The Best of Raven and the Writing Desk is now available!

Aubrie Dionne, Lisa Rusczyk, and I would like to thank everyone who has supported Raven and the Writing Desk. We closed our doors last year due to the inability to keep up this blog with everything else in our lives, but we appreciate all who read during the year and a half we were open.

We went through our stories and selected some of our very best work and compiled them together in The Best of Raven and the Writing Desk. We also contributed some never-before-seen bonus stories. Now, we bring you our short story and poetry collection, which is now available on Amazon.

Thank you, and we hope you enjoy.

 

The Best of Raven and the Writing Desk

A short story and poetry collection

by Cherie Reich, Aubrie Dionne, and Lisa Rusczyk

To purchase on Amazon, click here. 

 

Short Story: "Cursed Isle" by Cherie Reich

CURSED ISLE

By Cherie Reich

 Waves surged over Mer’s head. The sea god’s wrath raged fierce and powerful. She spat a mouthful of brine and dived down, attempting to move below the surge. Another swell grasped her, dragging her toward the surface. A strange current refused her entrance to her ocean home.

A jagged lightning bolt ripped across the blackened sky. It blinded Mer and she blinked back spots before her eyes.

She was rising higher and higher. The wave crested and dropped below her. She gasped as she hung in the air before plummeting like a boulder into the cement-like water.

Pain radiated from her body. Fear gripped her throat and she tightened her fingers around the pearl necklace. Her theft started this roaring tempest, yet she still was reluctant to release her prize.

Her world tumbled around her, and she angled her tail to stop it. The mermaid thought she would lose her kelp dinner, if this kept up. She slowed and broke through the surface once more.

“Mine.” His voice carried within a thunderclap, and she shuddered, her ears ringing from the sound.

The ocean receded around her, as if a thirsty whale satiated itself with it. She twisted and gasped at the tsunami lifting to greet her.

“No.”

Mer had nowhere to outrun the monster.

Water crashed into her like a battleship. She swirled and twisted amongst the foam. Her body scrunched up, attempting to be smaller. A plastic bag tangled in her hair. Her arms scraped against coral. Her mind screamed when she could not. Over, under. Around and around.

Smack!

Mer slammed against sand.

She didn’t move, could barely breathe as the ocean tugged on her. The necklace yanked from her fingers. Magic burned along her magnificent tail, splitting it down the middle. She cried out in grief, anger as air rushed into lungs instead of gills.

Soft rain tickled her bruised flesh. Waves gently lapped on her feet where her tailfin once was. The sky grew lighter, a paler gray with a glimmer of blue peeking from the clouds.

“Mine.” The sea god whispered in a final thunder rumble.

***

Sun burned her sensitive flesh. She curled upon the hot, dry sand. A whimper pushed from her lips, causing tears to squeeze from her tightly closed eyelids. Why wouldn’t she die upon this sandy beach? She craved death like a fish craves water, and she did need water too. Even the waves wouldn’t reach her newly formed toes.

Something poked her shoulder. It felt hard, remind her of driftwood. She became aware of others around her, and she held a breath in her new lungs. Fear closed in on her like a net, ensnaring her from moving or escaping its clutches.

“Is she alive?” A voice questioned, dry, soft, and older woman’s tone.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Younger, masculine, strong.

She felt him kneel beside her. His energy radiated towards her like sea lava. It burned as much as the sand. His hand grasped her shoulders, turning her over. She moaned and fluttered her eyelids.

“Quick, she’s alive.”

Arms dug under the sand beneath her, lifting her in the air. She wanted to see who her savior was, but sand particles crusted her lids together, preventing her from opening them more than a tiny bit.

When they lay her down, something soft cushioned her. Gentle water trickled over her face, dribbled into her mouth. It was surprisingly sweet. She opened her eyes, taking a few moments before she could see in the shaded light.

An older woman with hair whiter than a seashell crouched over her and dabbed the water upon her skin. Wrinkles crinkled around her blue eyes. She reminded her of her father’s grandmother.

