Wednesday, February 14, 2007
New Beginning 216
Sea spray. The brine stings in my nostrils, lays heavy on my tongue.
My mage inhales deeply, pronounces it, “Brisk.” She smiles.
The air has the taste of uncleaned fish. My stomach growls. I follow my mage up a plank that leads to the deck of a ship.
A guard challenges us. I smell his fear, but he hides it well. His voice barely quavers. “This ship is a private vessel, not for hire,” he says. “Seek passage elsewhere.”
My mage’s grin spreads slow across her face. “I’m not a passenger. I’m crew.”
The guard laughs. It is not a pleasant sound. “Is that what the captain be calling his whores now?” His thumb jerks toward me. “And what be that?”
My muscles tense, but my mage’s raised hand stays me. She flings to him her proof of contract. She is huntress here, controls his moves.
The guard catches it, looks at it, at her. His eyes are those of a cornered hart. Prey knows when it is trapped.
“Well?” Her voice has deepened. I can hear her annoyance.
The guard points over his shoulder. “Your cabin be der.”
My mage snaps her robe and stalks past him. A quick motion with her hand and the door to our cabin swings open. “Insolent buffoon,” she mutters. Her fingers trail down my arm. “You’ve been lonely since we lost Netch. Perhaps we should replace him?"
I tell her that I wish only for her long and painful death, but my words come out as chittering gibberish. She smiles and pats the fur on my face. I hop away from her and--
"Derivative drivel," I hear Miss Snark intone.
The harshness of her words falls fast upon my ears, weighs heavy in my soul. I shake my head, bare my teeth. Search for a way to prove her wrong.
The word knows when it is written.
The sentence knows when it is read.
I feel the despair, like the crumbling of a decaying log kicked into dissolution, as my life is, thoughtless, thrown back upon the shelf.
The reader knows when he's been screwed.
Opening: Phoenix.....Continuation: Rashenbo/Anonymous