Left Hanging: A short little ficlet
Ok, so I was thinking about the Guy/Marian unfinished stories and how frustrating it is to read and get invested in one (especially when its really, really good) only to find that it is left unfinished and we are "Left Hanging". Hence my idea. Yes, this is how my brain works...
This is the first piece of fiction I have ever written. Comments and constructive criticism are solicited as, hopefully, I can only improve.
Left Hanging
Sir Guy of Gisborne strides into the great hall, all tall, lean and swathed in black leather. His dark hair fell rakishly over his forehead providing the perfect foil for his blue eyes and long, dark eyelashes. He stops in front of the chair in which the Sheriff of Nottingham, Vaizey, is seated.
"My lord, the guards are making the preparations we discussed. Now will you tell me what this is about?" Guy queries.
"Yes, Gisborne, it is time you knew. My patience is at an end! I will not tolerate this a moment longer." Vaizey ranted, pounding his chubby fist on the arm of his throne like seat.
"What is it that you will not tolerate a moment longer?" Guy asked as he crossed his arms to avoid sighing in resignation. It was going to be one of THOSE days. Days in which the Sheriff spoke to him as if Guy lived in his head and knew what he was thinking. Guy tried very hard NOT to dwell in the Sheriff's head, it wasn't warm and fuzzy in there at all.
"Those outlaws!" Vaizey shouted.
"My lord, you know Hood and his gang..." Guy started.
"Gisborne! Do you think I am talking about that flea-ridden miscreant Hood? A clue: NO! I am talking about those.... those authors!" Vaizey sputtered.
"What authors?' Gisborne asked, somewhat confused.
Rolling his eyes upward in exasperation, Vaizey thought to himself, “Thank God the man is pretty because he can be very dense." “I received intelligence from Prince John that they have strange names, Bookishy, Angelfish, and there are more!" Vaizey said struggling for patience.
"What crimes have they committed?" Guy asked, still not sure how authors could be outlaws as he lowered his head to avoid the Sheriff's eye contact.
"Well, Gisborne, let me tell you. They have had the audacity to leave their readers hanging." Vaizey said angrily.
"Hanging?" Guy asked lifting his gaze.
"Yes, Gisborne, hanging. They write chapters of stories, really interesting stories from what I've read, and then don't finish them. The readers are left hanging," Vaizey said, "and that I will not tolerate! I am the only person in Nottingham who is allowed to leave anyone hanging!" The Sheriff leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes to collect himself.
"So, I am to find and capture them." Guy surmised. "And kill them."
"NO!" The Sheriff said. "I don't want them killed." "I have something much better in mind." He said thoughtfully. "Gisborne, you know how I love to help people find their limits for pain."
"Yes, milord, I do." Gisborne said shifting a little uncomfortably on his feet. He knew firsthand exactly how much the Sheriff enjoyed torture. "If not death then what did you have in mind?"
The Sheriff's eyes brightened as he rubbed his chubby hands together, "I'll make them finish their stories. Then and only then will I remain the one person in Nottingham who can leave people hanging." "It will be the best possible torture."
Sir Guy smirked, the left side of his mouth curving up, "And if they don't, finish their stories?"
"Ah, Gisborne, I've thought of that. If they won't finish their stories, then the most exquisite pain will be theirs." The Sheriff said gleefully.
"And that would be...?" Guy queried in his deep, velvet voice.
"I will get the worst writers I can find to finish the stories for them!" Vaizey announced triumphantly. “The pain they will feel when some hack takes a whack at their beloved work will be excruciating.” “Oh Gisborne, now I’m really hoping that they feel so uninspired that they can’t finish their stories!” Vaizey said wistfully.
"Now go, find and arrest them and bring them before me." Vaizey said, waving Guy away in dismissal.
Having been dismissed, Sir Guy turned on his heel and began to stride toward the door and his men. He heard the Sheriff wonder aloud, "I wonder if those writers who tanked Spooks 9 are available?" Which was closely followed by, “I do love to watch that man leave a room…”
As Guy reached the door, the Sheriff called out, "Oh, by the way Gisborne, how exactly do each of those writers know how well endowed you are and how you employ your little love tricks?" Guy froze in mid stride and turned to face the little toad he called lord.
Vaizey wasn't certain but he was almost sure that Gisborne blushed just before he said in measured words, "I am sure I do not know, milord, although women do talk. Marian especially has been pretty chatty with the servants and townsfolk since our wedding night. Tales will be told." With that, he threw his head back in a flair of well-earned arrogance and graced the Sheriff with a dazzling smile and turned to continue out to perform his duty. "We will find at least one of those authors today and mayhap I can get hold of one of those stories so I can read the good parts to Marian tonight,” he thought to himself. Properly incentivized his step quickened ever so slightly as he hurried on to do the Sheriffs bidding, a knowing smile on his lips.
