Z is for In the Zone

For this year’s A to Z, I will be doing a collection of flash fiction featuring Steven, the MC from Blackbird, from right before he came to Newstead through his first week there.

 

Z is for In the Zone

     After giving me a schedule, he left me alone. I see now that was intentional. Foltz knew how right there I was; I just needed time to let it come to me. And that’s what he gave me: Time.

     I closed my eyes and let that part come out, the part I’ve always known about, but tried to keep hidden, the part Foltz seemed to know about, too. It doubled me over, the force of it, like it had been right there, just waiting to be released.

     I sank to my knees.

     That’s when I saw them, all of them: reds, blues, yellows, and greens. They were inside classrooms, out in the woods. They were everywhere, getting ready.

     And now I was ready, too.

 

Read more about Steven at Newstead in Blackbird, now available at Amazon

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Y is for Yellow

For this year’s A to Z, I will be doing a collection of flash fiction featuring Steven, the MC from Blackbird, from right before he came to Newstead through his first week there.

Y is for Yellow

 

     Sargent Foltz handed me a yellow uniform.

     “What’s yellow for, sir?” I asked. Everyone I’d seen at Newstead had been in a uniform, but there wasn’t just one color; there were lots of them. I knew it had to mean something.

     Foltz was wearing yellow.

     “Who is your father, Raynor?”

     I froze. I thought he was dodging my question; I didn’t realize he was answering me.

     “Your father is Azul,” he continued. “And Azul’s color is yellow.”

     “How the hell do you know that? I don’t even know who my father is.”

     His eyebrows rose and I looked at his uniform again. “We’re brothers?”

     His silence was answer enough.  

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X is for Xtreme

For this year’s A to Z, I will be doing a collection of flash fiction featuring Steven, the MC from Blackbird, from right before he came to Newstead through his first week there.

X is for Xtreme

We didn’t go back to the offices, like I thought we would. Instead, the man headed toward the woods that were just past the buildings.

     His mind was suspiciously blank.

     I looked further into the woods, but there was no one there. It was just the two of us.

     He turned to face me. “Stop doing that.”

     I flushed, I know I did. “Doing what?”

     He saw the confusion again. “You really don’t know, do you?”

     “I will if you tell me.”

     He paused, deciding. That’s when I heard his voice, not in my head; in his. “You can do things, can’t you?”

     I stopped breathing.

     “Don’t bother lying, I already know you can. And you’re not the only one. Everyone here can do something, and some of us can do lots of somethings. I’ve got a feeling you’re one of those, aren’t you?”

     I didn’t say a word.

     “Take my advice; this is the only time you’ll be getting it: Get better at keeping a lid on what you can do. I’m not the only one who can sense things like that, and this isn’t the kind of place you want to be standing out, if you know what I mean.”

     I didn’t know what he meant. At all.  

     “What’s your name?” I asked out loud.

     “Sargent Foltz,” he answered; all business again.

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W is for Wisdom

For this year’s A to Z, I will be doing a collection of flash fiction featuring Steven, the MC from Blackbird, from right before he came to Newstead through his first week there.

W is for Wisdom

Another bell rang and as a group people got up and herded toward the door. I looked down the wall. None of us made a move.

     A second bell rang.  And that one must’ve been for us, because that’s when one by one we got to our feet. I followed them out. Once we were all outside, everyone dispersed in different directions. Erikson didn’t give me a schedule, so I had no idea where I was supposed to go, but I knew enough not to go back to his office and tell him that; I’d learned that much.  

     “What in the world?”

     I spun around and came face to face with a man who was even taller than the behemoth from the dining hall. He took two steps toward me and gave me some of that same stare down Erikson gave me yesterday.

     “And who are you supposed to be?” he asked in that same gruff voice.

     “I’m Steven,” I answered. “I got here yesterday—”

      “Excuse me?!” A vein on his forehead bulged in my direction.

     Something on my face must’ve shown my complete ignorance, because he took a step back and he took another look at me. “You will address me and all those in authority as sir, is that understood?”

     “Yes, sir.”

     “What is your last name, private?”

     “Raynor, sir.”

     “And why are you standing in the middle of campus when you should be in class?”

     I paused, choosing my words carefully. “I have no place to go.”

     His eyes narrowed.

     “Sir,” I added.
     “Come with me,” he said as he turned abruptly to the right.

     I followed, not knowing if it was the best idea or not.

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V is for Violence

For this year’s A to Z, I will be doing a collection of flash fiction featuring Steven, the MC from Blackbird, from right before he came to Newstead through his first week there.

 

V is for Violence

After I filled my tray I went into the dining hall and surveyed my options. Most of the tables were already full; there were even some guys sitting along the walls with their trays balanced on their legs. But there were still a few tables with some open spots left, so I made my way over toward one.
     I’d just set down my tray when the guy in the seat next to mine turned toward me. “What are you doing, newbie?”

     I looked at my food, then back at him. It seemed pretty obvious.

     He rolled his eyes. “By the wall.”

     “Excuse me?”

     He got to his feet, all eight feet of him.

     The table went silent as all eyes went to the two of us.

     He picked up my tray. “You have to earn a seat here, newbie.”

     Another guy at the table piped in, “I’m sure he wasn’t trying to sit here. I’m sure he was just putting that tray there for you.”

     Behemoth smiled, getting inspiration. “Is that what happened, newbie? Were you putting this here for me?”

     I was at least smart enough by that point not to say anything. Instead, I turned and went to the wall and sat down and watched as he ate my breakfast.

     Dean Erikson was right. I was beginning to see how things worked around here.

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U is for Understand

For this year’s A to Z, I will be doing a collection of flash fiction featuring Steven, the MC from Blackbird, from right before he came to Newstead through his first week there.

U is for Understand (beginning to)

     Something like a bell sounded from the lower levels of the building I was in. I didn’t know what it meant, but it was enough to get me out of bed and moving. I wasn’t the only one. By the time I made it to the bottom of the stairs, there were dozens of us heading toward the door. They looked at me as warily as I was looking at them.

     There were more outside. It took seeing them all together like that for it to hit me what I’d been missing. I wasn’t the only one who was a giant here; we all were. Not one of us was under six feet; some were pushing seven, even eight.  It didn’t look like all of them were fourteen like me, but still, it was a high school, none of them could’ve been over eighteen.

     The crowd that had formed became a line angled toward one of the buildings. I walked up and got in line behind some of the guys from my building. They were thinking they hoped it wasn’t just the same slop from the night before. They were hoping for some eggs; those weren’t half bad.

     That’s when I knew it was breakfast we were headed toward.

 

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T is for Time to Think

For this year’s A to Z, I will be doing a collection of flash fiction featuring Steven, the MC from Blackbird, from right before he came to Newstead through his first week there.

T is for Time to Think

The sun came up the next morning on my first real day at Newstead. I sat up in the bed they gave me and looked out the window and watched it rise up over the mountain. It almost didn’t look real, it was so perfect. Based on the silence, I had to guess I was the only one up to see it. It was good to have time alone, time to think.

     Newstead wasn’t what I’d expected.  

     There’s always been a part of me that’s been able to tell the truth from a lie. Jase called it my shitometer. I used to laugh when he’d say that. I wasn’t laughing now.

     Something wasn’t right with this place.   

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