52 short stories in 52 weeks. Began April 3, 2020. New stories release on Friday by 7 pm. Genres include science fiction, fantasy, children's, realistic, teen, horror, and adventure. Broken out into 4 anthologies of 13 stories each because Wattpad w...
(Description/summary: More from the "obsessed with apprentice mages" era. Inspired by the song "Wrapped Around Your Finger" by the Police, which I decided to take quasi-literally.)
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"Mephistopheles is not your name..."
- The Police, "Wrapped Around Your Finger"
The car jerked to a halt, jolting Alan awake. He opened his eyes to darkness, disoriented. The car reversed, went back, went forward again, and he realized where he was. "We're there?"
Diana spun the wheel, put the car into reverse again. "Quiet," she said sharply. There was a frightened tension in her voice.
Alan looked out the window. Though the only light came from a streetlamp across the road, he could see enough to determine that Diana was trying to park, and having a miserable time of it. 500 years old, scholar, mage, and she still doesn't know how to park a car, he thought blearily, and started at a bulk looming in the rear view window. "Watch out for that truck!" he shouted.
"I told you to be quiet!" she snapped. "That's as good as it gets. Hurry up out!"
He fumbled his seat belt open, and pulled the door handle. "You want me to get the bags?"
"Alan, for the love of God, just get into the building!"
He was still disoriented, half-asleep, and there was barely enough light to see by. Which building? Some of Diana's panic communicated itself to him, but it only paralyzed him, and he stood on the sidewalk for several seconds trying to figure out which Diana meant. He turned to ask her, and noticed the car sticking out from the curb at a crazy angle. "What if someone hits the car?" he asked.
She grabbed his arm and dragged him up the steps of a massive shadow. "Do you want to get us both killed?" she hissed, pulling open the door and yanking him into the blackness beyond. "Wake up, Alan!"
Killed? The idea woke him up fast. Diana switched the lights on, and he closed his eyes against the sudden brightness. "Sorry I'm being so slow," he said, opening them again. They were standing in the center of a foyer, on a shabby pink carpet. Against the wall stood two equally shabby pink chairs. They looked as if they might have been expensive once, maybe forty years ago. To the left he saw a staircase with an ornate but ancient wooden banister; to the right, and at the top of the staircase, two dark, heavy wooden doors with battered gothic carvings on them stood. "Are we safe now?"
"Not yet," Diana said. "Alan, they were almost on us." She turned away from him, trembling slightly. In a detached sort of way, he was surprised at her reaction-- he hadn't thought anything could scare Diana.
"And now?" he asked.
"This building is-- protected, to some extent. They won't pinpoint us as quickly here. But we won't be truly safe until-- Alan!!"
