By The Book (Flash! Friday)

John Talbot's presentation of the Book of Shrewsbury to Queen Margaret of Anjou ca 1445 AD. Public domain, courtesy of the British Library Royal.


By The Book

They’d been told the ceremony would be strictly by the book beforehand; had the spiel on protocol.  Now, they were listening to words familiar yet foreign; not foreseen in the circumstances – at least, not today.  It had kind of been sprung on them.  Kelly thought she was a little young yet to be making her vows for forever - though she hadn’t been asked to voice an opinion – felt dwarfed by the tall priestly presence before them, bible at the ready.  James was shuffling sideways, hands in blazer pockets, increasing the distance between them, to the extent that he was able.  That was fine by Kelly, too.  If by some miracle he made it out the door, it would save them both from their coupled fate in the presence of witnesses who would never let them forget it.

“Do you..”

Soon it was over.  Married in name and taught her lesson, Kelly thanked God the Religious Studies session wasn’t binding.

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My Flash! Friday Vol-2-35 entry.

The Party To End All Parties (Luminous Creatures)

(Photo courtesy of Beth Deitchman)


The Party To End All Parties

Mark passes dancers, graceful in movement to music, kegs, debaters, clusters of people clutching mugs of tea on his right and others indulging in what he thinks passes for tai chi on his left, warm sand grains lodging between his toes, as he makes for his goal.  He knows where she will be whilst the tide is out.

“Hey, you,” he says, settling himself onto the outstretched picnic blanket.

“Hey,” Rach says, glancing at him, before her gaze returns to the horizon.

“Fancy seeing you here.”

“Fancy indeed,” Rach returns, without inflection.  She offers him a plastic beaker.  “Afraid I started without you.  Apologies and all that.  Figured you wouldn’t mind in the circumstances.”

“Guess not.  Means I’m playing catch up though, doesn’t it?  You going to give me chance?”  Mark is rewarded with a look, Rach’s blue eyes catching hold of his, holding him in place briefly, before she looks away again, with a shake of her head.  The slight breeze whips her dark hair away from her shoulders, before bringing it to rest again.  “Sorry.  Should’ve thought about that one really.”

Rach shrugs.

“No, really,” Mark says.  “I don’t want to waste time arsing about.  Not today.”

“With so much to experience at the party to end all parties,” Rach says, mocking.  “Why would you?”

“Seriously?” Mark says, reaching towards her, to turn her chin gently in his direction.  His fingers move strands of hair from across her face. 

“Well, who can blame you for wanting to spend your final moments with me, I guess.  After all, I am the best thing you’ve never had.”  Rach casts a glance in Mark’s direction, eyebrows raising pointedly; mischievous; possibly semi self-mocking too.  He grins at her, simple and sudden – the change in her mood is infectious.

“Possibly you are, at that,” he responds.  “Why is that again?” 

“You weren’t particularly clear on your reasons,” Rach says, with a smile, the first proper one he has seen tonight.

“Glad we finally solved that one then, at the end of everything.”

“Does it matter?” Rach says, querying.  There is no rancour in the question; it simply is.

“Not really,” Mark answers, swigging from his cup.  The liquor is strong, burning slightly as it passes down his throat.  Proper firewater.  He coughs slightly, as Rach pats him swiftly several times on the back.

“Okay?” she asks, then frowns, brow creasing.  “Bugger.  Stupid question.  Scratch that.”

“Just come here,” Mark says.  He has been looking into the distance, towards the skyline.  The tide is turning, though they have time before they are done yet.  He holds out a hand.  Rach moves closer, cuddling into the circle of his arm, wrapping her own around him in return.  There is a slight chill as the waves move nearer to the shore, though they are warm enough, huddled together.  There is a murmur from the distant revellers, celebrating or commiserating in their own fashion, as they sit, waiting.  No need for words between them.  Not any more.

(500 words)

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Another piece for Luminous Creatures Week Nine after a slight break.  I enjoyed writing there again this week and some great stories from everyone else across at the site too!

In The Eye Of The Beholder (Horror Bites)

In The Eye Of The Beholder

Mike wanted to remember the minutiae; the passing moments, easy to forget. The simplest gestures, as she sipped her coffee in the morning in the café, savouring that first taste; the casual spread hand, holding the pages of her book apart as she read; the sweeping of the curls from her forehead; flame lit in the sudden glint of sun.  He would retain it all.  That was the why.  Now he could.  And would.  They had assured him of total recall, as and when; whenever.  Hit of a switch, no glitch.  Prompt playback.  It had proved perfection so far – and pretty painless, all things considered.  Worth a slight discomfort, for considerably greater gain.  No more moments lost; not ever. 

