Fiction Friday - 09 November 2007
This Week's Theme: Your character met their love in a unique way. How?
Just about managed to squeeze my NaNoWriMo story into this week's Fiction Friday!
“Captain Strangechild?”
Gideon paused, the razor in mid-stroke on his throat. “Who needs to know?” He finished the stroke and plunged the razor into the bowl, swirling it around in the cool water to dislodge the shavings and soap scum. Satisfied it was clean, or clean enough, he continued.
“Captain, I have a message for you.”
“Then put it on the table, I’ll read it when I’m done.”
“You’ll read it now Captain.” The voice had been soft and sweet, but now had an edge to it, the confident tone of someone with years of experience of being listened to, and followed. Gideon looked over his shoulder in the mirror, to see who this impertinent girl was. Anyone up to the rank of Captain, or outwith his service branch, and he was well within his rights to chew them out for speaking to him like that. Any higher, and it was time to snap to attention and be a good little soldier. He couldn’t see anyone. He spun round and there she was, as bold as brass, standing just outside the tent, illuminated only by the lamps inside the tent. He spotted the rank instantly - only a private, and not even British. Some jumped up Yank private thought she could talk to him like that?
“And just who the hell...” The words died away as he caught sight of the person, not the uniform. It was the eyes that stopped him speaking. In the half-light they looked almost black, but they glistened as if lit from within, rather than simply reflecting the light. The eyes caught the words in his throat, but it was the smile that made the anger melt away. Her lips, half-closed, and the edges her mouth curled up more on one side than the other, or perhaps it was the angle she held her head, cocked on one side, looking coy.
She was young, mid-twenties at most, but held herself like someone older. He could tell that unlike a lot of other female soldiers she didn’t crop her hair short - it was long, but pinned back from her face. Baggy camo did nothing for any woman’s figure, but Gideon could tell that she had a very slight frame. Tall and lithe, she made desert camo look sexier than it had any right to be. He realised he was staring now, and her smile became broader. She looked away briefly, long enough for Gideon to shut his mouth and regain composure. He grabbed a towel from beside the bowl of water, and cleared the remaining spots of shaving foam from his face as he approached the private.
“My apologies, Private...?”
Her eyes darted upwards to meet his. “Lancet. Private Lancet. Sir.” She snapped to attention, and saluted, holding on to the salute while waiting for Gideon to return it. He did, casually, and she dropped the salute with a wink. She reached into a side pocket and withdrew an envelope. “Your orders.”
“Thank you private.” He held out his hand to receive the envelope. The private remained where she was, just outside the tent. Gideon looked at her, puzzled. “Aren’t you going to give me my orders?”
She hesitated, then smiled. “Aren’t you going to invite me in sir?”
“Please, come in.”
She stepped forward and handed the envelope to him. Then she turned and started to leave.
“Wait, aren’t you staying?”
“My orders were to deliver the envelope to you sir.”
“What if you need to take back a reply?”
She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. “There can be only one response to those orders sir.” Then she left.
As she disappeared into the night, Gideon noticed the canvas walls of the tent begin to shimmer, then fade. Darkness bled into everything. In the distance he noticed two figures stood, side by side. One was the young private. The other was older, a man. Heavy set. Despite the distance, he could hear their voices.
“Did you speak with him Maria?”
“Yes your Eminence.”
“And you delivered the orders?”
“Of course.”
“What are your impressions of him?”
“Strong. Quick - he spotted me sooner than most would, even without training. He’s Catholic, so you’d like him...”
The older man snorted a laugh. “It helps.”
“Cute too.”
“Cute? Not your usual criteria Maria...”
“True. If he survives, you may want to keep him in mind for future missions.”
“Perhaps. If he survives....”
The figures faded, leaving Gideon alone, surrounded by the void. He looked down at his right hand. The orders. He slid his finger under the seal to open it. The envelope shimmered before his eyes, like the tent had done before it vanished, but instead of disappearing, it changed. Instead of an envelope, Gideon held a snake, a cobra. It hissed and lunged for his face...
