A Retread - Fan Fiction - Lost Laysen

Before writing this blog, I went to the blog site that claimed to have 101 Ideas that would make my blog hot. I went through the list but I was in a hurry, and there wasn’t anything that wouldn’t require time and more creativity than I wanted to give. Oops, did I just say that? I want to post a blog, but I don’t want to have to work too hard to get it done. Yep! I just said that. But you must understand, I just wrote a new “Sheila Murder” for my Murderous Imaginings Blog. The post Brutal Attack took most of the evening and required quite a bit of creativity.

          It’s not as easy as you might think to come up with a new scenario, a new victim, or a new way to end their life. Then there’s the graphics to go along with the story and the most challenging part, the formatting on blogger. Why that is such a task, I’ll never know, but it seems to take forever.

          So there you have it. I’ve spent all my creativity on the Murderous Imaginings Blog and have nothing left for this one. Does that bother you as much as it does me?

          Still, I wanted to post something here on Defending the Pen. It is my primary blog.

          So, I thought I’d post a copy of an old blog. My first attempt at Fan Fiction based on a short story by Margaret Mitchell. Lost Laysen. I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

          That’s not being too lazy, is it?

February’s Romantic Friday Writers Flash Fiction Challenge is all about Fan Fiction.

Margaret Mitchell is a favorite author of many of us, and when I came across this short story by her, called ‘Lost Laysen. I could not resist. 

This story was found in an old desk of a former beau, Henry Love Angel, along with other letters and photographs. Henry's son, with the help of Patsy Wiggins, founder of the Road to Tara Museum published the story along with the letters and photograph’s in 1997. This was a very special find because after Ms. Mitchell’s death, and per her wishes, all of her work including notes on Gone With The Wind were incinerated.

Synopsis: Lost Laysen by Margaret Mitchell

Courtenay Ross, a feisty, independent-minded woman, and the two men -- one a cool-headed, well-heeled gentleman, the other a hot-blooded, pugnacious sailor -- who adore her. A tale of yearning, valor, and devotion, Lost Laysen enthralls from its delightful beginning to its unforgettable end.

The scene I wrote is a 'new' ending with the characters of Courtney Ross, and Billy Duncan.

 I hope you will enjoy my tribute to her short story ‘Lost Laysen.’

Please note: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from Lost Laysen, which is trademarked by the heirs of Margaret Mitchell.

The characters were created and owned by Margaret Mitchell, and I do not claim any ownership over them or the world of Courtney Ross and Billy Duncan.

The story I tell here is my own invention, and it is not purported or believed to be part of Margaret Mitchell’s story canon. This story is for entertainment only and is not part of the official story line, nor has it been done for financial gain. 

I am grateful to Ms. Mitchell for her wonderful story about Lost Laysen, for without her story, mine would not exist.

A Fan Fiction Tribute to Margaret Mitchell’s

LOST LAYSEN

After days of nightmarish upheaval, tranquility saturated the night. The sea looked like black ink, and the reflected stars appeared as unsinkable diamonds. She stood against the rail. A light breeze billowed her gown. I spoke on approach so not to frighten her. 

“What’s wrong, Little Lady, you seem lost among the stars.” I tied to sound jovial.

I knew the answer but awaited her response. Her sadness was overwhelming, for she was remembering, and worse—regretting.

In acknowledgment, her lips formed a half circle. It was neither a smile nor a grin, and she continued her search of the sky. I recalled the first time we met, the first time I had witnessed her Cupid’s bow mouth curved into a full grin. The day she won my heart, three months ago, when she boarded the Caliban at Yindano for passage to Laysen in the Tongas. Laysen, the island that disappeared under the sea after a volcanic eruption, the very center of hell and she had barely escaped.

The stars blinked wildly as though showing off for her. I watched her scrutinize them and recalled how I found her in that bloody cabin barely alive. Four dead men lay at her feet, her soon to be declared fiancé, Douglas Steele, the devil himself—Juan Mardo, and two of his henchmen. 

Steele died protecting her, and Mardo had been killed by her hand. My own knife, the Amigo mio—Friend O’ Mine, she had put through Mardo’s heart, but she refused to speak of it. She became distant and disappeared to a place I could not follow, but I would not be defeated. 

When she was delirious and called out for Steele, I said words to her I had no right to speak. I caressed her fevered cheek and told her that she had to fight; she had to live for me. I promised my undying love, and while not one word was a lie, I told it all in the guise of Douglas Steele. It worked, and beyond the hopes of all who attended to her, she pulled through. But once she had her senses about her and realized that Steele was gone, she lost her desire for life. She became a shadow, and although I felt her ire, not one word of ill did she utter.