Mike had them all to hand, for later evenings - date order; perfectly catalogued.  Something to while away the time whilst they were apart.  It allowed him to appreciate her lipstick kissed smile.  Sadly, he hadn’t seen that in a while.  Checking back, it had been one week, one day, nine hours and twenty five minutes, precisely.  More recently, it had been replaced by a slight crease of the brow – something he simply wanted to smooth away.  It had been there too often – six occasions and counting.  He had.  He knew.  Just not what to do about it – and he had thought it through, many times.  So much so, he had a headache somewhere behind the back of his eyeballs; a grinding, relentless thud, which wouldn’t give over, no matter how many painkillers he took. 

Mike had tried distracting himself; replaying recent moments of footage.  It simply seemed to make things worse – the dull ache becoming a hammer head pounding out its drum beat, making him queasy to the stomach.  It made him wonder, given its recent appearance.  They had, after all, offered him complete and total recall, no limits.  There had, however, been no guarantee that there would be sufficient space or storage, capacity-wise, to allow for it fully.  He wanted – needed - for it to fit.  No matter what, he had to have everything.  He had to have her.  

(350 words)

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Another piece for the Office Mango "Horror Bites" challenge, which I haven't been unable to write for for a while, unfortunately, due to lack of proper internet access and time constraints.  It's nice to be able to put something together for the prompt again!  This one is my random sci-fi (sort of) stalker story.. 

Box of Tricks (MWBB)

Seth watches from the back of the room as the cloaked figure on stage chooses his volunteer. The entertainers are here to cast their temporary spell over the village and there are plenty of seated occupants to select from. “You there! Join me!” he commands, sweeping the fabric across his shoulders to display the sleeves of the dark suit beneath. He points at a fair haired man a couple of rows from the front, who puts a “who me” hand to his chest, before moving slowly towards the stairs. Seth knows him, of course. Jon Tate.  He is smiling slightly as he looks at the man, she thinks, casting a sideways glance at the tall, black box towards the rear of the stage.  His smile fades at the corners as he does.

The magician – who does not name or otherwise introduce himself – all part of the act, a magician must retain his secrets - unhinges the box from its moorings, turns it inside out, black velvet interior displayed to all and sundry - nothing to see here – before reassembling the walls on three sides to leave the foremost section open for entry. Jon is guided with a gesture towards its centre.  Seth thinks he hesitates infinitesimally before he takes the steps which will place him within its confines and the door to the box is closed again with him inside and away from sight.

***

It is dark in the nothing. “Hello?” a voice calls.  Jon looks into the pitch without seeing.  Places a hand in front of himself, seeking some form of orientation to no avail.

“Hello?”  A voice speaks again.  It is male, no way to gauge an age.  Jon stays silent for a moment.  

“Hello?”  There is a tremble in the word this time.  “Is anyone there?  I’m Aaron.  I can’t find my way home.  I think I’ve been trying for over a year!”

Another voice joins the first.  “I’m Bethany.  It’s been four weeks and three days since I’ve been here – I think.”

Then another. “I’m Richard.  I don’t know how long I’ve been here in the dark.”

“Joe.”

“Will.”

“Tara.”

A cavalcade of introductions.  Too many to count, all together, yet alone, in the dark.  Jon finds himself hugging his hands to his knees as the names emerge from nowhere and everywhere; the names of those locked in.  They are nothing and yet everything in the dark.

***

The hinges to the box are removed once again, slats pulled from one another, before he takes his bow and the curtain falls.  There is nothing behind the walls, amongst the black velvet, as the sections are held aloft and displayed to the appreciative audience.  No sign that it was ever occupied or trace of Jon remains.  There is a buzz, then silence from the seated mass, as the box disappears from sight behind the fabric post denouement. 

Seth keeps her eyes on the magician as his own sweep the wood of the stage, then raise themselves towards the crowds, though they are too far apart to exchange a proper glance.  She nods an acknowledgment, before turning to depart, hidden amongst the others who are leaving their seats now they appreciate the act is genuinely finished.  The murmurs begin once they move through the theatre doors into the open spaces beyond them.  Seth does not wait to hear what it is they say.  No need to.  She knows all too well the secrets the act has concealed.  It is what comes of dancing with the devil and arranging Jon’s introduction personally.  She suspects if he had known where it would lead, things wouldn’t have ended so badly between them.   

