Broken Open Part 3 of Man of Grace: Flash Fiction #Blog Battle Week 29 Ride

#Blog battle Tuesday! This weeks keyword is RIDE. I hope you enjoy the ride I have stirred up below with the continuation of Mog and Grace's Science Fiction/Fantasy story! To read the previous installments of this tale, follow these links. Click HERE, for part 1, and HERE for part 2. To read more tales from other blog battlers for this week's battle, please click HERE.

Broken Open (27 Years Ago)

“We’ll just ride it out ,” Walter said, his nervous energy palpable. Sweat trickled down his temple as he peered out the rear window of Grace’s living room. None of the giants had followed him at least not yet. Her voice, too close for comfort, made him jump.

“Just ride it out?! How? They are like blood hounds, worse! You stole an entire nest, Walter. And then you brought it to my home. My home!” Grace jabbed her chest with a stiff finger, her eyes red from exhaustion and rage. “You can go and wash the smell from your skin, burn your clothes, but what am I supposed to do about my house?!

“The scent of that thing,” She pointed towards the nest. “…has probably embedded itself in my floor boards!” Grace’s own pulse began to race, her breathing straining. It was the same kind of panic she felt when Philip was murdered, and then their baby came too soon.

Grace wouldn’t have survived the rupture that destroyed her life then, had barely held it together, and she only had because of Walter and his mother. Their support had pushed her from the grave and into Walter’s open arms.

For a moment she felt less fragile, certainly far from whole, but better than she had been even if bitterness flowed through her veins.

No one could replace Philip or MacRae. Certainly no one like Walter. Walter had once been the source of solace, lately, cast in the light of better judgment, he was the fire that made Grace’s blood boil, especially now.

Walter took hold of her shoulders, his thumbs pressing firmly into her flesh. He was the heavy handed kind. “Calm down, Gracie! I know what I am doing. I said we will ride it out. I just need time. Yes, they will come for the nest. That’s part of the plan. And when they come, we,’ll-”

Grace snatched away, and shoved him for good measure. She was weary of his foolish plans and scheming. She wanted the giants gone as  much as the next person. She hated them with a hatred that went beyond words, but Walter was like a loaded gun devoid of a safety lock. He couldn’t be trusted, not in war, not ever.

“There is no ‘we,’ Walter. You don’t give a darn about me.”

“Gracie, I-”

“You were using me and my house as bait! BAIT!” She felt as if she were going to explode. The giants hadn’t come near her property since their alpha had chewed Philip’s head from his shoulders and knocked their tiny house off its foundation. It was only a matter of time before they caught wind of the nest and sent the ground beneath her feet trembling.

Walter stood, a cold glint in his eyes. He looked as if he wanted to hit her. The iron poker Grace snatched up from the mantle made him think otherwise. She had used it on him before, she had no problem doing it again.

“I’ll move it then.”

“Take it back where you got it from.” She ordered. “Or else everyone will know what you’ve done.”

“We can use the eggs. Just trust me! I’ll stay here with it. You can go to Camp Mildrith about 100 miles from here. I’ll meet you there when this is done.”

“Get it out of here! You get out!”

“Fine!” Walter snatched the nest of eggs up from the floor. There had to be at least a dozen, the shells pale in color, all but one. The tiniest of the lot looked like an Easter egg dyed by a toddler, bright garish colors all over it. It was also hot to the touch. Grace found that out when the thing tumbled from the nest in Walter’s haste and cracked upon the threshold of her front door just as he was leaving.

“Walter, what have you done?” Her words were breathy with fear. Panicking, she took hold of his collar and pulled him back inside, slamming the door shut.

Walter snatched the egg up, bits of broken shell fell at his feet, dripping with the white from within. “Just put it with the rest of them. It doesn’t matter.”

Grace pulled the hot egg from his grasp and rushed it to the bathroom. “We can’t return it a mess. They will know. They’ll smell it! Scrub the mess from my floor, will you!” She turned on her faucet, the water on cool, and held the egg beneath. She would just clean it and put the dreadful thing with the rest.

Her heart skipped with erratic beats as larger chunks of egg shell pealed away as the cool water hit it. “No, please!” She begged as if that would keep the thing together, but she hadn’t pulled it from the water fast enough before the shell slipped away from the inner sack all together.

Panic slipped suddenly into vengeful rage at the tiny life form in Grace’s hands. It would be the perfect revenge. They had stolen her husband, her baby and now one of theirs was at her mercy.

Pursing her lips, forgetting all reason, she wound her fingers around the infant neck within its sack and slowly began to apply pressure. She’d kill it.

The body within her grasps suddenly moved, a tiny foot thrusting outward followed by two hands that tore out of the sack. Birthing fluid cascaded down into the sink with a pitiful cry from infant lungs, a cry so human-like that Grace stumbled on still feet, her heart suddenly torn open by the sound and the touch of newborn flesh upon her hungry skin.

Tears pricking her eyes, her body aching with unexpected pleasure as she instinctively pulled the baby boy close to her chest, she shut the bathroom door and locked it. She couldn’t kill it.

But she couldn’t let Walter have it. She couldn’t even let him know it was alive.


The story continues with a flash back to Mog’s beginning and the beginning of lies and wounds that have led to Mog’s rocky present. I reckon it will take about another two weeks before we get to a conclusion of this tale. I hope you stick with me until then! 



29 thoughts on “Broken Open Part 3 of Man of Grace: Flash Fiction #Blog Battle Week 29 Ride

    1. 🙂 I still haven’t figured out how to tell or how exactly she keeps Mog safe or secret…When I dreamed it up, that wasn’t made clear lol. I am glad you liked it.

  1. “……a loaded gun devoid of a safety lock. He couldn’t be trusted, not in war, not ever….”
    I ❤ this line.

    The part where she wants to kill “it” is a lil hairy (hmmm is that the word I want well it rhymes with scary so it’s close enough) and then realizes it’s ALIVE it’s A LIFE, newborn ^_^


    1. I thank you. This story, I thought I could tell it in one round. But I a happy with its development. I think I will touch more on it, but her pause was more than it being a life, but more so that she was postpartum and here is a baby. We’ll see how my imagination develops it next battle 😉

      1. Post partum and here is a baby psssh when the teacher is ready a student will appear ^_^
        I still like to think she saved it cause it was so human like 🙂

  2. That bathroom scene wrenched at my heart. You are so good at getting emotion across, and I could see it so well in my mind, Brilliant story. 🙂

    1. Thank you! That is so encouraging to hear 😊. This is the first tale I have done for the blog battles where I am groaning because I reach my word limit lol. There is more to this tale than I thought.

      1. Sometimes they just don’t want to end. I find, especially when word limits are involved. It’s like they know….

      2. Haha I like that! If nothing else, these limits help us to say what is really important at the moment. It’s the best form of “revision” if you think about it.

      3. I agree. Writing to a limit really has helped me realise how many unnecessary words I use in my writing.

      4. That is such a hard thing to overcome or rather learn how to workout in our journey, knowing when to use as many words as we’d like versus cutting those we do not need but want to keep.

  3. Fantastic continuation, Candice! I have to agree with Grace that Walter was crazy to use her house as bait. That’s just…I don’t know what to think of Walter. I’m glad Grace couldn’t go through with it and kill Mog when she held him, she has true motherly feelings, I like that.

  4. Love this. So much rage and emotion, but thoughts or revenge are quashed by a mere wee living thing. I wanted to smack Walter myself or give him a good boot and now my heart’s ripped to ribbons as I help Grace shut the bathroom door. 🙂 ❤
    I bet this 'baby' will be her trump card. o_O

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