Conan and the Hurt

     I don't know how many of you know this. I used to super love writing stories. It's been a while since I've written anything. Haven't had the time, but it's always been a passion. When I was younger it was a great outlet for me. I never let people read my stories, was too afraid.  Just because it was a passion doesn't mean I was necessarily good at it.  Always got amazing marks in English for content though. I would love to share one of my favorite pieces with you and would love to hear what you think. I wrote this when I was around 15. It was so much a part of my life that I still think about this story sometimes and its characters. It's silly really. 


So here is my story. Just the first bit. Just let me add, I feel super insecure putting this out there. Think Damon's the only person whose ever read it. 

Conan and the Hurt

    

“Conan, dear, you might as well go on to bed. They could take a while longer,”

Mrs. Alabaster smiled warmly as Conan slowly drew his head from his hands. He wiped his drooping eyes absently and looked around the empty room.  It was too quiet without the dozens of men bustling through. Each man running his own way on important business. Some would stop to chat with Conan or to eat a large helping of Mrs. Alabaster’s generous meals. But tonight they were all gone, risking their lives for a higher cause, leaving Conan safely behind to worry.

He and Mrs. Alabaster were the only two sitting at the dark glossy table.  And though there were twenty two table chairs to choose from, Mrs. Alabaster had chosen the one directly across from Conan. She watched him affectionately, as her needlework idled in her hands.

Conan sighed and looked to the front door.

“What’s the longest they’ve stayed out?” he muttered finding a dry taste in his mouth.  

 “Five days. But oh, that was some time ago,” she smiled faintly at the memory.  “When they did come back they were tired, hungry and disagreeable. That was the morning I met you,” she had paused before adding the last part. Hesitant.

Conan slowly smiled.  His life before living at the Alabaster’s seemed like a forbidden whisper pasted between those who had been with Alabaster that night.  When he was younger Conan had tried sneaking up on those whispers, he was curious, but sneaking up on Alabaster was just something you didn’t do. Every time Conan got close enough to distinguish anything, the words would fall silent and Conan would find himself face to face with an un-amused Alabaster.  It only took two unsuccessful tries, before Alabaster took Conon into the conference room.  He made him sit in one of the enormous velvet red chairs.  Conon always felt small in those chairs. Alabaster had stood sternly beside him. ‘Sneaking around is unacceptable. If you have questions ask them, I will answer what I can,’ Alabaster’s voice had softened ‘But what I can not answer, I will not. For your protection’ Alabaster then asked Conon if he had any questions. Conon couldn’t bring himself to ask anything, feeling somehow that he had betrayed Alabaster's trust.

Conan pulled out of the memory, surprised that Mrs. Alabaster was still speaking.

“…no telling how long they’ll be gone this time, No use in worrying yourself over it, dear.  Why don’t you rest a while?”

“No thanks Mauve,” Conan muttered, feeling more alert then before. “Did Alabaster ever tell you anything about that day…the day he brought me here?”

“Yes, dear, everything” Mauve said carefully, her old eyes searching Conan’s face. When he didn’t ask anything else she announced “You look tired, better go to bed, love, they will be fine, they always are,”

Conan let his head rest in his hands and kicked himself for letting another opportunity to ask about his past slip away.   He rested his eyes and listen to the clock strike one. Mrs. Alabaster’s nettles clinking together as they moved through the soft yarn, almost in sync with the ticking of the second hand.

Slowly Conan fell into his dreams.

Maddie grabbed onto the arm of the couch and slowly pulled herself up.  Her little freckled face smiled triumphantly.

Jimmy threw his arms into the air silently cheering her on.  He knew any shouts of joy would alarm her and send her crashing to the floor.

She held onto the couch arm tightly with one hand, and slowly felt the air around her with the other. She was searching for Jimmy. Realizing this he leaned closer and let her small hand graze his chest. She giggled. In a small voice she managed to say “Imy”

“Adda girl!”  Jimmy exclaimed scooping her up and tickling her sides. Gently, he cushioned her to the ground and pretended to wrestle her.  Maddie shrieked with delight.

