Droplets from the Inkwell

I leaned forward to peer over the edge of the balcony. All the seats below me were filled. I studied all the men in suits and tuxedos and women in evening wear. The speakers throughout the house played soft classical music. I sat back in my seat as the light began to dim. I stared at the red satin curtains that hung at the front of the stage. Once the house was dark, the curtains silently parted and the stage was bathed in light. Actors began to file onto the set as the pit orchestra began playing.

The sun warmed me as we walked through the park, holding hands. We walked by the soccer field and I watched as as two groups of college students playing, the two teams apparently delineated by “shirts vs. skins.” I found my eyes lingering on one particularly tall black-haired guy on the “skins” team, sweat beading on his torso. Jeff squeezed my hand. I turned and he gave me a look that was mostly amused with maybe the slightest bit of jealousy thrown in. I blushed and smile sheepishly. He laughed, then pulled me closer so he could gently brush my lips with his.

As our lips parted, he grinned and said, “Besides, I guess I can’t be too jealous. I was checking out the lanky redhead on the opposing team.” I gave him a playful punch to the shoulder and we both laughed as we began to walk toward the picnic area.

The four warriors sat atop their mounts, guiding them through the remains of the small village. The large one, Shogar, glanced around at the people rooting through the burned out remains of homes looking for belongings, tended the wounded, and wailed over the bodies of loved ones. His brow wrinkled in disgust. “What manner of vermin does this to unarmed folk, Kandis?”

The lean man with bushy red hair and beard halted his horse, then circled back to his companion. “You speak true, brother. The scum that did this are little more than vermin. It’s the nature of the army we pursue and the one who leads it.”

The short man wearing leather armor and carrying a dagger spoke, “Yeah, this looks like the work of Hetrix alright. He no doubt turned his men loose on this place so they could have their sport.”

Shogar spit in disgust. “Sport. As if there’s anything sporting about this massacre.”

The fourth warrior coughed and all three looked in his direction. Kandis nodded. “You are right, brother. We must get moving. There are undoubtedly many more villages like this in our foe’s path. I say we meet him before he has a chance to repeat these atrocities.”

The two teens lay side by side on the grass, staring up at the white clouds that peppered the crisp blue sky. The redhead lifted a scrawny arm, pointed, and said, “That one looks like a sailboat.”

His blond companion followed the pointing finger. “Yeah, it does. And that tiny whisp below it could almost be a fish.”

“Nah, Jerome, I think you’re stretching it on that one.”

“Well, I certainly see it that way, Sam.”

“If you say so.”

“Well, do you at least see the dragon over there?” Jerome asked, pointing toward the western horizon.

“Oh yeah! He looks like he’s about to breathe fire!”

“You’re right! Wonder if he’s attacking a village or something?”

“I just hope it’s not our village.” Sam paused before adding, “Though that would give my parents something to do other than argue with each other.”

Jerome lay there in silence for a moment or two. “So they got into it again last night?”

“Yeah. It was awful. I could hear Mom’s screeching even with my head buried under both pillows.”

“Man, that sucks. How did your dad react?”

“He stormed out. Probably headed back to the bar.” Sam sighed. “I suppose that’s better than the times that he beats her.”

“Still not good, man.”

“No kidding. I hate it when he drinks like that. I wish he wouldn’t do it so much. Then this morning, no one in the house was talking to each other. Nothing but icy silence.”

“Ouch.”

“Yeah. Worst thing is, that’s the good time. I’m sure things will get worse again tonight. It’s always worse when the rent check is due.”

Jerome stared at the sky for a moment, feeling for his friend. He knew that when things got really bad, Sam occasionally came to school the next day with nasty looking bruises. He hated seeing that happen to his friend, and it infuriated him that none of hte adults seemed to notice or care enough to do something about it. He decided to do what little he could. “Hey, you want to see if you can spend the night at my place? We haven’t had a sleepover since summer began.”

“Do you think I could? That would be great.”

“Sure! I’ll even see if Mom will spring for a couple video rentals or something.

“Cool. I think we have a bag of potato chips in the pantry. I’ll see if I can sneak them into my backpack when i come over.”

I stepped through the door into the tiny shop. It couldn’t have been larger than most people’s living rooms. I heard a woman’s voice from behind a beaded curtain covering a doorway in the far wall. “Be right with you!”

“Okay,” I said absentmindedly as I approached a small table of curious figurines on a table in a front corner. One particular figure caught my eyes. It looked to be made of bronze, stood about six inches tall, and was of a woman holding a sword over her head. A cat stood on the shoulder of her free hand, arching, arching its back as if also in attack posture.

