ficiton - brigits_flame entry - Heavy
Jul. 3rd, 2008 04:05 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hwangoThis is my entry for the writing activity on the brigits_flame community. The topic for week #1 of July is "Heavy," for which I have written the following:
The alley was dark. The last sliver of the moon cowered behind a blanket of gray clouds and left the city below cloaked in thick shadows. Some rather desperate rats searched the broken cobbles for something worth scavenging, but found nothing. The locals didn’t go into this alley, not even to dispose of their garbage. It was not a place anyone would go without good reason, and not even then if it could be helped.
In spite of this, the sound of footsteps, some heavy and some light, began to echo from one end. Traveling with the sound came an aura of menace, of something predatory and terrible, and the scavengers fled before it. Soon after, a voice added itself to the mix of echoes and dread.
“When are you going to take a turn, Carver? This is heavy,” the voice said. It was a dull voice. Even the plaintive tone failed to infuse it with much life. Another voice answered it, a voice much different from the first. It danced over each word as if it took delight in each one, even though it was colored by a patience that was worn thin from long use.
“I shall not be taking a turn, my dear Butler, because this is a case of division of labor. Having already performed my contribution to tonight’s activities, it now falls to you to see to your part in these proceedings, which would be the carrying of the load to which you refer.” There followed a brief silence, after which the dull voice spoke again.
“This would be easier if we had a cart or something. This is awful heavy to be carrying like this the whole way,” Butler said.
“That is true, Butler,” Carver said, “but would it not draw attention to ourselves to go to our business with an unladen cart? Where would we store said cart when it was not in use? And, perhaps most importantly, after we conclude our activities you would then have to drag the now empty cart all the way back again, lest we find ourselves having to procure a new cart for the next time we needed one. No, it simply would not do.” This too was met with a momentary silence.
“Why are we taking it all the way to the river? It’s a long way to carry something this heavy,” Butler said.
“It is how these things are done,” replied Carver. “It is customary, perhaps even traditional, to dispose of burdens such as ours in the river. To do otherwise would simply not be right." The silence that followed this was the longest still. Eventually, however, it too was broken.
“I’m just saying, it’s heavy,” Butler complained again. Carver sighed.
“Yes, so you have said many times now. It’s not to be helped. The good Mr. Baker was a man of large appetites, and was therefore himself rather a large man,” Carver said. Butler thought about this for a while as they made their way further down the alley.
“Could we kill someone smaller next time?” asked Butler.
“I’m afraid we must, as always, leave that decision to our employer. I doubt that even the most persuasive argument could compel a man to pay us to remove someone of smaller stature in place of the original subject of their ire. Would that I thought it were otherwise I would surely make the attempt, so as to ease your burden in this part of our enterprise.”
“That’s nice of you, Carver,” said Butler.
“Don’t mention it, Butler.”
brigits_flame community. The topic for week #1 of July is "Heavy," for which I have written the following:The alley was dark. The last sliver of the moon cowered behind a blanket of gray clouds and left the city below cloaked in thick shadows. Some rather desperate rats searched the broken cobbles for something worth scavenging, but found nothing. The locals didn’t go into this alley, not even to dispose of their garbage. It was not a place anyone would go without good reason, and not even then if it could be helped.
In spite of this, the sound of footsteps, some heavy and some light, began to echo from one end. Traveling with the sound came an aura of menace, of something predatory and terrible, and the scavengers fled before it. Soon after, a voice added itself to the mix of echoes and dread.
“When are you going to take a turn, Carver? This is heavy,” the voice said. It was a dull voice. Even the plaintive tone failed to infuse it with much life. Another voice answered it, a voice much different from the first. It danced over each word as if it took delight in each one, even though it was colored by a patience that was worn thin from long use.
“I shall not be taking a turn, my dear Butler, because this is a case of division of labor. Having already performed my contribution to tonight’s activities, it now falls to you to see to your part in these proceedings, which would be the carrying of the load to which you refer.” There followed a brief silence, after which the dull voice spoke again.
“This would be easier if we had a cart or something. This is awful heavy to be carrying like this the whole way,” Butler said.
“That is true, Butler,” Carver said, “but would it not draw attention to ourselves to go to our business with an unladen cart? Where would we store said cart when it was not in use? And, perhaps most importantly, after we conclude our activities you would then have to drag the now empty cart all the way back again, lest we find ourselves having to procure a new cart for the next time we needed one. No, it simply would not do.” This too was met with a momentary silence.
“Why are we taking it all the way to the river? It’s a long way to carry something this heavy,” Butler said.
“It is how these things are done,” replied Carver. “It is customary, perhaps even traditional, to dispose of burdens such as ours in the river. To do otherwise would simply not be right." The silence that followed this was the longest still. Eventually, however, it too was broken.
“I’m just saying, it’s heavy,” Butler complained again. Carver sighed.
“Yes, so you have said many times now. It’s not to be helped. The good Mr. Baker was a man of large appetites, and was therefore himself rather a large man,” Carver said. Butler thought about this for a while as they made their way further down the alley.
“Could we kill someone smaller next time?” asked Butler.
“I’m afraid we must, as always, leave that decision to our employer. I doubt that even the most persuasive argument could compel a man to pay us to remove someone of smaller stature in place of the original subject of their ire. Would that I thought it were otherwise I would surely make the attempt, so as to ease your burden in this part of our enterprise.”
“That’s nice of you, Carver,” said Butler.
“Don’t mention it, Butler.”
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Editor Comments
Date: 2008-07-05 09:01 pm (UTC)4th paragraph - 1st sentence - I think you meant 'be taking' instead of 'being taking'.
I realize the whole conversation is between two killers, but I found myself being amused and really curious about their lives by the end. Very well done overall.
Please let me know if you have any questions or if I've confused you at all with what I have written.
Re: Editor Comments
Date: 2008-07-06 04:06 am (UTC)