Derbyshire

One of the blogs I subscribe to is Eight Ladies Writing and they issued a 500-word story challenge earlier this week.  I decided - why not, let's exercise those creative juices. So, here we go - At a slim 431 words.  So this is a squeeze in between Writing Wednesday and Flash Fiction Friday.  Hope you're having a most excellent and good Christmas holiday season!

Photo Credit:  MorgueFile

Derbyshire

By PR Henriksen

"Derbyshire."

"It's not Derby-shy-er, it's Der-beh-sure."

"What'evs. Why'd you drag me here?"

"Mom always said if we got into real trouble, we needed to come home."



Darcy did her slow-mo hair flip thing, sending a wave of perfectly lit, sunset-auburn hair out into the ether.

"Have you heard our accents? The only thing local about us is your new woolly 'jumper'. Why can’t they just say ‘sweater’ anyway?"  Her pouty, pale face seemed a little more translucent than normal.

I headed toward the green hill mom had described.  Now, it seems oxymoronic to say that amongst a congregation of green hills, but mom was right, I could feel myself being pulled to just one. I saw an opening, partially hidden, behind a really gnarled, arthritic looking ash tree. As we approached, one of the lowest branches seemed to be waving us on in. How very friendly….and a little creepy.

"A cave?! You dragged us across the ocean for a cave!"

"Man made."

"What?"

"A mine."

"Good thing there's no volcano nearby, you'd probably have us jump in!"

The cave seemed to light up around us. As we got further in, additional chambers opened. We went into the best lit one. There were shelves filled with objects and books. There seemed to be no moisture, so the preservation was magically good. One box glowed blue around the edges, and I retrieved it.

"We are here for a stupid box, in a stupid cave, in the middle of Britain?!"

"No, we're here for you. You're in big trouble." I looked right at her. “Remember that auto accident?"

She nodded. "Yeah, so what, I'm still here."

"Are you?"

She looked down at her designer self, including the nearly six-inch, spiked heels. "Yep, sure am."

I opened the box. The blue glow oozed out and wrapped around her.

"Hey, what's happening?"

"Hopefully something miraculous.”  Though pulsing in blue, Darcy seemed to be growing more translucent and faint, even as I breathed.  “This will either heal you, or this will be goodbye."

"Goodbye?"

"You're a ghost Darcy.  If you're going to haunt me, I'd rather it be with a crazy, new boyfriend next Christmas, not as a permanent ghost of Christmas past."

The last things to disappear were her overly large “incredu”-eyes and her fiercely tapping, pointy red toes.


“I love you Sis.” 

I closed the box and re-placed it on the shelf while thanking mom and whoever had given us this chance.  I grabbed a roll and a piece of cheese from my backpack and ate in blissful silence.  Looking around, I wondered where to begin.