“Let’s go inside, you need to rest.”

 “In a minute.” 

Her dismissal stung, but I feared her mind had muddled and she would jump into those dark waters to join him—her true love. 

We stood with our own thoughts, and then I felt her eyes searching my face. I was not ready for her words. 

“I should’ve died. You should’ve let me go. It was my desire. I ‘m sure, it was... his. You had no right, none! Just as Laysen disappeared, so should I. I killed two men. My lovely heroic, Douglas. He wouldn’t have been here...if not for me.” 

Her body stiffened, her face flushed, and she lifted her chin. “But Mardo, that beast deserved to die; I’ll not regret that, never!” 

Then her shoulders slumped, “But Doug...he deserved so much, so much better than me.” 

No! I cursed under my breath and had to walk away. I ran my clumsy hands through my hair and paced the deck. She could not believe that. I could not allow her to think that! I calmed myself. I had no right, but I put my hands on her shoulders. Her tiny body trembled, but I held her gaze. Her big blue-grey eyes filled with unshed tears, and my heart split in two.

My mind screamed. I love you, lassie, I’m not good enough, but I love you!

I swallowed my pride. “I’ve an idea, a way to get you safely back to your family.”

“It isn’t possible, it’ll never be possible?” she shook her head. “I could never face them.”

“But it is,” I declared. “We tell them you suffered from shock, loss of memory, that you were discovered on an island near Laysen. You’ll never have to share that awful day...ever! Only you, the captain, and I will know the truth. I’ll escort you. Personally, and I’ll do the talking, no lie will ever leave your lips.”

She thought about it. She started pacing, mulling it over. Occasionally she would lift her head and look at me, studying me, wondering I suppose if she could trust me.

“You’d do that for me? Just as you pretended to be Douglas, and promised..." 

She could not even say the word--love. Was it so distasteful? Was I?

"You would lie for me, and then walk away?” She said.

“Ai’ lass, I would. I knew the day I met you; I was in your life to protect you. Never-to own you!”

I had fooled myself into believing she would be grateful, even allowed myself to think that she might love me. I had deceived—a fool.

Soft fingers caressed my weathered face. “My guardian angel.” She smiled, and on her toes, she stretched to kiss my cheek. Exceedingly blessed and agonizingly bereft, I was breathless.

“I couldn’t," she whispered. Her voice grew stronger, as she made her decision. "Living with that lie would end me. Thank you, but no. I’ll face the demons straight on. I’ll honor my Douglas, my heart.” 

Every time she spoke his name, it became more holy. Any hope left within me withered.

“I’ll go to Yindano, and teach as I intended. God allowed me to live and I’ll honor his choice.”

I nodded, grateful, but my heart shattered. Unbearable pain silenced me, because while I knew she was staying—it was not for me. 

She walked away, turned, and in the dull lantern light, I saw tears finally trailing her cheeks.

“God bless, you, Billy Duncan,” her words quickened my ravaged heart.

** ********** **

987  Words / FCA
Yolanda Renée © 2013
 

Romantic Friday Writers February Fan Fiction Challenge

WEP - ALASKAN DREAM

Welcome to my
WEP Spectacular Settings 
Flash Fiction Challenge entry. 

For the first half of the challenge 
I've chosen a passage from my favorite novel. 

Gone With The Wind by Margaret Mitchell.

It was a savagely red land, blood-colored after rains, brick dust in droughts, the best cotton land in the world. It was a pleasant land of white houses, peaceful plowed fields and sluggish yellow rivers, but a land of contrasts, of brightest sun glare and densest shade. The plantation clearings and miles of cotton fields smiled up to a warm sun, placid, complacent. At their edges rose the virgin forests, dark and cool even in the hottest noons, mysterious, a little sinister, the soughing pines seeming to wait with an age-old patience, to threaten with soft sighs: "Be careful! Be careful! We had you once. We can take you back again."

For the second half of the challenge, I drew from my first impressions of Alaska, and a picture taken in the Brooks Range as my inspiration.

Yolanda Renée © 2015

ALASKAN DREAM

I fell in love looking out over an expansive horizon filled with evergreens and white birch. The view stretched for miles across a valley that flowed in gentle waves of brown and gray to the foothills of the Alaskan mountains, where Mount Denali sat resplendent with a crown of cottony clouds. I'd never seen anything so beautiful or color this bright. I knew then that my decision to take the engineering job with the oil company in Alaska was the right one.

