August 8, 2014

Fiction: A Disruption

Another fiction post everyone.  Same character as before.

I lay on the chaise in my long formal dress I wore to a few events in the late '20s.  I have no shame in wearing classics again.  I've been certain to keep my clothing classic so that I can look regal for decades rather than mere months.  Also shopping for clothing at night was harder to do when I first started out as a kindred.  It was easier to be practical, short of tricking a designer into your orchestra.

Above me I watch molecules bond to each other in a rhythm, reminding me of the Rites of Spring.  I remember when modern dance was new and I saw a performance, but dance never truly entertained me.   I preferred the symphony.  I've kept the song in symphony, performed by the atoms that pair off. They light up above in a soft light.  I am keen and comfortable.

The bonds lose their defining lines, and the lights begin to stay up, and are bright gold like incandescents.  The chaise is sinking into grass, yellow blades dimmed by nightfall. I look down and the dress... is no longer there.  I am clothed into something I can only describe to civilized individuals as a hand-sewn sack.   In the old standards this was beauty.  In the current standard it feels like a costume.  I'm itchy.

I sit up.  In front of me is a fire subsisting on nothing, lighting up the field as if it's mid afternoon.  I back away before standing up.  This is rare.  This small remembrance comes twice a decade, not in a true pattern.  I am no longer startled by it.  I merely hate that I must waste my time with it.

In the corner of my eyes I sense the shadows that sometimes linger.  I never truly catch them in my sight in front of me, so I do not try to catch them.  They're short, slight dark figures that just stand and stare back at me.  As I walk to the fire they follow me, still in the edges of my sight.  If they're not going to leave, I'll keep them at that difference.

Just by walking to the fire, it shrinks rapidly, until it is the size of a dime when I'm only a couple feet away from it.  I grin.

"Merely an exothermic process."

"Precisely," I hear Abel confirm.  He doesn't show, he is only heard.  "One that is hard to control, unfortunately, and can damage, but nothing unknown."

There is a part of me that wishes to touch it.  I don't wish to be used to that fantasy.  It won't be useful after my time in eclipse.

Suddenly the sky crashes around, pushing me on my back again.  I find myself in the long black dress I began my eclipse in, the irises and roses surrounding me.  the room is dimly lit.  I realize I can blink at will and the image stays the same.

Leaning over me is Lady Quinn, the dips and raises on the side of her face highlighted by the lighting.  She is dressed in a suit, but her hair is not pulled back.  I lick my lips and raise my brow.

"I apologize, Lady Quinn.  It is necessary."

I pull my shoulders back into the silk covered pillows I rest on.  "Understood.  Is it time?"

"This is... early, but brief."

"It is acceptable.  We are up to date on events?"

"There is a report on changes that will be pertinent for this brief summit."

"That is understood."  I pause.  "We still serve at the pleasure of the Prince?"

She cocks her head to the side.  "Of course."

In relief I close my eyes.  "Then this will pass quickly."

1 comment:

  1. Interesting. I find limiting myself to around eight hundred words for short stories and chapters allows good writing development.