Hypocrite....hypocrite....hypocrite....
The nagging word crooned itself into Emmy's mind over and over again until she felt a burning in her chest that tore into her heart.
I'm not!
Hypocrite...hypocrite.....hypocrite....
I'm not!
Are you sure about that?
Tears burned her eyes as she walked stormily home, the early May breeze blowing cold and fast. The promise of rain hung in the air and Emmy knew her father would be at home taking in the hummingbird feeder before it could blow to the ground with a smash. Shivering, Emmy tried to shrug off the cold, condemning feelings as easily as she could the quivering of her skin. She heard her voice echo inside her head, the words she'd spoken only a few hours ago.
"You were drinking and smoking!? What on earth for? Don't you realize how dangerous that is?" She'd been aghast, horrified for her friend. "What if you get addicted or alcoholic?"
"I've only done it once or twice."
"But still..."
"I won't get addicted."
"You better not!"
Emmy tried to bury the memory, her self-righteous Shoulder Angel digging deep into her mind for a hiding place. But her conscience wouldn't leave her be. Still it chanted on and on....
Hypocrite.....hypocrite....hypocrite.....
Friday, May 17, 2013
Thursday, May 16, 2013
Wandering Key
What makes that magic that shines like gold?
It's like a key and a lock.
You fit together.
And everything clicks.
I wish I had that.
I see it around me.
People everywhere. Smiling. Happy. Clicking.
They click.
I don't.
"Why not?" I wonder. What's so wrong with me?
Why am I so different, so far apart, so always alone?
I miss that feeling of a You plus Me.
I miss the way it made me feel invincible and ready to fly high away.
Like nothing could ever make me afraid.
I don't know who "You" is,
Or how to find You among all the Thems
I'm lonely.
Never more lonely than when there's a crowd.
Because it's always a clicking crowd.
And I'm just a wandering key....
It's like a key and a lock.
You fit together.
And everything clicks.
I wish I had that.
I see it around me.
People everywhere. Smiling. Happy. Clicking.
They click.
I don't.
"Why not?" I wonder. What's so wrong with me?
Why am I so different, so far apart, so always alone?
I miss that feeling of a You plus Me.
I miss the way it made me feel invincible and ready to fly high away.
Like nothing could ever make me afraid.
I don't know who "You" is,
Or how to find You among all the Thems
I'm lonely.
Never more lonely than when there's a crowd.
Because it's always a clicking crowd.
And I'm just a wandering key....
Ell
Just like that, the sadness is gone and dark malice replaces it on his face. But it's too late. That sadness is what makes it impossible for me to hate him. Somehow it gives me hope when he looks at me like that, like maybe in a way he's sorry for what I've become, sorry for what he's made me.
Sorry that I'm just like him.
With a single word he can wound me, and with that remorseful gaze I'm disarmed for the attack. Whatever comes now will crush me more than it ever could have a few moments ago. I brace myself, but there's no way I could prepare for what's coming.
"Don't worry my dear. You'll soon have money enough to repay me. The Count expressed his interest last night and I think you'll find yourself with a fortune before too long." He dabs his mouth with a napkin, the red of the turik eggs staining like a slash of blood against the pure white cloth.
I feel my pulse quicken. One has few clear memories of anything that happens under the effects of mogdoggen. I condemn myself silently, angry that I allowed myself to be tricked. I know I shouldn't ask, but curiosity wins over common sense. I have to know more about my apparent fate.
"Which one was the Count?"
He feigns surprise. "You don't remember? You were so solicitous to him."
I grip my spoon tightly and smile. "I thought you knew how mogdoggen worked Adda. You've certainly had your share over the years. I'm surprised you allowed your dear daughter to drink it." Trying not to lose my temper, I lift the goblet and feel cool, fresh spring water course down my throat. He's about to say more, but Desha enters at last, wearing a new gown that she is beaming over. Once again, I'm forgotten. Thankful, I lean back in my seat, amazed that I'm still in one piece.
And so is he.
Sorry that I'm just like him.