“Ah, you like the Freyja then?” the same voice said, this time from next to me. I spun and saw a middle aged woman with black hair in a french braid. She wore a black skirt and a simple sweater to match it. She took a step back and smiled reassuringly. “She is popular with many young women. Especially those who feel disempowered.”

“Well, that would certainly describe me. In a lot of ways, she reminds me of the character, Xena.”

She sniffed. “Good character, but she’s nothing compared to this power-house that the Scandinavians worshipped. Go ahead, pick her up and take a closer look.” I did as she bid, turning the small statue over in my hand and studying it from all angles. The more I held it and looked at it, the more it seemed to appeal to me.

“Yes, I think she likes you too,” the woman said after a few minutes. “You carry her around the shop while you browse. If you like her, I’ll cut you a deal.”

I met the orc's blade with my own, the clash of metal sounding throughout the hall. Sparks flew as the two swords grated against each other.

---

Every surface in the temple shone as if imbued with divine essence. A white-robed priest stood at the altar the far end of the chamber.

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He crept past the troll cave, trying not to make any sound. He could smell the stench of death and waste coming from the entrance.

---

She held the jewel in her hand. She could feel its power warming her hand, radiating down through her arm and into her chest. It was hers!

---

I looked at the demon's handsome face and saw his now-crimson eyes. I could feel him draining away my soul. Yet, my desire for him held me.

---

I scanned my surroundings, choking on the acrid smoke. I dodged a plume of flames that blistered my shoulder. The beast loomed above me.

She stood at the window, looking out over the town below. Inns, shops, and stables huddled near the castle walls, and she could hear the sound of a blacksmith’s hammer echo softly from the midst of it all. Beyond these places of commerce, small houses spread into the valley before slowly becoming more sparse and separated by crop fields and livestock pens. Small dirt roads, barely big enough for a single stagecoach, tangled their way through it all, providing passage for travelers.

She straightened the many layers of her dress as she looked at the whole scene below wistfully. She had never left even the most innermost walls of her father’s keep, let alone ventured beyond the outer gate into the wilder world. Every now and then, she would hear the servant children talk of some great adventure they had or some grand spectacle they had seen in the town, and she envied them. Her world was circumscribed by dull state ceremonies and the lessons with her tutors.

Then there was the endless needlework that her mother attempted to entice her with. It infuriated her, as she could not see what her mother found so enjoyable about docilely running brightly colored threads through cloth in various patterns. Personally, she would much rather join the young boys on their quest to find some orc treasure or visit the gnomes’ fanciful workshops with their incredible mechanizations.

I watched him as he danced, his body swaying to the rhythm. His eyes met mine and his lips parted in a welcoming smile. I walked toward him.

---

I sat at the bar, sipping a Long Island Iced tea. I glanced across the room and saw a brown-haired man in a sweater vest smiling at me.

---

He took the lead and we flitted across the ballroom floor. I matched his steps, mesmerized by his closeness and the fluid motions.

---

She stepped in time to the fiddle, smiling broadly as she enjoyed the dance. Her current partner swung her around. She laughed in delight.

---

We danced together on the crowded floor as the speakers boomed out electronic music. Someone bumped me, pushing me into him. We smiled.

---

I walked in and was immediately overwhelmed. Men were everywhere. Men in suits. Fraternity brothers in letters. Glitter-covered flamers.

I walked down the street toward the bar. The building itself was pretty nondescript, red brick with merely a neon sign over the double doors to proclaim that this was indeed The Lavender Flamingo Room. A large white man with a shaved head and goatee stood outside, wearing a black shirt with the word “Security” emblazoned across the front. As I approached, he addressed me. “Got ID?” I handed him my driver’s license. He studied it for a few seconds, glanced at my face and then back to the ID, and finally handed it to me. “Go on in.”

I walked in and was immediately overwhelmed. Men were everywhere. Men in suits. Fraternity brothers in letters. Glitter-covered flamers. Men wearing leather. Men holding hands and even kissing. I could catch glimpses of men in little more than thong underwear gyrating on some sort of platform at the other end of the huge room. I stepped next to a support column and waited for my eyes to adjust to the dim light and for my ears to get used to the music bellowing from the numerous speakers.

After a minute or two, I walked toward the bar that was off to one side. As I approached, a twinky bartender with red hair smiled. “Hey, I haven’t seen you around before. You new?”

“Yeah, I heard about this place the other day and thought I’d check it out,” I replied, somewhat nervously.

“Welcome to the Flamingo, then. I’m Shane. What can I get you to drink? First one’s on me.”