Three Little Words #1 - “Deicidium”
In an attempt to overcome my writing slump, my boyfriend gave me three things to build a short story around. The result was this little story I’ve included below. I had so much fun with the exercise that I’ve decided to continue it in a series on my side blog where all my ideas go to wreck havoc and such that I’ll also reblog here on my main blog from time to time. Feel free to let me know of any thoughts, questions, or advice you may have! You can also message me three items you’d like to see in a story and I’ll try to conjure something up! :) And lastly, please don’t remove the credit.
Three topics: Pie, Tornadoes, Angler fish
The smell of cinnamon brought my eyes up to hers, the green-eyed twenty something with the horns. She sat across from me with a smirk drawn across her lovely face.
“This seat won’t be taken,” she said with an air of certainty that seemed unsettling. “Would you like to hear a story that isn’t about me?”
“A story,” she repeated. “Would you like to hear one?”
I closed my laptop. “Listen, I appreciate it, but I have an English paper to finish here.”
Suddenly, a waitress appeared beside us and set down a slice of pie in front of the young woman. Without a word, the waitress left and disappeared into Café Moira’s small kitchen.
“She doesn’t know me nor has she ever spoken to me,” said the horned beauty. “Yet she brings me a slice of rhubarb pie. All of this seems to confuse you.”
“This place doesn’t serve rhubarb pie,” I replied while staring at the slice. I slowly looked back up at her. “It’s never served rhubarb pie.” I glanced over the café’s menu mounted on the wall behind us, all the while ignoring the tension building in the pit of stomach. I knew what I was going to find. The menu hadn’t changed in over a year. Apple, cherry, and peach were the only pie options listed, just as I’d suspected.
“How the rhubarb slice came to be is a story for another day.” The young woman took a bite of the pie with a smile of satisfaction. “But today is not that day. Today is for a story of another kind.”
My English paper was soon forgotten.
“Fine, tell me the story.”
The young woman offered a small nod and set down her fork. As she did, her horns grew ever so slightly, like two slender blackish-blue tendrils emerging from the depths of her glossy black hair. Catching myself staring, I quickly adverted my eyes and cleared my throat.
“Before I begin, I must caution you: What you see may or may not hurt you. But what you believe will always hurt you.”
The words seemed familiar somehow, striking some chord deep within me. Before I could ask her to clarify, she pressed on.
“There once was a Great Being who had power beyond anyone else. Naturally, the Great Being grew lonely, and so created a Lesser Being to talk to as a way to pass the time. But the Lesser Being was mischievous and this angered the Greater Being.
“So the Greater Being created more Lesser Beings,” she continued, “each time hoping the next one would be better than the last. Alas, this proved to be a futile effort.”
The young woman took another bite of her rhubarb pie. After finishing her bite, she looked up at me and asked, “Now tell me, do you have a story for me?”
“No, I don’t,” I sighed, gathering my things. I stood to leave. “Thanks for the story, I guess…”
The horned beauty only smirked. As I took a step, I heard the splash of water. Looking down, my eyes suddenly grew wide. The floor had turned into a shadowy ocean beneath me. A chill ran across my skin. “What the hell?” I screamed, falling back into my seat. Just then, a faint light drifted near my feet. Closer and closer it floated up towards me until the menacing grin of an angler fish surfaced between my feet.
I was outside before I realized I had even stood to run. My mind swirled within my skull and nausea threatened to bring me to my knees. But as my eyes rose to the sky, my mouth ran dry. Steely grey clouds swirled into a coal black mass just beyond the horizon. A screeching roar tore across the sky as a column of wind and debris funneled beneath the mass, hurtling cars and roofs in its wake. On either side of the tornado, several other funnels slowly spiraled towards the ground.
“I warned you,” someone called out behind me. I turned around to see the young woman with the horns leaning against a lamp post in front of the café with her arms folded in front of her. The streets were deserted. She and I were the only two who remained. Where is everyone? I thought, turning frantically from one direction to another. Where? Where?
“You did this, didn’t you?” I hollered at her. “Stop this! All of it!” But she only shook her head.
“Such a shame…I looked forward to hearing the story you had to tell. How clever you must’ve thought yourself!” she exclaimed. “But the creator couldn’t become the teacher. You failed. They didn’t learn, didn’t listen. And we can’t let failure go on to create more failure.” I watched in silence as a blood red sword materialized in the young woman’s hand. Her green eyes glowed with a fierceness only beasts could muster.
“I don’t understand,” I muttered, holding up my hands in front of me. “Please…I—” but the rain filled my mouth and drowned my words. The horned beauty walked up to me and raised the sword above her head.
“Didn’t I tell you already?” she smirked. “That story wasn’t about me.”
