Wednesday August 9th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: pity.

Had a slightly more competent day of work today. Maybe if I get another decent sleep tonight I can be basically capable of doing my job tomorrow?


Smoke continues to be miserable. Getting far more used to not being able to see across the lake than I care to.


I ain't got time
To pity no fools -
I'm too busy
Stealing their jewels.

Go on, judge me,
Act like you'd never.
Til times get hard,
Then who's more clever?

Oh, we'll see then,
Of that I'm quite sure,
That I'm the one
Who's built to endure.


Greg said...

Sleep is for the weak, you know ;-) There's a Barenaked Ladies song about it (and they're Canadian, so it's not like it's foreigners telling you this...). But I hope you get a good night's sleep anyway, and that the fires die down and the lake becomes more than just a boundary again :)
I like the punchy tone in your poem, though I think it fades away a little in the third stanza which is a shame. With the "pity no fools" line I can't help but hear this in the voice of B.A. Barracus from the A-team which makes the whole thing quite amusing and slightly threatening!
(I did think you'd worked an acrostic in there too, but while IT IS GATTO is clearly Spanglish, I can't figure out what OTW means :( )

The CEO of the bank walked into the boardroom confidently. Miss Hyde and Miss Sikh had been going through the books and the employees for three days straight now, and the security staff had confirmed that neither of them had left the building in that time. There had been the odd incident with the delivery messenger bleeding all over the lobby and no-one thinking to call an ambulance, but Legal were on that already and were assuring him that there was no serious chance of a law-suit. They were clearly, as reported, the very best in terms of forensic accountants, and he was certain that the irregularities that had prompted him to call them in would soon be sorted out.
The door clicked shut behind him and he realised that the lights were dimmed and the blinds all drawn: he paused for a moment to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. As they did he saw that the boardroom table had been cleared of the binders and paperwork that had covered it for the last three days, and the laptops had all been moved to one end. Covering the rest of the table was something that looked like a physics experiment: there were prisms, thin steel bars that looked like guide-rails, some things wrapped in tinfoil and a heavy-looking black box that was producing what had to be a blue laser beam.
"Reginald," said Miss Hyde. She was wearing a sweater but it was too dark to see what colour it was. She smiled, her teeth whitely brilliant in the gloom, and it was too reassuring for him to get upset that only his mother was allowed to call him by his full name. "Thank-you for coming."
"What's going on?" He walked to the table and stared at the set-up on there. The laser beam travelled geometrically around the grid and then seemed to disappear between two prisms somehow. "How is this accountancy?"
Miss Sikh answered in a voice that was so breathy and ethereal that it was like a lover whispering in his ear. He shivered, the skin all down his back feeling like someone with soft, cold hands was slowly, erotically caressing him. The hair on his neck stood on end and his mouth was suddenly dry.
"You need a little help," she said. "We've set up the invocation, but you have to make the request."
"What am I asking for?"
"Not what, but Who," said Miss Hyde. Her voice was so normal that his knees felt weak and he trembled.
"Pity," breathed Miss Sikh. "They take many guises but this century they have chosen to be almost-male. Ask for his presence."
"Why do I need Pity?" Reginald felt as though he'd been breathing in paint-fumes; he was dizzy and little coloured spots infected his vision.
"Because-" began Miss Hyde.

Marc said...

Greg - yeah, I blame the fading away on a severe lack of sleep. I should try something like this again when I'm better rested.

Great scene description in your opening and that ending... well, it best be continued in the next post, because I need to know what's going on.