Monday, January 08, 2007

A Wee Bit of Trumpet Blowing

Well, I finally did it, I finally entered one of these bloggy competitions, you can read me here. You can also read me here. To kick start the challenge here are my five hundred words.

She had nothing more than luck and good timing on her side the day she locked me away. But one day I would be free, I just hope that she didn’t kill herself before I could. On my timescale fifteen years was nothing, but she had achieved what lesser demons only dreamed of and that PISSED-ME-OFF. And believe me, I am not someone you want to piss off; not when you’ve let me into your deepest fears.

Her hold had been diminishing for some time now and one day my world shook and a crack appeared, just a slither of light seeped through into my prison, but it was enough for me to slip through and there she lay. In fifteen years the Crystal lady had eaten away at her nostrils and flesh leaving a skin covered sack of bones. No make up could cover up the fact that this mistress had tried to forget me; it almost made me smile.

When she woke up she turned the place upside down looking for the powder for her nose. I heard her crying and moaning, she knew it was somewhere and I knew exactly where it was and finally she saw me. “Fuck!” She exhaled. “You! It can’t...” She trembled and her red-rimmed eyes brimmed over and spilled salt.

“Now don’t tell me you didn’t realise this day would come.”

“I, I, I...” She staggered around the room until her eyes fell on the box in my hand. “Fuck!”

“It’s in here. What you’re looking for.” I opened the box and the sweet poppy smell filled the room.

She fell onto her bony knees, grappling at my legs. “I’m sorry, you scared me. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“When did you not know what you were doing? The day you sold me your soul or the day you locked me away?” Dribble oozed from the side of her mouth as her eyes begged forgiveness. “It’s in here Lara,” I waved the box in front of her again. “Take it.” I waved the box before her.

“What is it?” Her feral nose wrinkled at the end.

“What you desire.”

“You tricked me before.” She curled up onto her haunches. I raised an eyebrow. “Just tell me?” She begged.

“Are you scared to look?” I took her by the wrist. “You were scared that day weren’t you? The day you held on and couldn’t look.”

“I couldn’t look. All that water, all those bodies.” Her body quivered as I laid her on the bed.

“And I took that away for you didn’t I?” I stroked her feverish forehead and opened the box a crack.

“What is it? It’s so blue?” She craned forward.

“It’s the sea my darling.” I cooed as I pushed her in and kept her under.

In the end the coroner wrote ‘drug overdose’ on her death certificate. He couldn’t bring himself to write drowning on an official document when she lived two thousand metres above sea level.

Copyright, 2007, Verilion


Susan Abraham said...

I liked this, Verilion. You hone a style all your own. You could write pulp fiction easily: dark themes that offer sudden glimpses of light. :-)

Atyllah said...

Oooh, creepy stuff, V - very well done - also really liked the piece over at C o t N.

Verilion said...

Oh thanks you guys. You know I believe there is a reader's choice there! Ok maybe that is going a little too far on the trumpet blowing scene.


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