Hulle there, Sparks.
Serious question… Why do people enjoy sad stories? You know what I mean here, real tear-jerkers? Surely you have a favorite sad movie or even a song that gets you every time? Is it a kind of Schadenfreude syndrome, or something?
Way out here on the farm, we don’t really watch scheduled TV much and I’m sure I’ve said before somewhere that quitting that scene was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made. Now I decide what I watch and when and how much, which isn’t usually much. I’ve more important things to do with my time.
But back when I did watch weird stuff on TV, the first movie that I remember crying about, is The Lion King, where Mufasa falls into the stampede in the gorge. I think I was like seven.
I’m sure I’ve seen a bunch since that had a similar effect but none really come to mind now, no matter how much I think about it. Not that I watch many movies.
I prefer to read. If I had to pick a book I’d say my favorite sad one is Francine Rivers’ Scarlet Thread, I read it when I was pregnant with my first, and it’s really one every married Christian woman should check out. Put some things in perspective.
I think it’s the power to evoke an emotional response that captivates us. If anyone has some insight into the science behind this, I find it fascinating, so do please share.
I remember an essay here on Substack that I came across a while back. It’s a beautiful, and heartbreaking tale by
about a really special dog. Oh my goodness did it make me feel feelings?! It had me absolutely bawling, and I loved it. If you’ve ever loved a dog this one will speak to you, loudly.Now, I’m not the kind of person who will actively seek out a story that will make me cry, but I really do appreciate an artist’s, ability to evoke emotion. Albeit through a personal essay, a work of fiction, clever lyrics, oil paint on canvas… Whatever, how ever. I’m a passionate person, and I love it when something wakes up my passion, it’s the fire within that fuels my deepest darkest (platonic) fantasies. Maybe that’s why I like to debate silly details. 🤷🏻♀️
As for this story…
Here at last I give you the thrilling conclusion of chapter eight. I hope it breaks your heart, like it did mine.
INDEX | Chapter 8 | Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scenes 4 & 5 | Scenes 6 & 7 | Scenes 8 - 10 | Scenes 11 & 12 | Next Chapter → Coming soon.
Previously: Tom wends his way through the PG prison wing and eventually finds Elle, while Logan watches on the cameras but the plan inevitably goes wrong when Luke’s broadcast influence runs out and in order to save the mission, Logan has no choice but to cause a diversion.
They got out. Breathe Logan. We all got out. It’ll be okay once we’re all together. Where is Luke? He must be half frozen by now. Tom should direct Elle to regroup at the clearing. Will we be able to get away with this? Where are they? They got out. They got out. Find Luke. Luke will know what to do.
The storm should buy us some time before the PG is able to mount a pursuit. I made sure to keep my light extra bright while I was escaping through the fence before letting the storm and the trees cover me the rest of the way. Then there will be the tracks from the escaped prisoners to confuse any serious chasers. The prisoners’ instructions said to split up at the fence and then make their way north to a shuttle that will wait until the storm starts to break. We chose a good night for this. There won’t be much for the PG to track but maybe they have some gadgets to help out. Either way, we have a little time.
As I go along, the storm seems to ease some, even though it hasn’t lost any of its force at the base. Maybe it’s the eye of the storm. I look up, trying to make out any sign but with my energy down to normal so that I won’t appear as a beacon to anyone following, it’s too dark to see much.
I sense Luke before I see him, stumbling along at a very human speed in the blustering gale with a measly little torch and the electronic compass on his tab. When I’m close enough, I call out and he looks up and I wave before dropping to meet him.
“I think Tom’s hurt,” We both blurt out at the same time. His pitiful torch flickers but stays on, and by the vibration of its beam, I can see how badly he’s shivering. For a second we stare at each other, and I let Luke’s worry wash over me as he reads my concern with a glance. He smiles warmly at me, sensing my distress, then instantly marshals his emotions and regards me gravely.
“What do you know?” He says leaning in close to hear my response. In as few words as possible, I quickly tell him what I saw, doing my best to hold the important images in the front of my mind for him to pick up, in case he can discern anything I missed.
“We’re close,” I say, starting to shiver myself as I sense unsettling fluctuations in Elle and Tom’s energy levels. It’s not just that I’m soaked through with sweat and melted snow. My senses are in overdrive, and my every nerve on edge, urging me to hurry.
“Get your energy back up,” Luke orders, and I gratefully comply. “They won’t be able to see anything through this anyway, and if you carry me, we’ll go faster.”
