Day 55: Mr. and Mrs. Crazy

Dammit where’s the humor you ask. Not really sure. I consider myself rather funny in person. Though I’ll note that it’s a situational conversational sort of humor that plays mostly off the expectations of the audience that I won’t say something tactless to get a laugh. But I do.

In the following dialogue the names have been changed to protect the identities of myself and my wife.
Jane closes the exterior door in the master bedroom.

“I left that open to cool the room off,” Joe says. “It’s finally nice enough outside to get away with.”

“You weren’t going to leave it open all night were you?” asks Jane.

“I don’t know. What do you care? You used to live in a tent.”

“In the mountains. Far away from the crazies.”

“The crazies?” Joe asks.

“You know what I meant.”

Jane is nearly in bed. Joe is stripping off his shorts and crawling in next to her. Jane nods to the light on in the bathroom behind him, “You’re not expecting me to get that.”

“…”

“I wasn’t the last one in there.”

“Ugh, you could of mentioned that sooner.”  Joe thumps out of bed and turns off the light.  “That’s why I wanted the door open, so the crazies could come in here and turn off all our lights. And put my socks in the hamper. And close the closet door. And put the seat up every damn time. That’s what the crazy crazy people do you know.” He crawls back under the sheets with as much drama as possible.

Joe turns off the light and Jane say, “There’s definitely one crazy person in here.”

“Ohh, there’s for sure one crazy person in here,” Joe agrees.

“Night.”

“Night”

“I love you.”

“You better.”

Word count: 270

Day 54: The Second Approach to Epiphany

In the previous “The Approach to Epiphany” I wanted to describe Johnathan Goffe’s walk up to his sister’s home.  The narrative spun of topic and did not return well even once I noticed, made note, and tacked the other direction.

In this I’m am going to take the same photograph and apply it to entirely different characters.  Should be a fun exercise.

Wednesday Walk was strange.  High branching trees colonnaded the narrow lane emphatically.  Icy fog obscured the leafless canopy making it seem even more lofty, more universal, than Sophia already imagined.

The wet winter air held mysteries from her nose.  The Walk smelled clean as far as Sophia could sniff it out–and maybe it was–but she knew the world outside this oaken corridor hid pungent wounds needing healing.  The limp day-old snow helped hide them too.

But mornings like these couldn’t muffle sounds.  A spoken word, a closing gate, a toe catching on a stone would all rush to her on the moist air and she’d hear them as precisely as her own thoughts.  She could be the perfect eavesdropper finding out lovers and holding their secrets secret–or not.  She could spy on honest men and thieves alike.  She could hunt up twittering mice like an owl.  She could do all these things if only there were sounds sounding.  Even the couple ahead was quiet.

Sophia knew she was coming to something too quickly.  The blind sky and the mute fields compelled her patience.  Even her numb fingers told her to to wait–to be not hasty.  If she arrived too early, too unprepared, this thing would not yet be, might even cease to be able to be.

In defiance Sophia picked up her pace.

Word count:  278

Day 53: From a Movie

FADE IN:

INT. CHAEDATON WEST PORTICO DUSK

A WHITE SILK SASH cascades to the tile floor.

The sash streams over the tile on a breath of wind. It catches on a HAND then drifts over the entire BLOODY BODY.

The sash lofts higher where it wraps around the butt of a nearly vertical ARROW. The arrow heaves and the sash is gone.

EXT. CHAEDATON WEST STAIRS DUSK

GENERAL ARNNA GRANA breaks the shaft a handspan above where the arrow enters his side and thumbs off the splinters. Grana kneels on the steps and falls forward onto the broken shaft. The bronze head erupts through the flesh of his back.

Grana removes the arrow and collapses. Grana appears to die.

Later TWO PILLAGERS dash up the steps to Grana. Grana’s blood stain is darker–drier.

FIRST PILLAGER
Are you certain this is the one?

SECOND PILLAGER
I saw him in the piazza yesterday with the other soldiers.

FIRST PILLAGER
That doesn’t make it him.

SECOND PILLAGER
Look at his boots and his braids. It’s him. Unstrap his helmet first.

GRANA
Hold.

Word count: 161