“That’s enough.” Mrs. Creal called coarsely from the kitchen.

 Jimmy gently lifted Maddie to her feet, but she quickly sank back down to the ground, still unsure of her legs.   

“See, Ma…” Jimmy said proudly, trying to make out the emotions playing across Mrs. Creal’s face.  “Maddie’s doing really good, with her ears and her balance. Her legs, well, she’s getting stronger…I didn’t know that you…” Jimmy broke off and stared sheepishly to the floor as tears began to flow down Mrs. Creal’s cheeks. “…I didn’t mean to upset you.” He said slowly still looking at the floor. “But we both wanted it to be a surprise.  We’d been practicing every day after school gets out. Maddie and me,” slowly Jimmy looked at Mrs. Creal.  Her face seemed to be torn between great sorrow and anger.

“James…I know you mean well, but you can’t treat her like…I just…don’t handle her anymore, don’t try to teach her, she’s too different,” Mrs. Creal said quietly.

A familiar wave of anger wash over him. Hot and tingling.   “Don’t you want her to learn?” 

“Jimmy, she’s touched, and not to be bothered by you,”

“Doesn’t mean she can’t learn.  Soon she could be walking, finding things, doesn’t matter that she’s blind,”

“NO Jimmy. Stop defending her, I won’t discuss this any more. She is to be left alone, and you will start focusing on work,” with that Mrs. Creal turned back to the dishes and began to angrily scrub the bits of potato away.

Jimmy felt his anger rise as he watched her humming and scrubbing, humming and scrubbing over and over, pretending that nothing was wrong. He didn’t understand her. He looked back at Maddie. Her little red hair all tangled because she had been rubbing it. She rocked back and forth humming a note of her own. Jimmy crouched next to her. He knew she could learn. 

“Maddie with my help, first you’ll walk, and then you’ll fly!” Jimmy whispered into her good ear.  He scooped her into his arms swooped left and right as he walked to the stairs. 

Conan awoke with a start as a large blanket fell over his shoulders. 

“It’s only a blanket dear, are you hungry for anything?” Mrs. Alabaster asked kindly.  Conan slowly scanned the empty room, confused.    

“Never mind dear, you just go back to resting those eyes a bit,” Mrs. Alabaster squeezed his shoulder and walked away.  Pulling the blanket tighter around his chest, Conan lazily scanned the empty room one last time before shutting his eyes.

“Amen,” Jimmy muttered unclasping his hands.  He glanced at Mrs. Creal, standing disapprovingly in the kitchen.

“You still insist on praying before you sleep, James?”…Scrub, Scrub, Scrub…”You know god is only a child’s story,” she said while scrubbing the dinner plates. Jimmy was sure that pretty soon she would have scrubbed those plates into nothing.

“Pa believed in praying,” Jimmy muttered getting off his knees and pulling Maddie to her feet, holding her hands in his. She swayed with unbalance.

“Yes, and he’s dead,” She said bitterly. “stop being so childish!”

“I try Mama,” Jimmy sighed. “For you…”

A loud crackle erupted throughout the room throwing Jimmy’s words to silence. Mrs. Creal’s hand was suspended above the sink, a cup had fallen and a plate was slipping from her grasp. The plate seemed to slowly float to the ground as if time had slowed.

 Jimmy set Maddie to the floor and sprang forward in one swift motion, trying to save the glass platter from shattering but he tripped and fell to the floor just as the dish hit the ground.  It shattered into a thousand bits, hurling pieces everywhere.  A large sliver of porcelain cut into his left eye brow. Hot sticky blood immediately trickled down.  Jimmy scrambled to his feet and pulled the glass out of his skin, cringing as he did.   

Mrs. Creal stared dumbfounded at the scattered old platter.  Its faded design was now sprawled across the dirty wooden floor; a jumble of pieces that would never be brought back together.  

