Two Against the World

Hey all. It's my blog's anniversary month, so I'm trying to post more. There's a long and boring story about where my archive of short stories went (coincidentally a little over a year ago) but I won't go into that.
Anyway, this story! It was a commission work for a friend on deviantART (Scarydestiny), based off this work of hers and the original characters that came with their world.


Leslie had been having a difficult day at school, anyone could see that. It was best to tiptoe around the thirteen-year-old deviant when she was in any kind of bad mood, but Jamie, her best friend, was never one to leave his dear companion to her own devices. Besides her brother, he was the only one who could deal with the strange and powerful girl. Most people were scared of her. Jamie had no fear of anything, not since the accident three years before that had left him in a wheelchair. He was his own kind of outsider, and knew how it felt for people around to never interact properly for fear they would cause feelings to be hurt.
      This day, he had taken note of her emotional state and watched Leslie carefully from the corner of his eye as they met in the hallways. She was bursting with pent-up energy, and Jamie was actually at a loss about what to do for her. Her anxiety was showing in the way she fidgeted, tapped and twitched, and in her frustration and shaking hands. If she could make it through the day, he would watch her sprint down the running track behind the school to release her energy. If only she would make it through the day...
      In the class after lunch, Jamie found himself worrying for her. This wasn't an ordinary day for Leslie, and he knew it. She was too proud to admit that she needed someone to lean on. Jamie looked down at his useless legs and remembered sadly that he wasn't exactly the best for that particular friendship role.
      A cry from the hall made him look up from his work. No one else in the classroom seemed bothered, but the sound made Jamie nervous. He didn't worry about raising his hand, simply rolled his chair out from behind his desk and made his way to the teacher.
      "May I be excused?" he asked, not waiting for an answer before moving towards the hall. Asking was simply a formality for him, after all. Teachers were always willing to give him anything he wanted. He was disabled, and that entitled him to certain privileges that came with being pitied. Getting whatever they wanted was something he and Leslie had in common.
      As Jamie wheeled himself down the hall, he noticed Mrs. Crowley standing outside the janitor's closest. She was mumbling something, leaning towards the door and holding the handle. "Is something wrong?" he called out to her.
      Mrs. Crowley turned to look at who had adressed her, a worried frown creasing her already wrinkled skin as she peered over her glasses. "Jamie?" she asked. "Oh good. You're here. I need you to do something for me. Go to my office and call Leslie's brother, Liam for me, will you? Leslie's only gone and shut herself in the closet again."
      Jamie reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone. The older boy picked up on the second ring. "Liam? Leslie needs you." 
     The conversation didn't last much longer than that one sentence, and at the sound of the dial tone, Jamie replaced his phone. He could imagine Liam, already halfway across his school, running to his sister's aide. He sighed and watched Mrs. Crowley continue trying to coax Leslie out of the tiny room. Sometimes it was just those two against the world, and no one else mattered. Mrs. Crowley always did her best to calm Leslie down when she had one of her episodes, but both she and her brother were oblivious to anyone else in the universe. Not even Jamie could help.
      Jamie approached the gray-haired woman and place a tentative hand on her arm. "I called Liam. He'll be here soon. What happened?"
      Mrs. Crowley sighed and gave the door one last wistful look before letting herself be led a short way away from it. "You know Leslie, dear. Her science teacher upset her and she drained the life from one of his beautiful potted plants. She ran out and shut herself in the closet. But I don't  know why she got so upset. She didn't hurt anyone."
      Jamie looked to the door, wishing he could do something. Anything. He could imagine how Leslie was: sitting in the small space with a blank look on her face, refusing to make any response. There were times when she couldn't control her power -- days when she was anxious and couldn't help sucking the energy out of something nearby, and it weighed heavily on his best friend's heart. It scared everyone except Jamie and Mrs. Crowley, so most people kept their distance from her at all costs. Even her parents seemed to refuse to be close to her...
      Liam came skidding down the hallway, his short blonde hair swaying in the displaced air from the speed of his movement. He barely gave Jamie and Mrs. Crowley a glance as he came to a stop in front of the closet.
      "Leslie?" he called out in his soft voice. The emotion he put into that one word conveyed every feeling he had for his little sister. "Leslie, it's time to open the door now."
      There was a click as the door unlocked and Liam pushed it open, immediately taking his sister into his arms. There were only small trails of tears from her eyes, but Liam wiped them away and held her to him as if she was sobbing.
      "I'll fix it," he crooned. "You know I will. It doesn't even matter because I can put things back the way they were."
      Jamie turned away. He'd seen these scenes enough to know exactly how they went. Liam could fix everything, after all. Whatever life energy Leslie took away, Liam could put back. It was best for him to just to back to class and leave them to it. Though he couldn't help but continue to stare. The siblings didn't even acknowledge his presence, and he was on the outside of even his fellow outsiders.

