The exercise:
Write something that has to do with: secrecy.
Kat's birthday surprise continues to progress as hoped. Just got to get through tomorrow without her figuring it out.
Bakery was steady busy for most of the day. I'm sure the rain kept a lot of people away though. That won't be the case tomorrow if the forecast is correct.
Fingers crossed and all that.
Mine:
Oh, the tales I could tell. The scandals, the adventures, the parties. If only I were allowed. Sadly I have been sworn to secrecy.
And the men and women whose secrets I have promised to keep are not the sort of people any sane man would be interested in crossing. And, I must assure you, I remain very much sane. Despite all that I have seen and done.
I have secrets of my own though. And I keep mine even more tightly under wraps than those of my masters. A man who has led the life that I have must be careful to the extreme. If one is interested in continuing to breathe, at any rate.
And I am still quite invested in that matter.
Are my masters aware that I have kept things hidden from them? Oh, I imagine that they are. But I am certain that they have absolutely no idea about the details. And it shall remain that way. It has to. It must.
And so you, dear intruder, have to be silenced.
Quite permanently, I'm afraid.
4 comments:
Whispers and giggles
'Don't tell Mom!'
Pitter-pattering feet
A crash.
Silence.
This fits into some larger context I've been puttering around with for a while, but the prompt fit for some practice.
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two years.
all that time tasted strange and bitter in the back of Lucy's throat. two years, had it really been that long?
it felt longer. she swallowed hard.
Lucy never liked drawing attention to herself, but to imagine that she had spent two years hiding in plain sight was impossible—she was doing it, and it still seemed impossible.
two years of black dresses, stiff smiles, and a work schedule that was exhausting to look at on paper. the dresses were no longer stuffy lost-and-found leftovers, so they fit better, and they were as relatively hipster as the laced-up business dress code allowed. she had gotten a feel for the different gradations of smile required for staying invisible in this place. and at least her schedule now was so much more manageable than the stretch of time she had to help run the whole department.
but she was still stuck here. she was still expected to report to her drab room on-site, still wasn't allowed to be more than ten blocks away from the facility. she still insisted on "Lucia" instead of the more familiar "Lucy"—gave her a little room to breathe, some measure of control. and in a place like this she held fast to every mote of control she could scrounge up, especially when it could so easily be wrenched away from her.
they didn't like people having so much independent control, it could interfere with your morale and your hard work. and if you couldn't work hard, what worth did you have?
they tended to ensure everyone was on the same page—with force, if necessary—but she worked hard enough to discourage attention. she even shadowed someone who made sure people were and stayed on that same page. someone who would've delighted in the opportunity to smash her charade to pieces, and piece it back together in a more acceptable image that would fundamentally no longer be her.
it was hardest to hide in plain sight there.
but she kept pace, did her due diligence, and kept herself safe for two years.
had it really been that long?
it was actually closer to three, now that she thought about it.
she swallowed hard.
Quite a sinister piece today, with that ending seeming a little bit like a James Bond villain -- willing to monologue at the hero until the hero's figured out a way to escape! Maybe that's a good thing though? I do question the narrator's sanity, despite their insistence on it in the second paragraph, but maybe that's because my characters tend to go in the opposite direction and believe that the whole world has gone insane :)
Secrecy
"The Chamber of Secrets!" said Ronnie Weasel, his eyes widening. He backed away.
"Oh Robbie," said Hermione, her wand already out and ready; her arm drawn back in the classical attack-witch stance that they'd learned in "Defense for Dark Artists" a week earlier.
"Ronnie!"
"Oh, is that your name? I thought--"
"We've been friends for three years! You've called me Robbie, Remus, Rancid, Reptile and Ronaldo, but you've never got my name right! I hate you, Hermione!"
"I called you Rancid?"
"Once... and I suppose you might have been talking about breakfast the day the House Elves all died... but it hurt!"
"Oh."
"Can't you say you're sorry at least?"
Herminone winced. "Weren't you listening to Professor Gryphonbeak at all this week Robbie? Wizard and witches don't apologise, they just remove the evidence."
"Is that why we're here?" Ronnie ran for the door to the bathroom, but Hermione pointed at it with her wand and muttered "Tentacular!" venomously. The door sprouted long brown tendril dripping with ichor and reached for Ronnie, who screamed and ran back to the door leading to the Chamber of Secrets.
"Not exactly," said Hermione. She kicked Harry, who was standing off to one side, drooling. "I've over-obliviated him I think; he needs a reminder every hour to breath. I need to work out how to unmush his brain a little."
"But this is the Chamber of Secrets!"
"So?" Hermione quirked an eyebrow.
"This is where Slytheralot's heir keeps snakes and vampire bats!"
"Oh don't be silly," said Hermione. She tossed her head, blonde hair switching from one shoulder to another. "It's just the graduate library, the secrets are all the spells in the books."
"It's guarded by a monster!"
"The Head Librarian, yes. But she's easily appeased with chocolate."
Ronnie stared, and subsided. "Fine," he said. "Let's go unmush Harry's brain."
Morganna - hahaha, that seems about right. I imagine I will get to experience some of that myself in the coming years...
g2 - look here, it's a g2 sighting! Hurray :)
This is fascinating and I would love to read more from this world you're creating. Really well done.
Greg - yeah, I'm pretty sure my guy is nuttier than a squirrel. Don't tell him I said that, though.
Ah, how I do enjoy your world of Harry Potter. You've got a real knack for playing with the characters :)
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