all is interesting

@flashfictionfridayofficial Well this took me right back to FFF#69 and the world I created where "blood on your name" is the phrase they use. And I forever love emotional apprenticeships so here's the backstory on Naeth's first apprentice.

She meant to kill him.

For a moment or two, the last moments of his life, she meant to kill him.

She didn’t know whether he meant to kill, but in those moments, to her, it didn’t matter.

“She’s dead.”

“I didn’t mean to kill her.” He said it, but that didn’t mean it was true.

“She wouldn’t be dead if it wasn’t for you. Her blood is on your name.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“Her blood is on your hands.” It was on his hands. He’d tried to stop the bleeding when he realized what he’d done. Too late. There was no taking it back. All he could do was pay. With his life.

And with her power, she made him pay.

Then the moment was over, and he was dead, and she’d done what she was never supposed to do, used her power the way she was never supposed to use it, and as soon as the moment was over she wasn’t at all sure that it was the only thing to do, or the right thing to do, but it was too late.

She had killed. The Guild did not kill.

There was no blood on her hands, but there was blood on her name.

She couldn’t go back. Even if she’d been able to lie about it—it would be obvious if she tried to lie about it, it would be obvious he’d been killed by power and they knew where she was and they knew she had a temper, Naeth was always warning her about her temper.

She couldn’t lie to Naeth. And she couldn’t tell him the truth, and she couldn’t face him once he knew it.

And if she returned to the Guild, they’d expel her.

She wasn’t formally expelled, didn’t have to face Naeth, if she didn’t go back.

So she ran.

She left it all behind, letting herself imagine it would all stay right where she left it, that someday somehow she’d use her power in a pure glorious upstanding way and she'd return to find the door wide open for her and Naeth proud to acknowledge her as his apprentice.

--

@flashfictionfridayofficial You know what song I've had stuck in my head all day.

“Susannah?”

Susannah closed her eyes. She did not need Dave saying her name. She was just overwhelmed enough with the stress that she told him so: “Can you not say my name?” He reacted like that was harsh—maybe it was—so she added, “Please.”

“Sure. Um, is there something you’d rather I called you?”

“Susie.” She hated the nickname Susie, so it was the ideal thing for him to call her.

“Susie.” He said it like he liked the sound of it. Unfortunately.

She liked the sound of it when he said it. Unfortunately.

“Or you could just not say my name. You don’t really have to say it most of the time.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

“I can tell when you’re talking to me.”

“Exactly.”

This would be a lot easier if he would push back. Argue with her. Ask why she cared so much what he called her. Be hard to deal with, so she’d be glad she only had to deal with him at work.

So she wouldn’t end up thinking things she shouldn’t be thinking about someone who was under her at work. And therefore couldn’t be…

She needed to stop.

“I appreciate it. I know I’m already asking enough of you without making personal requests.” As soon as she heard the words she regretted that she’d put it that way. “There’s enough being asked of us all—”

“Hey, you don’t like your name, you don’t like your name.” He gave her an easy shrug and a smile. “Whatever you want, boss.”

Oh god.

@flashfictionfridayofficial Was going to make up a tradition, decided to go with one I know.

(alternative niche title: Work of Bees and of Human Hands. If you know, you know)

Peter loved the Easter vigil.

He’d wanted to go since he learned about it in grade school, but his parents didn’t want to stay out that late or sit through all the readings. (They didn’t even do all the readings at his childhood church. They only did four.) The only year they went, it was because he told them he had to go as an assignment for religion class. That was a lie. He went to confession.

Once he could go on his own, he went every year. His parents still wanted him to go to church with them for Easter in the morning, so he went twice.

Nobody was surprised he was becoming a priest.

This was his first and last Easter as a deacon. Next year he’d be a priest. This year he could have chanted the Exultet if he’d been at a church that didn’t have a permanent deacon, but they did. He was a little disappointed. At the same time, he was a little glad he didn’t have to carry the Easter candle into the church. That thing looked heavy.