This is the first piece of fiction I have ever written. Comments and constructive criticism are solicited as, hopefully, I can only improve.
Left Hanging
Sir Guy of Gisborne strides into the great hall, all tall, lean and swathed in black leather. His dark hair fell rakishly over his forehead providing the perfect foil for his blue eyes and long, dark eyelashes. He stops in front of the chair in which the Sheriff of Nottingham, Vaizey, is seated.
"My lord, the guards are making the preparations we discussed. Now will you tell me what this is about?" Guy queries.
"Yes, Gisborne, it is time you knew. My patience is at an end! I will not tolerate this a moment longer." Vaizey ranted, pounding his chubby fist on the arm of his throne like seat.
"What is it that you will not tolerate a moment longer?" Guy asked as he crossed his arms to avoid sighing in resignation. It was going to be one of THOSE days. Days in which the Sheriff spoke to him as if Guy lived in his head and knew what he was thinking. Guy tried very hard NOT to dwell in the Sheriff's head, it wasn't warm and fuzzy in there at all.
"Those outlaws!" Vaizey shouted.
"My lord, you know Hood and his gang..." Guy started.
"Gisborne! Do you think I am talking about that flea-ridden miscreant Hood? A clue: NO! I am talking about those.... those authors!" Vaizey sputtered.
"What authors?' Gisborne asked, somewhat confused.
Rolling his eyes upward in exasperation, Vaizey thought to himself, “Thank God the man is pretty because he can be very dense." “I received intelligence from Prince John that they have strange names, Bookishy, Angelfish, and there are more!" Vaizey said struggling for patience.
"What crimes have they committed?" Guy asked, still not sure how authors could be outlaws as he lowered his head to avoid the Sheriff's eye contact.
"Well, Gisborne, let me tell you. They have had the audacity to leave their readers hanging." Vaizey said angrily.
"Hanging?" Guy asked lifting his gaze.
"Yes, Gisborne, hanging. They write chapters of stories, really interesting stories from what I've read, and then don't finish them. The readers are left hanging," Vaizey said, "and that I will not tolerate! I am the only person in Nottingham who is allowed to leave anyone hanging!" The Sheriff leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes to collect himself.
"So, I am to find and capture them." Guy surmised. "And kill them."
"NO!" The Sheriff said. "I don't want them killed." "I have something much better in mind." He said thoughtfully. "Gisborne, you know how I love to help people find their limits for pain."
"Yes, milord, I do." Gisborne said shifting a little uncomfortably on his feet. He knew firsthand exactly how much the Sheriff enjoyed torture. "If not death then what did you have in mind?"
The Sheriff's eyes brightened as he rubbed his chubby hands together, "I'll make them finish their stories. Then and only then will I remain the one person in Nottingham who can leave people hanging." "It will be the best possible torture."
Sir Guy smirked, the left side of his mouth curving up, "And if they don't, finish their stories?"
"Ah, Gisborne, I've thought of that. If they won't finish their stories, then the most exquisite pain will be theirs." The Sheriff said gleefully.
"And that would be...?" Guy queried in his deep, velvet voice.
"I will get the worst writers I can find to finish the stories for them!" Vaizey announced triumphantly. “The pain they will feel when some hack takes a whack at their beloved work will be excruciating.” “Oh Gisborne, now I’m really hoping that they feel so uninspired that they can’t finish their stories!” Vaizey said wistfully.
"Now go, find and arrest them and bring them before me." Vaizey said, waving Guy away in dismissal.
Having been dismissed, Sir Guy turned on his heel and began to stride toward the door and his men. He heard the Sheriff wonder aloud, "I wonder if those writers who tanked Spooks 9 are available?" Which was closely followed by, “I do love to watch that man leave a room…”
As Guy reached the door, the Sheriff called out, "Oh, by the way Gisborne, how exactly do each of those writers know how well endowed you are and how you employ your little love tricks?" Guy froze in mid stride and turned to face the little toad he called lord.
Vaizey wasn't certain but he was almost sure that Gisborne blushed just before he said in measured words, "I am sure I do not know, milord, although women do talk. Marian especially has been pretty chatty with the servants and townsfolk since our wedding night. Tales will be told." With that, he threw his head back in a flair of well-earned arrogance and graced the Sheriff with a dazzling smile and turned to continue out to perform his duty. "We will find at least one of those authors today and mayhap I can get hold of one of those stories so I can read the good parts to Marian tonight,” he thought to himself. Properly incentivized his step quickened ever so slightly as he hurried on to do the Sheriffs bidding, a knowing smile on his lips.