“Imy?” Maddie called confused.

Mrs. Creal’s green eyes darted around the room, she slowly let her hands fall limply to her side as she whispered,“They’re coming,”

Blood trickled into Jimmy’s smoky blue eye; he wiped it away, flinching as pain dulled his senses.  “Ma, its okay I’ll get the plate…” he looked at his mother’s paralyzed figure and let his sentence fall.

“James, go lock the door…bolt it too,” she whispered, barley moving her lips.

“What’s wrong?”

“Go!”

Jimmy cringed at her tone and hesitantly walked forward.  The door bolt was rusting; it cut Jimmy’s fingers as he slid it into place.  Then clear as the morning sky and bleak as the everlasting night, he could hear them.  His stomach clenched and he fell back a step. 

“MA…” Jimmy’s voice cracked and suddenly her warm fingers were on his shoulder, making him jump. She turned him away from the door and held him in a one armed hug. Maddie was curled in her other arm.

  “It isn’t…Them?” Jimmy persisted pushing away from his mother and searching her green eyes. He wanted to find comfort and assurance; more than anything he wished he was a little boy again. He wished he could believe that Ma would make it better, he wished she would at least try.  

“Hold Maddie,” Mrs. Creal whispered easing the little red head’s small frame into Jimmy’s arms.  Maddie held completely still, as she heard her mother walk away from them.  

“Imy?” she whimpered and then she heard.   From outside the sound of heavy boots hitting the pavement found their way in through the cracks in the walls.  Jimmy went cold.  He heard them whispering to one another in strange hissing sounds.

 “Imy?” Maddie moaned clinging weakly to his neck. 

    “James!  Get away from that door!” Mrs. Creal whispered her voice high and unusual. “Into the room, follow me. Make hast son!”  

    A loud howl shot through the air, making everyone jump.  Maddie tightened her weak grip around Jimmy’s neck. 

The Hurt were coming, there was no doubt.

Jimmy didn’t, couldn’t react to Maddie.  He could see the Hurt peering through the window by the door, trying to pry it open with their long grey claws.  The glass was being violently jostled; but it didn’t break. They can’t get in!  Jimmy thought, and his heart stopped beating so fast.  

“James, get over here! I can’t open the hatch without you!” Mrs. Creal screamed terrified.  She still tugged on the large handle of the hidden hatch.    

     “Ma, I don’t think they can get in,” Jimmy said not moving his eyes from the window.

     “James, help me open the hatch,” Mrs. Creal yelled gaining better control of her voice.  She pulled on the handle with all of her strength.

Maddie bit her quivering lip, and leaned closer to Jimmy.

 “Ma, I’m telling you, don’t think they can get in,” Jimmy repeated in a whisper.  Blood still trickled down from the gash on his eyebrow, temporarily blinding his left eye.  He held tight to Maddie with one hand and wiped the blood away with the back of his other, just in time to watch the Hurt break the window and start pouring into the room. 

Maddie sent a piercing scream threw the air.  They were going to die!  She couldn’t see it, but she felt it.  They were dead!

Jimmy’s felt his stomach drop and the full reality of what was happening came searing into focus. He had never thought of fear as numbing before, but now, it was so numbing he was almost paralyzed. It wasn’t until Maddie’s screams came echoing in his ear that he seemed mobile. He clamped his hand hard on Maddie’s mouth. 

“Shhhh,” he hissed into her good ear and held her close to him. With all of his courage he ran past the Hurt and to the corner of the stairs.  He gently set Maddie down, out of sight, and ran to the coat hooks. 

There laid his father’s old fishing net. It hadn’t been used since he died, five years ago, but Mama had always refused to sell it or put it away.  Jimmy grabbed the bundle of 30 by 30ft net and ran back to his sister, blocking out all that was going on around him. He unraveled it franticly and piled it on his sister.

