Through the Ivy Covered Wall - It's finally finished!

I finally finished writing "Through the Ivy Covered Wall." Please go check it out on my blog at www.wearewindows.blogspot.com. If you haven't read any of it previously you may have to search for part of it in the labels. It should be under short fiction. Please comment and let me know of anything I can do to improve.

The Blood that Covers Me

      Okay, this is probably one of my worst written stories, but I need some help with it. I'm not completely sure what I need to do to improve it. Please let me know your opinion.

       I shiver violently, hugging my soaking self, and sobbing. It was all my fault. Why had I been so stupidly dumb and selfishly uncaring? He did not deserve to die yet. Not one bit, though he would have said otherwise. “We all deserve death, Kathy,” he had said once. “Christ is the only perfect one. That's why He could be the only one to die for us.” He had said it so sincerely, his deep blue eyes staring straight into mine. I had felt like he was looking straight into my heart, reading all my secret thoughts. He had me completely confused me, and he knew it. In my book, Samuel was perfect. Compared to me and all my friends, he was a stainless T-shirt. Samuel never missed a Church service or activity. I had never heard a cuss word or crude joke slip from his lips, and he never dated. My friends and I, on other hand, have probably committed every sin in that old book called the Bible. He had quickly earned the name “Preacher Boy” because of his dream of going of to Bible college to become a preacher. Most people really hated or liked him. I happened to be one of the latter group. His personality and broad smile were so attractive. Samuel didn't care if you were popular, ugly, or weird. He loved everyone. Samuel truly reflected the life of the one Christians call “King.”

He seemed to have a special interest in me. I have never figured out why he did, but I enjoyed it. That's when the trouble started. My boyfriend Blake did not approve. His dislike for Samuel seemed to grow daily. He did everything he could to keep me away from Samuel, and his rudeness bothered me. Eventually Samuel convinced me to start attending youth group with him and told me that if I really wanted to change my life, I should quit spending all my time with my friends like Blake. This made me super mad. I stormed out of the Church building and ran down the dark alley towards my home. I decided to call Blake and ask for a ride. Something didn't seem quite right about him when he answered the phone, but I pushed it aside. Blake arrived soon after, and I told him about what happened as I climbed into the truck. Just then, I saw Samuel round the corner, waving his arms and calling my name. Blake cursed and slammed his foot on the accelerator. The truck plowed straight towards Samuel. I watched in horror as the truck slammed into the boy calling my name.

Now I stand in the hallway of the hospital, shivering with guilt and grief. If only I had not gotten so angry with Samuel. I would have never left the Church building. Samuel would have never come after me. If only I had grabbed the wheel and tried to stop the wild Blake, but it was too late. Samuel's Father glances at me through tear-filled eyes. I know he blames me, and I deserve it. It should have been me under the truck's tires.

A nurse places her hand on my shoulder. Her eyes questioning. My shirt is soaked in blood. “Are you hurt?”

“It's not my blood,” I reply. I had been the first one at Samuel's side. A new round of sobs breaks through my chest. Samuel's Father looks at me again, his anger vanished. He quickly closes the space between us and wraps his arms around me, and we cry together.

It is during this moment that I finally grasp the message that Samuel had been trying to get through to me all along - the message about what Christ has done for me. I realize this is what it's like when God the Father looks at one of His adopted children. All He sees is the blood, the blood of His Son. He sees the great love that His perfect Son has for imperfect people. The dark, dirty sins that lie beneath are gone and forgotten. I suddenly want to accept this gift. This is what Samuel wanted for me.

Through Iron's Eyes--Part 2

I wasn't intending on writing any more to this story but Angela asked me why he was wearing makeup. So I had to write more and answer that question. There will be no more to this story though. Sorry, hope I didn't leave you hanging too much!



“Really Mister Iron, I wouldn’t have recognized you since you covered up your scar with makeup only your eyes really are quite attractive. I think I have yet to meat anyone with eyes quite as attractive as your blue ones!”

Lard Strathford chuckled an ugly little chuckle at his comrade’s comment.  

“Oh yes? I have been told that a few times in my life I suppose.”  I tried to see my reflection in the glass windows of the train. Could it really be that after all this preparation I had forgotten to put in my brown contacts? Yes my eyes were “attractive”, in an altogether too dangerous way!

“Ah! Here we are. Sooner than expected. Please allow me to take you to my lovely home nearby where I will do my best to entertain you!” the train was slowing down as Lard Strathford spoke.

“May I escort you?” Sir  Bander cooed in my ear persuasively. “I wouldn’t want you to get lost in the crowd you know.”

Inwardly I recoiled from this man and his cooing. He disgusted me, but there was also another emotion I felt towards him, one that most of the Circle even didn’t realize I had—Fear. I was terribly afraid of Sir Bander, mostly because I didn’t know exactly how much he knew of me. I couldn’t gage his knowledge of my background and be prepared for what past horror he would hurl at me.

