreign country, regardless of my need for this story, was daunting. A crippling thought. I eyed the man before me, his morose gaze focused only on mine as if my next words would determine what he’d do. As much as I disliked the idea of him trailing after me all month in a foreign country, I disliked me going alone even more. He would no doubt be annoyingly overprotective and would probably get on my nerves every second of the day as he charmed the locals all the while acting like the appointed big brother. But he’d be there. With me.

“Well…?” his probing voice shoved through my thoughts.

I lifted my eyes to his face and sighed heavily. “Alright.”

He dared to raise those thick brows at me. “Alright what?”

I tossed an exasperated glance to the ceiling. “Let’s go.”

“Next week then?”

“Yeah sure.” I fought a grimace at the fleeting image of snakes pooled around my feet.

“We’ll be fine,” he said with a smile in his voice.

I gave him a wary glance, not sure whether to trust him like a fool for the sake of hope. It was for the story that would propel me out of the bottomless, disparaging pit of writer’s block. “If you say so.” There was no turning back now.

SSP 1: Farah

Posted on 06/07/2013

farah

Farah snuck a peek over her father’s head at the deep groove on the stone ceiling, cubit feet high from the ground. She twisted her mouth and immediately caught her father’s eye. He raised one thick dark brow at her in question. Farah lowered her head to the etched tablet on her lap, biting back a smile.

“Daughter…” Zanahpi said in a calm but invoking tone that had Farah lifting her head to look at him.

“Hmm, yes Papa?”

He tilted his head to study her intently, causing the seventeen-year-old to shift uncomfortably under his probing gaze. “What fills your mind besides the prayers?”

Her cheeks warmed visibly and Farah bit the inside of her cheeks, her eyes still on her father’s amber gaze that normally warmed her heart but now arrested her with cold authority. She didn’t blame him for being impatient with her. This was the fourth time today he’d caught her daydreaming. “Papa… I must ask you something from my mind.” She leaned forward when he rolled his honey-colored eyes and grabbed his wrist before he scooted away from the table.

“What is it now?” his lips were taut with annoyance. “You have not listened to any of my instructions or insights and now you want me to listen to your thoughts?”

Farah squeezed her father’s hand and gave him a smile. “Papa, please. Just answer me this and I will swear to pay close attention.” She made sure her warm yet pleading gaze was steady on her father’s and within moments, the coldness fell from his eyes.

Zanahpi heaved a sigh and nodded. “Fine. What is this question?”

Farah raised one hand, pointing toward the ceiling. “Why are those grooves in the ceiling? I have seen it in Khatereh’s home as well…” she slowed down as her father stiffened visibly across from her.

His jaw tightened, his gaze flitting over her head to the archway that hid the grooves from his view. Then he quickly removed his hand from hers and his lips pursed, the coldness returning in his gaze. “The grooves in the ceiling have nothing to do with you.” He tapped the stone tablet. “This however is a preceding matter if you intend to join the temple in four seasons,” he finished in a clipped tone and pushed up onto his feet. “Leave the other matters alone and concentrate on your studies. A priest’s daughter must make her father proud and I expect it from you, Farah.”

Slack-jawed, Farah stared after her father who now spun on his heels and marched out of the courtyard, his long linen vest embroidered with gold trim flapping in his wake. Once he disappeared around the stone pillar, she closed her mouth. Then she snuck another look up, frowning at the shadowed gaps in the ceiling. Clucking her tongue at her own foolishness, Farah lowered her head and focused on memorizing the tablet of prayers for her upcoming debut as one of the charges of Khatereh, the high priestess’ of the grand temple in Susa. Papa was right, she didn’t have time to worry about the holes in the roof. It wasn’t any of her concern or problem.

A fortnight later, Farah stared up in disabling dismay at the ceiling where two large bronze rings now covered the gaps. Treaty rings, Amuna said in a trembling voice as she gathered her cotton veil about her shoulders before glancing worriedly at the open archway to the courtyard. When Farah moved around her to enter the courtyard and see what the raucous was, Amuna, her nursemaid, grabbed her by the arm and pulled her away from the door. “Lady Farah, please!” she said urgently, gripping Farah’s arm tightly that the girl cringed openly. The fear in Amuna’s gray eyes stilled Farah in her steps. “Just stay with me and be quiet, I beg you.”

Farah shook her head mutely, shaken by Amuna’s open trepidation. It wasn’t like the seasoned woman to fear anything, having served their family even before Farah was born. Amuna had served Farah’s late mother and grandmother before Farah’s father brought her into his home once he was married to her charge. Amuna, a weathered woman, terrified of whatever stood on the other side of the door worried Farah and she loosened her resolve to calm the woman’s anxiety. Until she remembered her father and shook her head.