     Mrs. Creal gave out a loud scream.  Jimmy quickly glanced at her.  The Hurt had been drawing near him and Maddie, but quickly staggered to Mrs. Creal, like drunken beasts, hearing her anguished cry.  The hidden hatch laid halfway open, but Mrs. Creal paid it no mind as she retreated to the farthest corner of the room, putting as much distance between the Hurt and her children as she could.  Whatever doubts Jimmy had about his mother’s devotion to Maddie and him, looking back on this moment, he would never be able to really argue that she hadn’t cared. She was giving them a chance at life, at the cost of her own. Jimmy turned back to Maddie, grateful for a chance.

     “James, help me!”  Mrs. Creal screamed.  Calling not for Jimmy, her son, but for her late husband James.  She often talked to him when she felt discouraged.  She knew she had to be crazy, talking to a dead man.  But what did that matter now?

Jimmy let silent tears fall down his cheeks; he couldn’t help them both.  She’s giving you a chance, take it, Jimmy told himself. Maddie whimpered and curled into a ball, pulling her nightgown over her knees like a blanket and rocking back and forth.

     “Maddie, whatever you hear…whatever happens to Mama or...me. Promise you won’t leave this spot!”  Jimmy pled into her good ear. In the back of his mind he registered his mother calling for help.  Jimmy ran his hand through his brown curls,

     “James! Help me help our children…” Mrs. Creal yelled.

     Maddie squirmed under the net.

 “No Maddie don’t do that, don’t even move from here.”  Jimmy commanded tears spilling down his cheeks as he glanced at his Ma. For the first time in his life, Jimmy was grateful Maddie could not see a thing.                               

     “Imy…”

     “Maddie, promise me!” he demanded.

     “Imy!” she cried. 

     “Promise me!” Jimmy roared. It was the first time he had ever yelled at Maddie with real anger.  She stopped crying.  Somehow that terrified her more than the Hurt.

“imy scare!” she whimper.

Jimmy reached in-between the holes in the net to hold Maddie’s hand.  Her fingers were cold, but Jimmy curled his warm clammy hands over hers. For a moment the two frightened children felt safe.  Then the Hurt gave a loud shriek.  Jimmy let go of her hand.

     “Maddie don’t move from this spot! Don’t even shift your weight until Alabaster gets here!”

     “Ala?”  Maddie whimpered.

     “He comes when we need him, why wouldn’t he this time?  He’ll come! He’ll help us, he’ll come.”  Jimmy repeated trying to convince himself.  He glanced at the wooden front door so old and so worn.  Millions of memories of Alabaster walking through that door bringing treasures of comfort and friendship flew through Jimmy’s mind. 

It was already too late.  In less then minutes the Hurt will have found him and Maddie and then Alabaster would be too late.  It’s too late for me and Ma.  Jimmy thought glancing mournfully at his mother’s body humped over the kitchen table with gobs of Hurt surrounding her.  But if I do something, I could make time for Alabaster to get here.  Then Maddie will have a chance. He had to get the Hurt away from the house.

Quickly sizing up the room he had lived in since birth he devised a plan.  If every impossible detail followed his plan as he willed it too, then possibly he and Maddie could live…possibly. Jimmy hugged his sister through the net.

“Be a good girl Maddie,” he said looking over her every feature.  Her small freckled face that was so thin and pale.  Her body had always been so small and weak, covered with freckles from forehead to toe tip. How would she survive without him and Ma?  Who would take in a crippled girl?  She couldn’t properly do anything.  Alabaster would. he reminded himself and took a few steps away from her.

“Imy!”  Maddie shrieked, franticly thrashing the net off to reach his hand.

Jimmy forced a calm tone and said “Maddie, I promise nothing will happen to you when I’m around.  You’ll learn how to walk, remember?  I promised!”  Even if I don’t live long enough to be the one who teaches you. 

He turned his back to her and slowly walked toward the Hurt. Fearing that if he didn’t start his plan now, it would be too late. Jimmy’s heart beat wildly; the Hurt seemed to be growing bigger as he approached.  He tried not to look at his mother as he drew closer to them. 

