Saturday, May 31, 2008

Mysterious Scribblings

Music Musings

A Short Story inspired by the film clip ……Another Brick in The Wall.........

…and as Leila faced the Gorgon alone, her thoughts were not of her own safety or of the task ahead – but of Trion, trapped back at the village, depending on her success to free not only the villagers, but his heart. The Gorgon roared and the stench of its breath felt hot on her face. Its green teeth dripping and forked tongue lashed out toward her. Suddenly she…….

“So,Shona, whast have we here? Mysterious scribblings, a secret code perhaps? You’re writing a story? Well, everyone, Shona considers herself to be a writer!” taunted the teacher.

The class erupted into laughter.

The teacher tore the page out of her book, scrunched it and threw it expertly into the bin.

“Now get back to work Missy.” Demanded her teacher, returning to stalk the room.

Timothy shyly pushed his way towards her during recess. He stuck his hand out in offering, the scrunched paper waving at her.

“ I crept back in and rescued it. Sorry, I read it. Is really good. You should keep writing”

Shona returned the shy smile and thanked him. “If the Head of English says that my writing is rubbish, I should listen to them. He gets his letters to the Editor published in the newspaper all the time, so must know about this stuff.”

Late that night, Shona sighed and stuffed her hand written pages into an old suitcase. It was full of half written books, poetry and fantasy sketches, she had drawn to accompany the graphic novel she had nearly finished. Somewhere in the depths, lay many letters of rejection from publishers, discouraging notes from famous authors and her report cards.

“All rubbish. I need to get my head around to the fact I am just rubbish at this creative stuff and find something real to pursue. Something that can lead me to a real job” Silently she added,” I mimic my father so well, its scary.”

Leila and Trion screamed into the darkening mist. The sobs of the tortured villagers intermixed with the hungry roars of the Gorgon. The crescendo was lost on deafened ears.

“So Mr Willis, You can see from these projected figures that an investment of this magnitude would not only compliment your current holdings, but the tax advantages would offset your current position.” Shona, gave a professional smile at her suited client. He frowned momentarily, but smiled back and stood offering his hand.

“Ms Miller, you came to my account highly recommended and I can see why. I will send the legal team over with the necessary paperwork to ensure we finalize this deal. On a more personal note, I wondered if you might join me for dinner tonight?”

“Oh” stammered Shona,” I’d ordinarily be delighted, but..”

Of course, I understand . A woman of your standing must have many social engagements. It was foolish of me to think you might be free tonight. Forgive me. I will make sure my people talk to your people about the paperwork. Good afternoon.” And with that the tall handsome Mr Willis strode out.

Shona brushed back imaginary strands of hair from her eyes; a habit from school girl days when she wore it shaggy and black, her whitened face glowing out beneath a long fringe looking at the world behind heavily kohled eyes. She allowed herself to sigh and turned to her computer and calendar, noting the distinct lack of any social engagements. All her emails were work related and the only photo she had on her desk was of her cat.

Hours later, her desk was the only one still occupied… again. Although tired, she pushed herself to finish the details on another urgent account.

A bloodcurdling roar shook her concentration. Shona looked up and found nothing amiss. She recalculated her figures and punched in the total.

“Please.. help us….” A tiny wail, desperate to be heard, a voice on the wind.

Shona looked around the darkened office. It was security locked with three entry points. There was no way anyone unauthorized could enter.

She turned to her desk to collect her handbag and keys and was nearly overcome with nausea. A reeking smell of rotting flesh permeated the surrounds of her desk.

“Free us….” A smaller voice pleaded. “Leila… you are the last hope.”

Shona decided she had done far too much overtime this month and closed her computer down and went home. Despite it nearly being midnight, Shona grabbed her small step ladder and started to pull things out of the top storage shelf. At last an old battered suitcase was uncovered and she lifted it down gently.

Her pristine town house was now littered with old boxes and bags she had kept in storage. For the first time in 10 years, she didn’t care that there was a plastic bag on the floor,or that the boxes were not neatly stacked. Shona flung open the latch on the suitcase. A detailed drawing of Leila battling the Gorgon lay at the top. Shona shuffled through, finding the creased pages of her half written story and other illustrations she had painstakingly completed. She lay them out on her bed and stared at them.

She realized that the suitcase contained the only joy she had ever experienced and stifled a sob. Shona spent the rest of the night cataloging and reading the material it contained. In an unprecedented move in the morning ,she called the office announcing her first sick day in eight years.

The Gorgons tongue lashed out, its forked poisonous points seeking Leilas destruction. Suddenly, she was surrounded in golden light.

“Seek your true Path and you will never know fear. Your heart will be full and your days golden” Commanded a voice.

Leila looked down to find the Sword of Truth glowing in her clutches. She knew now what had to be done….

…. It is with great regret that I tender my immediate resignation…..


Jodi Cleghorn said...

This was a really interesting take on the prompt ... and that place I think we've all been - the shadow artist.

Only point to consider - perhaps put Leila's story in italics as a way of allowing the reader easy access to switch between the two worlds.

And thanks so much for being a part of MM ... I'll get around to bloody writing my own story one of these days.