Dagfinn
Maid Of Doom
So I'm attempting to write as many short stories as I can, so that I can become accustomed to actually finishing things I start. Even if in the end I'm not fond of the word [of course I'm going to try to do as well as I can]. I know there are a lot of flaws in this. There are many details I left out as to not draw out the scene too long, and I find the dialogue a bit dulled. However I would like critiques from others, [if you're willing to help] in my first of hopefully many short stories.
Smooth the handle in quivering hands, the ceramic mug felt warm almost amiable. Light, painted a sky blue and cloud white swirl of glassy glaze. Tea of a light tawny colouration. The fragrance of licorice and pine… Cheap metallic spoons and thin fraying napkins purposelessly lay strewn across a cracked glass tabletop. Carefully she swirled the liquid with a tip of the mug. A rattle of metal against ceramic persistently click-clip cutting away at her focus and thought. Accompanying the clamor, to join in disturbing harmless contemplation came a clip-click of an anxious heavy-weighted foot against a grimy-dirt covered tiled floor. A the deliberate drop of his spoon… An almost flat clatter-clang cutting away at her conscious mind. She decided.
The mug brought up to her mouth, the scalding tea stinging her sealed lips. The smell of licorice and pine… It brought an aching to her mind. An emotion, a feeling. Somewhere between the surfacing of a forgotten memory blocked by sheer will power and the guilt felt for something someone else did for something one had no control over. The steam clung childishly to her glasses, as if afraid of collecting-condensation on the dilapidated molding roof.
Closing her eyes part out of necessity, part out of want. Dilatory at opening the gates, letting flow the flood of tea. Tea and tears.
Soft sigh pushing through the nose, air as hot as the surrounding steam. She finally tipped her head back and drank. The tea tearing at her throat momentarily until eventually she couldn't feel it at all. Tasteless, nothing, her mind reached to have the smell again but nothing came. Part of her wished it to be some sort of sappy poetic flavour at least. Bitter, bitter-sweet. Having nothing at all felt rather aerie, in the least irksome.
The spidery-web glass cracks crept forward to welcome the mug once she placed it back down. The boy across from her took a tentative sip from his mug. Looking at her over the rim of the mug momentarily. When he set the mug down this time the spidery-web glass cracks did not jump up to meet the rim of his mug, almost seeming afraid to touch the mug.
"Screw, you," the girl finally spoke up, and in the moment all the sounds digging into her brain seemed to stop. Almost unable to even hear the words that came out of her mouth.
He grabbed a new spoon up off the table, ribboning the thin metal between his fingers. Almost as if waiting for her to continue. He cut her off at the last moment when she attempted a continuation.
"I suppose we can stop pretending now-" the cold of his voice extended out into the air, chilling reality around them, "-like this is meant to be, ah, a making amends meeting then?"
"Ha…" nervous intractable laugher, yet she managed to ease back into her seat and close her eyes, "yes, I suppose we can stop pretending."
Again an intentional drop of the spoon, This time she flinched, quick biting her tongue following. Choosing to be civil regardless of his juvenile mind games.
"So you knew?" slightly amused in his question, "you do, know right?"
"That you're a coward? Yes, I always knew that," managing a shrug.
"Not, what, I… Not what I meant," almost angered now, he sighed.
"You're the one that always vowed to beat me… In battle, I mean. Personally, I would've preferred a game of chess. Odds of you winner were the same in both cases. As least in chess it wouldn't end with you in the hospital."
"I. Have. Nev-" he pulled back the bitter words, calming quickly, "orders are orders. We have been head to head too long, he didn't appreciate it. I figured you would be trusting like Cynthia, here I sit being wrong on the matter. Yet I have still won… Now is where I pretend to wonder why you drank the tea."
There was no need to pretend on that matter, he was more eager to know her reasons than she was to finish off the drink in full. Instead he acted in his nonchalant manner. Managing well to keep his calm demeanor all around.
"Well, if you don't care," she knew he wanted to know, possibly needed to know. Although she herself was not entirely certain of the reasons for her actions. All she could offer him, a simple shrug, "then I won't bore you with the details."
Refraining from showing his frustration, the boy took up his mug again. Taking larger drinks of the liquid than before. Until eventually the mug emptied. One more thing dropped onto the ground, a shattering of the ceramic. She sat up after a the jarring noises caused a noticeable flinch.
"I do not even know why I try," he stood up, "you didn't even take notice to the details I gave to this."
"Details? This place is a dump, might as well have taken me to a pub or something. Would've been cleaner, better atmosphere. And, I could actually hear my own thoughts there."
He stepped on the broken shards of ceramic with a heavy foot, before looking up at her. Establishing eye contact, which she was happy to reciprocate "You don't… You don't remember do you?"
"Remember, what exactly?" her voice harshening.
"I…" his foot dug against the shards on the ground, more or less he could play it cool. Even if she could see through it in the end, he could be a convincing actor to most. In this moment however, he was clearly… Upset, disappointed, maybe even a bit sad.
"Forget it, I'll be leaving now. Have fun, ya know… Dying."
