Iron Quill - The Duel - Verses

[Bogo]

As the moons of Malifaux shone bright above the public garden, Amanda glanced back at the distant tavern.  She was barely aware of the fading sound of an out-of-tune piano and the Saturday night crowd.  Some might describe the gentleman by her side as dapper, although his elegant hat and coat showed signs of age.  But it was not his clothing that had impressed Amanda.  It was his confidence.

 

Even in a tavern, few men had the courage to approach a gathering of Star Theater showgirls.  Those that did generally found themselves at a loss for words.  But the gentleman strode into their midst, as calmly as could be, and began reciting Shakespeare in the most charming Irish brogue.

 

     Ta-morrow an' ta-morrow an' ta-morrow

     Creeps in this petty pace from day ta day,

     'Til the last syllable o' recorded time

     An' all our yesterdays 'av lighted

     Fools the way ta dusty death.

 

Other verses followed.

 

"I don't usually go off with strange men," Amanda explained apologetically, staring nervously into one of the garden's untrimmed bushes.

 

"Well, then I'm honored, Darlin'," the gentleman soothed, turning Amanda's face toward his with a gentle fingertip.

 

Amanda fought the impulse to turn away.  Instead, she studied the gentleman's face.  He was not handsome in the common sense.  But he was charming in the truest sense.  There was a smile in his eyes that matched his bearing . . . a smile full of promise and possibility.

 

The gentleman took Amanda's hands.  "I've got another one for ya," he offered.

 

Amanda felt herself blush.  "Another verse?"

 

"A poem, Darlin'," the gentleman clarified.  "A sonnet.  Would ya like ta hear it?"

 

Amanda nodded.

 

     At times when life seems grim an' cold an' dry

     An' winter's stalkin' breath entombs the soul

     An' all things bright an' good from days gone by

     Lie deep in shadowed lands o' smoke and coal,

 

     Then flickers in the mind a precious light,

     A summertime when all the world was young,

     A love-filled mortal goddess in the night,

     A time when countless blessings I had sung.

 

     For she, as Helen, walked above the earth

     An' graced a young man's life with hallowed sin

     That burned with fire too savage for the hearth

     In smilin' eyes that flickered from within.

 

     My life for she and then shall bear the cold

     That love make young the days when I grow old.

 

Amanda barely comprehended the words.  "More Shakespeare?" she asked.

 

"No, Darlin'," the gentleman responded with a smile.  "That one's all mine.  Entirely me own work."

 

"I . . . well . . . I . . ." Amanda gushed.  "That's really good."

 

The gentleman nodded appreciatively.  "I do enjoy writin'," he offered.  "An', like the bard, I don' jus' write poems."  He paused.  "I write plays as well."

 

"Plays?"

 

"Produce 'em too," the gentleman added with a slight bow.  "An' I know a star when I see one."

 

As she forced a smile, Amanda felt her heart swell.  "Me?"

 

The gentleman winked.  "I saw the show tonight," he explained.  "I waited at the tavern, hopin' ya would come."

 

"Me?" Amanda asked again.

 

"Indeed, Darlin', ya verily glowed on that stage.  I never seen anythin' like it.  An' I kept askin' me-self, 'What's this girl doin' . . . in a chorus?'"

 

"I . . . I . . ."

 

"Yer talents are bein' wasted, Darlin'."

 

Amanda looked down at the ground and pulled her hands away nervously.  "That's very kind of you to say."

 

"Oh, it aint jus' flattery."  The gentleman assured.  "As I said, I don' jus' write plays.  I produce 'em."

 

Amanda glanced up shyly.  The gentleman was still smiling.

 

"I can make ya the star ya deserve ta be."  The gentleman reached for her hand.  "That is . . . if it's what ya want."

 

Amanda placed her hand in his.  Immediately, the gentleman pulled her through a graceful turn and into a waltz position.  Amanda felt the gentleman's other hand clasp the small of her back.

 

"All ya gotta do is choose," he whispered.  "Will ya stay hidden in the shadows o' Colette's chorus?  Or will ya come with me, and become a star?"

 

"A star . . ." Amanda repeated breathlessly.

 

The gentleman stepped backward, fluidly guiding Amanda's arms above her head and across her chest, turning her away from him, while keeping her locked in his embrace.

 

"What will it be?"

 

Amanda closed her eyes.  Through the swirling images, she could see herself at the front of a stage, showered in roses.  Then she heard herself speak.  "I choose you."

 

Amanda felt the gentleman's arms release her.  She opened her eyes and half turned to look back at him.  His smile had changed.

 

"Then mine ya shall be, Darlin'."  The gentleman slowly withdrew a long, shiny wire from his coat pocket.

 

"What . . . what is this?" Amanda demanded, turning completely toward the gentleman while simultaneously taking a step backward.

 

"'Tis a little game we play, Colette an' I," the gentleman explained, calmly wrapping ends of the wire around fingers on each of his hands.  "A duel, if ya will."

 

Amanda took another nervous step backward.

 

"Colette, the devil ya know, offers the grit, sweat, an' anonymity o' the real theater."  He stepped forward.  "While I, the devil ya don't, offer the promise o' instant, glorious fame."

 

Amanda glanced at the tavern just beyond the garden, then back at the gentleman.

 

"O' course, what Colette offers is the truth," the gentleman purred.  "While what I offer . . ."

 

Amanda took one final breath.

[The Grue]

I liked that this was a familiar storyline but with enough twists and turns to make it worthwhile to read. I think you did very well in describing the environment and the characters within.

 

As always,

The Grue

[Bogo]

Thanks, Grue!  That means a lot.

 

When I saw the "ingredients" for this round, the "Dead Doxy" fluff immediately came to mind and the story pretty much wrote itself.