Absolution (Short Story)
He is disillusioned. A dishonorable discharge. His thirties have been a whirlwind full of hot sheets and liquor. Women advance. In his presence, they only see him. They call him a philanderer, but somehow he cannot help that he only sees her. Their stolen glances through icy windowpanes. God damn, she is far too young for him. And yet she watches too with lips parted, eyes heavy. He sees her practice fencing in the alley behind her father’s penthouse without her old man’s permission. Not even proper attire could hide the tough skin beneath. She longed for it. And so he would allow no man, no government, no god to take it, save he claim it for the both of them. And he would. A flicker of a dream. Tomorrow will bring absolution.
The man is always right. He prides himself in his knowledge and in his forthrightness. Or at least his uncanny ability to manipulate the truth. He could have nothing less than everything that he desired. His silver hair glows in the low light of his office. He looks at the thick notebook as it makes a dead thud landing opon his desk. A lot of fates are held in this book. Yet this is the only path his world could take. She clears her throat from the darkness. He slowly lifts his head with a smile full of hatred. Through the dim warm light he can see two cold green eyes peering at him with impatience. She wants an answer. He never thought he’d be discussing this issue with the bitch. She had been the object of his loathing for years, but he could not deny the respect he held for her. He rose from his amber chair to meet her in the darkness, stretching out a hand. Her shake was as cold as her eyes, but as passionate as the slick fire upon her head. Yes…a deal has been made. They would galvanize the masses with words of fear. Their people would suffer so that they two could flourish. An agreement between enemies. Tomorrow will bring war, and with it, absolution.
The man is always right. He prides himself in his knowledge and in his forthrightness. Or at least his uncanny ability to manipulate the truth. He could have nothing less than everything that he desired. His silver hair glows in the low light of his office. He looks at the thick notebook as it makes a dead thud landing opon his desk. A lot of fates are held in this book. Yet this is the only path his world could take. She clears her throat from the darkness. He slowly lifts his head with a smile full of hatred. Through the dim warm light he can see two cold green eyes peering at him with impatience. She wants an answer. He never thought he’d be discussing this issue with the bitch. She had been the object of his loathing for years, but he could not deny the respect he held for her. He rose from his amber chair to meet her in the darkness, stretching out a hand. Her shake was as cold as her eyes, but as passionate as the slick fire upon her head. Yes…a deal has been made. They would galvanize the masses with words of fear. Their people would suffer so that they two could flourish. An agreement between enemies. Tomorrow will bring war, and with it, absolution.