Here are a couple of little things I wrote for a class. I hope you enjoy them!
“The Justice Dealer“
The figure of the man fit like a puzzle piece into the doorway. He was like a section of wall, wattled and daubed with swamp grass and thick muck. He had not spoken since he had returned to find a stranger in his hut. The stranger sat opposite him, formulating a greeting and not knowing what to expect.
“Excuse my unannounced appearance, sir,” said the stranger, who was a little man. “I had no way of contacting you, and I expected to meet you when I arrived. Apologies for the intrusion,” The little man gestured to a stool across the smoldering fire. The huge man took one impossibly long, slow step, and sat. He had a long black beard and thick, tangled hair of the same kind shadowing his eyes. He spoke.
“You are a very polite magician.” The words vibrated the hairs of his beard like dry branches in the wind. If the small man felt nervous, he was containing it very well.
“You can sense… that sort of thing, yes?” The little man adjusted his cravat, eyes fixed on the muddy giant. The giant did not reply, but instead reached one hairy hand out of his cloak towards the briefcase beside the stool that the tidy man was perched on. The little man closed and opened his mouth several times with his eyes widened, but made no move to stop the man, as if he could. The giant sat the briefcase down beside his own stool, and looked back across the fire.
“You entered my house, I touch your things. This is justice.” Silenced prevailed once more. The little man shuffled uncomfortably, and the mud wall hardened across from him.
“Well then,” he fluttered, regaining his composure, “I gather that I’ve overstayed my welcome. I will give you some time to recover from my – my visitation, and I will return to offer a proposal that I think you will find -“ (the man still glared at him) “- will find most agreeable.” Here, he reached over warily to snatch up his briefcase, as if the man might strike him at any moment.
“Good day, Mr. Ehud,” he bowed, and then hurried out of the hut. His coach waited outside for him.
“Rather a short business meeting, Sir Balaam,” drolled the driver. The little man seemed affronted.
“If you must know, David, our ‘dealer of justice’ seemed rather interested in what I had to say,” lied Balaam. “But that is neither here or there for you. Drive.”
“The Weirdo“
“Can I ask you a question?”
“I guess.”
“What on Earth is happening?” The boy with the antlers around his neck raised an eyebrow. I was already trying not to scream, and he was not helping.
“Why,” I started, trying to get rid of the frenzy in my voice “are there a bunch of people in my uncle’s barn?” I looked around “Wait, where is the barn?”
The antler boy’s other brow had joined the first one. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
I’ve had plenty of people look at me like I’m crazy. I wear cargo shorts and a nose ring in a highschool. My mom blasts obscure Christian rock bands out of our oldsmobile. But this… this was the first time I actually felt crazy. I glared my crazy eyes right at that crazy boy and grabbed his crazy antlers to pull him close to my crazy face.
“You,” I hissed, with murder in my voice, “are going to go get someone right now who can tell me where I am and what’s happening or I will krav maga the life out of you.”
Antlerboy gulped, and I let him scramble away.
“That felt nice,” I murmered.
MSG Writing's 