A bit of writing

And now to bite the bullet and place a short story I have written on this blog for comments and criticism. It is called The Apprenticeship of Lady Death, and it is the longest short story I have yet written. I started it in January with no clear idea in my head where it was going. I had just listened to the albums Easter and Join Hands at the time it began, which was a heavy inspiration. Then I suffered writers block and didn't return to it for a while.

Reading over the complete work, I've decided it is a respectable enough attempt to let others read. Word of warning: it is set in an alternate world I didn't take the trouble to properly envision. So at times it may make no sense. That does not bother me; I was not going for realism. Without further pontification...

The Apprenticeship of Lady Death.

******

It was Easter Sunday and the streets of Hel glowed. Sulphur danced on the wind, smearing against window panes and obscuring lamplight. The inhabitants of the city stayed indoors, praying for the close of day. The city was underground, but few had lost their innate sense of time.

It was Easter Sunday and the streets of Hyvar glowed. Most people stayed inside to avoid the disorientation such an effect produced. They waited for the day to pass and read their books. The children were dazzled and begged to be let out, but they were universally ignored. Few adults were comfortable with this occurence, called the Icon Effect. It passed by every ten years and they did their best to ignore it.

But the beggars couldn't. The homeless people had to ride it out and suffer the brightness as best they could. Thankfully the day was thickly overcast, muting the glow.

Two of these beggars had camped in an alley with cloth tied over their eyes. They were dressed in ragged tan uniforms like soldiers, for that was what they'd once been. They leaned against each other back to back, and one had not tied his blindfold properly, for his eyes were streaming.

There names were Frank Gordon and Omar Cline.

Frank was the one with the eye problem. He had a shock of red hair and his face was unnaturally lined and haggard for a man in his thirties. He cursed and raised a hand to his face, rocking back and forth in agitation.

Omar, sensing his friends discomfort, began to crawl away from him. He was a much older man, with hair that had turned gray long ago and a flat face. He needed glasses but couldn't afford them. He crawled till he bumped into a wall, then halted. By tomorrow, this would all be a bad dream.

When he realised Omar was missing, Frank called for him, but he was ignored. So he started crawling in widening circles feeling for him. It did no good and only made him lose his bearings.

******

In Hel almost everyone lived as beggars, but they also mostly lived in houses. That day, only three people were on the streets suffering the sulphur-laced air. The glow that surrounded man-made objects by itself was almost beautiful in a place usually so dark. But the sulphur was deadly.

Christina Abbott, her daughter Isabella and a man called Lee St. Cross sat in the wide central square of Hel, where the breeze was unobstructed and therefore a little clearer. They sat in a row and in front of them stood a covered pot of water. Occasionally they would remove the rags covering their lower faces and dip them into the water to make breathing somewhat easier.

Because of the extreme heat, all three were lightly dressed. Lee wore only a pair of shorts and Christina and her daughter wore nightgowns that had probably been white, long ago. Christina had brown hair, roughly cut and uncombed since she had come to Hel just before her daughter was born.

Isabella was now six and was usually silent and withdrawn. She'd never seen such light before today, and the experiance drew her slightly out of her shell as she gazed in wide-eyed wonder at the Icon Effect. Her mother wiled the time away by fingercombing the little girl's hair, brown like her mothers.

Some hours passed and then Lee sank to the ground with labored breath. Christina crawled over to him, but there was nothing she could do. She sat beside him until his last breath had come and gone. Then she held her daughter close and gazed bleakly across the square.

Isabella didn't understand what had just happened, or why her mother was suddenly so upset. All she noticed was the cloaked figure coming toward them at a sprightly pace. She wriggled away from Christina and pointing, said "mother, look."

Christina jerked her head up to see a black cloaked skeleton with a cane come marching toward them. He stopped by Lee's body and gave it a push with his staff, saying "alright, up you get. No, you're not quite dead; yes, I am Death. And there's lots more like you out there, so I haven't got all day to dither with you."

Lee rolled over and moaned in confusion. And Christina remembered the old legend: that if you hung about dead bodies in Hel, you were certain to see Death come collecting. She'd seen far worse than an animate skeleton since living here. So she stood up and asked him "has a Frank Gordon ever passed your way? Sir?"

The eyeless face turned to her in surprise. "Lady, I've known a few Frank Gordons over the millennia. Care to specify?"

"He was a red-haired soldier. Has he died sometime in the last six years?"

Death tapped his stick on the ground, cracking paving stones as he thought. "No," he said at last. "If you haven't seen him, I'm not the cause. He the father?" he added with a glance at Isabella.

"Yeah," Christina said in a voice that spoke of total exaustion. Lee finally got to his feet and seemed quite oblivious of anyones presence. Death gave him a shove toward a sweeping staircase that had suddenly come into view. "Well, tell me about it next time we see each other. Me, I've got to get this sack of potatoes upstairs. Don't have time for chit-chat."

Both of them were surprised to hear Isabella's light but serious voice say "may we come with you?"

Death swung round to her and tilted his head to express puzzlement. "Are you suicidal?" The girl didn't understand. "Do you want to die" he clarified. She just shrugged, so he turned to Christina. "Well, it's a rare request. If you both want ot come I won't stop you, but you won't die. It's not my job to kill people. You humans are good enough at that. Just remember it's frightfully boring, and I'll not be sticking around to give you a guided tour. Keep up!" And he struck off toward the stairs, herding Lee ahead of him.

Christina picked her daughter up and made an instant debate. What was there to stay for? Nothing. And leaving would at least get them away from the noxious air and Lee's dead body. So she followed Death up the stairs.

******

(Being pressed for time, I'll not be completing this story in one outing. I'll get back to it as soon as I can)