Morning all. I hope you had a fabulous weekend and are ready to dive into a bright and shiny new week. I had dreams of a demonic house that sucked the life out of people last night so I am nut entirely sure what that says about me and my readiness for the week, but I am happy to find out. So timers set and off we go into our first prompt of the week.
I like the thought of this. I am going to need to figure out where this is going, and what story it relates too but I like the idea. I am thinking mistaken identity actually. He was there for the census and they thought he was a different kind of government agent maybe.
Monday, June 8th: It was sweeter than he expected.
It was sweeter than he expected. He spit the mouthful of tea surreptitiously back into the cup and lowered is cup back into the saucer. He smiled at his host. ‘When had she added the sugar?’ he thought. He was watching her as she went through the ritual of fixing and handing him his cup. He didn’t see her reach for the sugar bowl.
‘And how did she get it so sweet?’ By the flavor of the sip he took he would have expected to see at least one, perhaps two heaping spoonfuls of sugar added to the delicate China cup. Yet he saw nothing.
“…in 1833 you see,” She was saying. She looked at him as though she expected an answer. He nodded politely and tried to regain the threads of the conversation.
“Really?” he said. He added a lilt to the word to make it a polite question and hoped she saw it as a sign to continue. She smiled back at him and did.
“Oh yes, I am quite sure of the date,” the woman said. Colin felt his tongue and his lips growing numb. He tried licking his lips, trying to keep the gesture small so he didn’t seem rude. He wasn’t sure it worked. His vision was blurry and he started to tile sideways. His tea cup fell and he saw the liquid spill down the side of his trouser leg. His first thought was, at least the cloth is dark.’ He second was relief that it was low enough down to not look like he wet himself.
“Took long enough,” the woman said. He looked up to her, the act of moving his head felt momentous, as though is was stone not flesh and bone.
He heard footsteps behind him but couldn’t turn. His neck simply was inadequate to shift the boulder that was his head.
“Did he drink enough,” a man’s voice.
“Yes,” she said.
Colin blinked and the floor was rushing up to him. He wasn’t aware of falling, just of the floor racing towards him and pressing itself against his cheek. Suddenly closing his eyes seemed like the best idea in the world.
“Take him downstairs,” the woman commanded. “It will take them longer to find the body.”
Colin kept his eyes shut and his breath shallow. He was numb but not dead. He wondered if death would be soon or if is spitting out the too sweet tea saved him. He didn’t know. He did know that currently it would be best to pretend to be a body instead of a person.
‘That way they don’t feel like getting out sharp pointing things to help make me a body.’
Colin was limp from whatever was numbing him and the man didn’t seem to notice he was breathing. He kept his eyes closed as he was taken downstairs. Surprisingly the downstairs wasn’t a dank dark dungeon of a basement but a completely furnished media room. Colin was lain on the couch as though he had fallen asleep watching a movie. The remote was moved with in reach and a blanket was placed over him.
Ten til Midnight 