It would be really ironic if, after all my excitement over it, I forgot to post my entry for the Power of Tension Blogfest. For any of you who don’t know, here are the rules:
1. The blogfest will run on Cally Jackson Writes and Rachel Morgan Writes from now (Monday 23 May) to Friday 27 May. Post your entry on your blog and then add a direct link to your post to the linky tool on this page before 11.59pm Friday 27 May AEST.
2. Come back on Thursday 2 June to see the six finalists (chosen by us), and then again on Monday 6 June to see the winners!
3. All genres and forms of tension are welcome, but if your entry includes anything graphic, please include a warning at the beginning of your post.
Here’s my entry.
For the past week, I’d had a countdown clock of sorts in my head. Now, the countdown clock read 00:00:01.
The door to my cell opened. Slowly, the steamy interior of the cell cleared.
“That’s not my name.” I made my voice as cold as I could.
I stepped into the hall. That’s not my name, I thought. The unspoken words burned straight through my soul. But I had to tell myself that. Angelica was the name my mother had lovingly given me at birth. I didn’t want to hear it from anyone else’s lips.
“Are you ready for this, sweetie?” a second voice asked.
I looked at Dad, unblinking.
“It’s going to be a big day.” He smiled. “Make daddy proud.”
I wanted to hurt him. But with one word he could kill Dominic, and that was why I didn’t. “Let’s just go,” I said icily.
We three – father, daughter, jailer – moved off.
“There’s nothing to be afraid of, Angel,” Dad said.
Bite me, I thought.
The jailer opened the big, stainless steel doors that led to the outside. We crossed the yard to another building. Inside, the darkness was complete. Dad and my jailer immediately reached for flashlights. I was unfazed. I could almost feel my pupils widening, adjusting to the darkness. Little not-so-human Angelica and her special abilities.
I clasped my hands behind my back, adopting my obedient soldier pose. There’s nothing to be afraid of, absolutely nothing. But the closer we got to our destination, the harder it was for me to believe that.
Suddenly, it was there.
The alien presence crept inside my head like a slinking cat. The presence wasn’t scary, just analytical, cold, inhuman. Its voice was like ice.
It was the voice of the Angel of Death.