Drabbles without Honour, Context or Humanity
Dec 23, 2010 12:50:52 GMT -8
Post by NumiTuziNeru on Dec 23, 2010 12:50:52 GMT -8
Exactly what the title says.
These are all going to be part of a cohesive whole, but for now they sort of..float about aimlessly.
Notes on each one are in italic subscript.
'You are fantastically plain.' Mayura said finally. 'A fantastically plain little girl.'
Amy decided that the old tactic of staying quiet was a useful one in this situation.
'I have little patience for plainness.' he continued. 'And you are possibly the plainest thing in this entire garden.'
Amy still didn't say anything, but it was tempting. Very tempting.
'However,' he added, 'you are also very polite. And so I will forgive you.'
Any irritation was quickly thrown out and replaced with utter and total confusion.
Mayura is Sanskrit for peacock. When you're that flamboyant, everything is plain.
'What, Captain?' Ruth piped up.
'Yeah. Cap'n 'aggard.'
'Oh. Him.'
Ruth made a strange face and turned back to her magazine.
'Gab ta me about Captain Haggard.' she said, voice thick with disdain. 'Last I had 'im, I got one a'wert th' han' fer tellin' Liz what eight nines were.'
Natalie stared.
'Should'sa seen Rog's face. Blew a reit gasket, 'e did. Nearly thought he'd gang and mudder 'im right there!'
Inside, Natalie thanked her lucky stars she didn't attend school.
Oh, the joys of the early British school system.
I've gotten one across the hand before.
It. Is. Nasty.
'Mister Wallace?' Amy asked Roger one day, 'Why does the Form Six teacher call himself Captain?'
'He wants folk ta take 'im seriously, I think.' he replied.
'I see.'
'Idiotic hin' ta do.'
Amy's ears perked up.
'Why'd you say so?'
'Must'a been a captain in the war against Hitler an' his ilk.' he said. 'No' like 's anythin' ta be proud of.'
'Really?'
'There's a lot'a people still alive who fought in 'at war,' he continued, 'an' most'a them'd rather forget th'whole beastly hin'.'
Amy didn't quite understand what he meant, but she decided she'd ask him later.
Amy doesn't know about WWII yet.
Roger and Ruth talk funny because they are Scottish and siblings.
From around the Isle of Islay, Bowmore to be exact.
They both watched as the spindle-legged figure came down the track towards them, black dog loitering by their heels.
They stopped a few paces away from them and the dog stopped with them, watching from behind their legs.
'Good evening.' said Tod, nice and friendly.
They said nothing.
'I know you.' they said, edging closer. 'I know t'both of you.'
From there Amy could see that it was a tall bony woman with hard eyes and hard cheek - and more alarmingly, that she held a shotgun in her hard hands.
Tod did not answer.
'Yer from the town. Right?'
Her lips were a thin, hard line, just like the rest of her.
'What're we playin'?' Tod asked. 'Twenty Questions?'
Her only answer was a gob of spit that landed with a soft plap down by Amy's boot.
'Beat it.' she said firmly. 'Go on. Get out.'
Tod looked at her, eyebrows raised.
'Yer loiterin',' she said, 'with possible intent t'commit a nuisance.'
'This is a public footpath, madam.' he said. 'Kindly do not molest us.'
'I could run you in fer that.'
'No y'couldn't.' Tod replied, standing Amy up by the arm. 'Either way we have to gan now. We're due for our supper.'
They wandered down the track the way they had came, leaving the woman standing there behind them until she too was out of sight in the surrounding half-darkness.
We find out more about the woman later on.
Tod also talks funny, but he's not Scottish, he's Geordie. Bit further south.
The first morning of December arrived to little fanfare.
'Isn't it lovely!' Eleanor exclaimed, her breath making a damp circle on the glass. 'I heard it's straight from London, too!'
'I doubt it.' said May to that, 'It'd take them too long for that, I think.'
Eleanor rolled her eyes at her.