I scoop Luke up on my back and take care to keep the bulk of my fire in front so I won’t set his clothes alight. I stay above ground, moving slower than I’d like because though the trees all around aren’t particularly densely packed, but there are roots and low branches and rocks now hidden by the snow that would slow us down.
By Luke's torchlight and my own glow, we can see dark spatters that get bigger and closer together as we get to the clearing. I can’t help but think of the blood on the path the day that Elles explosion skewered Tom with the remains of a hospital bed. These blotches make those sprinkles look insignificant. Too much blood. I can sense Elle right ahead. This is her fault too.
The wind seems calmer than before, and the snow begins to fall more gently and the moonlight shines through the clouds, casting weird shadows. Luke hops off of my back when he sees her. Elle is kneeling over Tom, her green glow turning her once long-and-white t-shirt holey and black, it’s half frozen shreds clinging to her slight frame.
I sense her emotions, and Tom’s, and I know already…
I run around a handful of bends in the flashing red lights. All the gates are open. My back is soaked and sticky and Tom grunts with every footfall but there’s no time to adjust him. We are being pursued. There’s another flash and bang and I hear metal pings bouncing off of the walls. That’s not an energy weapon. Telerans don’t use corporeal projectiles.
Posessed by some irrational curiosity, I turn back to look without breaking step and another pop flash happens. Everything slows down around me as I feel the impact on my right shoulder. It spins me back around, nearly knocking me off my feet as the little ball of metal rips through sinew and muscle, and it’s all I can do to cling to Tom praying the stumble doesn’t dislodge something. I can’t stop now. I have to get him to safety. I head around the next bend and run right into another ball. It hits me a bit higher than the last one and I feel a bone snap this time. Biting down hard, I manage to stifle the cry of shock that bursts out of my mouth, but I don’t slow even a bit.
My bare feet, pelting the tiles, make little pattering noises as I run. The entrance comes up ahead. Logan is fighting outside I catch glimpses of him through the open door in the blustering wind and snow. I am only a few paces away when a third bullet rips through my left thigh, taking my balance, but instead of falling I let my energy burst out of its Vital barrier and ride the momentum, taking flight. Tom and I clear the entrance as a ball of green fire, with more shots flying around us.
As the full force of the blizzard hits me, the pain finally comes through. It makes me feel dizzy and uncoordinated. Tom’s energy flares up a little as he tries to ease his weight to give us more lift. I’m grateful for his warmth and support as he grunts disjointed words guiding me in the right direction.
I go as fast as I can, with the added weight. Heavy. But I can’t get high enough and crash us through the treetops, just above the fence. By strength of will, despite my own weakening condition I manage to get us out of the branches at the same time suffusing my tissues with even more energy to slow the blood flow and support any loose bone fragments. He’s so heavy. I’m not going to last long like this.
Tom groans in my ear about a clearing ahead. It’s hard to hear, never mind see anything, as we are buffeted by ice-laden gales, but I react quickly when it comes into view, and as I drop down the storm seems to stay behind.
It’s quieter on the ground, sheltered by the surrounding trees. I lay Tom gently in the fresh snow and gasp when I see just how badly he’s hurt. His skin is icy, despite the energy that’s probably the only thing still keeping him conscious, but that is going to give out soon.
I’m chilled to the bone, my shirt burned away to tatters that are soaked through with half-frozen blood. I fumble trying to tear the tough black fabric away from Tom’s chest to see if I can do anything to help. The garment slips in my hands, cold blood squelching between my fingers, but I manage to pull it far enough back to discern two exit wounds. Then it doesn’t matter anymore.
The first is a high, perfectly round, little hole, that oozes thick and darkly. The other one is just below his heart, a gaping wound full of bone fragments, that bubbles bright red blood with every labored breath.
He is going to die.
Next Time: End of Chapter guys, sorry…
Thanks so much for reading! If you like, please:
Or better yet:
and as always, I love hearing what you think so, feel free to:
You are killing me, but I love your close :)
And on reflection I think I will keep it to myself for now...
Reflecting on your intro, I know I actively avoid sad or tragic stories. Sometimes I do get swept up in a storyline that I can't stop which turns sad or tragic, and I find the pain of sadness and loss is almost intolerable. I tend to develop really close attachments to characters. Real life has more than enough real pain to get through.
As a side note, I also avoid horror in film, but for a different reason. Oddly enough I have discovered that I can read and enjoy well written horror.