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kc_obrienVoices beckoned her through the silence, almost like a voice in the back of her head, guiding Essie through the empty park.
A tent seemed to appear in front of her, like one of the ones that gypsy fortune tellers would open up at a fair. It was striped in gold and burgundy with an awning that stretched out for three feet in front of it. Veils draped across the mouth and sides of the awning though, looking like the shop was closed. To make it just that little bit more intimidating, two hulking guards stood in front as well, wearing vests constructed out of golden scales and pants striped to match the tent. Their eyes followed Essie as she approached, but otherwise they were impassive and stood there as if carved from stone.
She froze then, two feet from the entrance, but again the voices that weren't quite in her head urged her onward. Her feet drew her further still and when the guards made no move to stop her, she darted inside. The first veil parted as thought it wasn't there, leaving her in a sort of anteroom, veils surrounding her on all sides, a dark burgundy veil before her now. It moved gently as though tugged by the wind, daring her to step through.
You've come this far, she told herself, not needing the voices urging to take her further.
Inside the air was thick with the scent of leather and vanilla, carried by wisps of incense smoke. At its center a wizened crone sat behind a round table. In the middle of the table a goblet of crimson glass, behind it three unmarked flasks, identical but for the materials they were made of; silver on the right, gold on the left and clear glass smoked until it was opaque in the center.
"Three potions, deary," the voices croaked, the ones that had brought her here and that of the crone herself, surrounding her and filling her consciousness, "it is for you to choose the path you will take."
"What do they do?" Essie heard herself murmur, her feet stepping her closer to the table unbidden.
"One to bring love, one to dissolve hate and the last to start anew."
"To start anew?"
The voices laughed, echoing queerly in the small tent. "To start anew, deary."
"Which is which?"
"Ahh," it was just the crone now, "there is the rub, my dear. You can embrace love, dissolve hate or start anew, but it is your heart that will guide you, not my knowledge."
Essie frowned, staring at the flasks. "How am I to choose?"
"With our heart."
She blinked at that and tried to step back, but she found her feet unwilling to withdraw.
"Choose you must," must, must, must the cacophony echoed, the voice in her head joining the others, "or all shall be ended."
A chill ran through Essie and she took another step forward. "Ended?"
The crone laughed, "We are not stupid, my dear. Choose or lose."
Essie swallowed and reached out, her heart threatening to beat its way out of her chest. Old wisdom of gold not being the only thing to glitter and half a hundred other wive's tales beat at her consciousness. Each one confused her more.
Just drink one, my dear a voice said in her mind, know that the choice has been made and will again. The nature of time tells you that you have made the choice already. So choose, pour and drink, and life shall go on.
Essie turned around and found herself standing alone in the park clearing, no tent, no guards, no crone, no choice. Alone with the barest hint of licorice on her lips. She turned, gazing around her, looking for something, anything to tell her why she was out there, but she found only the chill of autumn to answer her.
==
Welcome to the Second Semester of "30 Days of Fic." Today's prompt was to write a story that revolves around a goblet and three [somethings].
For a full rundown on my Second Semester of 30 Days of Fic, please click here for future prompts and to find all the stories I've created.
A tent seemed to appear in front of her, like one of the ones that gypsy fortune tellers would open up at a fair. It was striped in gold and burgundy with an awning that stretched out for three feet in front of it. Veils draped across the mouth and sides of the awning though, looking like the shop was closed. To make it just that little bit more intimidating, two hulking guards stood in front as well, wearing vests constructed out of golden scales and pants striped to match the tent. Their eyes followed Essie as she approached, but otherwise they were impassive and stood there as if carved from stone.
She froze then, two feet from the entrance, but again the voices that weren't quite in her head urged her onward. Her feet drew her further still and when the guards made no move to stop her, she darted inside. The first veil parted as thought it wasn't there, leaving her in a sort of anteroom, veils surrounding her on all sides, a dark burgundy veil before her now. It moved gently as though tugged by the wind, daring her to step through.
You've come this far, she told herself, not needing the voices urging to take her further.
Inside the air was thick with the scent of leather and vanilla, carried by wisps of incense smoke. At its center a wizened crone sat behind a round table. In the middle of the table a goblet of crimson glass, behind it three unmarked flasks, identical but for the materials they were made of; silver on the right, gold on the left and clear glass smoked until it was opaque in the center.
"Three potions, deary," the voices croaked, the ones that had brought her here and that of the crone herself, surrounding her and filling her consciousness, "it is for you to choose the path you will take."
"What do they do?" Essie heard herself murmur, her feet stepping her closer to the table unbidden.
"One to bring love, one to dissolve hate and the last to start anew."
"To start anew?"
The voices laughed, echoing queerly in the small tent. "To start anew, deary."
"Which is which?"
"Ahh," it was just the crone now, "there is the rub, my dear. You can embrace love, dissolve hate or start anew, but it is your heart that will guide you, not my knowledge."
Essie frowned, staring at the flasks. "How am I to choose?"
"With our heart."
She blinked at that and tried to step back, but she found her feet unwilling to withdraw.
"Choose you must," must, must, must the cacophony echoed, the voice in her head joining the others, "or all shall be ended."
A chill ran through Essie and she took another step forward. "Ended?"
The crone laughed, "We are not stupid, my dear. Choose or lose."
Essie swallowed and reached out, her heart threatening to beat its way out of her chest. Old wisdom of gold not being the only thing to glitter and half a hundred other wive's tales beat at her consciousness. Each one confused her more.
Just drink one, my dear a voice said in her mind, know that the choice has been made and will again. The nature of time tells you that you have made the choice already. So choose, pour and drink, and life shall go on.
Essie turned around and found herself standing alone in the park clearing, no tent, no guards, no crone, no choice. Alone with the barest hint of licorice on her lips. She turned, gazing around her, looking for something, anything to tell her why she was out there, but she found only the chill of autumn to answer her.
==
Welcome to the Second Semester of "30 Days of Fic." Today's prompt was to write a story that revolves around a goblet and three [somethings].
For a full rundown on my Second Semester of 30 Days of Fic, please click here for future prompts and to find all the stories I've created.
no subject
Date: 2011-07-23 06:52 am (UTC)I'm just not sure if I have more of this one in me. I mean, in the last 30 Days piece, I created three settings that got multiple stories, all of which I liked but never really got my head wrapped around a bigger picture. And I've got three stories, here, each one with rich options that feel like parts of a continuing story.
I think I need to learn to focus enough to know my world and play in ti so I can slip between them more easily. But... Look out for "Purple Bag".
no subject
Date: 2011-07-23 02:21 pm (UTC)Ok?
no subject
Date: 2011-07-23 03:48 pm (UTC)