The exercise:
Write about something that is: rough.
Rough night last night. Miles kept waking up to throw up for the first three hours after he fell asleep, then I woke up in the middle of the night with whatever he had.
So I spent today mostly not doing anything whatsoever. Took until around 9pm to finish the mug of tea I made myself when I got out of bed. Had my first bite of food just after 10pm.
And then, obviously, fell asleep on the couch and am only now posting this in the middle of the night.
Good times!
I'm taking it as a good sign that Miles was basically fine today. Hoping that will be me tomorrow.
2 comments:
I am sorry to hear about your rough night, and what seems like a rough day as well. Hopefully this is just a 24-hour thing and you'll be right as rain after some more sleep tonight :)
While there's no actual use of the word 'rough' in what follows, the treatment (on both sides) is fairly rough, I think.
Rough
“No,” said Scuffles. “You’re not, are you? Hilda’s bothering you.”
“The little dog is nothing,” said Narusheteli. “You are here because you wanted to talk to me. So talk, and then I will consider what your punishment shall be.”
Hilda growled, sounding more focused.
“She doesn’t like being called little,” said Pestilence. “Look, mostly we just want to ask you if you wouldn’t mind leaving quietly and closing the door behind you when you go? Only you’re not supposed to be here, and the Boss gets very upset when things get untidy.”
“Death does not scare me, and nor do your threats,” said Narusheteli. “Or your little dog. Which I could stand on and not notice.”
“Something scared you about him, sis,” said Famine. “You called him the Overarching Shadow back in Villameriel. Before you ate everyone there.”
“An offering,” said Narusheteli. “And before the offering I was weak and sleepy. I was risk-averse and cautious.”
Hilda breathed fire, a tongue of red flame edged with black that reached half-way to Narusheteli, who jumped back and looked alarmed.
“You’re scared,” said Pestilence. “I don’t know why, but you’re scared.”
Narusheteli is also known as the Trespasser said Death’s voice into their minds. It is much more dangerous than you seem to think.
“That’s it,” said Scuffles. “That’s the connection. Hilda’s a guard dog, and she’s a hellhound. She breathes hellfire – it’s from outside this universe.”
“Sis?” said Famine, looking distinctly puzzled.
“She doesn’t have fire inside her,” said Scuffles. “She farts so much she’d explode in that case. She brings the fire from somewhere else, somewhere outside, and directs it. Maybe that can hurt Narusheteli?”
“No!” said Narusheteli. It stepped forward again, and then retreated as another tongue of flame licked out from Hilda’s muzzle.
“Looks rather like yes to me,” said Pestilence. “Right, I think that establishes our negotiating position then. Leave, or we let the guard dog chase the Trespasser off our land.”
There was a suspicious silence, and then after a minute, Scuffles said, “That’s pointless. There are no oaths binding us.” Narusheteli frowned.
“Just our duty,” said Pestilence. “Are you going? Or do I count to five and see how much flame Hilda can manage when I squeeze her like bagpipes?”
“Hilda!” Scuffles’s voice was a yelp of concern.
“Keep your little dog,” said Narusheteli. It sounded ill-tempered, and a black haze started to shimmer in front of it as though it was coming apart into dust and ashes. “And keep her close, as I shall not forget this. There are many doors into this world, and you cannot watch them all.”
Narusheteli curled into smoke and then somehow vanished, as though the smoke had been sucked away into something none of them could see. There was a ringing like a wet finger being run around the rim of a wineglass, and then silence.
“What now?” said Scuffles.
“Now,” said a voice behind them, and when they turned they saw Moros, dressed as the Sun King of France, “the Seven Sages will reset the stones that were lifted, and I will have a couple of Mercy’s Calamities harvest some threads of the oupir’.”
“Shouldn’t we close that door more thoroughly?” War’s tone suggested that that should be an order, not a question.
“No,” said Moros. “I wish to keep an eye on people trying to open doors for the Trespasser, and this will be known and easier to watch. Plus, I might have need of it again sometime.”
“Great,” muttered Pestilence.
Greg - thanks. It's been long enough now that I can reread this without feeling nauseous, so that's good!
Hilda saves the day! I knew it. Well, maybe not knew it, but I am terribly pleased with how this played out, so that counts for something.
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