twinkle 4

Sparks flitted up into the fluorescent tube lights. Fleur squinted in the direction she'd heard the noise before hesitantly picking up the glass and nails. The feeling that something was creeping up on her didn't help.

What was wrong with her? She wasn't normally this jumpy and nothing in this cluttered shed had ever caused her to feel so frightened. It had to be nerves. She was tired. It had been a long day, after all. Just her imagination.

A soft swish of moving air made her start again. Fleur gritted her teeth and finished cleaning up the glass and placing all the nails in another jar. It was just her imagination... but a cold feeling was creeping up her back. Was somebody breathing down her neck?

Whirling around, Fleur stared at... nothing. It was nothing. Surely. But again, the breath on her neck denied the fact that she was alone. Fleur made for the door, only to find the creaky old thing shut and she couldn't pull out the rusty bold. She hadn't locked the door. It had been left ajar.

"Who's there? Who are you?"

Silence mocked her wavery demand.

"Show yourself!"

The lights went out.

Fleur backed her way around a bench and into a corner, where she hoped whoever or whatever it was wouldn't be able to see her. A soft wind blew by her, so that a lock of hair tickled her nose. Tobe's machine started up and Fleur crouched in the dark trying to remember which side of the machine she was at.

Sparks of light flickered throughout the shed, giving a soft blue glow here, green there and yellow elsewhere. Something metal twinkled. Assuming that whoever it was had possibly forgotten about her by now, Fleur edged out a little way. She looked first to her left and then to the right - into darkness.

She couldn't scream. Breathe came in hyperventilating gasps as panic overtook her and the darkness enveloped her.

... ... ... ...

It was warm. It was comfortable. Warm air brushed across her face. The sound of moving water murmured in a rushing gurgle not far away.

"Tagun? Lomi-ella?"

Heavy eyelids felt gummed together. Swollen. Tight. Her lips felt dry and she shivered, despite the warmth.

"Rakakeki. Si-poler-inimi."

A large gentle hand cupped the back of her head and lifted it up. Cool liquid swelled against her lips, from the rim of a cup.

"Lama-lama... Yiyi... pola lama-lama."

Having taken a few sips of the sweet clear drink, Fleur presumed was some sort of juice, a wet cloth was brushed over her eyes.

Bleary, blurry colours merged and fuzzed. She couldn't see properly. What was wrong with her? Struggle as she might, she still couldn't speak and she was tired. So tired.

Sleep...

And the beckoning darkness returned. Why couldn't she scream?