The chill of winter was gone, and during nightly walks through the forests of the Brooks Range, the quiet sang to me. The rejuvenating breeze of spring became my companion, and the views around the next bend my rationale for going deeper into the wilderness. I was an explorer in search of my destiny and with every step, my confidence grew.

The job gave me an excuse to end a long cold relationship. He'd found someone new months earlier, but our shared condominium was in too prime a Chicago location for him to just walk away, so I did.

My arrival at the almost all-male line camp called Dietrich was like stepping into the dark ages. Naked photos of women filled the bus that shuttled us from the airport to check in. Knowing looks and snide remarks should have had me turning back, but I'd resolved to persevere. A woman in a man's world, no one ever said it'd be a cakewalk.

After weeks of trying to find my place in this new world, the wilderness and my evening hikes became a sanctuary.

I was stealthy like a grizzly on a hunt, surefooted like a Dahl sheep, and quick as a fox. But in camp, I was as skittish as the ptarmigan. Constant catcalls, rude comments, and downright crude proposals followed me everywhere. When I refused to react, the men became angry. Slut, whore, and ugly bitch hit me in the back like rocks. These weren't men. Instead, they took the definition of a creep to an all-time low. How would they feel if their mother, daughter, wife or sister were in my shoes?

The fresh air and the mystery of the woods wiped away the ugliness. I was content. The workday became brighter after each hike; rudeness no longer drained my energy. I'd found peace.

I discovered bear tracks in the mud. They frightened and amazed me. The bear that created them was huge. I looked around to see if the beast was still present, then foolishly followed them for a mile before realizing the danger of my quest. I couldn't out run this animal, and I was sure that whatever tree I chose to climb, this brute could uproot. His claws were at least five inches long, but I felt no fear—only curiosity.

During work, I heard talk of bear sightings. Hungry bears looking for a first meal after hibernation had been spotted in camp. We were forbidden to leave the area. My boss made sure I received the memo. I promised to cooperate. Co-workers knew I wouldn't stop and warned me to be extra careful. I assured them I would.

The truth, I was determined to find you. During each hike, I'd discover fresh tracks. I continued my search despite the twinge of fear that circled my spine. Confident I'd outwit my prey, see the bear first, and then return to camp satisfied that I'd tracked the fiercest beast in the wilderness. You became my fate, a goal I needed to pursue, even though I didn't know why.

Six weeks after arrival I'd finally hit my stride. The day felt magical. Details for a project went smoothly. The men were less harassing. My expectations ran high. I skipped dinner and left work early. I was sure the evening would bring me to you.

The sun, higher in the sky filtered through the new growth, kissing my skin with the promise of summer's warmth. I'd gone miles further and discovered a new river higher in the mountains. The water moved swiftly, looked inviting, but I knew it was ice cold. Near the edge, I spotted your perfect paw prints, so fresh the wet soil glistened. Had you just been here? My heart jumped. Was it fear, excitement, or joy?

I froze at the sound of a breaking branch, contemplated running into the water. I hesitated, wanted to turn around, but I knew I'd been caught. You'd won.

The voice was resonate, imposing. "That's a hell of a print. Shouldn't you be running in the opposite direction?"

I inhaled. Conscious my mouth was open, waiting for the scream that never materialized. My hand hid the evidence of apprehension while I giggled at my foolishness. I hadn't laughed in months. It felt wonderful. "Probably, but I'm more curious than frightened," I said as I turned.

The man was exquisite.

"You do know the end when curiosity is the defense?" His smile matched mine. His dark brown eyes danced with mischief. He moved closer. Muscles rippled as he threw the ax he carried over his shoulder and extended his hand. "I'm Kuruk, and you are?"

"Lila." My hand disappeared in his. His shake was firm. He pressed our hands to his heart, rested the ax against his leg, and caressed my face. His touch ignited buried desires. I blushed.

"My beautiful, Lila."

His words were a caress. I trembled in response.  

"You've been searching for me."

I nodded and bowed my head.

He lifted my chin. "Sweet Lila, you found me or did I find you?"

I surrendered to the warmth of his kiss. Fate had brought us together. I recognized my future.

Nature's song was symphonic. The world and its ugliness disappeared.

*****

"It's been a week, have they found her yet?

"No. Just the tracks of a massive grizzly they call Kuruk the Monster. They're going to try again tomorrow. Looks like he'd been on her trail for some time."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

 Word Count 998/ FCA

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