Welcome :)

I write Fantasy Fiction, most of which is based in a world of my own creation called 'Ithiria'. I have been writing stories for several years and have three finished novels I soon hope to publish.
I try to embrace all aspects of story telling in my work, from Comedy and Romance to Action and Adventure. Along with my own creations, I adopt and adapt many classic characters from Folk Tales, Fairy Tales, Classic Literature, Greek Mythology and much, much more. All exist in this world and none are safe from my tampering imagination, (insert maniacal laughter here.)

Warning: I do not have an editor, this is checked to the best of my own ability, so please keep that in mind if you see any errors and bear with me. :)

...And now for something completely different, I present a beer drinking squirrel...

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Friday, August 17, 2012

Rhett Steamrun



Rhett Steamrun
~Tales of Ithiria~

Written by: April Wahlin
Edited by: Talese Shertzer
~

The night air was filled with fog so thick one could hardly see a hand in front of their face, let alone a gang of boys lurking across an alleyway. This particular passage was especially dim—one of the few in the Industrial Domain still lit with gas lamps instead of electric lights.
Everett waited patiently for their target to reach the flickering street lamp on the corner. That's when he would give Glasser the signal.
Everett often spent his nights scouting wealthy areas for the boys to pick pock in. It was their way of life. But lately it had become tiresome. It wasn’t that Everett had suddenly developed a moral outlook on stealing. The rich horded their wealth and could afford to lose a few coins—especially in the Industrial Domain. Industrialites spent ridiculous amounts on trinkets and baubles designed to assist with tedious tasks like brushing teeth and knotting gold-embossed bow ties. Everett heard there was now a machine designed to tie shoes! Citizens of the Industrial Domain had actually grown too lazy to bend over their own stuffed bellies. What was this bloody world coming to?
Everett never felt bad for stealing, not when it was between a new necklace for an air-headed Industrialite or a meal for him. But he had never relished the taste of harming others. However, theft kept him fed, healthy, and even funded his experiments.
As Everett checked the pocket-watch in his waistcoat, he felt twitchy. He always felt that way before something bad happened. Tonight, he had an idea of where that bad wind may be blowing.
Glasser.
Normally, he and his brethren kept a low profile when thieving. They only targeted those who looked like they could afford it. No more than a couple targets a week, and never in the same spot. Ignoring these rules was exactly how people got caught, and Glasser was growing dangerously close to that line.
Glasser had been pushing high-end hits in the same wealthy areas. The others said nothing because of the payout. The upstart had even roughed up the last couple of targets, leaving them with black eyes, even a broken arm in one case. There had been a small blurb about it in the back of the local paper, Industrial Highlights. They weren’t exactly making headlines, but they were garnering attention, which was both foolish and dangerous.
Ever since hitting puberty, Glasser had been reckless. Their patriarch, Varlet, had warned them about the powerful effects of hormones. He'd said that the onset of manhood was a delicate time in which it was the most important—and the most difficult—to keep a level head. Glasser was not adjusting well to this transition. Then again the boy rarely listened. Everett was only sixteen, but he heeded his lessons and learned fast, faster than the other boys. And definitely faster than Glasser.
The flash of an emerald necklace caught his eye, pulling him back to the here and now. Their target had reached the softly hissing lamp-post. This was the signal point. Everett pulled a flint lighter from his vest and flicked it once as she turned onto the side street. Almost instantly, his four companions, headed by Glasser, hurried into the alley after her.
Everett waited a moment, making sure the street was deserted, and followed the boys into the sideway. He could faintly hear the woman struggling as he approached.
“We got it,” one of the boys called as they rushed past with the necklace. “Best hurry back to the Boiler Room, it's getting late.”
“What about Glasser and Hodge?” Everett asked.
“They said they’d meet us. Don't worry about them, we got the jewels,” the other boy insisted as they hurried off into the fog.
