A Story

Here's a little story that I wrote a couple of years ago. I wasn't sure what else to start my blog with, but this just happened to pop to my mind--so here it is.

She watched him pace back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until it made her head swim. Finally he stopped and went to the large mahogany desk and pulled at one of the gold handled drawers. Picking out an intricately carved, oak box he selected a fat, brown cigar and stuck it into his broad mouth. Again he rummaged through the drawer and pulled out a smaller version of the first box. Opening it, he took out a match and struck it against the box and a little flame burst up. With shaking fingers he held it to the end of his cigar. The rings on his last three fingers of his left hand sparkled momentarily then died out. He took a deep breath from the cigar and blew. Smoke curled up to the ceiling in a grey, lacy formation, then it faded gracefully into the already stifling air.

She had watched the whole process and now he lifted his eyes to meet hers and his two large, black eyes flickered with annoyance. He smiled; his already curved, raven like nose became more curved and even more raven like. His smile was extremely big because of his broad mouth, but the smile was not kind--no indeed. Rather, Amanda saw a secret smile that promised that she was in for something; something bad and wicked and full of trouble.

She felt sick, not from the worry of what was to come, but of the large man in front of her. He sat and folded his claws--no they were not claws, but hands with dirty cream colored grime underneath his talons--no! he had not talons!

She felt dizzy and wanted to get out of the room. She needed fresh air, now! She looked desperately at the tightly closed and locked French doors at the end of the room and wanted to open them, to feel the feather light breeze move about her and blow away her loneliness and sickness. Freedom--she needed it--that only would be her medicine, but the knowing look on the big man's face told her he would not open those doors for as long as she was in the room.

Amanda breathed deeply and folded her hands tightly in her lap. Come, come, she thought feverishly. Come, let's get it over with. She squeezed her eyes tightly. Then, finally, the door behind her creaked open and three men came in. She let out a shaky breath--now her fate would be decided.

It took long enough to have the three men settle down, and yet exchange greetings, and every other formality that existed, before eventually getting to the present case. Well, really, only two of the three men had to undergo all the formalities and introductions that ever existed, for the third man, who was younger than the other two, and had apparently, to Amanda's eyes, not ever entered the room before, stood unnoticed for a while until one of the men noticed to introduce him. Otherwise the younger man looked about the room with calculated interest. Too bad he had to be here now, Amanda thought as dryly as the warm, swimming air permitted.

The younger man's gaze came to rest on Amanda and he looked at her with piercing black eyes that glittered and said that he wasn't pleased to be there, but was there anyhow. Amanda looked back with hard scrutiny. She didn't like the look of things, and the fact that she had a hopeless situation--for everything would point against her and none of the men would ever stand up for her as they hadn't even been there--made her feel as if she were shriveling, yet not shriveling for she was not dying, but was shriveling into something hot (like a grape too long in the sun) and noticable.

That gaze...Amanda looked away and stared with rising anger at the desk in front of her. Her cheeks felt hot and she was feeling rather faint....

I'm afraid this is all you're going to see of this story, for I am not known for finishing them. You may see it one day between a hard or soft cover with a title and an author...but for now it is here.