Flash Prompt #1 Childhood - Memories

She stepped away from the easel, satisfied. She’d finally got it right. Perfect. Everyone said her creation was breathtaking. It wasn’t an original but it wasn’t like she could explain. She picked up charcoal and continued sketching; faces, buildings.
“Are you commissioned to draw for a fantasy book?”
She startled. Faced Kyle.
“Why?”
“Your drawings seem to belong in a story.” He cast a quick glance at the paper. “You love them.”
She did. He pointed at Declan.
“Let me guess. He’s the hero. Your perfect man. A warrior with a kind heart.”
“Perfect? Not really. He just… is who he is.”
“What about her? His girlfriend?”
She looked at Selena.
“Actually, his brother’s wife.”
“Where’s your antagonist? None of these can be your Lidless Eye or White Witch.”
She laughed out loud.
“This isn’t for a book Kyle.”
“Really? Should be. Your painting... it feels real.”

“It is to me.”
“Well it shows. See you later.”
“Bye Kyle.”
He left her alone. She put a finger on the painting to check whether it was dry; it wasn’t. The tiny spot of wet paint spread over her hand in mere seconds; a long time ago she would have panicked. Not anymore. She took a deep breath, as she disappeared in her own canvas.

“That was one of your better landings love.” Declan called.
She turned around smiling. They were in the library; a place Declan didn’t come to often. As Kyle guessed, her brother was a warrior.
“It was, right?”
He crossed the few steps separating them and hugged her, as only he would.
“How did you know?” He kissed her brow but sorrow passed over his face. “Declan?” Her heart hammered; fear.
“The priests said you’d come.”
“What happened?”
Declan’s answer was terse: an army of shadows attacked the realm. Their father was hurt. He lay in an unnatural slumber. The priests feared a necromancer held his soul. Damian was ruling in his stead.

“Damian?” But…
“I’m no King love. You know that. Damian was always going to rule. I’ve led our armies against this enemy. But it eludes us. I don’t know what we’re fighting.”
How long had she been gone? Her last visit was a month ago in her world. A year and a half here.
Dizziness washed over her. She reached for Declan. She swayed, stars hovering at the edge of her vision. A black hole seemed to swallow her and suddenly she saw. Kyle knew all along it wasn’t a book. How?  When she opened her eyes, she’d drawn on the marble.
“Is that the enemy?”
It was Kyle, yet it wasn't. His features were distorted, as if he were a creature of shadows and smoke.
“I know him.” She whispered. “In my world. We take drawing lessons together.”
He’s been flirting with me, she almost said.
“Let's go see the priests.”
“And Father?”
“They’re with him.”

She followed him in a daze. Her latest visit was filled with joy: Damian got married. And now? They entered the King’s chambers; the priests were here.
“Father Procleon, Lady Erin's here.”
The high priest looked relieved. She didn’t like that: he always seemed to place so much faith on her. She feared she’d disappoint him.
“So you are here.” He took her hands. “We need your help.”
What could she do?
“Your father is in limbo.” He explained. What did that even mean? “He’s hesitating between this world and the next. Because you’re of two worlds, you can bring him back or urge him on.”
What? No! She wasn’t going to send their father to his death.
“Death is better than the state he is in. What if the necromancer won the fight for his soul and came back in his body?”
But… what was she supposed to do?

Nobody knew, not really. But they asked her to take the king’s hand. She looked down at hers: stained with paint and charcoal.
“It’s ok love.” Declan embraced her once more. What if she failed? “You won’t. We trust you.”
“I know. That’s what scares me.”
She hung onto him as if it were the last time, then let go. The moment she took the king’s hand, she was swallowed in limbo. Everything was in shades of grey, like a charcoal drawing.
“Erin?” The king called. She went to him.
“Father.” Shadows and smoke though they were, he held her in an echo of Declan’s embrace.
“What are you doing here? It’s dangerous. He’s somewhere.”
“They sent me to bring you back…”
“Or help me move on?” She bit her lips. “It's alright Erin, death doesn’t scare me.”

“How sweet.” Kyle’s snarky comment came from behind them.
“What do you want Kyle?”
She stood beside the King, her father in this world.
“Erin he has no power unless we give him some. Don’t.”
Maybe. But he’d locked him in this ‘limbo’. And he could travel between worlds.
“What do you want?” she asked.
“What will you give to save him?”
Erin gazed back. Kyle saw the drawings. He knew.
“Anything.”
“Erin! NO!”
“Don’t move your majesty.” The king froze. “It’s between your daughter and me.”

She approached him.
“Send him back.”
“I can’t. You must pay the price for the magic to work.”
“Erin. No.” The king repeated. But she couldn’t leave him here.
“You’ll leave them alone.”
“Promise. Someone’s coming for them. I’m here for you.”
“Fine.”
“Don't you want to know what I'll take?”
She did but didn’t. What if she was too scared? No! She took his hand; shadows, smoke… fire. Pain. She screamed. He spoke. Darkness.

She collapsed.
“Erin, are you ok?” Mrs. Jennings was looking at her from above. “The medics are on their way.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. It seems you fainted. You brought the easel and everything with you. I’m sorry to say your painting…”
It wasn’t dry; she remembered that. She was testing it when she… fell?
“It’s just a painting, there’ll be others.”

©scolpron2016