Woo, Good Friday (I know it wasn't when you put the prompt up)! Less work today! I'm pretty certain, by the way, that reversing polarities of a work magnet would just change the work from "things you need to do that are done when you pass them on" to "things that were done until we let you near them and now they need to be done again" so I don't want to try that experiment. Please :)
@Morganna: Another masterful acrostic that brings the energy and dynamism of a storm to life! I love the work choice in there, with a special shout-out going to 'turgid' and the way you use 'Overhead' on a line by itself like that.
[Sorry, hit the character-limit again. Hopefully it's worth it!]
The storm The pencil that the suited man set down on the desk rolled across it with a tiny rumble that seemed loud in the silence of the circle of light. He stared at it, but made no move to stop it, and it rolled off and bounced on the floor, clicking with each contact with creamy-white tiles. The man stared ahead. A hot breeze brushed past the child, this time from behind, and they turned their head slightly to see what was causing it. Instead of there being nothing there, just a wall of curved darkness that hinted at non-existence beyond it, there was a middle-aged woman. She was tall to the child, and she'd clearly been beautiful once. Her hair was blonde, except for a matted, bloodied patch on the side of her head where she'd been hit by something heavy and crushing. Her good eye was green and lively; the other eye was missing and the white bone of the eye socket jutted forward, thrust out of her skull by the impact to the side of her head. Her jaw was disarranged and though on the good side the teeth where white and straight, on the other they were higgledy-piggledy and looked loose. She was wearing a robin's egg blue blouse, stained down the arm by blood, and an ankle-length skirt that made a faint sussuration as she walked. The child's breath caught in their throat and their chest tightened. Their eyes widened, and they felt themselves start sweating across the top of their back. The woman walked in, and walked past, but the tension didn't leave the child. For a moment there was a smell of perfume, something with marigolds and peonies like a summer garden in late afternoon, and then there was just an aching cold and the memory of something hard and heavy smashing into an unprotected head.
The man stared forward, seemingly unaware of the woman's arrival. She stopped as his desk, and the child felt their fingers clench into impotent fists. The woman turned the exam paper to look at it, and only now did the man see her. He started up, the chair falling over and flying backwards behind him. It crashed to the tiles and skittered, and where it crossed outside the circle of light it disappeared completely. Two legs, shorn of support, dropped to the floor. "Gran!" "38%," said the woman. A red pen had appeared in her hand, and she was marking the paper. She looked up, meeting the man's gaze, and he ducked his head. His face was turning red and there was a dark patch spreading from the crotch of his suit trousers. "That's not a pass." "You're dead," said the man. He looked up now, and his eyes were narrowed, angry. His hands also clenched into fists. "I went to the funeral. To your funeral." "What for?" He stared, his mouth opening and closing like a fish's. "...what for? To pay my respects!" "You knew I was dead," said the woman. "You made sure of it. You killed me, then you changed my will, then you came back and checked I was dead and hit me a few more times to be certain. You were... thorough." The child thought they'd never heard such loathing in a voice before. "I might have forgiven you if you'd been that thorough in the rest of your life." "I was a good boy!" The man was shouting, but the woman was turning away from him now. He snatched at her, his hands reaching to grab her shoulders, but they passed through and he stumbled, off-balance, and staggered straight through where she was standing. "Outside this is the maelstrom," she said, and the child looked at the darkness. Perhaps it was starting to swirl and move? "It's not the end, since you did score some marks. If you survive this storm, there's a second chance." Her hand moved to the small of his back, and shoved. Already off balance, he fell forwards and outside the circle of light. There was a deafeningly loud noise, like thunder directly overhead, and he was gone. The woman walked back the way she'd come, leaving the other exam paper on the desk.
4 comments:
Sulky gray sky
Turgid clouds
Overhead
Rapidly approaching thunder
Meets lightning as the storm crashes down upon us.
