Fell
By J.T. Marie
Published by JMS Books LLC at Smashwords
This story is included in the print book
Bones of the Sea and Other Stories by J.T. Marie
Visit http://www.jtmarie.com for more information.
Copyright 2010 J.T. Marie
For more titles by J.T. Marie at Smashwords visit https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/jtmarie
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Cover Photo Credit: Acesarek
Used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
Cover Design: J.T. Marie
All rights reserved
WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.
No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published in the United States of America.
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Fell
By J.T. Marie
The tracks stretched across the culvert and disappeared into the woods. Sabrina listened for a whistle in the distance, or the tell-tale rhythmic thumps of an approaching train, but the tracks were clear and she heard nothing but the birds in the trees and the water rushing through the culvert below. She looked down the tracks again. Her mother would have a fit if she knew Sabrina took this shortcut home from school. Sabrina hadn’t dared cross the tracks in weeks, ever since the wooden bridge edging them broke away. But the rails ran on wooden boards that spanned the culvert. A bridge themselves, of sorts. It’s not like she could
(fall)
get hurt crossing them. Not unless a train came along while she was still on the tracks.
She cocked her head to the side, listening. Still nothing.
Shifting her book bag to a more comfortable position on her shoulders, she took a deep breath. The smell of oily wood filled her lungs. Stepping carefully on the sharp stones, she climbed up onto the tracks until she stood between the twin sets of rails. She looked across the culvert. The other side was no more than eighty feet away.
“It’s not that far,” she whispered, and started walking.
Her footsteps echoed dully on the wood, and when the ground below her ended, the sound took on a hollow quality. She picked up her pace, not daring to look around. All she saw were the tracks ahead and the grassy spot beneath the trees where she would stand in a few minutes—as soon as she crossed the tracks.
About halfway over the culvert, she stumbled. Her heart skipped but she steadied herself. Looking down, she saw a splintered piece of wood on the tracks. Must be part of the bridge, she thought, and then kicked it over the side. She watched it
(fall)
until it splashed into the water below. The water rushed beneath her, frothy and white, hypnotic. She leaned over a little further, looking for the stick. It was gone.
She remembered when the bridge broke, about a month ago. A girl had been crossing at the time, a girl
(herself)
about her age. The bridge had been rotted and worn, and when the train came along with the girl still on it, the wood finally shook apart. She remembered
(falling)
hearing that the girl had
(fallen)
plunged into the water, but her body had not been found. Sabrina wondered what it felt like to
(fall)
never be found. She leaned over farther, trying to see the water beneath the tracks.
“Bryn!”
Sabrina jumped back from the edge and looked around. Ahead of her, a girl stood on the other side of the culvert. “Bryn!” she called again. “Get off there.”
Suddenly Sabrina’s skin felt cold, clammy. She hurried off the tracks, toward the girl. She didn’t dare look behind her until she was across and standing in the grass. “Is there a train coming?” she asked, breathless. But the tracks were still clear. She frowned at the girl beside her. “Who are you?”
The girl pouted. “Surely you remember Xyla.”
Sabrina took a step back and gasped.
“Bryn? What’s the matter?” She reached out to catch Sabrina’s arm.
Sabrina twisted free and looked more closely at the other girl. She was around her own age, no more than ten or twelve, with huge green eyes and a halo of pale green curls surrounding her head. She wore a ragged dress the color of dried moss, and her feet were dirty and bare. Sabrina edged around her until she saw what she hadn’t seen from the tracks—a glittery pair of iridescent wings folded against the girl’s back like a cicada’s. When she looked at the girl’s face again, the girl grinned mischievously. “Do you remember now, Bryn?”
Shaking her head, Sabrina backed away. “No,” she said, and turned to run home.
“Bryn!” the girl called out. “You’ve got to come back!” Sabrina ran on blindly. “You’ve got to let her go!”
* * * *
She saw a girl running home from school. Dark clouds gathered along the edges of the sky, following her. Where the sun broke through, the world shone brightly, too bright. The tracks glistened alongside her.
