Hmm, is this prompt an answer (of sorts) to my guess yesterday that you're not in Moscow assassinating enemies of the Canadian state, but somewhere else? Although, thinking about recent news, enemies of the Canadian state would seem to have the USA at the top of the list....
Revisiting this today, since it was four years ago that it was written, and you did say at the time that you'd like a continuation :) Plus you said you might revisit the world you created there as well!
Neither here nor there "Why?" she asked, keeping her voice low. There was no-one sat at the tables either side of her, but there was a college-age couple a little further away. They seemed more interested in each other than a random stranger talking to themselves, but she still didn't like to draw attention. "Hate etiolates the spirit and wears people out. Why should I treasure my hatred of you." She paused and stared at her phone, set neatly next to her paper cup of coffee. "I mean, you're already dead, so it's not like I can hope anything else happens to you." Unless, she thought, I can get you exorcised perhaps. To a circle of hell, or at least Purgatory. The shade of the woman, all greys and browns and translucent so that the wooden seat showed through her, shifted. The living woman noticed that there was a background, a slate-grey penumbra, around the shade that didn't seem to move as it did, as though she were somewhere else and poking through into this world. "Hate is a shield," she said, her voice whispery like the pages of an old book being slowly turned. "I thought love was a shield," said the woman. "I've read Harry Potter." "All strong emotions are a shield," whispered the shade. "Who do you love that strongly?" I thought I loved you came the bitter thought, too fast to stop. I thought you were my mother until you told me that you'd kidnapped me when I was three and never loved me. "What would you know of love?" She hadn't meant it to sound so strongly accusatory, but her emotions were starting to leak past her control. "That's neither here nor there, just as I neither here nor there now. Your hatred is so strong it's like a wall. You're like a medieval city, surrounded by firm defences, capable of withstanding sieges. Your love is... diminished." "That's your fault!" The words burst out with force, and everyone in the shop turned to look at her. Flustered she stabbed brutally at her phone on the table and the shop visibly relaxed. The spirit seemed to flex, perhaps flicker for a moment, and the barista's little metal jug of foamed milk froze solid. "Thank-you," whispered the spirit.
2 comments:
Hmm, is this prompt an answer (of sorts) to my guess yesterday that you're not in Moscow assassinating enemies of the Canadian state, but somewhere else? Although, thinking about recent news, enemies of the Canadian state would seem to have the USA at the top of the list....
Revisiting this today, since it was four years ago that it was written, and you did say at the time that you'd like a continuation :) Plus you said you might revisit the world you created there as well!
Neither here nor there
"Why?" she asked, keeping her voice low. There was no-one sat at the tables either side of her, but there was a college-age couple a little further away. They seemed more interested in each other than a random stranger talking to themselves, but she still didn't like to draw attention. "Hate etiolates the spirit and wears people out. Why should I treasure my hatred of you." She paused and stared at her phone, set neatly next to her paper cup of coffee. "I mean, you're already dead, so it's not like I can hope anything else happens to you." Unless, she thought, I can get you exorcised perhaps. To a circle of hell, or at least Purgatory.
The shade of the woman, all greys and browns and translucent so that the wooden seat showed through her, shifted. The living woman noticed that there was a background, a slate-grey penumbra, around the shade that didn't seem to move as it did, as though she were somewhere else and poking through into this world.
"Hate is a shield," she said, her voice whispery like the pages of an old book being slowly turned.
"I thought love was a shield," said the woman. "I've read Harry Potter."
"All strong emotions are a shield," whispered the shade. "Who do you love that strongly?"
I thought I loved you came the bitter thought, too fast to stop. I thought you were my mother until you told me that you'd kidnapped me when I was three and never loved me. "What would you know of love?" She hadn't meant it to sound so strongly accusatory, but her emotions were starting to leak past her control.
"That's neither here nor there, just as I neither here nor there now. Your hatred is so strong it's like a wall. You're like a medieval city, surrounded by firm defences, capable of withstanding sieges. Your love is... diminished."
"That's your fault!" The words burst out with force, and everyone in the shop turned to look at her. Flustered she stabbed brutally at her phone on the table and the shop visibly relaxed. The spirit seemed to flex, perhaps flicker for a moment, and the barista's little metal jug of foamed milk froze solid.
"Thank-you," whispered the spirit.
Greg - yeah, bit of a shorter trip these days to find enemies of Canada...
Ah, I remember that two parter I wrote. Wish I had time to get back to it.
So glad you've continued yours! Although you've managed to still leave us hanging there at the end. Perhaps more will be forthcoming?
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