Instead, like the altar servers, he was carrying a small candle lit from the big one, walking slowly up a side aisle in the dark church, lighting the small candles held by the people at the ends of the rows. They lit the candles of the people next to them, and on down the row. Slowly the room brightened to a warm golden glow.

He glanced up the aisle to see how many rows to go to the front of the church. A couple rows from the front, people were already lighting candles. Peter’s first thought was that a server must have made it over there already, but when he looked around none of the servers were near those pews.

He had to ask when he got to those rows. He might as well—he didn’t have anything else to do there. “Guess somebody already got you guys?”

“Yeah,” said the young teenager at the end of the row.  “Somebody had a lighter.”

Well, that was missing the point.

For a second he thought of making them all blow out their candles and get the Easter flame. But he wasn’t even a priest yet. He wasn’t the pastor.

He went up on the altar, careful not to drip wax from his candle. He went to his seat next to the pastor. Out of the side of his mouth he said, “Somebody’s lighting candles with a lighter.”

Father Ray kind of chuckled.

“Are you going to say something?”

Father Ray looked at him, then caught his meaning. “To the congregation?”

Peter nodded.

“Like what?”

Eyes wide, Peter insisted, “It shouldn’t be done that way!”

Father Ray shrugged and looked a bit pointedly across the altar at Deacon Joe, who had finished putting the candle in its stand and taken his place at the lectern.

Peter found himself contemplating how, as a pastor—someday when he was one—he could stop people in the congregation from lighting their candles with lighters. He should have been contemplating the Exultet.

@flashfictionfridayofficial When I'm the kind of person who really overthinks the wording and doesn't just want to use 'stuck in my head'...

“Are you all right?”

Ry blinked. “Yeah?” Just a touch too slowly he added, “Why?”

The trainer narrowed his eyes at him. After they’d looked at each other for a minute, he gave a light resigned shrug and the training continued.

As soon as Ry thought about it—when he had time to think about it, in between everything else—he realized this was the time to explain it. This was the person to explain it to. Not that he wanted to explain it, but he had to if he was going to fix it. And he did have to fix it because he could not go on like this.

Could not.

When the training session was over, he spoke up quickly. “Have you ever, um…” As soon as he paused half a second, he couldn’t keep the words coming out of his mouth. “Um, do you know if there’s… What do you know about speaking mentally?”

The original thought had been to make it sound like it didn’t have anything to do with speaking mentally, like he didn’t know how it had happened, but that might be entirely transparent because there might be no other way for it to happen. And then he’d look silly for acting like he didn’t know how it had happened.

“What do I know about it?” Zeph’s voice was confused. “Are you asking if I know how to do it?”

“Um.” He just needed to say it. If he couldn’t ask Zeph, who did he think he was going to ask? “Do you know how to undo it?”

“Undo it?”

“Um. I tried it with someone. Because we haven’t officially learned yet, of course, but we kind of had an idea of what to try so we tried it. And now they’re… stuck inside my head. I keep hearing their thoughts. Which is awkward.”

Zeph’s eyes widened. “How long has…” He didn’t give Ry a chance to answer that. “So you need to break the link? Not really my department, but I won’t make you suffer further. Get them in here.”

Ry looked dismayed. He could feel himself looking dismayed.

“What?” said the voice in his head. “Who’s ‘them’?”

“I need both of you here to show you how to break the link,” Zeph said, almost like he was talking to a child. Or maybe someone who didn’t entirely understand the language he was speaking.

Ry had been so careful not to say it was a girl. He knew how that was going to look. And now he had to get her in here.

“Me?” said the voice in his head.

He sighed. He wondered if she could tell he had. “Yeah,” he said mentally, purposefully to her. “Zeph said he can help… unlink us, he said. But we both have to be here. Come meet me at training.”

“On my way!”

She did not sound embarrassed. Lucky her.