“Come get me!” he whimpered, his voice dry and flat. Great, he thought, that’s convincing.  Jimmy cleared his throat and yelled “COME GET ME!” his knees almost gave out but his voice was strong. 

The Hurt turned from his Ma, looking at him from under their hoods. Jimmy found he couldn’t breath.  Pretend its hide and go seek Tag he told himself.  It’s just another game…you can do it…you haven’t lost a game for six years…

Jimmy hung on to that thought and ran to the front door.  To his relief it sat there as it always had.  On the side table, amid the papers and books laid the dagger, encased in glass. It was supposed to be Jimmy’s, passed down from father to son.  Now was as good as a time as any to make it official.  Jimmy smashed the glass against the table corner and quickly thrust the dagger into his pocket.  The first part of his plan was working well. He pushed the rusty bolt off of the front door then quickly pushed it open revealing the dark night that engulfed the house.    

“Over here. Come get me.”  He whispered strangely calm as if it were only Maddie he was beckoning to come to him. 

 The Hurt stared at him blankly.

“See if you can beat me,” he whispered challengingly.  Just like the game, he told himself again.  

Conan pulled himself out of the dream. He had to help Jimmy and Maddie. His eyelids flew open.

Alabaster would know what to do. “Alabaster!”  He called wildly . Conan wiped his eyes of all sleep and stood so abruptly from his chair that his knee hit the corner of the table and flung him to the cold wood floor.

“Conan!?” Carver exclaimed.  He jumping from his seat on the opposite side of the table and was standing over Conan within seconds.  Taking Conan’s forearm in a firm grip he pulled the boy to his feet.

“Goodness boy.  Once second you’re sleeping peacefully the next you’ve taken a dive under the table!”  Carver joked wiping dirt off of Conan’s shirt.

“Where’s Alabaster?” Conan asked, pushing Carver away harder then he had intended.

Carver didn’t seem to notice his haste, or if he did, chose to ignore it. “Gone,” he said lightly, then added seeing Conan’s frantic expression.  “Calm down, what do you need Conan?”

Conan twirled the ring on his finger as he tried to think.  What did he need?   Light streamed through kitchen window.  Morning already.  How long had he been asleep?  If Carver was back, then shouldn’t Alabaster and the other men be too?  Conan scanned the empty room.  The table was bare, except for a small cup full of steaming tea that sat untouched in front of Carver’s un-tucked chair.

“Where are the others?” Conan turned back to Carver as he asked.

“They’re still gone. Alabaster sent me back here to keep an eye on the headquarters,” 

Conan had a strong feeling Carver was leaving something out. 

“He’s gone, then?” Conan groaned. 

“That’s right,” Carver put a hand on Conan’s back and steered him back to his chair.  Conan jerked away.  

“I’ve got to find him…”

“That is not an option Lad. Take a seat and calm down,” Carver’s words were soft and sharp. His eyes had narrowed as he watched Conan slowly sink back into his chair.  “Good, are you hungry for anything? Mauve is up and itching for a distraction.  You know how she gets while Alabaster’s away,”

“No, I have to go…” Conan tried to explain rising from his chair

“Sit down,” Carver commanded.  Conan slowly did so.

“Conan is there anything you want to say?”

Conan looked at his hands which laid folded on the table. Carver wouldn’t believe him. Even if he did he would never agree to let him go and help. “No,” Conan muttered.

“Hmmm,” Carver drummed his fingers on the table.

“I could use some breakfast, now that you’ve mentioned it…” Conan said.

“Oh really?” Carver smiled, but it quickly melted into a stern stone face.

“No. I’m going to go ride…” Conan muttered standing once more.  He moved slowly toward the door, waiting for Carver to call him back.