With a single word he can wound me, and with that remorseful gaze I'm disarmed for the attack. Whatever comes now will crush me more than it ever could have a few moments ago. I brace myself, but there's no way I could prepare for what's coming.
"Don't worry my dear. You'll soon have money enough to repay me. The Count expressed his interest last night and I think you'll find yourself with a fortune before too long." He dabs his mouth with a napkin, the red of the turik eggs staining like a slash of blood against the pure white cloth.
I feel my pulse quicken. One has few clear memories of anything that happens under the effects of mogdoggen. I condemn myself silently, angry that I allowed myself to be tricked. I know I shouldn't ask, but curiosity wins over common sense. I have to know more about my apparent fate.
"Which one was the Count?"
He feigns surprise. "You don't remember? You were so solicitous to him."
I grip my spoon tightly and smile. "I thought you knew how mogdoggen worked Adda. You've certainly had your share over the years. I'm surprised you allowed your dear daughter to drink it." Trying not to lose my temper, I lift the goblet and feel cool, fresh spring water course down my throat. He's about to say more, but Desha enters at last, wearing a new gown that she is beaming over. Once again, I'm forgotten. Thankful, I lean back in my seat, amazed that I'm still in one piece.
And so is he.
Wednesday, May 15, 2013
Ell
Dinner. I step as lightly as possible through the big oak-wood doors. Arde, one of the poised doormen, required to be stiff and formal by definition, smiles at me and winks as he pulls the heavy wooden barrier open. I try to smile back, but that plank of oak was the only thing between me and the inevitable attack, and as much as I hate to admit it, I'm frightened. Not of the fight. That, I'm used to. I'm afraid that it will be one of those days.
He is bending over a plate of steaming truik eggs, reading something I can't make out. He doesn't look up as I take my seat on the opposite end of the long table. On party nights it holds twenty-six, but this evening it's just me, sitting across from him at the polar end of the table. I inspect my meal, careful not to let the silver fork clink against the plate as I lift it. Instead of truik eggs, Berndell's fixed me roasted partridge with a honey sauce. Its delectable aroma swirls through my nose and curls into the part of my brain that signals to my stomach. As if in reply, that bothersome organ lets out an unearthly growl that would waken the dead.
His head lifts up. He's startled, but doesn't show it. A slow smile breaks across his face. At first I'm relieved, but then I see a different, almost wary hint of remorse in his eyes. It's as if, against his own will, he's regretting last night.
"I see you're still alive." A simple statement that invalidates my entire existence in one breath. Would he care if I wasn't? Burying the pain he's caused so easily, I meet that sly grin with a coy curve of my mouth. I shudder inwardly, knowing I'm his very reflection.
"No thanks to you and your poison." I reply as the maid, Anna, enters with the second course. It's a creamy white soup sprinkled with dalize berries.. I take a delicate sip, racking my brains and considering which is the best dart to throw on a night like this. I decide to play the currency card and attack his coffers. "Oh, incidentally, I so ill that I had to have luncheon served to me in my room, and I'm afraid several dishes were broken." I sip my soup infuriatingly calmly. "I hope you don't mind." I glance up just enough to smile and see if his knuckles are turning white as he grips a silver spoon. They're not. All of a sudden I see waves of sadness radiating from his being.
And that's when I know that it's one of those days.
He is bending over a plate of steaming truik eggs, reading something I can't make out. He doesn't look up as I take my seat on the opposite end of the long table. On party nights it holds twenty-six, but this evening it's just me, sitting across from him at the polar end of the table. I inspect my meal, careful not to let the silver fork clink against the plate as I lift it. Instead of truik eggs, Berndell's fixed me roasted partridge with a honey sauce. Its delectable aroma swirls through my nose and curls into the part of my brain that signals to my stomach. As if in reply, that bothersome organ lets out an unearthly growl that would waken the dead.
His head lifts up. He's startled, but doesn't show it. A slow smile breaks across his face. At first I'm relieved, but then I see a different, almost wary hint of remorse in his eyes. It's as if, against his own will, he's regretting last night.
"I see you're still alive." A simple statement that invalidates my entire existence in one breath. Would he care if I wasn't? Burying the pain he's caused so easily, I meet that sly grin with a coy curve of my mouth. I shudder inwardly, knowing I'm his very reflection.