The feet shuffling across the disheveled ground faded as she pulled herself back into thoughts. That smell of tea, and forgotten memories. Fingers now weaving through grease and dirt slicked hair, she couldn't remember the last time she had a chance to shower let alone the thing itched at the base of her skull. Not until a deep sigh released did she notice how hard she bit into the lower lip.
"The tea?" she finally asked, right as the feet reached the door frame. Hands beginning to trace the splintered wood.
"What about it?" the voice now found a tone empty of feeling.
"You hate tea, why tea?" she turned around in her seat to look at him. Him, still turned away from her, rocking on his heels now.
"As do you," he noted quietly, hand wrapping around the frame as to steady himself.
"Well I don-" her voice pattered off she couldn't recall ever saying she hated tea, it was more a distaste for it. Cold or hot. No particular reasoning. As one might not partake in alcohol, or rarely drink juice. A simple thoughtless action. Though he seemed rather stern in his reply, as if it were fact.
"At least you did," he leaned against the door frame now, still facing away from her. "I remember your prattling about your silly mother and her obsession with tea. You said it burnt your tongue and you hated it, forever. Though, forever is a long time for a young kid," after letting out an involuntary breathy laugh the room seemed to rattle with surprise, though he seemed unfazed in that moment, "he-I-I used to preten-" bitting on his tongue his mood dampened, "It doesn't matter anymore, you don't remember and I rather forget too. In a few minutes it so…."
"I won't be your problem anymore, right," she nodded facing forward, "will it hurt?"
"I don't know…" his answer seemed uncertain, yet also a lie. Without viewing him, things were harder to read. Instead however she relaxed in the chair and closed her eyes. Maybe to be uncertain would be better.
"It is still not too late for you, you could find Cat and… Go somewhere safe for awhile, when things blow over it won't be hard to go back to a normal life again," she gave a heartfelt laugh, "if you do that I won't have to stick around and haunt you.
He on vaguely smiled, yet a fade came in almost an instant. "You know that won't work. Cat well, you know how head strong she is. The rest is just fantasy an-."
"Our whole fucking lives have been a fantasy, from day one. I told you that…."
He signed, "yes, a fantasy. It's all come true, so why not that too. Look, things are a lot less bleak then you might think."
"Oh?" she turned around, surprised to find him now standing behind her. Not until the surprise did her body inform her of the ever growing tired state, almost dizzy though only at a vague degree. She managed a genuine smile and closed her eyes, letting herself relax with the drug. Was this what dying felt like? She wasn't sure.
"See you in hell loser," no malice in her voice, as if it was a simple joke to her. It was her choice in the end after all.
He leaned down next to her, softly whispering in her ear, "just please, don't go looking for me."
The hard chair and the cold room slowly gave way to a soft ground and warm sun on her skin, the words still echoing in her head.
'Don't go looking for me.'
Smooth the handle in quivering hands, the ceramic mug felt warm almost amiable. Light, painted a sky blue and cloud white swirl of glassy glaze. Tea of a light tawny colouration. The fragrance of licorice and pine… Cheap metallic spoons and thin fraying napkins purposelessly lay strewn across a cracked glass tabletop. Carefully she swirled the liquid with a tip of the mug. A rattle of metal against ceramic persistently click-clip cutting away at her focus and thought. Accompanying the clamor, to join in disturbing harmless contemplation came a clip-click of an anxious heavy-weighted foot against a grimy-dirt covered tiled floor. A the deliberate drop of his spoon… An almost flat clatter-clang cutting away at her conscious mind. She decided.
The mug brought up to her mouth, the scalding tea stinging her sealed lips. The smell of licorice and pine… It brought an aching to her mind. An emotion, a feeling. Somewhere between the surfacing of a forgotten memory blocked by sheer will power and the guilt felt for something someone else did for something one had no control over. The steam clung childishly to her glasses, as if afraid of collecting-condensation on the dilapidated molding roof.
Closing her eyes part out of necessity, part out of want. Dilatory at opening the gates, letting flow the flood of tea. Tea and tears.
Soft sigh pushing through the nose, air as hot as the surrounding steam. She finally tipped her head back and drank. The tea tearing at her throat momentarily until eventually she couldn't feel it at all. Tasteless, nothing, her mind reached to have the smell again but nothing came. Part of her wished it to be some sort of sappy poetic flavour at least. Bitter, bitter-sweet. Having nothing at all felt rather aerie, in the least irksome.
The spidery-web glass cracks crept forward to welcome the mug once she placed it back down. The boy across from her took a tentative sip from his mug. Looking at her over the rim of the mug momentarily. When he set the mug down this time the spidery-web glass cracks did not jump up to meet the rim of his mug, almost seeming afraid to touch the mug.
"Screw, you," the girl finally spoke up, and in the moment all the sounds digging into her brain seemed to stop. Almost unable to even hear the words that came out of her mouth.
He grabbed a new spoon up off the table, ribboning the thin metal between his fingers. Almost as if waiting for her to continue. He cut her off at the last moment when she attempted a continuation.
"I suppose we can stop pretending now-" the cold of his voice extended out into the air, chilling reality around them, "-like this is meant to be, ah, a making amends meeting then?"