Everett moved to follow when he heard muffled screaming from the passage behind him. Were Hodge and Glasser still holding the girl? Cautiously, Everett stepped back against the heavily shadowed wall and crept forward. When his eyes finally adjusted to the dim alleyway, he spotted three figures in the mist. Something was wrong.
“Hurry up then,” Hodge whined at Glasser impatiently. “How many more valuables could she possibly have?”
“Quite a few,” Glasser called in a dark tone. “Why don't you run along. She won't put up a fight. Will you, dearie.”
“You never leave a brother without back up. Rule number one,” Hodge insisted.
“Just go!”
“If you get into trouble, Varlet'll take it out on me.”
“Do it! And if I find you've told anyone, I'll have your head on a pike.”
Without another word Hodge ran off, passing Everett without so much as a blink of an eye. Silently, Everett approached Glasser and the target. When he finally reached them, anger rose in his cheeks. It was now clear exactly which valuables Glasser was after—the degenerate was fussing with the lady's skirts. Everett could put up with the attitude, even the violent tantrums, but this was the last straw. Someone had to teach Glasser a lesson.
Everett unhitched a leather case at the side of his belt and gently turned a small crank, initiating the chain reaction. He only every used the defense mechanism in emergencies, but Glasser was spry. Who knew what he would do when confronted. A gentle humming—taut with unseen energy—coursed through the line that ran up his back, over his left shoulder, and down to his hand.
His steps were careful as he approached the struggling pair; one wrong move and the blade Glasser had at the girl's throat might slip.
Everett knew he would get the drop. Glasser was too busy fussing with her knickers and from the look of things, he had gotten tangled in her petticoats. Everett was suddenly glad it was fashionable for Industrialite women to wear so many flouncy layers.
In an instant, he snatched Glasser's dagger and placed a hand to the heathen's neck. The bright electric current dropped Glasser to the ground before he could utter a word.
“Run,” Everett told the girl. Without a word, she gathered herself and hurried down the way, wailing for the police once she reached the open street.
Glasser lay on the cobblestones struggling to regain the use of his muscles. Everett would have to adjust the power next time, the scoundrel was already coming around.
“What'd you do that for?” he muttered, his words fuzzy as his lips proved uncooperative.
“You went too far this time, Mate.”
Everett dragged Glasser to the nearest gas lamp, removed a thick wire from his belt, and bound him to the post.
“Let me free and I'll let you continue breathing,” Glasser hissed.
“I don't think so. You've broken too many rules. You're a danger.”
“Your stupid tricks won't keep me here long.”
“Long enough. That wire is tested up to three hundred pounds. You aren’t even a buck fifty.”
“I'll tell the Varlet. You don't turn on a brother.”
“You aren’t my brother. Too long you've gotten your way and now it's time to pay the piper. Maybe some time in lock-up will teach you how to behave. Good luck ratting me out from a jail cell.”
Jail?” Sirens sounded and hurried footsteps echoed down the alley next to them. “Let me go!” Glasser panicked. “I'll pay you anything. I have a stash under the loose boards beneath my mattress. You can have half!”
“Not this time. Give the boys in stripes my regards.”
“You're no better than me, Steamrun! You're no better!” Glasser's yells faded as Everett hurried out the side road, down a few narrow passageways, and finally out to the docks. Everett knew his moral compass didn't exactly point north, but he couldn't stomach the abuse of innocents, no matter how spoiled and petulant they may be.
~
Everett sat at the air dock, his satchel close at his side. Glasser had a lot more stashed under his bed than he'd thought possible. The boy must have been cheating Varlet for years. It would be more than enough for a new start. He would have to change his name though. Glasser wouldn’t stay in jail forever and Everett knew enough of the boy to know he was not the forgiving type.
A sister at the orphanage he'd been raised in used to call him 'Rhett.' Perhaps it was time for Everett's story to end and Rhett's story to begin.

The End

Copy Right Info

'Ithiria' - Chracters and Story Copyright Library of Congress 2009.
'Rayne In The Black Woods' - Characters and Story Copyright Library of Congress 2010
'Pandora Syndrome' - Characters and Story Copyright Library of Congress 2011