Gideon paused, the razor in mid-stroke on his throat. “Who needs to know?” He finished the stroke and plunged the razor into the bowl, swirling it around in the cool water to dislodge the shavings and soap scum. Satisfied it was clean, or clean enough, he continued.
“Captain, I have a message for you.”
“Then put it on the table, I’ll read it when I’m done.”
“You’ll read it now Captain.” The voice had been soft and sweet, but now had an edge to it, the confident tone of someone with years of experience of being listened to, and followed. Gideon looked over his shoulder in the mirror, to see who this impertinent girl was. Anyone up to the rank of Captain, or outwith his service branch, and he was well within his rights to chew them out for speaking to him like that. Any higher, and it was time to snap to attention and be a good little soldier. He couldn’t see anyone. He spun round and there she was, as bold as brass, standing just outside the tent, illuminated only by the lamps inside the tent. He spotted the rank instantly - only a private, and not even British. Some jumped up Yank private thought she could talk to him like that?
“And just who the hell...” The words died away as he caught sight of the person, not the uniform. It was the eyes that stopped him speaking. In the half-light they looked almost black, but they glistened as if lit from within, rather than simply reflecting the light. The eyes caught the words in his throat, but it was the smile that made the anger melt away. Her lips, half-closed, and the edges her mouth curled up more on one side than the other, or perhaps it was the angle she held her head, cocked on one side, looking coy.
She was young, mid-twenties at most, but held herself like someone older. He could tell that unlike a lot of other female soldiers she didn’t crop her hair short - it was long, but pinned back from her face. Baggy camo did nothing for any woman’s figure, but Gideon could tell that she had a very slight frame. Tall and lithe, she made desert camo look sexier than it had any right to be. He realised he was staring now, and her smile became broader. She looked away briefly, long enough for Gideon to shut his mouth and regain composure. He grabbed a towel from beside the bowl of water, and cleared the remaining spots of shaving foam from his face as he approached the private.
“My apologies, Private...?”
Her eyes darted upwards to meet his. “Lancet. Private Lancet. Sir.” She snapped to attention, and saluted, holding on to the salute while waiting for Gideon to return it. He did, casually, and she dropped the salute with a wink. She reached into a side pocket and withdrew an envelope. “Your orders.”
“Thank you private.” He held out his hand to receive the envelope. The private remained where she was, just outside the tent. Gideon looked at her, puzzled. “Aren’t you going to give me my orders?”
She hesitated, then smiled. “Aren’t you going to invite me in sir?”
“Please, come in.”
She stepped forward and handed the envelope to him. Then she turned and started to leave.
“Wait, aren’t you staying?”
“My orders were to deliver the envelope to you sir.”
“What if you need to take back a reply?”
She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. “There can be only one response to those orders sir.” Then she left.
As she disappeared into the night, Gideon noticed the canvas walls of the tent begin to shimmer, then fade. Darkness bled into everything. In the distance he noticed two figures stood, side by side. One was the young private. The other was older, a man. Heavy set. Despite the distance, he could hear their voices.
“Did you speak with him Maria?”
“Yes your Eminence.”
“And you delivered the orders?”
“Of course.”
“What are your impressions of him?”
“Strong. Quick - he spotted me sooner than most would, even without training. He’s Catholic, so you’d like him...”
The older man snorted a laugh. “It helps.”
“Cute too.”
“Cute? Not your usual criteria Maria...”
“True. If he survives, you may want to keep him in mind for future missions.”
“Perhaps. If he survives....”
The figures faded, leaving Gideon alone, surrounded by the void. He looked down at his right hand. The orders. He slid his finger under the seal to open it. The envelope shimmered before his eyes, like the tent had done before it vanished, but instead of disappearing, it changed. Instead of an envelope, Gideon held a snake, a cobra. It hissed and lunged for his face...
| |
<< Home