The man loomed beside her. Golden hair flowed to his shoulders. His skin gleamed like the sun-kissed sand she previously rested upon. She noticed his honey-colored eyes. He seemed familiar to someone she once knew. Her mind wouldn’t give up the name, though.

The sea god, the necklace, and the tempest memories slammed into her, and she gasped for breath as she sat up.

“Who are you? Where am I?” She scooted away from them, wondering if they were truly friend or foe.

“I am Aqualine.” The woman touched Mer’s foot. “I was once like you many years ago. How did you anger the sea god?”

Mer pulled her legs away. Legs, such strange things. She’d seen them from sailors lost at sea, but she didn’t like them one bit.

“And you?”

“I am Kale and you are on the cursed isle.”

She shuddered at his words about this island. Then his name and appearance shocked her. “You’re the sea god’s son . . . his lost one.”

“My father knows where I am, since he put him here. I’m afraid I’m not as lost as you think. What did you do to piss him off?” He crossed his arms.

“And your name, dear,” the old woman asked.

“I’m Mer, and I . . . um, took a necklace, the pearl one. I thought he wouldn’t notice.” She felt a sheepish smile curl her lips. Her cheeks grew hot, but she didn’t know if it was from embarrassment or the sunburn. “So how do we get off this isle?”

They laughed.

“You don’t,” Kale said. “Trust me, we’ve tried. Father won’t tolerate betrayal of any kind. You’re stuck here forever.”

Forever. The word struck her in the heart like a harpoon. Tingles flowed over her skin and tears pricked her eyes. She pulled herself up by a palm tree. Her legs shook, barely able to keep herself standing. The ocean waves splashed against the beach, although she couldn’t see it from the foliage. She ached for the water.

“I can’t stay here.”

“I’m sorry, Mer. It’s not easy, but it gets better.” Kale reached toward her, but she dodged his arm.

Her feet tumbled her forward as she staggered through the plants to the beach. The sun was lower on the horizon. More gentle on her skin and eyes than before. She collapsed into the water. Her legs and arms moved awkwardly like a fish on dry land. She pushed herself farther in. The ocean welcomed her, dragging her into its warm, wet embrace.

“Mer!”

“Stop!”

She heard their cries, but then she dunked her head into the sea. The salt stung her eyes. Air left her lungs. She sucked in water. Freedom drained from her with each lap of water. She was drowning, dying.

She’d never be a mermaid again.

A wave lifted her, tossing her away from it. Hands grasped her. Her head broke the waves, and she coughed up water.

Sand greeted her, and she looked up into Kale’s eyes.

“Are you crazy?”

She smiled weakly before she turned her head to the side and threw up more ocean water. The sand felt nice this time. Cooler, gentler. She didn’t want to die by the sea’s hand. She wanted to live, but could she live like a human? She didn’t know.

The sea god had banished and deserted them to this island.

              Forever.

"Wagon Heist" Part I by Cherie Reich

WAGON HEIST

Part I

By Cherie Reich

A small puff of dust appeared upon the horizon. Rosalind shifted from her position. Rocks bit into her arms, and the summer sun fried her dark hair. Perspiration trickled between her breasts as she fanned herself with her hat. The dust plume increased in size. They had little time left before the wagon would enter the canyon valley.

She pushed herself from the cliff’s edge and stood, her spine crackling from the movement. After she pressed her hat to her head, she twisted around, staring at the five burly men and six horses.

“They’re about upon us, boys. You know what to do.” Her voice was sharp, tough, hiding the rapidly beating heart bouncing against her ribcage.

“Yes, ma’am.” The men spoke and nodded in unison. She trained them well.

She turned again toward the trail. The wagon bounced and shuddered toward them. Wheels squeaked and rattled over the rough terrain. A glint of silver, or something like it, twinkled in the noonday sun.

“They may be armed, but we give ’em hell.” She stalked over to her horse and felt his velvet muzzle. He blew air against her hand, and she smiled and whispered against his soft flesh, “We won’t let him win.”

