Mist

“We don’t enjoy being summoned by your kind Grail.” Pulling herself from the mist Merida pressed her fingers to the rickety table-top of the patio furniture and leaned in. “We are not your servants,” she warned.

Grail lowered his morning coffee and pushed it away. It had turned cold the moment the mist crept into his garden. “Why do they always send you,” he frowned. “Is there no one else?”

“No one at all,” said Merida, scowling impatiently. “ The council is less than forgiving when it comes to your crimes.”

“A miscalculation on my part,” shrugged Grail. “Something I intend to remedy very shortly.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, really.”

There was a moment of silence between them.

“So,” said Merida. “What do you want?”

“Books.”

“Books?”

“Yes,” said Grail. “The Mist Books.”

Shock flickered across her features.

“Not a chance,”

“But-”

“I said no. We’re done Grail. For good.”

visdare

5 Comments

  1. Very intriguing opening. I found myself immediately drawn into the narrative and at the end it left me curious to find out how the story develops beyond this piece. I also found the language effective.

    Reply

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