'Oh, use your imagination.'
She pressed her face up to the window once more to get a better glimpse of the new dress they were both admiring, hanging quietly from its mannequin with its modest little stripes and ribbons looking all very pretty behind the frost-covered glass.
'Bet you it's expensive.' Eleanor finally said. 'They always are.'
May shrugged.
'Maybe.'
'Maybe my foot. You can see the price tag. Thirty-five pounds.'
She stood up straight and sighed loudly.
'We'd never afford one between the two of us.'
May shrugged again.
'We should get to school, or we'll be late.'
'And then Natalie'll be there before us? Heavens!'
Thirty-five pounds is a lot.
The first thing Amy did was march into the sitting room quite imperatively.
'We made Christmas cards today.' she declared.
'Did you now.' Tod answered, paying more heed to a garland of holly leaves he was fixing to the mantlepiece. 'That's nice.'
A silence danced through the room, save Amy's awkward shoe-shuffling and Tod nearly hitting himself with the hammer and muttering swears under his breath.
'Lara Benson made the best one.' she said finally. ''Cause she's the best drawer when you're not there. You'd have won, I bet.'
'That's nice.'
'They're not really special, though.' she continued, waving her folded bit of card around. 'Most people's were just bits of doilies and paper cutouts. And tinsel hair. And glitter.'
She paused to look at her card again solemnly.
'Mine's falling to bits. I tried holding it together with those sticky stars you get, but it didn't work. So I said she had gangrene.'
'That's nice.'
'Not really.' Amy said. 'We had to write in them, too. I tried drawing you, but I couldn't decide how so it came out rather icky. Sorry.'
'S'aright.'
Tod stood up straight and dropped the hammer where he stood.
'Can't be bothered wi' this. Give it 'ere, I'll put it where I can see it.'
Amy handed the card to him with a broad smile and ran upstairs to get dressed in something warmer.
It wasn't until evening that Tod took a better look at that card and noticed what was written inside under an abominable orange scribble;
Happy Christmas and lots of love
from Amy
Best for last, I think.
Comments, critiques and such appreciated.
These are all going to be part of a cohesive whole, but for now they sort of..float about aimlessly.
Notes on each one are in italic subscript.
'You are fantastically plain.' Mayura said finally. 'A fantastically plain little girl.'
Amy decided that the old tactic of staying quiet was a useful one in this situation.
'I have little patience for plainness.' he continued. 'And you are possibly the plainest thing in this entire garden.'
Amy still didn't say anything, but it was tempting. Very tempting.
'However,' he added, 'you are also very polite. And so I will forgive you.'
Any irritation was quickly thrown out and replaced with utter and total confusion.
Mayura is Sanskrit for peacock. When you're that flamboyant, everything is plain.
'What, Captain?' Ruth piped up.
'Yeah. Cap'n 'aggard.'
'Oh. Him.'
Ruth made a strange face and turned back to her magazine.
'Gab ta me about Captain Haggard.' she said, voice thick with disdain. 'Last I had 'im, I got one a'wert th' han' fer tellin' Liz what eight nines were.'
Natalie stared.
'Should'sa seen Rog's face. Blew a reit gasket, 'e did. Nearly thought he'd gang and mudder 'im right there!'
Inside, Natalie thanked her lucky stars she didn't attend school.
Oh, the joys of the early British school system.
I've gotten one across the hand before.
It. Is. Nasty.
'Mister Wallace?' Amy asked Roger one day, 'Why does the Form Six teacher call himself Captain?'
'He wants folk ta take 'im seriously, I think.' he replied.
'I see.'
'Idiotic hin' ta do.'
Amy's ears perked up.
'Why'd you say so?'
'Must'a been a captain in the war against Hitler an' his ilk.' he said. 'No' like 's anythin' ta be proud of.'
'Really?'
'There's a lot'a people still alive who fought in 'at war,' he continued, 'an' most'a them'd rather forget th'whole beastly hin'.'
