Tana

                                      Author’s Note
      I’m not sure who this story is really about, but I’m relatively sure the writer isn’t me, she may be an avenue of me, and you’ll find she sounds much the same as I do here, she may even repeat me, and many of the things she does I do also. Perhaps the biggest difference is she knows from the start how this story is to go, and I have no idea as I write it. It just comes. There are a few people I could blame or thank for this story, though none of them know it, or even did anything directly; Stephen King and Conor Mulligan are perhaps the main two. I’ll probably have to explain why to Conor, but since I’ve never met Mr. King, and most likely never will, I’ll only have to give my crazy reason why once. So with out further ado here is the rambling paradox of a story within a story and so on and so forth. (also I try to bold the last word of the pervious post before I add more, in case people are coming back to see whats been added, so it's easier to find where it left off last time)

                                      The Story
      I can feel it. The story trying to force itself out, like a backwards rape. It’s welled up inside me, and is trying to punch itself out of my chest. To be truly honest I’m rather frightened of what I have created, it’s occupies my mind at all times, like a buzz in my ear. It distracts me when I speak to people, I can’t do anything, nothing but this. I am a slave to this story, and more. I know I won’t be able to leave the sanctity of my study till it’s through, I may as well be chained to this chair and forced to write at gun point, for that is how it feels, and is very near the truth. I can only hope as I write this that I will be a good writer and follow the rules, I promise to try and keep my mouth out of this story as much as possible.

      Wait, I retract that statement, about knowing I have to finish this, in actuality I will write a bit and grow tired of this story and never finish it. I’m quite sure that this will sit as an unfinished file in my computer for a few years, till it gets deleted some way or another, or saved to a disk and lost. To be thought of on rare occasions only, but never resurrected.

      “Let’s move this along if we could”

      Oh, of course, the story. Yes, now would be a good time to start, after I got all that out.
                                      ~ ~ ~
      The soft light filtered through the leafy canopy making the shadows dance and shift on the lush grass. The squirrels and birds chattered softly in the language only they can understand, the winds whispered through the trees telling secrets to the leaves and branches, nearby a creek babbled by gossiping with the rocks and sand before sweeping off on its winding trail.
      The breeze touched lightly on the face of a young girl, picking up her honey blond hair and playing with it for a moment before letting it drop against her tanned face. She turned following with her eyes for a moment as she too could hear its soft whispering.
      She glanced around before slipping off the well trodden red dirt path; she smiled secretly to herself chasing the wind through the shrubs and trees. It wound east blowing over the land like a reckless child, giggling as it lead her deeper into the forest, slipping gleefully through the grass and leaves.
      Upon closer look one would see that this girl was not ordinary, the first clue was her eyes, they shone unnaturally light and pure, the clearest green ever seen. They seemed to hold a world in themselves, a secret place that you could almost reach. Her long honey blonde hair was tucked behind pointed ears, long delicate earrings hung from them, beads and tiny flowers.
      She seemed to hold a light, radiated it, her skin was warm to the touch, as if a small fire crackled happily inside her. She more floated over the ground then walked, as much a part of the wind as separate from it, she was both at once, and neither. She seemed an entity all of her own, something not yet discovered, but that would change, soon.
                                        ~ ~ ~

      “We must find it, without the mission is null and void!” a young man huffed angrily, he stalked about the clearing, pacing and wringing his hands, the image of another man flickered on the surface of a large bowel of water, he was small and nervous looking, the kind of man that always seemed reserved to the very worst happening, always expecting his untimely demise around the corner. “Wilkin, we have to find it, time is running out” he dropped his voice a bit, giving a slightly nervous glance around.
      “I know, I know, it worries me, it is only a matter of time till they catch on, I just know it” the man had a nervous voice as well, shaking and worried. The pacing man nodded, running a hand through his shaggy brown hair, he looked tired and run down, like he’d been out for days “Perhaps there is another way, the Spiron has been to much time already, the daughter is about to ascend. We don’t have the time”
      “Without it, we don’t have a chance!"
                                          ~ ~ ~

      Tanasha Williams sat in at dank bar, the wood top chipped and scarred by the many passerby’s and bottles that have met it. Our heroine, though a more accurate description of her can be found by dropping the ‘e’, is sipping a tall glass of whiskey. She’s a bit scantily clad, even for this bar at this hour, a red bikini top with black straps and a short black skirt. Her leather boots reach to just above her knee, and the sharp heels give her about two and a half more inches of height. Her short dark hair brushes her shoulders, and frames a pale face, deep gray blue eyes peer lazily at the gloom around her. In truth she is a knock out, but as they say beauty is only skin deep, and her icy demeanor had long since stemmed off any lustful glances or poor pick up attempts.

      In her other hand a smoking cigarette rested between her long fingers; she brought it to her red lips taking a long drag as she stood. She dropped a few coins on the bar and bid the keep, Charlie, goodnight. He scooped them up knowing she’d be back that next night or afternoon, or even in just a few hours as was sometimes the case.

      Her boots clipped softly as she stepped through the door into the night, shallow puddles were scattered about from the heavy rain a few days ago. She flicked the butt of her smoke off into the darkness, it sizzled softly before the glowing red end extinguished out of existence. She staggered only slightly as she stomped over the puddles, leaving a soft splashing in her wake.

      She pushed open the slightly crooked door to a dilapidated shack, it was warm and dry if not too inviting, she kicked it shut behind her making the walls rattle slightly.