The girl was late—her mother would be furious. She could be home within a few minutes if she chanced the shortcut over the culvert. Her mother hated when she crossed the tracks, but a storm was brewing and no one had to know. She’d take the bridge that ran alongside the tracks and be home before the sky opened.
Behind her, lightning flashed in the distance, reflecting off a pair of shimmery wings. Something chased her, something that darted from tree to tree like a dragonfly, too fast for her to see it clearly. Laughter like the sound of breaking glass chased her along. The girl ran faster, out of sight.
Beside her, that laughter again. Turning, she saw that girl from the woods
(Xyla)
cheeks flushed and eyes wild from the chase. “Hurry, Bryn,” she called, grinning. “Hurry.”
She shook her head. “I don’t want to,” she heard herself say, but Xyla was gone, after the girl, and she followed. She caught up quickly, the sound of her own wings a loud droning in her ears.
Ahead the girl was just starting out across the culvert. She held onto the handrails of the bridge and made her way along gingerly. Xyla swooped down under the tracks and over the other side of the bridge. Holding onto the handrail, she hovered by the girl. “Sabreeee-na,” she called in a haunting, sing-song voice. The girl looked up, frightened. “Sabree-na Sabree-na Sabreeee-na.”
“Shut up!” the girl called out.
Bryn circled around her and alighted on the tracks. Reaching out, she smoothed down the girl’s windblown hair.
The girl flinched from her touch and Xyla made a clucking sound deep in her throat. “Now, now, Sabreeee-na. That’s not nice. We’re your friends.”
“Leave me alone,” she mumbled, and tried to push by Xyla. Xyla swung under the handrail, letting her pass, and then came up behind her.
“Sabree-na,” she whispered softly into the girl’s ear. The girl swatted at her as if she were an annoying insect.
“Stop it!” she cried.
Xyla turned and winked at Bryn. “Stop it!” she mimicked, and tugged on the girl’s book bag.
Beneath her feet, Bryn felt the rails rumble. She flitted up and alighted farther down the tracks, in front of Xyla and the girl. The rails continued to vibrate and she heard a growing hum in the distance. Looking up, she saw a train emerge from the trees. “Hey,” she called, rising from the tracks again.
Xyla hovered above the girl, pulling her slightly up off the bridge by her book bag. The girl was close to tears now—maybe this was enough. The train rattled closer, bearing down the tracks. “Hey!” Bryn called again, tugging at Xyla’s arm. “Stop it!”
Xyla saw the train and let go of the book bag. Together she and Bryn tumbled a few feet in midair and then hovered above the culvert. The girl saw the train as well and, wiping her eyes, she began to run for the other side of the culvert. “Stay there!” Bryn called out. The bridge was slick with spray from the water—the girl might slip onto the tracks. “Wait ‘til it’s gone.” The girl froze.
Beside her, Xyla grinned madly. As the train neared, she pulled free of Bryn and began darting around the tracks. “Dodge the train!” she called. She tugged at the girl’s arm but Sabrina wouldn’t budge. The train’s whistle blew twin ear-piercing wails and hurried over the tracks, blocking Xyla from view. Bryn flew over the train, suddenly afraid.
Xyla hovered on the other side of the tracks, watching the cars with a feverish glee. “This is great,” she whispered. Bryn wanted to hit her.
The sounds of the train’s passing faded into the distance and the girl was still standing on the bridge. Bryn started toward her, but she held up her arms, shielding her whitened face. “Leave me alone!” she cried. “Just go away!” She started to run for the other side.
Bryn heard the wood splinter, saw the bridge pull away from the tracks. As it lurched towards the water, the girl screamed and clutched the handrail. Xyla laughed nervously. The girl looked at Bryn with round, frightened eyes, and then the bridge broke away and she was
(falling)
(fell)
With a start, Sabrina sat up in bed, instantly awake. Xyla, she thought, shaking her head to clear the remnants of the dream. In the dark, she went to the window and touched the curtain, afraid to pull it back, afraid of what—or who—might be waiting on the other side of the glass.
With a sudden move, she yanked back the curtain and stared down at the woods below. There among the trees stood Xyla, a hood pulled over her head to shelter her from the rain, a cloak hiding her body. But Sabrina could see her eyes clearly, those green orbs staring right back at her.
