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Mi Amour


Skywalker_Heir

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Sometimes, the sweetest sight that we can see is the sun dipping slowly over the horizon, taking away our vision and pulling us into a realm of darkness.

 

In the darkness, we are hidden from the horrors of our world ”“ the violence is missing, we cannot see people huddling in cardboard boxes on street corners. The fear in their eyes is hidden by the darkness, and we can pretend that it doesn't exist, until the next sunrise.

 

How do we stop the coming of fear and pain?

 

- When we fear what we are

 

There was a flicker of light; a candle, sparking to life. An old, weathered hand looped through the container's circlet, lifting it to the mirror.

 

Over seventy years of life stared back at the man. Deep lines of laughter, sorrow, joy and pain drew a map of a life well spent. The flicker of the candle deepened the dark pools of shadow under his eyes, drawing the face into a gaunt, almost mocking reflection of what it had once been.

 

A tear rolled down the old man's face, as he turned away from the mirror. The tear dripped from his chin, splashing to the wood floor after a drop that, for the tear, seemed to last forever.

 

The soft padding of feet sounded like thunder in the completely quiet house. Every squeak of a floorboard a telling alarm in the dead of night. The old man mumbled something under his breath, a raspy sandpaper voice that had seen too many years of dust and hard work.

 

The candle slid along a groove onto the table; an obvious pattern of wear and tear from a lifetime of repetition. The old man faded into the shadows, his white sleeping gown vanishing smoothly into the darkness, as if he'd never existed.

 

The kitchen was mostly dark and empty. There was a slight rattle of china, and then a brief fire lit on the stove with a soft fwoof. A metal kettle was placed over the flame, and then a clink as a metal cap was placed over the kettle and flame, extinguishing it from view.

 

A few more rumbling footsteps, and the old man was moving the candle to the center of the table. He placed two saucers on the table, on oposite sides. A cup on each, and then he put the honey pot near the one that was obviously not often used.

 

There was some more muttering; a tick from a clock indicated that it was fiive minutes to midnight. The old man straightened his back a little, an audible pop coming from muscles unaccustomed to the strain.

 

A gnarled hand moved through what remained of his hair, pushing back the whisps of faded white hair that still remained.

 

The kettle whistled.

 

The old man took the kettle off the stove, and dismissed the flame. It snuffed out of existance, plummetting the man into darkness again. The creak of a cupboard was all that could be heard for a few moments, and then he returned to the table, setting the kettle down.

 

He placed a tea strainer in each cup and poured the near-boiling water into each cup. The weight of the kettle caused his hands to shake violently, nearly causing him to spill the water.

 

He took the seat furthest from the honey.

 

Reaching into a pocket, a locket was produced. He flipped open the heart and stared at the pictures inside.

 

On the left was a handsome young woman in her twenties ”“ she had long black hair and eyes that bespoke passionate fire.

 

On the right, a young child, perhaps six months old.

 

”œI miss you,”

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Great to see you back among us, Skywalker_Heir!

 

Nice little story. Very creepy. It's funny because my first thought of the old man was the old gardener Frank from Harry Potter 4.

 

My next thought was that he was a ghost. I guess I was on the right track. There were ghosts...it just wasn't him.

 

Very dark, good descriptions. Hope to see you sticking around!

amipaint2.jpg

SHE MEANS TO END US ALL!!! DOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!!!!!!!!11eleventyone!
There goes Ami's reputation of being a peaceful, nice person.
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  • 1 month later...

This is a beautiful little story that ought to have more comments. Images that bring up a slight sense of horror and mystery... "There was some more muttering; a tick from a clock indicated that it was fiive minutes to midnight." While still being very depressing and soft.

 

Don't be sorry.

 

It definitely brings me chills. I hope you write more!

spsig.jpg

Just when I thought it was over, I watched Tiana kick Almira in the head, effectively putting her out of her misery. I did not expect that.
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Yes, it's a very melancholy short piece, with a real sense of sadness, despair, but also a sort of resolution. I loved the attention to detail with the process of making the tea.

 

One minor linguistic question- what language were you using for 'mi amour'?

Edited by Guest

Geki1.jpg

http://www.themire.co.uk-- being a veracious and lurid account of the goings-on in the savage Mire and the sootblown alleys of Portstown's Rookery!

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@DarthBrendo: Thank you very much. I'm glad it had an impact.

 

@Jidai Geki: I like details! I'm glad you seemed to enjoy it. Mi Amour was how I was taught to say, "My love" in French class several years ago. I do believe that it could also be spelled Amor, and also Mon Amour; though I think Amor is actually Spanish and/or Latin for love.

 

@Tiana Calthye: Chills? Yay! The idea behind the piece was to initially bring horror to mind and then 'twist' into sad remembrance. It seems like that's what you got out of it. (If not, sorry for putting words in your mouth.) Thank you!

 

@Amidala Skywalker: It's nice to be back, such as it is. Glad you enjoyed the piece; I think my next one will be lighter.

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Yep, that's what I got from it. My eloquence has been sorely decreased of late.

 

I thought it was French. I wasn't sure, though... I'm Canadian but I don't actually speak much French.

spsig.jpg

Just when I thought it was over, I watched Tiana kick Almira in the head, effectively putting her out of her misery. I did not expect that.
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  • 3 months later...

Wow! I loved the feel of this piece. Your descriptions were fantastic, I literally had a picture running in my head the whole time. You really captured the sorrow and loneliness of the man, not only through his own actions but through each description of the scene around him as well. Well done!

"It's always these little worlds that get you in trouble. Like Tatooine. I'm still living that one down." - Han Solo

Your barnacle has carnivorous salamanders the size of whales.

"Let us hold unswervingly to the faith we profess, for he who promised is faithful." -Heb. 10:23

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