Part V of the Purple Mold Series

A story of life, love, desperation and mold of a rather unusual color by Kylie and I. (click the names below for links to the previous parts of the story)
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four

The wailing wouldn't stop.

It was Iyanna's wailing and she couldn't control it any more than she could control the destiny that had seized her and her unwilling family. It had been only a day since the violet mold had appeared in the outhouse. A day since disaster had come to be.

"Yan," a voice said softly by her ear. "It's time to wake up." A masculine voice. Hmmm. There was something significant about this voice, wasn't there? If her tired, frozen mind could only melt a little, maybe she could remember...

She swallowed and opened her eyes. A man knelt next to her bed. Two piercing grey eyes shone out of the still of the dawn room. She clamped her mouth shut to keep the scream from escaping.

Who was this man and how had he got into her room? She looked frantically around for Westin, but his bedclothes were rumpled, signaling the fact that he had indeed left.

"Calm down, little sister." The man said, releasing her from the burden of his silvery eye contact. "I promise, I'm here to help you."

"Who are you?" She said, her voice painfully level.

"I'm called Arioch." He extended a hand. She looked at it, unsure of what he meant.

He pulled his hand back again. "Oh, sorry about that. Custom I've grown familiar with. I assume you are Iyanna?"

She narrowed her eyes. How did he know so much about her? "Yes. How do you know that?"

He smiled. A brilliant, silvery smile to be sure. The light of the stars was captured in his shimmering smile. "Do you like to fly?"

Fly? This man, Arioch as he called himself, was a lunatic. "What kind of question is that?" she snapped at him.

"A perfectly valid one." He said, looking down at his long, pale fingers. "Well, do you?"

"Like to fly?"

"Mm-hmm."

"I've never flown before." Lunatic. Stark, raving mad.

"Oh. That's a shame." He smiled again, and she couldn't tell whether he was joking or serious. "Do you want to fly?"

"No." The answer came to her lips without her thinking about it. Her heart started to increase its beats in speed. The crazy man was making her nervous.

"Again, a shame. Do you like sunsets?"

"Yes." she said cautiously.

"Good! Now we're beginning to understand each other!" He slapped a hand onto her shoulder.


Understand each other? Iyanna's mind raced. Understand? Nothing could be further from the truth!

Arioch must have interpreted the look on her face accurately, because he said, "Don't worry, little sister. You will understand much later. Tell me, what do you know about stars?"

She glared at him from under her eyelids.

He just smiled his roguish grin back at her. "That's fine. I just want to get to know you a little more."

"Then maybe you could actually ask me something that mattered!"

"What do you suggest?"

Iyanna stopped. What was important? "You could ask me about the violet mold."

"So, why has the Creator bestowed this violet mold upon you, sweet Iyanna?" Arioch leaned back on his elbows, stretching his long frame.

"I don't know."

"Then why did you tell me to ask that?" Arioch quirked one side of his mouth up.

"Maybe you have... answers." Iyanna's tongue was running away with her mind. What was she thinking?

"Hmm." Arioch sat back up. "Answers. I have no answers. Never. But the Creator holds knowledge in the palm of his hand. Inquire of him. Who knows? He may choose to speak through his humble servant."

It took Iyanna a moment to realize he was referring to himself. "No." She chewed her lower lip, bitter. "If the Creator would deprive me of my life, my safety, my brother, he's not worth it all, is he?"

Arioch looked serious. "Your brother? What about your brother?"

"The mold was his, wasn't it?"

"You seem to think I know things that I don't know. But if this is really something that disturbs you, then I need you to do something ridiculous."

Everything you've said so far has been ridiculous.

"Hold very tightly to my hand, and don't let go." He said, extending his hand in her direction. "Promise me, whatever happens, you won't let go."

Iyanna slipped her hand into his, her concern for Westin outweighing all reason. "I won't... let go."

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

Arioch was gone. She was gone. Nothing.

Nothing.

The light had faded into nothing. Nothing.

She tried to move, but found that her clenched hand still bound her to where she was.

The darkness glimmered into hazy brilliance. What a strange dream. The world was back. She must have hit her head on the low ceiling or something. A bird was singing.

"Yan?"

Iyanna would know that voice anywhere. "Westin!" She leaped from the ground, which she now recognized as moss, and ran toward him. His face was pale, but he looked happy. Happier than he had been in a long time.

She couldn't reach him. Her hand bound her in place.

Whatever happens, don't let go. Arioch's words echoed across the familiarity of it all. Promise me, whatever happens, don't let go.

Iyanna let go. The nightmarish darkness, nothingness was here.

She had forgotten, in the lovely morning and her brother's warm face, the terror of this. She screamed, but the scream was torn from her throat in a desperate force.

"Sweetie, wake up." The voice sounded like it was coming through a tunnel of wind.

"Katia! Bring her around!"

"She's having a seizure, sir! I can't do... anything." The voices were fading and growing, hitting grandiose notes of crescendo and decrescendo.

Then the roar overwhelmed them, and Iyanna was alone, away from Arioch, whose hand had fallen from hers.

And far, far away from sweet Westin.

So... did you see that coming? Check back on Kylie's site in the near future for Part VI.

Part III of the Purple Mold Series (this one's too long to be a trilogy)

The darkness was complete. Iyanna sat alone in its company, hugging her knees to her chest and crying silently, her face contorted into a mask of pain.

"I don't believe in superstitions. This is all an old wives' tale and-" she stopped. "And... and I..." She faltered miserably off into the depths of the cold darkness.

She felt around in the inky black, groping for a candle to light, to break the remorselessness of the night. She looked with her fingers, but her hands shook so badly she couldn't concentrate on anything but her unreasonable panic.

