Short stories from my universe

Audio

The door shuddered, cracks emanating from the impacts, it wouldn't hold, there wasn't enough time. The window was thin and tight like some sort of medieval arrow slot, the room itself was frustratingly bland, no closets full of clutter to hide or arm yourself with assorted junk. Not even a bed or ladder had made it here just the newly placed mahogany floor and a lonely lamp. Just plain newly painted white walls, no secret doors or compartments, nothing useful at all, except for me. Seems they want the family riches, the sound of half the house's valuables being shoved into their red reverse santa bag seemed a reasonable clue. They found the safe and know where I'm holed up after running up the stairs once they discovered my stupid investigation. Deep, slow, controlled breaths, sounds start to fade, muffled and bound, the world starts to shift, colours break away and leak into the air, swirling breaking and reforming, pale, clear, pure and wholesome. Everything glows with a faint light, a misty condensation that clings to the walls, the lamp and me like liquid light. Veins of colours spiral around converging and splitting into intricate web of pulsing colours right above the skin. They feel right, like looking at myself split into shards of a mirror, every vein has it's place a memory or feeling that appears and falls back into my thoughts. Slowly the fog coalesces at my hand, a corner begins to form, a growing rectangle of pure mist, it thickens, and defines itself, lines and hard edges forming as the mist falls back towards my skin. Then colour seeps in a tough brown, worn and used but sturdy and enduring, the sides turn a creamy white separating into thin lines as a gold trim appears at the corners. A book, a leather bound book with golden threads binding the leather and pages together and it just floats there waiting as if it had not simply molded itself into existence. Wooden splinters spin around the room, and the click of the lock shifting is enough to announce that my time is up. A knife embeds itself in the floor, just passing straight through the book as if it existed on a whim which was entirely possible. I feel for a spell, finding the connections to words or images necessary to bring it all together. There really isn't enough time for something complex so simple yet effective will have to do. I begin writing the words, my fingers tracing the letters into the page forming glowing golden lines, the mist around the room coalesces above the book, the image of the spell in my mind solidifies and above the book several arrows made of whistling air with sharp barbs and heads begin to manifest. The line finishes up, the words vibrate and distort peeling off the page swirling towards the arrows and in all but a moment they're gone. "Dammit how'd I get a bloody paper cut!" "Yeah me too and it really stings was it the splinters, didn't hurt a minute ago" "It's really starting to bleed Fred" "They always bleed a lot, now grab that girl we need her to open up the safe" "can't we just crack it open?" "we don't have that kind of time just grab her and get the money". The spell wasn't strong enough to do any real harm but at least it got them bleeding which is infinitely more useful. Blood is connected to body and mind, a part of yourself  which makes spells pertaining to you so much easier to achieve. They looked boring, disheveled with lines around their eyes, old and tearing clothes, one still had a nasty looking rust covered knife in his hand. The book sailed through the air at their faces for all of one second before disintegrating back into the glowing mist it had come from. Luckily seeing the book disappear provides enough distraction for me to lung towards the spots of blood on the ground at their feet. To all other onlookers I probably looked like some poor soul begging for her life at the feet of her assailants. But once the blood touched my fingers they went to work, forming and shaping the symbols appearing in my mind. The mist begins to funnel towards the images and a thin wall of iridescent light springs up around each of them. They looked like mimes in their imaginary box, having let go of the trance the walls are invisible but seeing them pound in frustration and panic really shows how effective the spell was. They can't understand what's happening, probably dismissing the rumours of the church's divine miracles and the unexplained tricks of countless others. Using magic in such an uncontrolled and crude method means you have to use part of your own energy to kickstart the spell. The symbols are crude and fading barely legible in some cases but considering the circumstances that can hardly be the biggest issue. To be honest the fact i'm not unconscious right now suggests how weak that barrier really is, if they knew anything about it, i'm sure i'd be punching in that safe code already. Luckily it will hold for another few hours, plenty of time for Mum to get around to dealing with them. I wonder how much stuff we can do with them while they're still alive, too scrawny to be of much use when they're dead though i'm sure theyre blood will find plenty of uses.