      The inside was nearly as sad as the outside but in a much different way, the living place of the sad, reeking of alcohol, smoke, and depression. A few half hearted attempts had been made to decorate but were never followed through, the furniture looked a mix of home sale rejects, two couches that were almost the same shade of green, but not quite, a side table that leaned to the left, a rocking chair on which the back was broken out, and a large pedestal of water, decorated with a hideous motif of leaves and angular birds.

      The only sound that broke the silence was the light crackle of a tiny wood stove. A large ice chest stood at the other end of the room, she thought there might be a bottle of vodka in there, but she might have already drunken it, she didn’t remember much of last week, it was all a bit fuzzy, but then again the vast majority of her life was kind of fuzzy, so it fit in well.

      The bottle turned out to be empty, she cursed softly as she tossed it into the trash bin, the loud clank of it hitting god knew how many other bottles that occupied the bin already.

      She dropped into the chair without a footrest and sighed, “Is this going anywhere toots?”

      Wait…do you mean me?

      “Yea, your how many pages in and nothing had happened yet?”

      Well, you have to set up the story, allow the reader to get to know the character and gain a visual picture and

      “You’re stalling, you’ve got nothing, you’re dried up; one more wanta be writer”

      You-you’re not even allowed to talk to me. It’s against the rules.

      “Screw the rules, move it on. ‘Kay, hun?”

      Um, yes, okay.

      She dropped on to the couch giving a yawn, maybe it was time to start sleeping it off after all, all good things come to an end, and the bad things too, though they always seem to stretch out longer.

      Something pulled her up from sleep, the last cobwebs of a good dream drifting off and leaving her groggy and irritable. The ringing echoed in the empty room, filling the tiny house, the first faint rays of sun were hitting the horizon, she must have dozed off. The sound emitted from the large pedestal of water, she stumbled to it unable to see in the dark room.

      “Hello?” she demanding running a hand across the surface mostly just to stop the grating rings.

      “Tana? It’s Alex” a calm male voice wavered slightly uncertain, if she could see she would have seen the owner of the voice’s face swim into view; Alex, she hadn’t heard from him in years, not since she’d left home and headed out here.

      “Alex, wow it’s been-” he cut her off, deeply calm, it was slightly unnerving

      “Dad’s dead” he said simply, he started to tell her what happened, but she wasn’t listening, it didn’t matter really, good riddance to bad rubbish as they said, the best he had ever give her was nice features and good whiskey, both of which he hadn’t really given her, she’d more ended up with them. She lit a small lantern making the shadows flee to the corners of the room, the faint trace of a smile came to her lips to see his face “Tana, you have to come get it” he finished, her anger reared up unexpectedly

      “Why?” she demanded, “your there why don’t you take it, I want nothing to do with the bastard!” she said on the verge of cutting him off.

      “Tana, I’ve got a wife and kids, a home, a job. You’ve got…” he trailed off as if about to say something but thought better of it.

      “Nothing to live for” she finished for him, sighing and running a hand through her hair, she really wished she had that vodka now. “How long?”

      “Huh?”

      “How long do I have to get there?” she asked again irritably, why did this burden have to fall to her shoulders, she never asked for this, it’s was why she’d left in the first place, why she’d balked.

      “Not long” He answered gravely, lowering his voice, “once they find out it’s up for grabs they’ll want to get to it before you can. Tana, I’m sorry I can’t take it, not even for a while, I don’t want any connection to it”

      She laughed, a harsh bitter sound, he sounded like her now, but she understood, if he got it, he would have to use it. Do I have the will power not to use it? The thought was like a sudden kick in the gut, mostly because she didn’t think the answer was yes.

      “I’ll be there shortly” she said running her hand over the surface and making his face disappear. After a moment’s thought she pushed the whole thing over into the floor, the crash was deafening in the silence. She tossed all her meager belongings into a suitcase and flew out the door, lighting a cigarette as she left, the only thing left in her wake was the puddle of water on the slightly dirty floor, and the lukewarm cushion of the couch she’d been sleeping on.
                                      ~ ~ ~

      It was 7am when she burst through her brother’s door not even bothering to knock, “Alex?” she called into the quiet, “Alex!” she’d had this dreading feeling ever since she’d gotten off the wagon that had carried her here, and for some odd reason she was convinced that something alarming had happened to Alex. For a long moment the awful silence hung in the air, stale and forbidding; then Alex came tramping down the stairs, white shirt un-tucked from his trousers, hair askew.

      “For gods' sake Tana, keep it down!” he hissed, embracing her none the less, she just barely returned it, this was something else she’d gained from her father, the inability to express emotions, well not all of them, just the good ones.

      “I thought…never mind” she shook her head, it was nice to see him, “where is it?” she asked, she’d meant to tell him how happy she was to be here, and she’d wanted to smile and ask about the kids, but instead she got right down to business.

      “Where it always is; the safe behind the fireplace” he said tucking his shirt in, “maybe you could just leave it” he suggested, “or just let them have it” it was only a half hearted proposition, they both knew she couldn’t and wouldn’t do that. Why? No idea.

      “I’m going to get it right now, then I’m moving on to the mountain house” she disregarded his suggestion entirely, “Gods, this is the worst. He might never have used it, but I will, gods help me” she shook her head, Alex only looked worried, like he might vomit or faint, or both.

      Luckily he didn’t, he merely grew quite ashen and looked at the ground,

      “You know that means we have to cut off all ties” it wasn’t a question; of course she knew that, it was more of a statement, the only attempt to talk her out of it.

      “Then goodbye” she offered a weak smile, and started walking back down the path “I love you” she didn’t turn around, or even slow, but she meant it.

      “I know, I love you too” he called after her, he watched her walk down the path and flag down a cart, and he knew that it would be the last time he ever saw her, and prayed that her death would be a long time from now and painless.