“We’re stealing the gold. Try not to kill anyone, unless necessary. I want Mr. Harris alive and well at all costs.” She snatched the reins and leapt upon her horse. Her skirt bunched at her waist, revealing man’s trousers underneath. She touched her gun’s handle. Its weight felt heavy upon her hips. She hoped Marvin wouldn’t put up too much of a fight. She’d hate to see her former fiancé killed.

Glancing into her men’s hardened faces, she nodded and squeezed her ankles against the stallion. He shot off, galloping along the slope toward the valley.

“Let’s go,” she said, gritting her teeth afterward as they raced toward the wagon.

"Three Wishes" by Cherie Reich

“Three Wishes”

By Cherie Reich

William O’Connor yanked too hard on the fishing pole. The line snapped, and the fish swam away with it down the bubbling stream. Petulant anger caused him to throw the pole into the surrounding woods. He mumbled curses, since it was the third time this week the line had broken.

“Tom O’Grady, the old cheat! Sold me bad line,” he said under his breath while kicking rocks into the water.

Plunk, plunk.

When he was about to turn around to find his fishing pole, he paused. A rainbow glimmered farther downstream. Ripe reds, vibrant oranges, and brilliant blues lured him. Forgetting the pole, he jogged along the bank.

Unlike most rainbows, this one didn’t skirt away from him. The colors swirled closer, but then he skidded to a stop behind a tree.

“When Irish eyes are a’smilin’ down on me,” a tiny little man dressed in red sang.

William clutched his chest to still his pounding heart. He spied a leprechaun, one of the wee folk. Blinking several times, he noticed that the sprite was still there. He quietly danced a little jig with a grin stretching across his face.

“I dance and sing so merrily.” The leprechaun twirled on his pot of gold.

He rubbed his hands upon his brown trousers and wiggled his fingers. William O’Connor was going to catch him a leprechaun, he thought. Crouching down, he crept through the forest. Birds twittered and flitted through the air. The leprechaun continued his song.

“And when I see a bonnie lass,” he sang.

William stood behind him, waited a second, and then pounced.

“Ack!” The leprechaun shouted and struggled, but William kept his hold on the little man.

“I’ve got you now, I did,” he said, tightening his hold on the wiggling fellow.

The leprechaun put up a fight until he went limp. “I suppose you want your three wishes, right, lad?”

“Aye, I do.” Three wishes, wow! He didn’t know what to ask for, but he made no move to let go of the leprechaun. They were tricky buggers, and he didn’t want to miss out on his only change for wealth and happiness.

“What do you want? Your first wish?” The leprechaun made no move to leave.

William pursed his lips and stared around the forest while in deep thought. His gaze fell upon the gleaming gold coins within the leprechaun’s pot. “Why, I’d be taking your pot o’ gold as me first wish.”

“Granted,” the leprechaun said, “Your second then?”

A gleeful grin plastered itself to his face. A whole pot of gold, and it was all his.

“Your second wish? I don’t have all day.” The leprechaun crossed his arms and glared up at him.

William knew he could buy a lot with that gold. So what else did he want? A vision of loveliness floated through his mind. Elizabeth O’Leary. He sighed as he thought of her. Her clear blue eyes and flowing red-gold hair. It shone so pretty in the sunshine. “I’d like Elizabeth O’Leary’s hand in marriage.”

“Granted.” Boredom filled the leprechaun’s tone. “What is your final wish? You’d best make it a good one.”

The young man considered his choices. He had gold and the fairest lass in the land. What more could a man want? He peered down at the wee man in his arms. “You know, leprechaun, I’d very much like to have your powers.”

“Really now? This is your final wish.” A gleam appeared in his beady eyes.

“Aye, I would.”

“Granted.”

A crackle of thunder split the air. The rainbow vanished along with the leprechaun. William O’Connor perched upon his pot of gold. He now wore a red suit and was no bigger than a small child. In his lap sat Elizabeth O’Leary’s left hand, a Claddagh ring attached to her ring finger. 

A Special Valentine's Short Story: "Eat Your Heart Out" by Cherie Reich

Reader Discretion is advised. This is a serial killer story. You've been warned, and have a happy Valentine's Day.