“I thank you but it I think if I was escorted by just you I might still get lost. Could perhaps two of your guards do it? No offence to you but you know the old saying, ‘Two is better than one’ .”

 “Oh, but I wouldn’t have thought your royal blood would permit you to be touched by blood not as noble as yours.” He said charmingly.

My stomach churned again. So that was one more thing he knew about me that I wished he didn’t. He knew how helpless I was in his hands and so he didn’t mind standing here on the train bantering with me. I felt a strong urge to make a desperate struggle to get out of here now and with a twist I was free of his arm. In a fraction of a second I had jumped free of the still train and was running desperately straight for the slums.

I heard his footsteps behind me. He sounded like he was hardly even jogging.  My breath came in short gasps; I was a sprinter, not a long distance runner like Sir Bander. Already I had nearly used up my strength. Should I use it now? The thought crossed my mind but I pushed it away. Only for emergencies, only as a last resort would I use that and expose my strongest weapon.  It banged against my heaving chest I could feel it dripping with my sweat. I must not use it yet, I must save it, there was one more thing I could try first.

I faced about and drew a long knife from under my cloak. Sir Bander stopped and looked at me for a while and then threw his head back and laughed loudly. It was a ridiculous idea for me, with a knife, to attack a man with a sword. He continued to laugh, his head thrown back his arms wide apart he was wide open. I jumped.

Sir Bander hit the ground with a thud as I landed on top of him but was well trained for things like this.

“You miserable little cur!” his large hand sent me sprawling with my ears ringing. He came and stood over me, his eyes glinting dangerously.

I had no choice but to use my last resort. I pulled the beautiful sliver whistle, with the mark of The Iron on one side and a galloping horse on the other, from under my shirt and blew as loudly as I could. It was as I expected, Sir Bander suspected me of treachery and the last thing I saw was a raised sword gleaming in the sunlight.

Gone--Part 4

  This part of the story didn't turn out quite how I wanted it to, but it will have to do because my brain isn't helping to make the needed changes.

    A knock echoed through the nearly empty house.  Philip parted the curtains carefully his nerves taunt.  He had to make sure it was the right one.  Outside the door, a tall man with broad shoulders, stood there, impatiently tapping his fingers.  "Good," Philip muttered, reaching out for the door handle.  “Come in,”

    The man’s piercing gaze swept the dimly lighted room.  “We are alone?” the door closed behind him with a click.

    Impatient, Philip's voice sounded tense, “Yes, of course.  That is what you wanted.  When have I not followed orders?”

    The man walked past him and opened up his leather coat pulling out an envelope.  “Up to this point, you have done well.  Hopefully you will keep it up.”  He paused, then continued, “Here are your next instructions.”

    Philip accepted the envelope.  “How are things?”

    “Fine I suppose,” the man glanced at his watch.  “But there just aren't as many as we wanted.  We need more,” he nodded at the envelope.  “That is what that is for.”

    Realization flooded over Philip.  He licked his lips, “Sir, t-this isn’t what I volunteered to do-“

    A few long strides and the man stood face to face with him.  “You volunteered to do what is necessary!  That is necessary!  Now you listen to me.  If you do not carry out those orders, I promise you, you will regret it.  You will pay for it.  Do I make myself clear?”  His steel blue eyes bore holes in Philip’s skull.

    It was a question that needed no answer.  The man walked towards the door leaving Philip standing there, face pale, staring at the envelope.  

Through Iron's Eyes

This story is a companion to a book I am writing called The Iron. This story is actually through the eyes of the main character while the book is written about him but through one of his followers. Tell me what you think, especially about the main character please. Like, is he a good character or does he need some rounding out of some sort?

Through Iron's Eyes

The door slammed to, a whistle blew and the rhythmic clatter of the wheels announced that I was leaving. Could it really be true?

Better rehearse, I could be asked about myself anytime. But where should I start? Name and age, that would be most important.

I am twenty-five years old and my name is Alex Goodwin. I live in Basule and am on my way to visit relatives for the day in Camor.  I will be coming back by the midnight train; here is my return ticket to prove it.

I bit my lip, and tried not to rub the sticky makeup off my face. Did I look twenty-five? Everyone else thought so I guess since I had passed at approximately that age for five years now. No one except my adviser and I knew how old I really was and it was a long ways from twenty five.

“Your name, age, place of birth and current residence?” A soldier and his officer eyed suspiciously a women three seats ahead of me.

The blood ran away from my face. Place of birth? I hadn’t planned on that question.

“Your name, age, place of birth and current residence?” The soldiers were questioning a man two seats ahead of me now.

