This week's attempt in response to the Flash! Friday prompt. Rebekah encouraged humorous posts, to lift spirits after this week's traumatic events, though it seems many of us struggled with a comedic tone. What do you think? (Check out the comments on the Flash! Friday page to read some more stories!)
Untold Trauma
"See! What did I tell you?" Andrew announced, shoving a newspaper in front of Eliane.
She gasped, hand flying to caress the red jewels adorning her neck. "It can't be! How could they?? I shan't believe it!"
"It's right there – look at the headline! They've destroyed all of it – everything that was left!" He wasn't trying to be cruel, but this delusion wasn't healthy. He had to break through her jeweled bubble and force her to acknowledge the truth.
Eliane spun away, rounding the mahogany dining table laden with all manner of breakfast dishes. She stalked into the sitting room, shoulders resolutely cemented in place, though he could see her lungs struggled for air. Dealing with this wouldn't be easy for her. Andrew steeled his own resolve and followed.
"Get away from me with that thing!" Eliane screeched.
"It's front-page news of a reputable paper," Andrew told her calmly, folding the paper. "And this isn't the only one reporting it."
"That doesn't make it true!"
"But it is true – they've completely destroyed all of it!"
"Why?" She wailed, crumbling into a richly upholstered chair. "Why would anyone ever do something so awful? It has to be some nefarious plot!" Her tiny hands balled into fists, pommeling her lap instead of the distant enemy.
"It will be alright, Eliane. It will." He braced his hand on her shoulder, which now seemed unimaginably fragile. "But you have to acknowledge that this is happening. You can't go on pretending nothing is wrong – living life as always. This is sooner than we expected, but that doesn't change the facts."
Eliane gazed up at him with rounded, tear-filled eyes. "But, how could all the garnets be gone?"
(282 words)
You paint Elaine fantastically. Her dramatic gestures, worthy of Mary Pickford, are laced with that whimsical nonchalance that wives of men of means possessed in that time. I could just imagine Elaine white-knuckling the last of her baubles when they come to inform her of Andrew's jump.
ReplyDeleteWhoops, guess I only responded to this in my mind. Thanks so much for the kind words! I'm always nervous about posting what are essentially first (and only) drafts...
DeleteYou've really given the picture prompt justice here chick. I love your character description of Elaine; her nonchalant manner,anxiety and the last line is brilliant. Well done. xx
ReplyDeleteThanks, Lizzie! The expression from the picture was really telling to me – I'm glad that came across here. :-)
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