Amy didn't quite understand what he meant, but she decided she'd ask him later.
Amy doesn't know about WWII yet.
Roger and Ruth talk funny because they are Scottish and siblings.
From around the Isle of Islay, Bowmore to be exact.
They both watched as the spindle-legged figure came down the track towards them, black dog loitering by their heels.
They stopped a few paces away from them and the dog stopped with them, watching from behind their legs.
'Good evening.' said Tod, nice and friendly.
They said nothing.
'I know you.' they said, edging closer. 'I know t'both of you.'
From there Amy could see that it was a tall bony woman with hard eyes and hard cheek - and more alarmingly, that she held a shotgun in her hard hands.
Tod did not answer.
'Yer from the town. Right?'
Her lips were a thin, hard line, just like the rest of her.
'What're we playin'?' Tod asked. 'Twenty Questions?'
Her only answer was a gob of spit that landed with a soft plap down by Amy's boot.
'Beat it.' she said firmly. 'Go on. Get out.'
Tod looked at her, eyebrows raised.
'Yer loiterin',' she said, 'with possible intent t'commit a nuisance.'
'This is a public footpath, madam.' he said. 'Kindly do not molest us.'
'I could run you in fer that.'
'No y'couldn't.' Tod replied, standing Amy up by the arm. 'Either way we have to gan now. We're due for our supper.'
They wandered down the track the way they had came, leaving the woman standing there behind them until she too was out of sight in the surrounding half-darkness.
We find out more about the woman later on.
Tod also talks funny, but he's not Scottish, he's Geordie. Bit further south.
The first morning of December arrived to little fanfare.
'Isn't it lovely!' Eleanor exclaimed, her breath making a damp circle on the glass. 'I heard it's straight from London, too!'
'I doubt it.' said May to that, 'It'd take them too long for that, I think.'
Eleanor rolled her eyes at her.
'Oh, use your imagination.'
She pressed her face up to the window once more to get a better glimpse of the new dress they were both admiring, hanging quietly from its mannequin with its modest little stripes and ribbons looking all very pretty behind the frost-covered glass.
'Bet you it's expensive.' Eleanor finally said. 'They always are.'
May shrugged.
'Maybe.'
'Maybe my foot. You can see the price tag. Thirty-five pounds.'
She stood up straight and sighed loudly.
'We'd never afford one between the two of us.'
May shrugged again.
'We should get to school, or we'll be late.'
'And then Natalie'll be there before us? Heavens!'
Thirty-five pounds is a lot.
The first thing Amy did was march into the sitting room quite imperatively.
'We made Christmas cards today.' she declared.
'Did you now.' Tod answered, paying more heed to a garland of holly leaves he was fixing to the mantlepiece. 'That's nice.'
A silence danced through the room, save Amy's awkward shoe-shuffling and Tod nearly hitting himself with the hammer and muttering swears under his breath.
'Lara Benson made the best one.' she said finally. ''Cause she's the best drawer when you're not there. You'd have won, I bet.'
'That's nice.'
'They're not really special, though.' she continued, waving her folded bit of card around. 'Most people's were just bits of doilies and paper cutouts. And tinsel hair. And glitter.'
She paused to look at her card again solemnly.
'Mine's falling to bits. I tried holding it together with those sticky stars you get, but it didn't work. So I said she had gangrene.'
'That's nice.'
'Not really.' Amy said. 'We had to write in them, too. I tried drawing you, but I couldn't decide how so it came out rather icky. Sorry.'
'S'aright.'
Tod stood up straight and dropped the hammer where he stood.
'Can't be bothered wi' this. Give it 'ere, I'll put it where I can see it.'
Amy handed the card to him with a broad smile and ran upstairs to get dressed in something warmer.
It wasn't until evening that Tod took a better look at that card and noticed what was written inside under an abominable orange scribble;
Happy Christmas and lots of love
from Amy
Best for last, I think.
Comments, critiques and such appreciated.
★★ and my other site!