Sunday November 23rd, 2014

The exercise:

Write about: the assessment.

Pleasantly quiet day off with my family. Highlighted by Kat's brother returning from a visit with his family up north... and bringing his cat with him.

He's going to need a bit of time to get used to his new surroundings but I'm pretty sure he'll like it here. We just have to convince Max to give him some space, rather than following him around Grandma and Papa's house with "Cat. Where's the cat going? Cat? There's the cat." on repeat.


"Hello Jason, you wished to see me?"

"Yes, Mr. Collins. It's about my report card... specifically the grade you gave me for Chemistry."

"You disagree with my assessment then?"

"Disa... yes, that would be one way of putting it."

"Well I consider it a fair and frank summation of your abilities in that field of study. I'm not sure what's to be discussed, really."

"Fair and frank? It is very clearly neither of those things!"

"There's no need to yell, Jason. I can-"

"And there may have been just a teeny, tiny chance of me believing that nonsense-"


"... if you hadn't just been dumped by my mother!"


Greg said...

Horses and cats... I'm detecting a bit of an animal-lover here! And the cat can almost certainly handle Max following him around for a while, as well as get away from him easily enough :)
Hmm, poor Jason. Not only did he have the embarrassment of his mother dating his teacher, but now he's getting backlash from it too! I like his (mostly) calm and reasoned approach to it, though if I were him I'd be demonstrating how good my chemistry skills were by creating "additives" for Mr. Collins' car's petrol :)

The assessment
Strains of She kills for kicks drifted down from the ceiling; Del had mounted the speakers up in the attic so as to disturb things the least. Ethereal tones that seemed to swirl around the house, with slightly disturbed lyrics that echoed here and there off the few hard surfaces that there were. Late afternoon sunlight fell low across the countryside, glinting hard-edged off pools of water between the trees, picking up a golden tone from the leaves just turning autumnal colours, and finally sneaking slowly below the lowered blinds and pooling on the floors and rugs in the house. There was a lazy warmth in the air and a hint of spice the air; za'atar maybe, or a sugared citrus tinge.
A spirit net, made from human hair in which seven kinds of flowers were woven, had been casually draped between two candlesticks, the broad beige pillars of church candles poking up at either end. Beneath the net the shadows writhed on the table though the air in the room was still.
Del leaned back in her chair, listening to the seasoned wood creak, and watched the net. In her hands was a tin box of pins and a pair of eyebrows tweezers.
"Assessment?" The word was drawn out into a drawl that even a Texan would have approved of. Del looked up and slightly over her shoulder to where a tall, broad-shouldered man stood. There was a cane in his left hand and a class-ring visible on the clenched fist of his right. He was standing just inside the circle of her personal space.
"Ayup," she said, shaking the tin and selecting a pin.
"Y'all be careful, y'hear?"
Del snorted, but mostly politely, and then heaved herself forward to the edge of the chair. The wood creaked again, but she stared intently at the shadows, and then after a moment her hand stabbed out and pinned a shadow to the table. The little metal stick vibrated as though the shadow had substance and were trying to get free.
"Mousy," said the man.
"Ayup," said Del, picking the shadow up with the tweezers and holding it in the sunlight. It seemed to go grey and transparent and stopped writhing. "Third class. No call for keeping this." She flicked it away and it vanished into the corners of the room. She took the pin up from the table and stabbed out with it again.
"Tigerish," said the man, his face sagging. His cane suddenly seemed to be the only thing supporting him.
"Huh," said Del, reaching out with the tweezers.

morganna said...

More of Emily & Chris
Detective Wilkes felt quite pleased with himself as he stepped off the ferry. The mysterious young man had proved not to be Chris, but rather someone who had helped him flee after the attack in the Kentish flat. But he did know where Chris had ended up, which is how Detective Wilkes had come to be disembarking from the Jersey ferry on a sunny afternoon.

He passed a tall, imposing woman waiting with her two teenage children to board the ferry. As he moved down the docks, he realized the girl was pregnant. He suddenly realized if his initial assessment had been wrong.

He bolted back down the docks, hoping to talk to the little group, but it was too late. They were gone, and the ferry was pulling away on its return journey to Dover. He turned around again, heading out into the Jersey countryside towards the last known address of Christopher Harrison, hoping desperately he was wrong.

Marc said...

Greg - yes, I suppose you would just delve into the subject matter for a solution...

Love your descriptions here, as usual. Quite enjoying Del's story, at least what you've chosen to share with us so far.

Morganna - really enjoying your ongoing tale. Always pleased to see a new entry :)