EAT YOUR HEART OUT

by Cherie Reich

"We make a lovely couple, my dear Melissa." Jim Reynolds placed the framed wedding portrait upon the dining room table. Tracing the outlines of their faces, he ran his fingers along the frame. Husband and wife grinned at the camera, but many things had changed in the ten years since this picture was taken. His dirty blond hair had thinned and gray-speckled. Fine wrinkles etched his forehead and around his eyes. Jim wore wire-rimmed spectacles now.

           

The woman across from him matched the portrait almost like a mirror image.  His wife had silky, dark brown, shoulder-length locks. She was lithe as a dancer and just as graceful. Her eyes sparkled and were a sky blue. The differences between the woman in the picture and the woman across from him were noticeable, though. The woman across from Jim wasn't his wife Melissa.

           

His eyes broke away from the portrait and landed upon his dinner guest. He smiled, showing small, white teeth. A chuckle bubbled from his thin lips when her muffled cries increased. "You haven't touched your salad. Are you saving room for dessert?"

           

The chair, which bound her, rocked back and forth, but it was too heavy to knock over. Silver tape, which was across her mouth and tied her arms and legs to the chair, gleamed in the soft candle light. Her eyes widened in perpetual fear.   

           

Leaning across the table, he glanced around as if someone would overhear. "We could be a little naughty and have dessert now. Would you like that, dear?"

           

Pushing his chair away from the table, he stood and walked over to "Melissa." He touched her soft skin. "Our Valentine's Day dinner can't be complete without some chocolate covered strawberries. They were always your favorite." Prying a corner of the tape covering her mouth up, he asked, "Can you be good for me, love?"

           

Her nod was small, and a sparkle of hope flitted in her eyes.

           

"Good." The tape made a loud, ripping sound. "I hope that—"

           

"You fucking bastard, let me go!" The woman screamed at the top of her lungs.

           

The palm of his hand popped her right in the mouth. He felt the brush of her lips, spit, and the edges of her teeth when he smacked her. Her lip broke open, and blood beaded upon the spot while he slapped a new piece of tape over her mouth. "We don't yell in this house. And, don't use that potty talk here, or I'll wash your mouth out, Melissa." 

           

Thump-thump. Jim heard the beating of his heart in his head. Thump-thump.  Pressing his fingers against his temples, he rubbed them. The pounding faded. "Oh, I almost forgot. We need a picture." He reached over and grabbed a camera from the table.

"Smile, love." He placed his head beside of hers. There was a click, and the flash lit up the room. The camera ejected the sheet of Polaroid paper. "I can't stand those digital cameras. So what if you can see the picture? I want to hold it in my hand." Shaking the picture, he watched it develop. Then, he set it on the china cabinet.

"Beautiful," he said, admiring the picture.

"Stay here." Remembering the dessert, he left the room and went into the small, out-dated kitchen that included a refrigerator, gas stove, a sink, and minimum counter space. 

           

After he took out the chocolate-covered strawberries, he went back into the dining room. Setting the plate on the table, he picked up a strawberry and took a bite of it. "Mm, these are delicious, Melissa." A bit of chocolate tainted his lips as strawberry juice ran down his chin. Using a cloth napkin, he wiped his mouth. "Would you like one, my dear?"

           

He picked up another strawberry and placed it under her nose. Her nose wrinkled and sniffed. Jim could tell that she was hungry. It had been over twelve hours since he had abducted her. "If you will behave and not scream or try to bite me, you can have this strawberry. Would you like it?"

           

Her head bobbed up and down, and he ripped the tape off her lips once again. This time, she didn't scream. Pressing the strawberry against her lips, she bit into it.

"I don't quite trust you, Melissa." He speared the rest of the strawberry with a fork and offered it to her. She took the rest of the piece and swallowed it.

           

"More, please." Her voice was harsh from lack of use and the previous screaming.

           

"Of course." He fed her three more pieces before he sat down in his seat. "See, we can be civil."