"Ha…" nervous intractable laugher, yet she managed to ease back into her seat and close her eyes, "yes, I suppose we can stop pretending."
Again an intentional drop of the spoon, This time she flinched, quick biting her tongue following. Choosing to be civil regardless of his juvenile mind games.
"So you knew?" slightly amused in his question, "you do, know right?"
"That you're a coward? Yes, I always knew that," managing a shrug.
"Not, what, I… Not what I meant," almost angered now, he sighed.
"You're the one that always vowed to beat me… In battle, I mean. Personally, I would've preferred a game of chess. Odds of you winner were the same in both cases. As least in chess it wouldn't end with you in the hospital."
"I. Have. Nev-" he pulled back the bitter words, calming quickly, "orders are orders. We have been head to head too long, he didn't appreciate it. I figured you would be trusting like Cynthia, here I sit being wrong on the matter. Yet I have still won… Now is where I pretend to wonder why you drank the tea."
There was no need to pretend on that matter, he was more eager to know her reasons than she was to finish off the drink in full. Instead he acted in his nonchalant manner. Managing well to keep his calm demeanor all around.
"Well, if you don't care," she knew he wanted to know, possibly needed to know. Although she herself was not entirely certain of the reasons for her actions. All she could offer him, a simple shrug, "then I won't bore you with the details."
Refraining from showing his frustration, the boy took up his mug again. Taking larger drinks of the liquid than before. Until eventually the mug emptied. One more thing dropped onto the ground, a shattering of the ceramic. She sat up after a the jarring noises caused a noticeable flinch.
"I do not even know why I try," he stood up, "you didn't even take notice to the details I gave to this."
"Details? This place is a dump, might as well have taken me to a pub or something. Would've been cleaner, better atmosphere. And, I could actually hear my own thoughts there."
He stepped on the broken shards of ceramic with a heavy foot, before looking up at her. Establishing eye contact, which she was happy to reciprocate "You don't… You don't remember do you?"
"Remember, what exactly?" her voice harshening.
"I…" his foot dug against the shards on the ground, more or less he could play it cool. Even if she could see through it in the end, he could be a convincing actor to most. In this moment however, he was clearly… Upset, disappointed, maybe even a bit sad.
"Forget it, I'll be leaving now. Have fun, ya know… Dying."
The feet shuffling across the disheveled ground faded as she pulled herself back into thoughts. That smell of tea, and forgotten memories. Fingers now weaving through grease and dirt slicked hair, she couldn't remember the last time she had a chance to shower let alone the thing itched at the base of her skull. Not until a deep sigh released did she notice how hard she bit into the lower lip.
"The tea?" she finally asked, right as the feet reached the door frame. Hands beginning to trace the splintered wood.
"What about it?" the voice now found a tone empty of feeling.
"You hate tea, why tea?" she turned around in her seat to look at him. Him, still turned away from her, rocking on his heels now.
"As do you," he noted quietly, hand wrapping around the frame as to steady himself.
"Well I don-" her voice pattered off she couldn't recall ever saying she hated tea, it was more a distaste for it. Cold or hot. No particular reasoning. As one might not partake in alcohol, or rarely drink juice. A simple thoughtless action. Though he seemed rather stern in his reply, as if it were fact.
"At least you did," he leaned against the door frame now, still facing away from her. "I remember your prattling about your silly mother and her obsession with tea. You said it burnt your tongue and you hated it, forever. Though, forever is a long time for a young kid," after letting out an involuntary breathy laugh the room seemed to rattle with surprise, though he seemed unfazed in that moment, "he-I-I used to preten-" bitting on his tongue his mood dampened, "It doesn't matter anymore, you don't remember and I rather forget too. In a few minutes it so…."
"I won't be your problem anymore, right," she nodded facing forward, "will it hurt?"
"I don't know…" his answer seemed uncertain, yet also a lie. Without viewing him, things were harder to read. Instead however she relaxed in the chair and closed her eyes. Maybe to be uncertain would be better.
"It is still not too late for you, you could find Cat and… Go somewhere safe for awhile, when things blow over it won't be hard to go back to a normal life again," she gave a heartfelt laugh, "if you do that I won't have to stick around and haunt you.
He on vaguely smiled, yet a fade came in almost an instant. "You know that won't work. Cat well, you know how head strong she is. The rest is just fantasy an-."
"Our whole fucking lives have been a fantasy, from day one. I told you that…."
He signed, "yes, a fantasy. It's all come true, so why not that too. Look, things are a lot less bleak then you might think."
"Oh?" she turned around, surprised to find him now standing behind her. Not until the surprise did her body inform her of the ever growing tired state, almost dizzy though only at a vague degree. She managed a genuine smile and closed her eyes, letting herself relax with the drug. Was this what dying felt like? She wasn't sure.
"See you in hell loser," no malice in her voice, as if it was a simple joke to her. It was her choice in the end after all.
He leaned down next to her, softly whispering in her ear, "just please, don't go looking for me."
The hard chair and the cold room slowly gave way to a soft ground and warm sun on her skin, the words still echoing in her head.
'Don't go looking for me.'
