The Training: Tess – New Fiction Writing by S. H. Marpel

Tesseracts fold time and space. I inherited the ability to both find and control them.

Unlimited access to all universes. Sort of.

Yea, freaky. I know too well how freaky.

So I spent my life on the move – through many times, and many spaces. Forgetting where and when I’d been wasn’t an option. My salvation was mastering the trick of retracing my path. To find my original home, to find the love I’d lived so long without.

It wasn’t just missing a normal childhood.

If I didn’t figure out how to get my life back under control, I’d just be growing older.

Alone.

Without any home or family or lover to ever call my own.

The Training: Tess – New Fiction Writing by S. H. Marpel

Excerpt:

It started out with a precise, formal, handwritten note on my desk. “Please leave some rope here. L. Tess”

Who was Tess? How did she get into my cabin while I was asleep? Were the gals just playing a practical joke on me?

But next to the note was a wildflower, one that flowered in summer, not in fall, never just before winter’s first killing frost.

As a mystery writer, I was hooked. Next best thing to a locked-door murder. I don’t lock that single door to my cabin, but I also don’t oil its hinges. And the floor wasn’t so solid that I wouldn’t hear the footsteps, unless they were barefooted – unlikely on these cool nights.

So before I came in from my chores, I made a point of finding a length of rope, just about a dozen feet. No lasso or long work, just something that would be a “rope” without being something I couldn’t untie if this was only a practical joke.

I did my normal routine that day. Checking the cows, writing my next story, cooking my meals, putting things where they belonged when I was done.

Just before I went to bed, I replaced the note and coiled that rope on top of it.

Turned out the light, went to sleep.

– – – –

In the night, I felt an extra weight on the end of the couch, by my feet.

Opening my eyes, I could see by some moving lights in my cabin that weight belonged to a someone. Sitting at the foot of my bed was one of the most striking young red-headed women I had ever seen in my life.

Hazel eyes, perfect and plump ruby lips, wearing an outfit that was a little revealing. But only because it was in motion – along with some little shining and sparkling cubes that rotated around her.

What she was wearing looked like a russet silk robe with long sashes, that was constantly in motion like some sort of magic carpet trying to escape somewhere and take her with it. Long, slender limbs that kept being exposed and covered with the waving cloth.

At times, she seemed to almost float off that end of the couch. The reason she couldn’t seemed because she had tied herself to that end of the couch – and my ankle.

(Part 1 of 4)

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