Sunday, June 15, 2008

Bel and Beast, part 1

He was talking to a banana again. It was pretty bad today but they were low on medicine. He would have to take the rest of it today. She measured the putrid liquid and mixed it into his juice. He always drank all of his juice.

"Bel, what is that you have there?" He asked her in a confused tone. She smiled softly looking down on his bald head and stooped figure.

“Your juice, father. Here make sure you drink it all.” She replied softly and helped the cup to his lips. He slurped it down and smacked his lips.

“Jasmy, she looks just like you, she is so beautiful.” He said to a nearby chair. Bel steered him away to his bed in the corner.

“This is a wonderful bed, are you sure I can sleep here? The Queen won’t hang me for taking her bed, will she?” he mumbled on as Bel helped him under the silk sheets and onto the feather down mattress.

“No, the Queen wishes you comfort. She won’t harm you. Rest now and sleep easy.” She murmured softly and kissed his forehead. He drifted off immediately and Bel set to braiding her dark hair as Melissa came back with groceries.

“He’s sleeping?” She whispered and set her basket on the table. Bel gave a curt nod and stripped off her blue apron and dress. She opened a chest in a niche where no light touched. She pulled out leather armor and breeches of deerskin.

“You must go again so soon?” Mel asked picking the dress up off the floor and folding it. He blue eyes shined with worry as Bel’s brown eyes never did.

“Yes, that was the last of his medicine. We don’t have anything much of value to sell so I’ll have to scavenge from some ruins again.”

“I thought you wouldn’t have to go away again, you brought so much back last time.” She pleaded, almost wringing the dress in her hands. Bel sighed as she buckled the leather breast-plate.

“You know it costs so much already but if I hadn’t had to be treated maybe I wouldn’t have had to go again so soon.” Her eyes blazed as she laced the boots around her ankles.

“But we have many other things we could sell…” Mel cast a glance back at the sleeping wilted figure the the extravagant bed. It filled a whole corner of the homely hut by itself.

“I won’t sell anything that gives him any sort of comfort.” Bel stated in a hard voice and a cutting glance. “And if you’ve any sort of mind under that frizzy red hair of yours you will not sell anything I tell you not to sell.”

Mel bowed her head in silence, tears falling from her eyes and down a too young face. Bel made a face and sighed. Bel rose and loped over to her sister.

“I know it’s hard for you. You’re really too young for this. That’s why I go and you stay. I swear to come back to you and father.” Mel’s tears ran fast and hot now.

“No! That’s what they said before they didn’t come back too.” Mel sobbed quietly and Bel stroked her curly red hair.

“I know. We can’t lose anyone else. I will come back. Even if I’m mortally wounded I’ll be here before I die.” She held her younger sister for a moment longer, and then broke away.

“Time is short. I’ll be back as soon as I can. If you have to get more soon then sell some of my things.”


“You know I don’t wear jewelry. Sell anything that isn’t precious to me.” Bel commanded and kissed her sister.

“I’ll return dear heart. Be strong for me, I beg.” Bel darted out of the door and Mel started crying again.

"Please come back to us Bellatrix." She whispered to the afternoon sun.

* * * * *

This is the first part of a many part collection, or rather a longer story broken into smaller blogg-sized pieces. This was a particularly fun one to start. I got the idea from one of Jared Axelrod's episode of The Voice of Free Planet X where he features many short stories and tidbits that are quite exquisite.

Obviously I am a great fan of short story oriented podcasts and like to inform anyone of them at every chance I get. Jared does a great job with not only the content but with his stories and musings as well. It's a great pleasure listening to him daily.

Friday, June 13, 2008

Penelope (Penny) Death, Grim Reaper Extraordinaire.

“There are three things that I want to get across first.

  1. I love the color pink. If I could I would color the world with it.
  2. I did not choose my job and I don’t like it.
  3. I am Death. I am the so called Grim Reaper.

“I’m not sure this job should be passed down. Since I’m an only child it seems to have fallen on me but I am not exactly the dark and death kind of person. My father pulled the task off pretty well; I used to have nightmares about him and now that he is dead I probably will again.

“That’s another thing, I can’t retire or quit I have to die… I’m not sure how if you are the Reaper but I suppose it’s like your boss sends you the pink slip and some guards escort you off the premises. Anyway, I don’t know how to do my job. Well, not do it as in accomplish the tasks that are set before me but I can’t wear black. The problem is the uniform. I asked if I could change it but they are against an angel of death (my on invention) in a cute pink mini skirt and top with black accents and pink pumps.

“I think even if I was able to pull of the black tarp that is my uniform I still wouldn’t be any sort of intimidating. I’m only 5 foot even. I don’t even have height on my side. And I don’t like the scythe at all. It’s like two feet taller than I am and heavy. I mean shouldn’t it be made of something more up to date and lighter?

“I may take liberties to change it anyway. I mean if I’m going to be stuck doing this for the rest of my life I want to be able to stomach it at least. Of course I’ll have to leave the scythe but I might give it some kind of remodeling. The department head would have to approve it unfortunately since I need it infused with the severing magic to rip souls out.

“So I was thinking the outfit idea of a mini skirt would give me less trouble with men in general too, given that they’re straight that is. I could have a black belt with a skull and crossbones belt buckle, a black tank top and pink jacket? I suppose I could always change it according to weather and my mood. Of course after my graduation I won’t be as sensitive to the weather, like hypothermia and frostbite may be a bit chilly but it isn’t going to affect me after the numerous death charms I’ll have applied. Oooh and I can have my pink strappy shoes, I can change the laces to black.

“Yep, I’ll soon be looking great for the apocalypse. It’s good to look your best before showing up in front of large crowds. I hope that they have a charm for not tripping though. That would be really harsh to trip in front of a client. It defeats the whole purpose of being beautiful and terrifying like an almost immortal femme fatale.

“Ooops, I gotta go get ready for the death graduation. I gotta make sure my hair is perfect and stays that way, some of the charms are high powered and hit like typhoons.”

Thursday, June 12, 2008

Of Bloggs and drabble.

This is my new blog. I will try to post here every freaking day. It's more of a writing and short story journal than anything else. It's just so I can get some writing everyday and feel that I've accomplished something and maybe give me some more drive and courage on other aspects of writing. I will not write anything new today but I shall post a drabble I did a couple of days ago.

A drabble is a short short story of exactly one hundred words. I learned this nifty term from a podcast call the Drabblecast. This is a great podcast that specializes is strange fiction. They don't always do drabbles but do weekly short stories. Their tag line is, " Weekly flash fiction that brings strange stories from strange authors to strange listeners, such as yourself."

It is a wonderful podcast that is absolutely brilliant. Norm Sherman does a great job in the production and narration of the podcast with great intro and outro babble that is usually funny, entertaining and insightful. Okay, enough pimping of the podcast I'll go ahead and post my stuff and pimp more later.

They were yelling again. I sighed and dropped out of my window into the morning mist. The convenience store was open; I bought cheap cigarettes. I looked up from the sidewalk and saw Mary. She looked just like I did four years ago when we were the same age. She whored herself out and one night didn’t come back.

She pretended to ignore me while I lit a cigarette but I heard her voice in my head.

“Go home now, before they own you too.” I laughed and dropped my cigarette.

“You can never trust a bloodsucker.” I said quietly.