Monday November 13th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about something that has been: displaced.

2 comments:

Greg said...

Displaced
End of the night, all I see are lights. Night and day weren't very different here; the sky got a little bit lighter during day and there was slightly less activity from the other denizens at night, but if you weren't aware of these things you'd think that there was no change at all. Lady Betrayer liked it that way: she didn't bother herself with day or night at all and traveled her way, Dead Love dragging the cart behind her, as it suited her. But now, as things like beetles the size of alligators started scuttering around the cinder-beds roads there were lights everywhere. Lady Betrayer thought about it for nearly half-an-hour before holding up a hand and bringing Dead Love to a halt. She sniffed the air thoughtfully: sulphur was a dominant note as always, but there were also...sweat and smoke, mixed with absinthe.
"I believe," she said out loud, "that an old friend is close."
Dead Love tossed her head like a horse and the stays of the cart creaked and twisted behind her. As though in answer another creaking came from round a corner, and moment later Lady Believer came into view, her own Dead Love behind her hauling a cart. She saw Lady Betrayer and Dead Love ahead of her and she also raised a hand to call a halt.
"Lady," she said.
"Lady," came the acknowledgement.
"The lights?"
"The displaced."
Lady Betrayer thought about that. "The Dukes's war had expanded?"
"I've been collecting ancient souls for the past three days. They say the war has entered Furival. The frozen waterfalls risk melting with the blood flowing over them, the cliffs shudder with the sounds of fighting, and avalanches have become more frequent. The displaced are those fleeing."
Information was a token, and any token freely given needed reciprocation. Lady Betrayer walked back to the cart and shifted mounded tatters, and bones until she could haul out a pair of legs in prime condition. She passed them over to Lady Believer without a word, who appraised them and approved.
There was a rattle and a blur of motion and an alligator-sized beetle ran up the side of a cindered slope and seized Dead Love in its scimitar-sized mandibles. Dead Love shrieked, and the other Dead Love moaned in sympathy, beating her head against the stays of the cart. Lady Believer beat the beetle away with the new legs.
"Good legs," she said. "Will you go to Furival next?"

Marc said...

Greg - ah, and a totally unexpected continuation! So pleased by this one :)

Fascinating stuff, once more. Intrigued by the two Dead Loves and the talk of war and the displaced and tokens. You weave it all together so artfully. Well done!