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fiction - brigits_flame - 1000 Words Mini-contest
1000 words inspired by the following painting (John William Waterhouse's Psyche Opening the Golden Box):
Lyta supposed that she ought to be terrified. Terrified and furious. Both emotions, however, were still being pushed aside by her guilt. It was she who had insisted that the carriage take the shortest, quickest route, in spite of the road's reputation for bandit activity. She had been so eager to get home.
Her eyes strayed again to the body of her driver. He would have fought to defend her, she knew, if he'd been given a chance. If the highwaymen had blocked their way and demanded their surrender, he would never have agreed. He would have fought them. Perhaps, in her grief and her guilt, she was being overly generous in her estimation of his abilities, but she liked to think that he would have won, and that they would almost be home by now.
But the bandits had not asked for their surrender - they had simply opened fire from their hiding places among the trees, and her driver was dead before he even knew what was happening. Now Lyta stood by the side of the road and found herself staring at his body. Slowly, her anger burned its way through her guilt.
"We'll be having your jewels, miss. And that fancy dress."
It took a moment for Lyta to realize that she was being spoken to. She looked up to see the youngest of the three bandits standing not far from her, his flintlock pointed vaguely in her direction. She had, for a moment, almost thought that they had forgotten about her. They had forced her from the carriage and immediately begun to search inside it, paying her no mind whatsoever. Lyta wondered if she could have run away at that moment - if they would even have noticed her.
"Come now, miss," said the highwayman. "Don't make this difficult." Such an absurd thing to say, under the circumstances. Lyta wondered about that. Was he reluctant to shoot her just because she was a woman? Or was it just harder to shoot someone when they could look you in the eye? Perhaps he didn't have the stomach for this sort of thing at all. Maybe the other two men were the heartless killers. Maybe this could end differently after all.
"Let me go," Lyta said to him, softly. He shook his head with a trace of what might have been genuine regret.
"I'm afraid not, miss. The jewels now, if you please."
Mechanically, she obeyed. She removed her rings, her necklace, her bracelet. She struggled her way out of the fine dress and slipped out of her shoes. Her fury built within her the entire time until, standing on the side of the road clad only in her shift, she shook with rage. She supposed it must seem to him that she was only shivering from the cold.
"There is something hidden," she said to the bandit, who paused in gathering up her valuables to listen. "Something in the carriage. It is very valuable."
"Indeed?" he replied.
"If you promise to let me go, I will tell you where it is."
By now, the other two bandits had finished ransacking the carriage, and they joined Lyta and the third of their company.
"What's this now?" said the one who seemed to be their leader.
"There is a golden box," Lyta said. "On the carriage. You will not have found it." Glances between the robbers confirmed that this was the case. "I will get it for you, if you promise to let me go."
Smiles, now. She could see in their eyes what their word would be worth. Not that it would matter.
"Very well," said the leader. "Fetch it for us, then." He waved her back toward the coach with his gun.
She did not hurry.
They had stripped the carriage bare, so she did not have to move anything aside to reach the hidden compartment. It recognized her hand and opened at her touch. Lyta reached inside and closed her hand around the golden box, the metal warm against her skin. She hesitated for a moment. Could she really do this? Yes. These men - these cowards who had murdered her driver - did not deserve her mercy.
"Here," Lyta said as she turned to face them again. "This is for you."
All three of the bandits crowded in closer. In their eyes Lyta could see them calculating the value of their newest prize. The shining gold. The intricate carving. The exotic shape. Clearly, none of them could read the symbols. None of them recognized the design. None of them had any idea what she was holding. Of this she was certain, for none of them ran.
Lyta closed her eyes, and then she opened the box.
Immediately, Lyta felt the box grow both lighter and colder in her hands, and she sensed something warm that smelled of brimstone pass by her face.
First she heard their astonishment. Then one of them cried out - the youngest one, she thought. His voice cracked as his shout turned into a scream. Then more shouting, from the other two. Gunshots. She heard a lead ball strike the carriage, the splintering of wood. A few quick footsteps, running, which vanished suddenly. More screams. She focused on these sounds, and tried not to hear the others. Shattering bones. What she could only assume was tearing flesh. Worse.
Eventually, the sounds stopped. The box grew heavier and warmer again. She opened her eyes.
Her luggage was still strewn across the road. Her driver's body still lay face down in the dirt. Of the highwaymen, there was no trace.
Lyta sat on a rock ledge by the side of the road. She closed her eyes again and opened the lid of the box ever so slightly.
"Thank you," she whispered into the box. There was no audible reply, but for a moment she was again surrounded by warmth and the scent of brimstone. "Now I will take you home."
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The 1000-word restriction was certainly interesting. When I was finishing the first stab at this I had 1002 words. For some reason I revised out two words _before_ I went through to make other fiddly changes, which was a silly way to go about things. I got lucky with my last revision, though - the new phrasing I picked used the same number of words as the old sentence. = )
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Good luck. :)
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My first idea was much more whimsical, with a girl who had an unauthorized pet tiny dragon or something, who in the picture is leaning in to ask it if it's okay after quickly stuffing it in the box to hide it from a snooping parent. I just couldn't get the idea to go anywhere.
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FANTASTIC piece, hwango. She seemed almost like a human succubus. Who needs a bodyguard when you've got a box like that.
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Thanks, and I'm glad you enjoyed it!
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Oh, Wes, I love your words always. I also want to your read your whimsical idea; you should write it, too. More words! Constant words!
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= )