kaolin fire presents :: writing :: fiction

"OneNightAtAParty"

words

http://www.stwa.net/scrawl/viewtopic.php?t=19890

The handle jiggles, but no magic.

You turn from your offerings to assure yourself the door is locked; the knob jiggles, echoing your action before it had begun.

You bite your tongue--what does one say? And with the smell surely leaking down under the door--

Heart and temple beginning to throb, you turn back to the core of the problem.

Porcelain scrapes gently on porcelain, lifting the lid, and you grunt to cover the sound.

The chain is wrapped up and around the lever, dangling.

Dubiously, you roll up your sleeve, and plunge your hand into the murky yet ostensibly sanitary water. It is cold.

Your mind is flushed with the smell of potpourri.

You grasp the nipple of the rubber seal and pull it up; water rushes around your arm, hounding gravity, filling the bowl.

And forcing the contents down.

Dear god, blessed be thy name, forcing the contents down.

The air is cold around your arm, where the water has left a thin trace of itself.

You replace the lid, cover your disappeared offerings, and turn the hot water faucet.

Nothing comes.