“No!” She forcefully nudged Amuna’s arm, releasing herself from the woman’s grip and stumbled out onto the courtyard.

The sight before her made her skid on her heels, almost bringing her to her knees. There before her was Zanahpi, one of the most respected high priests in Susa, kneeling! Even her father’s guards and the servants knelt at his heels before a group of people before them. Fury rising within her at the sight, Farah snapped her eyes to the person who would cause her father’s shameful humility and her eyes widened at the leering black eyes in front of her. She could feel her very being shrivel up inside her body at the unwavering gaze of the decorated soldier before her. Farah felt her shoulders bow forward as if to hide herself from his open staring but forced herself to keep her glare focused on him. How dare he cause her father to prostrate himself in his priest garments?

As if the man could hear her raging thoughts, his full mouth curled up in a sneering smirk. Farah flinched as his teeth glinted from the exposed moonlight beams reflecting on his shining armor. It was like a ravenous beast who had found his prey. She shivered involuntarily when his black eyes skimmed over her. How she wished she’d worn her outer coat like Amuna had begged her to earlier in the evening. She knew where his eyes lingered and shifted her body from his view, only lowering her gaze then.

“Zanahpi, I believe I have made my decision…” the man finally spoke, his deep and hoarse voice sending chills trickling down her spine. Farah dared not look at him even though his familiar tone with the revered priest bristled her nerves.

“Anything, Lord Azahar. My family and I are indebted to you.”

Farah’s brow furrowed when the man dared to chuckle darkly in response to her father’s whimpering tone. Indebted for what?

“Good. I knew you would be this way, Zanahpi. I did well to make a treaty with you, it seems.”

Farah’s eyes jerked up and caught the mocking black eyes staring back at her. She moved her gaze to her father’s rigid, bowed back before lifting it to the bronze rings bolstered precariously in the gaps. Treaty rings… Her father had made a peace treaty with this evil man? Why?

Then she heard the measured, heavy footsteps echoing on the polished stone floor and lowered her eyes. Farah inhaled sharply when she realized that the armed general, Azahar, was now approaching her. She felt her entire body shrink inwardly as his black eyes roamed without propriety over her body and bit her tongue to hold back a cry. For some reason, she had a feeling her father would not approve.

But she couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her lips when he reached down swiftly and grabbed her wrist, pulling at her. Farah squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to pull away. She could hear the shuffling of urgent footsteps approaching her, followed by the sharp and clear sound of swords unsheathing. The man’s hand tightened around her wrist, jerking her up and against the cold armor of his body. Farah wanted to vomit, wanted to faint. The room was spinning even with her eyes closed.

“Zanahpi,” the man said sternly, his voice echoing in the courtyard. “Call off your guards or my men will kill every member of your household. You aim to break our treaty?”

Farah felt the tears well up in her eyes but clenched her jaw tightly. She would not give him the satisfaction of knowing what his presence was doing to her.

His grip didn’t loosen but only pulled her closer to him. Farah felt her knees give way under her and he sighed in annoyance, pressing her further against him. When she couldn’t stop the whimper from escaping her lips, she heard the chuckle drifting over her face.

“Please…please, Lord—not my Farah, please,” Zanahpi pleaded, groveling before the general. “She is sanctified for the temple. Please, not her.”

“It’s her or the treaty is over. My men are especially bloodthirsty and I will not hesitate to let them calm their fever.”

Farah could hear her father’s haggard breathing, could almost see his whole body shrivel up like hers was. He would have to pick between her and the rest of the family. From the way he looked at her, this bloodthirsty villain could end up killing everyone, including her father and still take her with him. Farah felt her shoulders sag in defeat. There was no use struggling now.

Zanahpi’s lips trembled as the armed general hoisted Farah, his precious and only daughter, over his shoulders and strode past the helpless guards to his side of the courtyard. Tears blurred his view of Farah’s face and he blinked rapidly, watching as the general continued walking and the soldiers followed closely behind, blocking his view of his daughter.

Groaning aloud, Zanahpi stumbled to his feet to go after them when his linen hem caught between his legs and tripped the priest. He staggered to the floor and his guards hurried to help him when suddenly the scraping of metal against stone sounded above. Aghast and full of debilitating dismay, Zanahpi watched helplessly as one of the treaty rings unlatched from the groove in the ceiling and crashed to the stone floor. He couldn’t even flinch as he realized that it was his ring that had fallen… Azahar had won, and he’d lost everything.