Donnerstag, 31. Januar 2013

Whose Pet

The characteristics of the dragon are the invention of a dear friend and writer and not my own. 


Short story


Don’t you think it's rather strange we get along so well?“

Freda propped her chin on her palm and eyed her opposite from deep, green eyes. There were small laughter lines all around them that belied her apparent youthfulness and a careful inspection of her reddish hair would have revealed more than just the occasional grey hair. Freda was sitting on a roughly hewn table, a plate with cleanly gnawed down pheasant bones in front of her. Crumbs of bread were scattered around the plate, further testimony of a happily devoured meal. Freda wasn’t the most orderly person, but she knew her opposite didn’t pay attention to such small details.

You’ve got some fat on your cheek,” His voice was deep, resounding, like a bell. Freda grimaced and then wiped her finger over her cheek. Instead of cleaning the oily finger on a piece of cloth, however, she licked it carefully clean. She gave him a stern look.

I notice you haven’t answered my question. You don’t agree?”

The slightly belligerent tone caused her opposite to sigh in mock exasperation, but there was an amused expression in his bronze coloured eyes. He propped up his elbows and steepled his fingers, while he gave himself an air of careful consideration. It wasn’t a natural gesture to his kind but he had observed it in humans and adopted it, partly because he realised how such studied gestures annoyed Freda. She promptly scowled and then, with an attempt at studied indifference herself (which failed miserably) she slid from the bench and began to clear the table. The plate was carried outside, the bones thrown over the side of the cliff by the entrance, the plate scrubbed clean with sand in the spring nearby. Once back she cleaned the table by sweeping all the crumbs together into her hollow hand. With one gesture she threw them all into her mouth and ate them. He noticed it without comment, without even allowing her to know that he had noticed. Such gestures came naturally to her, but whenever she became aware of them she was deeply embarrassed. He didn’t mind, but he was pained by the knowledge of what lay behind such small gestures; the deprivation of a childhood spent in abysmal poverty, where the next meal was probably several days away and then insufficient. He still remembered her as the small girl, so grubby one was hesitant to venture a guess as to her natural skin colour, hair a tangled mess that ate combs, so emaciated every joint in her body showed up prominently. He still remembered the disgust he felt at that moment. His kind would never allow one of theirs to get into such a shape. But the village she had come from had been blind to her plight, and that of several other children. He silently chuckled. Getting her to take her first bath had been a bit of a struggle.


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