"God," she screamed, though the scream was unheard, "Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God... If there is a God, save us now. God, save our lives. If you're real, if you're there, if you really do care about what happens to people, you've got to save us. Please-" Iyanna screamed suddenly. A wave of searing heat blasted her from just ahead. It was so hot, she felt it singe off her eyebrows and eyelashes.

Then everything was as it had been. Had she imagined that? She ran a finger along her forehead. Her eyebrows were gone. No imagining there.

"Hello?" she called, a hesitation catching her voice. No sound came out. She tried again. Still nothing. This time, she screamed it and put her hand in front of her mouth. Her breath was there, but no sound. She could feel her voice rumbling in her throat, but no noise.

The shaking grew to uncontrolable. She felt around in the darkness, but nothing was there. Not her bed, her nightstand, the waxy old candle that she had set there with a match, no window, walls... even the floor felt somehow different.

What happened? Where am I?

That's when it occurred to her. She was nowhere. Not nowhere as in, far away from people, but simply Nowhere, a place that wasn't. That meant she might be not too. It would definitely follow. But why would a person be not in Nowhere? Was she dead?

The mold. I am dead. I died. I died! I'm dead! Oh no, I'm dead!

She clasped her hands to her face, afraid, but realized that since she was not, she had no hands to clasp, no face to touch. She wasn't. Simple as that.

She realized that her heart wasn't pounding, that she wasn't blinking, that the reason her voice made no sound was because she had no voice and that in a place Nowhere, no voice could be heard.

She wasn't sure whether to be reassured or terrified.

Something stabbed her arm. She had felt that. What did that mean? Was she really not? How could someone who wasn't feel something that was? That didn't make any sense.

Her feet felt cold, cold and numb. She was coming back.

"She's coming to," a soft-spoke male voice said. Where were these people coming from? The world was still pitch black.

"Can you hear me?" The same voice said.

"I- yes." Iyanna said, her voice crackling.

"Can you open your eyes, sweetheart?" A female voice this time, farther away than the man.

Iyanna opened them, but it was still dark. "I can't see."

"Are you getting that down, Katia?" The man said. "My guess, ma'am, is that the vision loss is due to your illness. You suffered some major nerve damage."

Iyanna's head swam. Nerve damage? What was nerve damage? And she hadn't been sick. She'd been dead, but not sick. "Will I be able to see again?"

A shuffling noise. "I'm sorry; I don't know. Can I have your name, ma'am?"

"Iyanna." Iyanna's head was pounding now.

"How do you spell that?" Katia said.

She tried to say, "I don't know," but felt herself going weak, slipping from this real world back into a kind of Nowhere all over again... caught in a current beyond her control... falling into black...



Author's note: Bet ya didn't expect that! Anyway, Kylie may write the next part at http://www.reflections412.wordpress.com/, or I'll continue directly from my site. Either way, this is not the end, nor is it the last you've heard of my really strange storywriting skills. Check back soon! Sparks of illumination, C.

Because I Promised Kylie I'd Write A Short About Purple Mold...

Iyanna screamed. One long, loud note of desperation and horror rang out in the quiet of the small hut.

Westin ran in to the outhouse, where Iyanna stood, tears leaking from her eyes and both hands pressed hard against her open mouth. She was shaking. Her brother grasped her hard on her shoulders. "Yan! What's wrong? Answer me!"

Iyanna wanted to scream again, to tell him that the end had come, that he was hurting her, but she could never judge her brother. He was as afraid as was she... desperately afraid. She melted, sobbing, into his arms.

He stroked her hair, held her tight until the shaking subsided. "What's wrong?"

She sat up, looked him in the eye, and said, "Look around you, West. Look what's happening." She felt a tremor start in her hands again as he observed, with a look of pure terror, the walls of the room.

Reddish violet mold had crept up the walls in just a matter of hours. It gave the room a dark, dank hue and an unpleasant odor.

But that was not the reason for their fear. This mold was more than just a structural problem. Everyone in Voresct knew the significance of the violet mold. It's rarity made it instantly recognizable. No one knew quite where it came from, only that it was a gift from the God who had created their land. Simply put, the violet mold warned of conflict, of war, and mostly, of death.

War had not come to Voresct in sixty-nine years. Recently, it had threatened only the very outer borders. But this? This sign that open war and quick death were coming to Iyanna's farm? Something had to be wrong.

Iyanna sat, staring at the voracious mold that threatened their lives, long after Westin left. At thirteen years old, Iyanna hardly knew what to make of it all. She was too young to die. She hadn't done anything worthwhile yet. The mold could not speak of her death. Her three younger sisters? She shuddered. Not them. So tiny, so innocent. She would not allow it. Her mother? Too weak and careworn to be of any notice.

Her heart leaped. Westin? No. No. Her hands started to shake again. She bit her tongue and willed herself to stop tremoring. Sweet Westin, her adored, adorable big brother, was the air she breathed. He meant everything to her. She wasn't sure she could make it with him dead. No, she was quite sure she couldn't.

Tendrils of musty odor slipped into her hair. She clasped both hands together, hard. Please God, she said, If there is a God, save my brother's life. Don't let this omen come to pass. Spare us. Spare us.

( The purple mold is from Kylie. I promised her I'd write a short that involved purple mold that warned of attacks. This was the result. It's totally strange, but maybe you'll enjoy seeing a piece of my brainstorm-stories. If not, stick around and I'll post something more serious in a day or two. - C.
An added note: If you want to read Part II of The Purple Mold Trilogy [no, I did not come up with the name- that was Kylie] go ahead and visit her blog at www.reflections412.wordpress.com. -C.)