Thursday August 8th, 2019

The exercise:

Write about: the deal breaker.

4 comments:

Greg said...

So... what's the inspiration for this prompt then? It sounds intriguing :)

The deal breaker
The church as Villameriel was an odd-shaped building: pale stone created a tall tower at one end with a modern black-iron bannister protecting those who would climb a steep set of steps to enter. Medium-size bushes grew either side of the steps but didn't look like they'd break a fall well if you tumbled over the edge. Further along a high-arched colonnade ran along the length of the church, and outside, at the front, two tall columns defined an entrance. War and Famine both avoided it and walked around.
"That doesn't feel evil or creepy at all," said Famine. "No trapped souls in those stones begging for release."
"Shut up," said War. "I don't know what's worse, your sarcasm or you being weird."
"Think of how many people here walk between those columns," said Famine. "I'd be surprised if there's anyone in this town that isn't already controlled."
"Hamlet," said War. He looked at the steps and started up them towards a heavy, polished wooden door. "There are only just over a hundred people living here. By today's standards this whole place is smaller than an American nursing home."
Famine followed him, and they walked through the door rather than opening it. As they did so they both felt something deep below the church stir, like a sleeper disturbed by a draught.
The church had hard wooden pews, little more than benches and certainly more than was needed for a hundred people, but what caught the eyes of both War and Famine were the alcoves to either side of the altar. They were ornately decorated in rich woods and gold-leaf and housed carefully painted statues of religious figures. On the left the wall divided into nine compartments, each housing a saint in some act of benediction; on the right each wall of the alcove housed a single, more important saint. Two statues flanked the entrance the altar-space, and behind the altar another golden wall housed yet more statues.
"Idolatry," said Famine. "Old religions hiding beneath the socially acceptable one."
War strode to the altar and stood, legs apart and hands on hips, staring at the statues behind it. A bearded Jesus holding a red cross like a shepherd's crook and ignoring a lamb pawing at his muscular calf stared back at him. The sensation of a sleeper stirring rose up from the depths beneath them again.
"This the Church of the Lady of Ascension," said War slowly. The altar table trembled in front of him. "A name worn as a veil." He reached out as though touching something fragile hanging before him, and his fingers bent slightly, possibly touching something that couldn't be seen. He drew his arms apart. "An earlier name was Cielhas," he said. His voice was getting deeper and now Famine could feel vibrations running through the stones of the church. War's hands clenched and his knuckles whitened. "And an earlier name still was... Narusheteli."
"The Deal Breaker," said Famine.
"The same." War's voice was now so deep that Famine heard it only in his head and felt it as a rumbling in the earth. Below them, the sleeper turned over and surfaced from chaotic dreams just enough to make contact.

Greg said...

Hi Moh, and thank-you for your comments. I'm slightly surprised that a story about Famine and War would make you worry about weight-gain though, so I surmise that you've been worrying about this for a long time. Which, unfortunately, suggests that the Flat Belly Fix didn't work for you, and I'm really sorry about that. Obviously we can't accept your recommendation now.

However, I did ask Famine if he had any tips or advice for you, and he made me write this for you:
"They say that fat can't be spot-reduced, but they're so wrong. The trick is rats: starving rats. You just rub something numbing over the area that you want to spot-reduce, make an incision until you see yellow (that's the fat deposit) and then insert a couple of rats. They'll gorge themselves on the fat, and you can go to the doctor when they fall asleep to get yourself sewn up and some antibiotics. If the doctor asks any awkward questions tell him you had an industrial bonsai accident."
Pestilence agrees.

Marc said...

Greg - I... hmm. Oh, right. We're looking at moving into a bigger place that would actually have enough room for the four of us. I think we'd just looked at a place that was okay, but had several deal breakers from our point of view. The bedrooms being too small was one of them.

Hah! I remembered! I must be getting closer to being caught up on comments again...

Yeesh, this is deeply unsettling. And fantastically written, obviously. I am impressed with what you're managing with this tale, what with the comedy mixed in with the ominous atmosphere.

Oh, right. I'd meant to delete this comment. I will, as always, leave your reply to it because it is, as always, so great.

Unknown said...

I will say that I am a little confused since have not been following this story, but this writing got my attention. It is very interesting how you give Famine and War a persona and do very well at describing how real war and famine work together and coexist but also fight against each other. To me, it is also interesting that War and Famine, which modern citizens see as the vile and unwanted, ridicule the spiritual symbolism and “sleeper” in the church. Continues the ever ongoing spiritual battle and good versus evil.