Two Empty Hands

Day 485

Today’s entry is needfully short rather than functionally so.

Morning’s moisture skimmed the yesterday-mown grass. Sunlight blazed through that dew in haphazard splotches and streaked over the drier foot path. The child insisted she was to be seated next to her Father–but not that close.

She extended her fisted hands. “Which one?”

He taps the left–his left. “This one.”

She opens it empty.

He taps the other. “That one.”

She opens it empty and laughs.

“You got me!”

The little girl grabs his hands formed them into fists as best she can, “You do now?”

99 words

Beyond the Ailchas Redux

Day 480

Kimberelle held out his least used riding vest. “You’ll be wearing this?” she asked.

Ailchas put it on. He knew it wasn’t a question. “Do you ever wonder…”

“Hardly ever. Sometimes. Not this evening certainly.” Her voice caught; she turned pick up a wooden box or maybe to hide her eyes.

She tilted the lid on the box and removed her pin. Showing it to him with a smile. All his reluctance to wear a jeweled butterfly in front of his men evaporated with her smile. He called to mind their joining many years before: he gave her a ring and she gave him a kiss—he’d been making up the difference in the forty years since. Even though they were alone he left his arms slack at his sides like he was receiving a medal. Kimberelle slid the pin in place on his vest.

He looked down to inspect her work ready with a false pleased grin only to be surprised. Instead of a glittering butterfly he found a kutaqesk. His kutaquesk.

She winked. “I had Janor add the sword to the back of the clasp. Turn your vest out and you’ll see your impractical butterfly.”

202 words

Ailchas Redux

Day 479

Ailchas slipped the skay into the cup with an uncharacteristic silence knowing intuitively his throw would turn Clear Sky, but he was loosing on purpose tonight and markered opposite with Forest Fire. He shook and emptied the cup on the table: all six skay showed blue side up.

“Bees, maybe. Hornets or wasps, assuredly. But butterflies?” Ailchas asked. “It’s impractical.”

“You equate speed with practicality. You should not,” Kimberelle said.

“No?” Ailchas gestured to her marker, “What’s yours?” Kimberelle revealed Forest Fire, the same as his. Ailchas sniffed. His wife was winning, but keeping the margin narrow. “You and I should not play this game.”

“Bees have no single mind and are therefore corruptable; wasps and their kind are nothing but single-minded and cannot be swayed. Butterflies may be indirect, but the are willing and capable. More important, they are discrete.”

“Fair enough. But still…”

Kimberelle stood up from the small table and crossed their suite to the hearth. She waved a trio of candles to flame and took a wooden box down from the mantle. Ailchas cleaned up the game and stayed seated.

“Quit being a bull and come over here. Please? The light is better.”

“I like you better in the dark.”

“Later.” When she say his frown, “Later, but soon. We need to do this other thing now.”

Ailchas stood but stalled to cinch the cap onto the skay cup, securing the pieces and markers inside. He pushed in the chairs and dusted some crumbs off the table. When he could find no more excuses not to join her he went over to her better light.

275 words