Woo, Good Friday (I know it wasn't when you put the prompt up)! Less work today! I'm pretty certain, by the way, that reversing polarities of a work magnet would just change the work from "things you need to do that are done when you pass them on" to "things that were done until we let you near them and now they need to be done again" so I don't want to try that experiment. Please :)
@Morganna: Another masterful acrostic that brings the energy and dynamism of a storm to life! I love the work choice in there, with a special shout-out going to 'turgid' and the way you use 'Overhead' on a line by itself like that.
[Sorry, hit the character-limit again. Hopefully it's worth it!]
The storm
The pencil that the suited man set down on the desk rolled across it with a tiny rumble that seemed loud in the silence of the circle of light. He stared at it, but made no move to stop it, and it rolled off and bounced on the floor, clicking with each contact with creamy-white tiles. The man stared ahead.
A hot breeze brushed past the child, this time from behind, and they turned their head slightly to see what was causing it. Instead of there being nothing there, just a wall of curved darkness that hinted at non-existence beyond it, there was a middle-aged woman.
She was tall to the child, and she'd clearly been beautiful once. Her hair was blonde, except for a matted, bloodied patch on the side of her head where she'd been hit by something heavy and crushing. Her good eye was green and lively; the other eye was missing and the white bone of the eye socket jutted forward, thrust out of her skull by the impact to the side of her head. Her jaw was disarranged and though on the good side the teeth where white and straight, on the other they were higgledy-piggledy and looked loose. She was wearing a robin's egg blue blouse, stained down the arm by blood, and an ankle-length skirt that made a faint sussuration as she walked.
The child's breath caught in their throat and their chest tightened. Their eyes widened, and they felt themselves start sweating across the top of their back. The woman walked in, and walked past, but the tension didn't leave the child. For a moment there was a smell of perfume, something with marigolds and peonies like a summer garden in late afternoon, and then there was just an aching cold and the memory of something hard and heavy smashing into an unprotected head.
The man stared forward, seemingly unaware of the woman's arrival. She stopped as his desk, and the child felt their fingers clench into impotent fists. The woman turned the exam paper to look at it, and only now did the man see her. He started up, the chair falling over and flying backwards behind him. It crashed to the tiles and skittered, and where it crossed outside the circle of light it disappeared completely. Two legs, shorn of support, dropped to the floor.
"Gran!"
"38%," said the woman. A red pen had appeared in her hand, and she was marking the paper. She looked up, meeting the man's gaze, and he ducked his head. His face was turning red and there was a dark patch spreading from the crotch of his suit trousers. "That's not a pass."
"You're dead," said the man. He looked up now, and his eyes were narrowed, angry. His hands also clenched into fists. "I went to the funeral. To your funeral."
"What for?"
He stared, his mouth opening and closing like a fish's. "...what for? To pay my respects!"
"You knew I was dead," said the woman. "You made sure of it. You killed me, then you changed my will, then you came back and checked I was dead and hit me a few more times to be certain. You were... thorough." The child thought they'd never heard such loathing in a voice before. "I might have forgiven you if you'd been that thorough in the rest of your life."
"I was a good boy!" The man was shouting, but the woman was turning away from him now. He snatched at her, his hands reaching to grab her shoulders, but they passed through and he stumbled, off-balance, and staggered straight through where she was standing.
"Outside this is the maelstrom," she said, and the child looked at the darkness. Perhaps it was starting to swirl and move? "It's not the end, since you did score some marks. If you survive this storm, there's a second chance." Her hand moved to the small of his back, and shoved. Already off balance, he fell forwards and outside the circle of light. There was a deafeningly loud noise, like thunder directly overhead, and he was gone.
The woman walked back the way she'd come, leaving the other exam paper on the desk.
Morganna - ah, the acrostic master at work once again :)
Greg - yes, well, perhaps another option shall present itself that would be more... suitable :P
My goodness, business is picking up here. And now I'm left wondering who shall come to mark the child's test?
Post a Comment