Taco Tuesday..Errr, I mean Blog Battle Tuesday! This week's word is "Distance." I have deviated from my recent stream of romance and found myself back in my Genres of Sci-Fi and Fantasy. To read more stories by fellow bloggers click HERE!
Man of Grace
The distance between them had grown into a grizzly chasm, almost too wide to leap across even though he sat just a few feet away from her, his large eyes boring into the back of her head.
“Mog, say what is on your mind.” The words sighed from her lips, laden with exhaustion. Grace didn’t want to have this conversation. She had left the issue sit upon the shelf, collecting dust, hoping and praying that Mog would never take sight of it and try to bring it down. Who was she kidding? Of course Mog would reach for it. Grace knew better. Though small for his kind, Mog was still seven and a half feet tall.
Tension only thickened with her words so much so that Grace almost felt as if Mog had shoved her. Slapping the the sodden dishtowel in her hand against the sink she turned towards him, her son, yet he was skirting a very thin line of calling her his enemy. “Well, speak already! Or go wash for dinner, but don’t sit there and silently accuse me!”
Mog growled but turned his eyes away from Grace’s stern gaze. Although he had crushed many of men’s skulls with just his fingertips alone, could have crushed her to dust, torn their house down with just a few thrust of his fist, he still buckled under the weight of his mother’s gaze whenever it had turned dark, and it was brewing with threatening clouds.
“You used me,” He finally said through his large clenched teeth. He forced his eyes to glare into hers. Even beyond the space between them he could see her pupils pulsing and dilating.
Grace stiffened and the room filled with a scent; fear mingled with something else Mog couldn’t place. Fear was not a good sign. Mog drew up as if ready for a battle even from his seated position. He didn’t know what he would do once he had the truth from her lips, besides what he had learned to do during his warring, and that was sit with a confident air.
“Used you?!” His mother finally choked out the words.
“Yes! I know the truth now, Mo-” He caught himself before he called her “mom.” He would never call her that again. Never.
Tears slipped from Grace’s dark eyes. “And what truth is that, Mog? What do you think you know? Spill it so that I can set you straight.”
“I know that you stole me. Raised me as human. Raised me to war against my own people. You used me! Walter told me everything!”
“Walter!?” There was a sudden fierceness to her, one Mog didn’t expect. It was completely defensive, more so protective, of him. He’d seen that look in her eyes before, seen it as a child. The look was given to him then. He may have been three then, but it was as the result of an encounter with someone else.
Grace had grabbed his arms, squeezed them so fiercely as she jerked him with each word. “No!” She’d demanded. “You will not be vicious. You will not be violent. Your name means ‘man of grace’, you will be a man of grace!” The only problem was Mog was not a man. He was nothing of man kind. Walter had told him so. Mog had come to know it long before that.
“Yes!” He answered back, suddenly nervous as if he were his three year old self and not a giant of 27. “He told me where I come from. told me why you kept me and why you raised me as if I were your child.” He growled to open up his throat that suddenly seemed to constrict from emotion. “You planned to use me, to fight against my kind, wipe them from Earth!”
Grace shook her head, her color slipping into paleness. “You are wrong,” She sighed, stepping further back, gripping the counters edge.
Mog pushed forward, unconvinced. “That is why you raised me as you did, tried to hide me, molded me into, into,” He glanced down at his hands, the large palms facing upward. No matter their size, he still was stunted in his growth, yet his physical strength was far more concentrated than fully grown giants.
His kind had grown to fear him more so than the men he had hidden amongst. According to Walter, this had been the plan all along.
“This what?” Grace hissed, staring at him as if she were seeing him for the first time as a monster.
“This man of grace, of Grace! Your weapon, your revenge.” The last words took the breath out of him and in tandem Grace deflated but she would not fall even though her knees threatened to buckle underneath her. Mog stood, pointing an accusing finger at the woman he had known as his mother. “Walter said it was all a plan, he stole our eggs. You kept one, mine. And then you hide me and shaped me to love humanity and think the giants wicked-”
“They are wicked!” Grace shot back. “But Walter is far worse. I should have killed him. I should have killed him!” She seethed.
Mog flinched as if those words were proof of guilt. He’d seen Walter’s scars. Walter’d told him about how she’d attacked him. Said she used a butcher knife and tried to fillet him like a sea bass on a Saturday morning. “He said you tried.”
Grace met his gaze again, all of the ferocity gone leaving an eerie calm in its wake. “I did. Liars are deadly poison. Look what he’s done to you and me.”
“He told me the truth.”
Grace punched her knuckles into the counter until they bled. “He lied! But if you want the truth. I’ll give it to you. Follow me.” Without another word, Grace snatched open the backyard and slid into the darkness of the night, leaving behind tiny drops of blood like a bread crumb trail.
TO BE CONTINUED…
Rats! I ended at 990 words or so, but just shy of 1000. I have another document with another start to Mog and Grace’s story. I know this is vague, but obviously it was too much to try and cram into so few words. I am definitely going to share more, at least for my one sanity, with next week’s word. This story comes from a dream I had a couple of days ago, accept I was Grace attempting to raise a giant’s child that I had stolen. Thanks for reading along. I will post the rest of the story soon!