She let the curtain fall closed.
* * * *
Quickly Sabrina pulled on her jeans and sneakers. The house was silent and dark. She crept down the stairs past her parents’ bedroom and hurried outside. The rain had eased up, dripping mostly from the eaves of the house and the leaves of the surrounding trees. Sabrina hurried around the house until she stood under her bedroom window, and then looked into the woods.
Xyla faded back into the trees, her gaze steady, urging Sabrina to follow.
Before she could stop herself, she plunged into the woods. “Xyla,” she called. Xyla ran ahead. Sabrina struggled through the wet brush to catch up.
Ahead, Xyla’s wings glistened in the moonlight, and when she turned to see if Sabrina followed, her eyes were large reflecting disks. Slowly Sabrina’s vision adjusted until she could see the trees around her clearly in the cloudy darkness. Her eyes felt wide and absorbing—she wondered if they looked like Xyla’s. As she ran further, it almost felt as if she were still dreaming, her feet barely touching the ground. Despite Xyla’s wings, she kept up with her.
Together they broke free of the forest, Xyla still slightly ahead. Sabrina lunged and tackled Xyla, and they fell in the wet grass, rolling to a stop a few feet from the edge of the culvert. Sabrina pinned down Xyla’s arms. Lightning flashed and Sabrina saw herself mirrored in Xyla’s eyes. “Tell me!” she cried, pushing Xyla down. “Tell me what happened!”
Xyla bucked but Sabrina was stronger. “Bryn,” Xyla pleaded. “You’re hurting me.”
“My name is Sabrina!”
“Sabrina is dead!” Xyla twisted beneath her. “You remembered—I know you did.”
Sabrina shook her head. “It was a dream—”
“She fell,” Xyla pouted.
“Because of you.”
“It was an accident!” Xyla bucked again. “It was an accident and it’s not my fault!” Xyla twisted harder and succeeded in knocking Sabrina off her. She rolled to the edge of the culvert and watched Xyla approach her warily. “It’s not your fault, either, Bryn,” she said. “Let the girl fall.”
The mud beneath Sabrina began to slide under her weight. She stared past Xyla with wide, dull eyes and the mud pulled her closer to the edge. Xyla watched as Sabrina’s body slipped over the edge of the culvert, one white hand trailing in the mud, lifeless.
Far below, a splash interrupted the steady sound of rushing water. The pale hand tightened in the mud, gripping for purchase. A faint buzz droned into the night, faded, started again, stronger this time. The mud slid through the fingers and covered the hand. And then the hand was gone.
Xyla leaned forward, trying to see into the culvert without getting any closer to the edge. Suddenly something large surged up, knocking her back. She tumbled and landed heavily on the grass. Through a jumble of curls, she saw an impish face staring back into hers. “I let her go,” Bryn said, frowning. “I felt sorry for her. She didn’t want to fall.”
Bryn helped Xyla up. Xyla flew into the air, pulling Bryn up with her. “So? You didn’t have to fall, too,” she admonished.
Hand in hand they swooped down inside the culvert and skimmed along the water, but the girl was gone. In the distance, a train whistle cut through the night.
THE END
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ABOUT J.T. MARIE
J.T. Marie is a pseudonym for author J.M. Snyder, who publishes gay erotic and romantic fiction under her full name. A graduate of George Mason University, Marie worked as Fantasy Editor of the school’s sci-fi and fantasy journal, The Fractal, for two years. After college, she created and maintained an online webzine, Disenchanted, to further a love of fantasy fiction. For more information on her non-gay fiction, nonfiction, and poetry, please visit http://www.jtmarie.com.
ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC
Founded in 2010, JMS Books LLC is owned and operated by author J.M. Snyder. We publish a variety of genres, including gay erotic romance, fantasy, young adult, poetry, and nonfiction. We are an invitation-only small press. Short stories and novellas are available as e-books and compiled into single-author print anthologies, while any story over 30k in length is available in both print and e-book formats. Visit us at jms-books.com for more information on our latest releases!