           

"My name is not Melissa." Her voice was clearer than when she first spoke. Her tongue darted out as she licked her lips, and her wrists arched against the tape. "Please, let me go. My name is Jennifer, Jennifer Sawyers. I'm a paralegal for Schmitt & Jones. I have a cat and a boyfriend waiting for me. Please, just let me go. I won't tell anyone."

           

Jim shook his head. "Melissa, Melissa, Melissa, don't play these silly games."

           

"It's not a game! My name is Jennifer. My friends call me Jenny or Jen." 

           

Thump, thump. Jim heard the pounding rise again. He pressed his fingers to his temples and rubbed.

"Shut up!  You are my wife, Melissa." His voice rose with each word until he yelled at her. Thump, thump. After a moment, the throbbing quieted.

"Melissa, love, don't ruin our day. It's Valentine's Day. Don't you see the lovely flowers I bought you? Didn't you like dinner?" His hand swept across the table, encompassing the flickering candles, the dozen red roses, the best china. 

           

Her gaze withered. Diamond-like tears shone in her eyes. "Please."

           

"Would you like some more dinner? We haven't even had the main course yet."  Jim smiled. "And, after dinner, we can celebrate our love. It's been a long time, dear."

           

Jennifer pulled at the tape, loosening it only slightly. "Dear," she said as if the word choked her, "we are having a nice dinner, but I need to use the little girl's room."

           

"Can't you wait, sweetheart? We're getting close to the final course." He heard the pounding again, but it was a background noise.

           

She shifted her weight. "I can't. It's been hours. Please, honey. Then, we can have our final course."

           

"Very well." He sighed like all his victims were on his shoulders. Standing up, he went around to her chair. His lips touched her earlobe as he whispered, "If you try anything, you will regret it." His voice was deeper than his normal tenor tones. He ripped the tape from her ankles and then from her hands. Her hand moved too quickly, and he grabbed her hair, pulling her whole head back in the process. "Let's go." 

           

Jim nearly picked her up by her hair. Her legs were wobbly, but they held as he led her to the bathroom. He tossed her forward, and she stumbled. "Be quick."

           

"Aren't you going to give me some privacy?" 

           

"No, it's not like I haven't seen everything, Melissa. We are married." His eyes raked over the slinky red dress she wore.

           

Jennifer stood there, dancing from foot to foot. "Can you at least avert your gaze?"

           

He huffed but did glance away. A few seconds later, he overheard the tinkling sound of urine hitting the toilet water, followed by a flush. He looked over at her as the dress covered her. "Come on."

           

"Wait a second, Jim. I need to wash my hands." Her hands trembled under the water. Her eyes darted around the bathroom, and it made Jim uneasy.

"Hurry up."

           

"I am." She took the towel off the rack and dried her hands. 

           

"That's enough. Come on." He reached toward her when the towel flew in the air and covered his head. The towel blinded Jim, and he ripped it off. There was a sickening crash when Jennifer cracked the ceramic soap dispenser over his head, spraying the towel and floor with liquid soap.  

"Melissa!" He struck out, hitting her as they both slipped. 

Thump, thump.

           

She crawled toward the door, and he lunged for her. Her foot caught him in the face, breaking his glasses in two. Jim slipped backwards and cracked his head against the bathroom tiles. Stars exploded in his vision, and the throbbing in his head spiked.

Thump-thumpity-thump.  

           

"Come back here, you bitch!" Her footsteps retreated while he struggled to sit up. An angry red tinged his vision. Stumbling to his feet, he ran out of the bathroom, skidded around the corner, and entered the living room. 

           

The door stood wide open, letting in a blast of cold February air. A light snow covered the ground around the cabin. When he looked outside, he spotted her footprints. They headed into the woods. 

           

"You are only making this harder on yourself." His voice echoed in the silence. After pulling on his down-fleeced coat, he slammed the door behind him. Following the footprints in the snow, he entered the woods.

           

Less than five minutes in the forest, the footprints ceased completely. He froze and glanced around, trying to spot a flutter of movement, a glimpse of the red dress against the white snow. The staccato beat thudded in his ears like a drum given to a hyperactive child.