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Another Mid-Week Blues-Buster entry for Week 2.16 - the song prompt this week was Morphine's "Buena".  This one placed second.

Making Their Next Move (VisDare)

Photo Source (via VisDare-68)

Making Their Next Move

David knew where he needed to be now.  It was there in his head, crystal, where a minute before had been cloudy confusion.  He had the steps imprinted; contours of the horizon; knew to the day how long it would take and who he would meet there.  The why was hidden from him but he knew enough not to worry.  That, too, would become clear when necessary; no need to question now.

“Close call with your piece!” a figure to the right of the board commented. “Thought you were going to have trouble deciding where to send him for a while.”

“Just toying with you,” the second responded, hand hovering over several figures not yet in play. “He was always set for war.”

“Tomorrow for that? We’ve still the rebellion in Argyn to stall and things are looking decidedly dicey over in Syll on board four…” 

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150 words for a surreal photo prompt.  This week's word was "precarious", hence the agitation and various aspects of unrest in the various worlds the mysterious game players are manipulating...

A Fairy Tale Existence (Angry Hourglass)

Photo via Ashwin Rao (courtesy of Angry Hourglass "Flash Frenzy" Round 26)


A Fairy Tale Existence

“It’s gotten beyond a joke!” Gerda exclaimed.

“More importantly, how do we stop it?” Kai asked.

They were gathered in Tale’s town hall to debate the question which had preyed on their minds as things reached crisis point.  That is, those who were still left to save their livelihood. 

“It’s not as though no one knows the score!” Beauty added.

“All right for you,” Goldie said.  “You’re not signed up for indentured servitude.  All you do is sleep.  Raw deal, that!”

“It’s not like I picked, is it?” Beauty responded.  “Besides, aren’t we missing the real point?  The Prince is already trekking in search of Psyche, which flies in the face of pretty much everything, including genre.  Cinders doesn’t care – says she’s sick of re-enacting their first date, anyway; that it got stale on repeat.  Plus, there are only so many times you can fake excitement about an old shoe – even a Choo.  Her words – not mine.”

“Snow’s happy,” Lina said.

“Happy with Happy,” Red observed.  “Hadn’t heard that?  Recent thing, unsurprisingly.”

“Fair play,” Kai said, eyebrow raised.  “Though maybe not in the current climate,” he added, in response to glares from several directions.

“You know there are gaps in the stories already?” Beauty said.  “They’re going to notice, even if they do know them by heart and don’t have to get the books out each time.  Stands to reason.  We’re going to be found out.”

“Don’t make this a group thing!  I didn’t agree to a character strike!” Wolf interjected, teeth flashing.  “Some of us know our place!”

“Which is fine when our place is eat not be eaten,” Red responded. “Grandma’s obviously not here pre regeneration to have her say.”

“We’re heading for revolution,” Lina said, glumly. “Had to happen sometime, given current role distribution.”

“If Tale Town and fairy tales full stop are going to carry on existing we have to sort this,” Beauty said.  “Think, people!”  The characters tried to, before they faded from black on the page, to grey, then white on white, confronted by their overwhelming rigidity.  Perhaps they should have been more like the Prince, after all, if they were to save themselves. 

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Another "Hourglass" entry based on the photo prompt.  Again, I tried to do something slightly different with this one, given a couple of more serious entries.

A Matter Of Time (VisDare)

Photo Source (via VisDare-67-Expectant)


A Matter Of Time

It would work if they waited. It was just a matter of time. Dot had taken hers preparing it, so as to avoid detection. Little by little, removing the loam, digging down into the dirt. Wouldn't do to make it too deep though - it would take too long. They needed it now. She smiled, hand above her eyes to cut the glare, Tab on her shoulder. A quick cry and she knew they were in business. She had them where she wanted them, down in the hole. Dot grinned, displaying gums bereft of teeth, pleased with her success. That'd teach 'em! The kids from across the road had been playing in her garden for weeks now, creating divots in her carefully tended lawn, picking petals from plant life. They wouldn't be doing that for a while. She would let them out, of course. Later. Once they had learned their lesson.

(150 words)

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Another VisDare entry.  This week's word prompt was "expectant".