Chapter two

The Hurt glared at him, then with unearthly stealth they all kicked off the ground with their boots and came hovering forward faster then the wind itself. Their claws reached out to their full extent and their yellow fangs hung out of their shrieking mouths.  It was eerie how unified all of their movements were.  So unnatural and so precise.

 Jimmy felt his knees teeter. He gasped a small breath and ran outside into the winter’s night air.  He slammed the wooden door shut behind him.  Then sprinted as fast as his short legs would carry him.  

The Hurt shredded through the front door, breaking the wood into toothpicks scattered across the street.  Jimmy slowed his run and glanced over his shoulder in horror.  The Hurt seemed unaffected by his obstacle and advanced as fast as before. Now only feet away from him.

Jimmy ran his hand through his hair, his confidence fallen.  He took a large gulp of air and dashed down the road not daring to look back.  He could hear them calling for him, the hairs on his neck stood up.  He couldn’t concentrate on where he was going; his legs seemed to know what to do by themselves and left his mind to figure out how he was going to disappear. Hide now! He told himself. You’ll never outrun them, time to hide. 

He was unaware of how long he ran.  That was irrelevant. It could have been hours or not even a minute. If Jimmy had paid attention to where his frantic feet carried him, he would have seen that he was far from his town Javelin now, and bordering the Forest of Beastlings.

Jimmy turned a corner and abruptly stopped. Sweating in the snowy night, he realized that he had hit a dead end in an alley.  He gasped for air, like he’d never taste it again.  On either side of him were two brick buildings and a large wooden wall blocked off the exit at the other side.

“Oh, no!” he whimpered. Turning to look back at the empty street he had just come from.  The Hurt were too close to go back now, it was time to hide.

  There were a few barrels placed about the alley, but other then that there was no way over the wooden wall blocking the other end of the road.  Jimmy walked in circles looking for a way out.  There was nothing. 

“No, no, no, no, no, no, no,” he ran his hand through his hair.  

Silently a shingle fell next to him. Jimmy flinched and looked toward the rooftops of the two brick buildings. In the deepest shadows he could hear low rumbling sounds almost. Help!  There were people up there that could help!

“Hey, is there anyone up there?”  Jimmy whispered urgently squinting into the deepest shadows. Only a few seconds before the Hurt come!  Jimmy thought. He reluctantly took his eyes off the roof.   Time to hide! He reminded himself. 

The barrels in the alley, he could stack them and then climb over the wall.  He picked up the nearest crate and it broke in his hands.  He kicked the wall in frustration, and turned around. The Hurt were flooding in through the opening of the alley.  They had already spotted him and were walking again. As if to savor the moments they had before killing him. Jimmy felt sick.  He flattened himself against the wall.  I lost. There are fifteen of them. I’ve been beat.

    One Hurt, maybe the one in charge, gestured for the rest to stop walking.  He continued to walk to Jimmy until Jimmy could see the face hidden by its hood.  Jimmy tried not to vomit. 

The Hurt raised its ghostly hand to Jimmy’s neck and ripped the necklace off his neck.   It examined the small jewels and silver plating. Jimmy feebly reached for it but the Hurt was too quick.  The necklace had been the last thing his father had given him before his death. The Hurt cocked its head and locked eyes with Jimmy. 

    Jimmy slowly and almost in a daze put his hand into his pocket and let his dirty fingers curl around the hilt of the dagger. He kept his smoky blue eyes locked with the Hurt’s ink black.

 “How did you get this?” the Hurt rasped.  The words were broken, heavy, the language clumsy on it's tongue.

Jimmy pulled the dagger out of his pocket, as fast as his shaking hands would allow.  He plunged the dagger into the Hurts blood red cloak.  The Hurt looked at Jimmy then slowly moved its eyes to the dagger.  He thrust the dagger out of its flesh, irritated.   

“Where did you find this necklace…?” it repeated. 

Wellp, That's all folks. For now. 

these folders are filled with this story and ideas and character makeups.

At school I used to bring printed copies of my stories 
and would revise them with a pen.