I could just say I was born in Basule. My breath came out in a relieved sigh that was louder than I intended.

“I’m sorry Mister Iron, did you say something?” The officer turned to me and I felt my heart stop as I saw his eyes. There had always been something creepy to me about them, creepy I mean besides the fact that one was green and one was blue.

“W-Why! L-Lard Strathford! I didn’t expect to see you here!” I stuttered and my stomach was making me feel nauseated.

“I didn’t expect to see you here either Mister Iron. What may I ask are you doing on a train away from your very important headquarters? Surely you are not going to leave us? We were hoping to have at least one more chance to speak pleasantly with you and your genial friends.”

“I-I had business in Camor.”

“Ah! You have a speaking engagement no doubt? I have heard you are quite the moving orator. In more ways than one seeing that by the time I get there to hear you, you have always hurried on to your next one and left me in the lurch! Perhaps you’ll oblige me by speaking to Lard John Halcrust, who I believe you already know, and some of my other friends while enjoying my generous hospitality tonight? I’m sure we would all enjoy the entertainment.”

I could bet they would! Swiftly glancing around I saw what would be my only chance.

“Of course, of course, Lard Strathford! I’m sure they would and I would love to give it only, as I mentioned before, I have a very pressing engagement in Basule.” My outward coolness was regaining itself and I even found it in me to smile at the creep who was after my life. “By the way, may I ask how you are getting along without your slave lass? I’m sure you miss her and she misses you to. In fact it’s lucky we met since I actually have a message that she asked me to deliver to you.”

His eyes darkened and glittered to my delight. My rescuing his slave girl was still a sore spot then!

“Let me see, where did I put that?” I unbuttoned my coat and began searching through the inside pockets. “Ah! I remember now! I left it at home in my other coat! I’m sure if you called on my apartments and cared to look in my dining suit pockets you could find it. I’m sure you’d be relieved to hear though that she is doing quite well and is enjoying living in the new country.”

“Ah yes, wonderful news.” His easy demeanor was slipping under my oiling. Perfect.

“Oh and also, as you can see, the little cut I received one of the last times I saw you, is doing quite well. The makeup in it doesn’t burn too much.”

“Delighted.” His eye brows were down.

“I heard you got tussled a little that time too. You were laid up in bed for several weeks. I’m sorry to hear that. I hope you are feeling better now?”

He leapt at me and stepped coolly back.

“Careful Sir! These seats really seem good at tripping people, I trust you aren’t hurt?”

He roared and leapt at me again, there was murder in his eyes.

I felt the doorknob in my back. Once more please, just once more I needed him to jump at me. If he stepped off and called his soldiers all would be lost but as it was he was blocking their way and giving me an excuse for getting closer to the door.

“I’m sorry Lard Strathford, did you say something?”

My wish was granted. I opened the door quickly and paused only a moment on the edge. There was a sand pile, not the softest landing but better than nothing! My legs bent and I squeezed my eyes shut. A strong arm passed around my waist.

“Not so fast Mister Iron.” His voice cooed in my ear. “I’m really looking forward to that speech you are going to give later tonight-- too much to let my foolish friend lose you.”

My heart gave one painful thump and stopped. No one except my adviser and I knew how old I really was or what I really was—my adviser and him.  I felt sick. This was even worse than I had expected.

The Light's Last Touch--Part 3

I wrote this a different day than the rest and I wasn't in the same mood--I don't think it is very good. But I promised I would post it so here it is:

“Missus?”

The voice woke me from my reverie.

“Missus?” the voice sounded nervous.

“Yes Cadie?” I retreated farther into the darkness so my slave wouldn’t see me.

“Thay’s a man here, says he’s brought a trunk with things that belong to you, Missus.”

“Ask Tom to bring it up here.”

Was that voice mine? The voice that spoke nicely to Cadie, after anger had spoken to her so cruelly the past months? Was this my voice that gave the orders for the trunk, that he had taken to the war with him, to be brought up here? Here to my room where I was trying to shut out all memories of him?

A hesitant knock sounded on the door and I quickly drew back even further into the sheltering darkness.

“Come in Tom. You can put it at the foot of the bed.”

“Yes Missus.” I waited until I heard the door close softly behind him and then I got down on my hands and knees and groped forward.

My hand struck the chest and I pulled it back in pain. The pain was not only physical. I wasn’t ready, wasn’t ready to look at what a man he had been. And what a woman I had been at his side--at the woman I should still be.

I rested my head against the side of the bed. Not yet, I wasn’t ready yet. Maybe if I could forget about it for a while, maybe then I would be healed.

I crawled on hands and knees to the cabinet that I now knew so well. My hands felt around inside. It was empty. I had nothing, not way to make myself stop thinking. Alcohol, my constant companion for that past several months was gone. Gone, like everything else. Like him, like our dreams together for the future, like all the money from our plantation, like the light.

