Fitness.
Powerless. Well, Anna, you are in many ways powerless but specifically you have no power in your apartment. One could say it was caused by the storm but the wire to the building was cut clean in half, not knocked down like it would from a falling limb. Odd. Don't think now. Leave now. Leave the building because outside there is sun, however grey its light can be.
There, as it always is, is the fountain. "Soon you all shall see!" yells one of the cultists form their police designated fountain zone roughly 10 meters from the pitiful structure that vomits stagnant water. Most days there are only one or two in the zone, but today would appear to be almost a holiday for the cooks. Fifteen this morning. At least. And then another, not a cultist. Not in the silver tunic or with the gel-plastic masks. A green corduroy set of trousers with a ruffled and yellowed shirt and suspenders. Young but with thinning hair. He's the barman's boy, seen him on the odd break of sobriety. He's right at the lip of the fountain, peering deep into its two foot depths. Under his left arm is a cask reading FENTIMEN'S MERRITIME WHISKEY. A seaman's drink. You rarely talk to a stranger, unless it's a patient. He's sweaty. He's peculiar.
"I've the nerve to push you."
"Wha- Oh! Anna, hello." He says, taken aback by a woman speaking to him it would seem.
"My name. You know it?"
"You come around the pub sometimes, yeh?" His Scottish accent, fading though it is, shines through.
"I guess. What's down there?"
"Ha. Well...funny as it sounds I thought I saw a crocodile down there."
"Funny it does sound. Maybe lay off your supply." Point to the cask. Write him off. Turn away. Start toward the clinic. Hear a splash.
"There it was! Right there!" The pub boy says.
"How could thi-"
A massive creature originating from the very primordial ooze you evolved from bursts from the murky water, baring teeth as long as the toothbrush you neglect. Without a hesitation, maybe due to nervousness or maybe he really is a secret hero, the pub boy bashes it with the cask, spilling whiskey all over the square's cobblestone. The creature, dazed, hobbles back over the lip and appears to swim to the opposite end of the fountain.
"See! A crocodile!" The pub boy gasps.
"Alligator. Spines on its back were different. Alligator."
"How do yo-"
"Thank you." An outstretched hand. A lingering pause as you grasp for a name.
"Artis. Yer welcome Anna. Stay safe out there eh." He shakes the hand as his body shakes parallel from adrenaline.
Smile. He's nice. He saved you from harm. Wave a faint goodbye. Go to work.
He didn't talk about the patch.
A friend.
There, as it always is, is the fountain. "Soon you all shall see!" yells one of the cultists form their police designated fountain zone roughly 10 meters from the pitiful structure that vomits stagnant water. Most days there are only one or two in the zone, but today would appear to be almost a holiday for the cooks. Fifteen this morning. At least. And then another, not a cultist. Not in the silver tunic or with the gel-plastic masks. A green corduroy set of trousers with a ruffled and yellowed shirt and suspenders. Young but with thinning hair. He's the barman's boy, seen him on the odd break of sobriety. He's right at the lip of the fountain, peering deep into its two foot depths. Under his left arm is a cask reading FENTIMEN'S MERRITIME WHISKEY. A seaman's drink. You rarely talk to a stranger, unless it's a patient. He's sweaty. He's peculiar.
"I've the nerve to push you."
"Wha- Oh! Anna, hello." He says, taken aback by a woman speaking to him it would seem.
"My name. You know it?"
"You come around the pub sometimes, yeh?" His Scottish accent, fading though it is, shines through.
"I guess. What's down there?"
"Ha. Well...funny as it sounds I thought I saw a crocodile down there."
"Funny it does sound. Maybe lay off your supply." Point to the cask. Write him off. Turn away. Start toward the clinic. Hear a splash.
"There it was! Right there!" The pub boy says.
"How could thi-"
A massive creature originating from the very primordial ooze you evolved from bursts from the murky water, baring teeth as long as the toothbrush you neglect. Without a hesitation, maybe due to nervousness or maybe he really is a secret hero, the pub boy bashes it with the cask, spilling whiskey all over the square's cobblestone. The creature, dazed, hobbles back over the lip and appears to swim to the opposite end of the fountain.
"See! A crocodile!" The pub boy gasps.
"Alligator. Spines on its back were different. Alligator."
"How do yo-"
"Thank you." An outstretched hand. A lingering pause as you grasp for a name.
"Artis. Yer welcome Anna. Stay safe out there eh." He shakes the hand as his body shakes parallel from adrenaline.
Smile. He's nice. He saved you from harm. Wave a faint goodbye. Go to work.
He didn't talk about the patch.
A friend.
1. “Smile. He's nice. He saved you from harm.”
ReplyDeleteShows that other people know who Anna is.
"I've the nerve to push you."
Gives a real glimpse into Anna’s character.
2. Faintly looks like the assassin dressed like a nurse in Kill Bill. Anna is a sarcastic know it all on the inside, we think.
3. We want to know the reason for Anna having an eyepatch, as mentioned in the first post. We feel like that could be a great story. We also want more interactions with others, we think that Anna's interaction with Artis was great.
4. Why does Anna always talk in imagery when by herself?
Object:
ReplyDeletea. Glass Vase
b. Newspaper
c. Broken Hair Straightening Iron
Saying:
a. What a bum deal.
b. Goodness Gracious Alive!
Animal:
a: Cockroach
b. Sick Rat
c. White Pigeon/dove
Person:
a. One legged man
b.Angry Policewoman
c. Newspaper Stand Owner