2006-09-25, 11:27 PM (ISO 8601)
Re: Writer's Haven
Death in a Coffee Shop
Parts Five & Six“Where were you last week?” I asked the skeleton in the robes.
“Oh, it was horrible, a complete mess. A boat of about forty refugees tipped over out in the Atlantic. I had to sort out the drowning victims from the shark attacks, and then some of them weren’t due yet. I had to be careful, there are rules about this sort of thing, after all. Destinies to consider.”
We stared at each other, both aware that the boundary had been crossed.
“Anyway,” He said at last, “I’ve decided something.”
“What’s that?” I asked.
“I’m taking a break, going on sabbatical.”
“What? What happens then? Do people just not die or something?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, never done it before. I would assume so, I haven’t worked in a couple days and that’s how things seem to be going.”
“I can’t believe what I’m hearing. What are you doing instead, then?”
“I’m doing like you said, trying my hand at some other media. Sculpture seems quite nice so far and I’ve grown a bit fond of ceramics.”
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
As it turned out, Larissa had actually liked Big D’s prose and started spending a substantial amount of time at my apartment. She would come over, I’d make her coffee, and then she’d read. When she was finished with a story we would joke around for awhile, lighten the mood. It was a little odd, though. I wasn’t used to visitors.
She said that the stories made her cry, though, and I made her laugh. I didn’t know how to take that but it was nice to have someone friendly stopping by. Someone who actually enjoyed the same literature as I did.
She was smart, as much as her glasses made her seem. When she read the stories she didn’t need to look up the words that were unfamiliar to me. Against my better judgment, I started feeling attracted to Larissa and looking forward to her visits.
During my meetings with Death she kept herself as faceless and silent as before. She didn’t intrude on us and I commonly caught myself forgetting she was even around, like I had before we met. When we were alone, however, her glasses caught my attention and I loved to watch her read. I knew the stories so well that I could gauge her place in any of them by her facial expressions: a grin during a humorous section, a frown when trouble was brewing. I always had tissues waiting to catch her tears at the end.
It went like that for the next couple weeks, Death was taking his time off and I was falling for our waitress. Whenever Big D finished his latest creation he would bring it to me and I would keep it on display in my apartment to be admired by Larissa.
To my surprise, Death’s pottery resembled tribal relics more than it did the twisted and tortured souls I had imagined. The sculpture, however, met my expectations and I finally decided to drape a towel over a particular piece rather than face any more nightmares.
Last edited by ghost_warlock; 2008-10-03 at 11:46 PM.