"Come out here, Melissa! Why do you have to ruin everything?" He squinted into the woods. Without his glasses, everything was a little blurry. He pressed the palms of his hands against his temples, trying to release the pressure building in his head. 

           

A branch creaked above him, and he snapped his head upward as Jennifer jumped. She slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. His breath whooshed out, and she scurried away.

           

He grasped her ankle, and she screamed.

Thump-thumpity-thump, thump-thumpity-thump.

"Quiet!" Hand over hand, he yanked her toward him. He ignored how she slapped and clawed at him to release her. Her screeching didn't stop until his hands clasped around her throat. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" 

           

When her body went slack, he released his hold. Checking her pulse, he discovered she was still alive, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Despite his slight frame, he hoisted her body over his shoulder. Bent almost in two, he carried her back to his cabin.

           

The pulsating rhythm didn't cease while he bound her to the chair. He didn't bother with her mouth this time. Kicking the chair, he said, "Wakey, wakey."

           

She moaned and raised her head from her chest. His hand prints appeared around her neck like an exotic collar. Her eyes met his watery gray ones, and she violently shivered. "Let me go," she said in a hoarse tone.

           

"You ruined everything, Melissa. We had a nice dinner, a Valentine's Day dinner.  The day of love, and you destroyed it. You lying, cheating whore!" He slapped her, leaving a crimson hand print upon her pale cheek. Tears clouded his already blurry vision. "We had everything, you know."   

Crying, she sniffed. "I'm not Melissa. I'm Jennifer."

He looked at her. The artery in her neck pulsated rapidly. Thump-thump-thump-thump. It grew louder with each beat. He clasped his hands over his ears. "Shut up!" 

The beating didn't stop. Her lips moved again. She was speaking, but he couldn't hear her over the pounding.

"It has to stop!" He bellowed over the sound that was going to swallow him whole.  

Thump, thump.

           

"We used to be so happy together." Jim picked up the carving knife. "It's time for the final course." 

           

Thump-thump-thump.   

He pressed the cold blade against the dress. The sharpened knife sliced cleanly through the clothing while beads of blood blossomed upon her chest like rose petals. "We could have been so happy."

Thump-thump.

He could only hear the quickening pulse of her heart in his head. As he sliced again, her shrieks filled the air and collided with the terrible thumps. Blood splattered on the table. He didn't stop until both ceased and silence descended.

           

The scent of cooked meat filled the air. He sat down at the table. The silence was divine. He breathed in, relishing it. Taking a steak knife, he sliced into the meat on his plate. He popped a piece of the muscle into his mouth and chewed. It was a bit undercooked, but he enjoyed the squirt of blood in his mouth. "Delicious."

           

Patting his lips, he looked over at his dining companion. Jennifer's body slumped in the seat. Her head tilted to the side, and her sightless eyes were wide open. Her flesh was pale and turning a sickly gray, since the blood had run out of her. Her chest was parted like a butchered autopsy, revealing bones and blood vessels. What was missing was a key organ: her heart.

           

Her murderer sliced into the heart once again and ate another piece. His own heart had slowed to a steady rhythm. Jim felt at peace. "I'm sorry, Melissa. I couldn't let you break my heart again, especially on Valentine's Day."

           

After finishing his meal, he left the body there at the dining table. He liked knowing she was there. He picked up the Polaroid picture of the two of them. "Beautiful Melissa," he said fondly. Before he left the room, he leaned over, planting a kiss on her slack lips.

           

Wandering through the cabin, he went into the small bedroom that held a bed and a four-drawer dresser. Kicking Jennifer's jogging clothes aside, he went to the dresser first and opened the top drawer. Seven other Polaroid photos, one every year on Valentine's Day, stared up at him. Each one contained him and a nearly identical female, although only one contained his true Melissa.

"My Melissas." He took the photos and lay down on the bed with them. The pounding had ceased, but Jim knew that it would come back. It always did the day Melissa broke his heart. He kissed each picture and closed his eyes. "You shouldn't have done it, Melissa," he whispered. 

           

Thump.