Sunday, May 16, 2010
To Be Continued ...
The short story will have to be continued at a later time, possibly early June. Circumstances prevail at present.
Sunday, May 2, 2010
The Mirror - Part 1
When Aidan was a younger man, he spent his weekends at football games and parties and in younger women's pants. He drank his fair share and puked more than. He cruised with friends through town during the hopeful, lush, starlit hours of Saturday nights with the windows down and dark air cooling inexperienced faces. He found love and lost it. He found it again. He skinny-dipped in water that was still warm on top from a recently departed sun but cold and thrilling in lower regions. He attended proms in stiff tuxes with girls in Southern belle gowns. But in those younger years there was one thing he never did on Saturday night: wait around on his wife in her creepy dead aunt's gigantic creepy house.
He rolled his eyes around at the dark furnishings straight from a torture chamber. Heavy, ornately carved wood with black varnish and heavy fabric died the shade of old blood. Antique books and bric-a-brac that appeared not to have moved from their appointed spot in decades. Dusty drapes that looked like they could kill a man if they should fall from their titanic rods. He instinctively felt that the house viewed him as an unwanted intruder so he steered clear of the drapes.
The most impressive item, however, was a mirror. It wasn't impressive in the way that most people think of impressive, like when a person admires the outcome of an artist's work and feels struck by the innate talent. This object was impressive in that it made an impression on the mind, a deep furrow that was not exactly pleasant. But it had a dark attraction, something like a vampire. Everyone knows they're dangerous, but we can't quite stop looking, can't completely suppress an admiration and desire.
He edged up closer, unconsciously trying to come at it from an angle so that his face wouldn't be caught in it.
"Pretty spooky, isn't it?"
He damn near crapped his pants.
Next week - Part 2
He rolled his eyes around at the dark furnishings straight from a torture chamber. Heavy, ornately carved wood with black varnish and heavy fabric died the shade of old blood. Antique books and bric-a-brac that appeared not to have moved from their appointed spot in decades. Dusty drapes that looked like they could kill a man if they should fall from their titanic rods. He instinctively felt that the house viewed him as an unwanted intruder so he steered clear of the drapes.
The most impressive item, however, was a mirror. It wasn't impressive in the way that most people think of impressive, like when a person admires the outcome of an artist's work and feels struck by the innate talent. This object was impressive in that it made an impression on the mind, a deep furrow that was not exactly pleasant. But it had a dark attraction, something like a vampire. Everyone knows they're dangerous, but we can't quite stop looking, can't completely suppress an admiration and desire.
He edged up closer, unconsciously trying to come at it from an angle so that his face wouldn't be caught in it.
"Pretty spooky, isn't it?"
He damn near crapped his pants.
Next week - Part 2
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