Wednesday, June 19, 2013
Marked Part III: Fly Trap
Stepping from the shadows, she stood, a smart smirk on her face. I'd like to reach out and slap it off, but the glistening blade, straddled across her breast gave me pause. How had she just a moment ago been eneveloped in darkness and now she stood there, not much taller than the length of that blade, that ugly, meanacing, serrated edge blade with points like a beast's ragged teeth?
“You know you really should close your mouth. You might unintentionally entice a few flies.”
I stood there, mouth gaped, stunned and angry that this phantom was mocking me. I could feel rage rising in me like the bile you can't keep down after drinking sour milk. Nads! I want to reach out and punch her in the face.
She on the other hand seemed amused.
“Erronne, seriously, enough of the angst. You're here for a reason. Why don't we stop with the chest-heaving and sit, talk like civilized women?”
Hearing my name, knocked the air out of me like someone punched me in the chest. Despite the weight of my robe I felt unsheathed, flaccid, naked in front of this stranger. How? How did she know my birth name? In the Order we are renamed. No one saved, Matron Sitaa knew my name.
“Surprised? Yes, I know your name, Erronne, an old name, your father's name. Your mother insisted. And your mother always got her way. I knew your mother, and I know everything worth knowing from your birth to your destiny which is why you're here. Are you ready to learn who you really are, Errone?
I felt dizzy, reflexively I reached behind me and my hand steadied me against a massive rock. I sunk into it. More than anything I wanted to be agile and mighty, that's who I am, not this girl whose knees have betrayed her, a girl captive of a phantom who says she knows my mother, my father and my destiny.
Each week, Thom posts three words. You write. This week: agile, flaccid, phatom. Join us.