I looked toward the window, my mind remembering the light’s last touch. Was it gone forever for me? A faint glimmer looked back at me. What was that light? I again crawled across the floor and pulled myself up on the window sill. A star shone brightly in the dark sky even though the sun had gone down. Was there still hope for me even though the light’s last touch was gone? No, there was nothing to save me. Nothing and no one now that he was gone.

“Cassy do you trust me? Will you trust me?” the gentle voice came back to me again.

Was there someone then? Some one who wanted me to trust them? Some one who could save me, save me from this pit I was falling--allowing myself to fall into? Perhaps, perhaps this someone had been there all the time, waiting for me to trust them? Perhaps I had known it? Known they were there but instead chose to walk open eyed into the pit I falling in? Could they catch me, pull me out to safety, and most of all, would it hurt?

“Who are you?” the tears coursed down my face and I began groping frantically for his chest.

My fingers found the latches and I undid them fumbling in my hurry. They were undone, and I threw up the lid.

His smell wafted up to me crying at me to stop, my emotions couldn’t handle this right now but I put my hand in and immediately felt what I was looking for.

I pulled out the small leather book and hugged it to my chest then I crawled to the door.

“Bring me a lamp quickly please Cadie!”

I heard a slight gasp and then hurried footsteps came from Cadie’s room which was next to mine. Her door opened and she appeared holding a lighted candle.

“Give that to me please Cadie!”

I took it out of her trembling hands and shut the door behind me. The worn book felt soft in my hands, where in all it’s hundreds of pages was I supposed to look? I was sure what I was looking for was there, but where?

It fell open and I saw a sheet of plane paper flutter to the floor. My hand trembled as I picked it up; it had his writing spelling my name on the front!

I smoothed out the paper lovingly and laid it on the floor.

“Dearest Cassy,

The doctors have given me four days to live. I will soon be in heaven with Jesus. I wish you would meat him Cassy because I would love to share paradise with you. Please, for my sake, read my Bible, you will find hope and strength to guide you through what may be coming. You will need it, for, as a Southern lady it will be hard to survive when this war is over and the North has won. Yes Cassy, I have been in fights, and I have seen the North and they, with their new general, Grant, will win this war. God bless you dearest Cassy. It is my prayer every night that you will come to know God like I have. Let me share with you my favorite verse,

John 8:12

Then Jesus again spoke to them, saying, “I am the Light of the world; he who follows Me will not walk in the darkness, but will have the Light of life.”

I love you dearest Cassy!

Your loving husband,

John Warth”

There was someone there, some one who could bring me back to the light. I felt the words pouring out from me in a torrent I couldn’t control. I lay face down on the floor and begged for God’s forgiveness, begged him to take me out of this darkness. As I finally ran out of words the morning’s first rays of light poured in through my window and lit my face.  I closed my eyes and basked in it warmth until a bird landed on the sill and began to sing.

“Yes sing! Sing your heart out to God!” I jumped to my feet and began to wildly tear down the thick curtains around the other windows. The light and fresh air poured in. I leaned out the window and took in breathed in deeply, John’s Bible still held tightly in my hand.

I saw a horse gallop up the drive and Tom flung himself off it.

“Lee’s surrendered to Grant! The war is over! We all free! Free!”

I smiled as I leaned against the window and began to read John’s Bible. The hard times were coming as John had predicted and I wanted to be ready for them.

Gone--Part 3

    Wearily Mary paused in front of the door to her home, then swung it open, revealing a quaintly furnished living room.  She dropped her purse and keys on the coffee table and then allowed herself to collapse on the couch.  For the longest moment she laid there, hair streaming wildly over her shoulders, her eyes staring vacantly at a blank TV screen.  Thoughts and images from the day pounded through her head.  She closed her eyes tightly.  Everything in her life was going downhill.  The bank was threatening to foreclose on her house, today she had been laid off of her job, and on the way home she had gotten into a huge fight with her mom over the phone which meant she would get no financial help from her.  More tears rushed down her face.  Why was life so hard?  For awhile she just let the tears pour, while allowing herself to sink deeper into a puddle of self pity.  
    Her stomach rumbled, reminding her that a meal was due.  Rubbing a hand over her face she stood to her feet, clicking on the TV.  Perhaps the noise would drown out her thinking as she found something to eat. 

    She entered the dark kitchen her fingers groping for the light switch.  The lights came on clashing with the darkness she had just left. As she headed across the floor a shadow fell upon her.  She whirled around and looked up, freezing in panic.  It was here; it had been waiting.  Grabbing her it lifted her kicking and clawing off the ground.  Her screams, filled with fear and pain, drowned out the noise of the TV.