"No thanks to you and your poison." I reply as the maid, Anna, enters with the second course. It's a creamy white soup sprinkled with dalize berries.. I take a delicate sip, racking my brains and considering which is the best dart to throw on a night like this. I decide to play the currency card and attack his coffers. "Oh, incidentally, I so ill that I had to have luncheon served to me in my room, and I'm afraid several dishes were broken." I sip my soup infuriatingly calmly. "I hope you don't mind." I glance up just enough to smile and see if his knuckles are turning white as he grips a silver spoon. They're not. All of a sudden I see waves of sadness radiating from his being.
And that's when I know that it's one of those days.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Ell
The sound of clanking silver startles me out of my reverie as Berndell drops my lunch tray on her way into my room. Hurrying to help her, I hide a smile. My shy little maid is a miracle worker with flavors, but one of the most clumsy, clod-footed girls I've ever seen. She blinks hard, trying to hide tears behind those dark, timid rabbit lashes of hers.
"I'm so sorry m'lady. I'll clean it up straightaway and bring m'lady's luncheon up." Her apology is a whisper so soft I'm forced to wonder if I imagined it.
"Don't worry, Bernie. It's of little matter, since I'm not very hungry anyway." I sigh without thinking, then catch myself. Bernie doesn't say much, but she sees all, and I know she just caught me in a moment of weakness. Weakness will mean my death someday if I'm not careful. A sigh is only a sigh for a moment when witnessed by the wrong pair of ears. It can become a tool for my defeat if I let it. "Take these things downstairs." I pile on the last bowl, adding, "On second thought, I suppose I'm getting a bit hungry after all. Bring up whatever is left over." Her eyes dare to glance up at me, and I see into them for the first time, though she's been with us almost two years. Those onyx spheres gleam bright and knowing, their blackness so deep that I feel they might hold a thousand unspoken secrets. Before I can see more, she turns away. I shiver, feeling a chill creep beneath my skin, although the day is warm, and the sun shines in through the open window.
"I'm so sorry m'lady. I'll clean it up straightaway and bring m'lady's luncheon up." Her apology is a whisper so soft I'm forced to wonder if I imagined it.
"Don't worry, Bernie. It's of little matter, since I'm not very hungry anyway." I sigh without thinking, then catch myself. Bernie doesn't say much, but she sees all, and I know she just caught me in a moment of weakness. Weakness will mean my death someday if I'm not careful. A sigh is only a sigh for a moment when witnessed by the wrong pair of ears. It can become a tool for my defeat if I let it. "Take these things downstairs." I pile on the last bowl, adding, "On second thought, I suppose I'm getting a bit hungry after all. Bring up whatever is left over." Her eyes dare to glance up at me, and I see into them for the first time, though she's been with us almost two years. Those onyx spheres gleam bright and knowing, their blackness so deep that I feel they might hold a thousand unspoken secrets. Before I can see more, she turns away. I shiver, feeling a chill creep beneath my skin, although the day is warm, and the sun shines in through the open window.
Monday, May 13, 2013
Glitter
Glitter, glitter everywhere
A trail of sparkles chasing me down
Always, always, a shimmery shine here
A twinkly gleam there
Everywhere glitter
Always glitter
I can't escape.
We cannot get out.
The glitter is coming.
Ok so I drifted into Lord of the Rings there a little, but I literally feel as if the glitter is endless at my house right now. SO. MUCH. GLITTER. By the way, don't tell the sophomore prom prince that my dog walked on his sash hehe xD K, I must return to my endless work. Adios!
A trail of sparkles chasing me down
Always, always, a shimmery shine here
A twinkly gleam there
Everywhere glitter
Always glitter
I can't escape.
We cannot get out.
The glitter is coming.
Ok so I drifted into Lord of the Rings there a little, but I literally feel as if the glitter is endless at my house right now. SO. MUCH. GLITTER. By the way, don't tell the sophomore prom prince that my dog walked on his sash hehe xD K, I must return to my endless work. Adios!
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