My THEME for the A to Z challenge 2017 is an ongoing speculative fiction story featuring telepathy.
Each letter post is titled and inspired by a commonly misused word or phrase.
The story started with All Intents and Purposes.
I hear a clunking sound in the distance. Ora snaps upright.
He’s coming, he’s coming, he’s coming.
Her chain scrapes the floor.
I lick my chapped lips, trying to wet them, but it’s like sandpaper on grit. My stomach audibly complains as I stand up, my fingers grabbing at the cold, uneven wall for support. I focus on the spot in my head.
It was so clear before. The shocks, the power to tap into the electrochemical properties of someone’s nervous system, I knew how to use it just moments ago.
Ora. Ora! Answer me! I pound my fist against the wall. “Ora! Don’t pretend you can’t hear me.”
A small red spotlight enters the room. It bounces as it moves along the floor.
“She can hear you, but you can’t hear her.” The voice of my captor fills the air. He sounds amused. “You’ve been down here for days. Haven’t been able to call for help yet though, have you?”
The light shines on my wrist a second before he grabs it. Cool, hard plastic with a crunchy label presses to my palm. A red liquid sloshes inside the familiar container. I spot the triple X’s of the açai-blueberry-pomegranate beverage.
“Drink it.” He releases my wrist. “Or don’t.” The red light moves, now illuminating Ora. She’s on the floor, arms wrapped around her legs, rocking back and forth. He chucks the bottle at her. She cries as it bounces off her arm.
I clutch my head, my own bottle crashing to the floor. Sounds, horrible, terrible sounds… it’s like my brain is being ripped out through my ears.
“Regardless of your goal, girlie, you’re only hurting your playmate.” He laughs as he shines the light on me. “Eve Nine. Pathetic!”
I can barely make his words out. The room starts to spin. I beg for the sounds to stop.
Then I feel the chain come off my leg. He grabs me around the middle and hauls me away.
Light burns my eyes, goosebumps cover my flesh, but at least it’s quiet again. A heavy coat is thrust at me.
“Suit up or die freezing.”
Why are you wearing whatever you’re wearing right now?