Forward or Die

This was a uni assignment I did once for a reading night. Everyone seemed to like it. I ... can't really say that I do. I don't think I'm much of a comedic writer, but here it is, for your enjoyment. Suppose it might be even better if you heard my dramatic reading of it. Ask me to read it to you sometime. ;)

Ah, and it never had a title. This one I just thought up on the spot, so if you've got a better idea, I'd love to hear it.

The nighttime glow of the moon reached in through the net curtains and the skylight, illuminating the sparsely furnished room. A shadow stretched into the corner behind the open door, and it was there that Louis crouched, staring resolutely into the eerie stillness. His back pressed to the wall, he held a pair of oversized scissors in one hand and clutched the neck of a chipped wooden cricket bat with the other. There was no chance anyone would sneak up on him tonight.
         As he waited, he thought bitterly about how the universe must hate him. Of all the times it could, why did his computer have to crash right after he clicked the forward button?
         It hadn’t even had the decency to stay on long enough for him to see dancing monkeys flash across the screen – a feat he’d been promised for sending the prosperity angel email to the twenty required contacts, as well as ten more for extra riches.
         And so now Louis was miserably slouched, awaiting the sinister email’s retribution, as he had been since the sun had squeezed its last drop of day from the horizon to make room for the night.
         A black figure passing in front of the light from the window knocked Louis out of his daze. The moon’s glow had suddenly dimmed and the dark outline of a person was barely discernable from the surrounding shadows until a stray gleam of metal caught Louis’s eye. He was paralysed with a terrible fear when he realised what it was ...
         A deadly ninja assassin had come to issue the email’s judgement and as Louis crouched, watching the killer, he realised the truth as he remembered the warning stories:
         Tina had deleted the email right away, and that very night she had a fatal car accident. It must have been the ninja.
         Jimmy had read it, but left it unsent in his inbox in favour of rushing to propose to his girlfriend. But after accepting his proposal, the young woman took a hiking holiday and was never seen again – the work of the ninja.
         And Louis would never, ever forget Michael, who only forwarded the email to two contacts and the next day lost his job, never to be hired again, and was served by his wife for a divorce. The ninja!

         The ninja in Louis’s room scratched his head and lifted a corner of the bedsheet to peek underneath. Louis had never been so scared in his life. All this personification of death himself had to do was turn and check the corner and his life would be over faster than he could blink. Everyone knew that ninjas could overpower anyone but a samurai, so Louis’s scissors and bat would do nothing but enrage the assassin and cause his death to be more drawn-out and torturous.
         In a stealthy and swift movement, the ninja dropped to the floor, checking beneath the bed. He slid like a whisp of smoke back to his feet and looked to his left and right, but not behind. After pausing in thought a few seconds more, he shrugged and dissolved back into the darkness.

Louis didn’t budge until full sunlight passed through the window and warmed his frozen fingers. Only then did he release his deathgrip on the makeshift weapons and stood to stretch. He had to get to another computer a.s.a.p to send the email ... and to update the Wikipedia article on ninjas.