The Beekeeper, quick to understand the nature of the pyre and the bodies by the fence, begins to drag all the bodies she can to the area beside pyre. She's a sturdy woman, yet an aged woman, allowing only the relocation of the small-to-medium sized bodies: the Beadle, the Bank Teller, the Bassist, and the Basketmaker. The rest she arranges tidily by the field of batter.
Finding the box of matches in the pocket of the Bassoonist, she places them on the table, atop the List of the Dead.
The Bellhop walks brightly from the road, chipper and pimply. He greets the Beekeeper with a large smile, and asks about the smell. She explains. Understanding, the Bellhop offers his help. Together, they relocate the rest of the bodies by the pyre.
Did you travel far? asks the Beekeeper.
The Bellhop tells her that the hotel overlooks the dueling ground, though the field is obfuscated by the tall poplars by the road.
It's on the mountain, he says, beyond the mill and mine.
She turns to the west, looking up at the mountain past the poplars, beyond the mill and mine, but sees nothing. Nothing hotel-like.
They move the Beeder, the Bartender, the Barber and the Banker. They line them by the pyre. They know they should make a fire - each know this - but given effort to move the bodies and the lack of firewood apart from timber from the fence far off they decide to stop. They stand observing the bodies and the ash and the bones. Then, only exchanging light conversation, they return to the oak.
They select their pistols and take the field, standing ten paces apart.
They raise their guns. Their guns go off.
Showing posts with label beekeeper. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beekeeper. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Monday, March 17, 2008
Bassoonist v. Beekeeper
The wind picks up. It whips from the southwest.
His coat blown by the wind, the Bassoonist crouches by the body of the Beautician.
The Bassoonist is a man defined by exceptional abilities. He - unlike most other bassoonist - has the ability to play several of Bach's Goldberg Variations on the bassoon. He also - unlike most other sensible people - has the ability to find pronounced romance in situations that lack all romance, as, for example, the brief non-romantic relationship between he and the Beautician.
He strokes her cheek.
He drags her past the bodies still on the field - the Beadle, the Beader, the Bank Teller, the Bassist, the Basketmaker, the Bartender, the Barber, and the Banker - to the cold pyre. The crows scatter. The rats scurry. He drags her through the ash and bones to lay beside his broken bassoon. The symbolism in this is almost too much for the Bassoonist to bare.
Returning to the oak, he searches the area for the matches. Unable to find them, he begins searching the pockets of the dead. Finally, checking the Banker's shirt pocket, he pulls the box.
He returns to the pyre, collects fallen branches that fell on the field before the fence and timber from the fence. He returns the pyre and using the Beautician's jacket, starts the fire. It burns, and cooks her, but not nearly enough to turn her to ash. More a broiling. He gets more timber and piles it atop. The fire roars now. She cooks, emanating foul odor.
As the Bassoonist stokes the fire, he hears a muffled beeping. It continues, incessantly, for over five minutes.
Finally, taken from his romantic revelry, more annoyed than curious, the Bassoonist searches among the corpses for the beeping. He stands over the bloated corpse of the Astronaut, raises the Astronaut's arm, and unbuckles the beeper on his belt. He looks at the message - CALL HQ ASAP, then (without much pause) presses the off button. The beeping stops. He drops the beeper and, after stopping to meditate at the site of the pyre again, returns to the oak.
The Beekeeper, a patrician woman of middle age and shortish hair and a gold broach in the shape of a bee pinned to the lapel of her blouse, walks across the field from the road. They greet each other.
Given the demur, taciturn nature of the Beekeeper and the awkward, preoccupied state of the Bassoonist, no conversation is made. They simply choose their guns (politely) - the Bassoonist takes the nicked gun - and take the field, standing ten paces apart.
They raise their guns. Their guns go off.
His coat blown by the wind, the Bassoonist crouches by the body of the Beautician.
The Bassoonist is a man defined by exceptional abilities. He - unlike most other bassoonist - has the ability to play several of Bach's Goldberg Variations on the bassoon. He also - unlike most other sensible people - has the ability to find pronounced romance in situations that lack all romance, as, for example, the brief non-romantic relationship between he and the Beautician.
He strokes her cheek.
He drags her past the bodies still on the field - the Beadle, the Beader, the Bank Teller, the Bassist, the Basketmaker, the Bartender, the Barber, and the Banker - to the cold pyre. The crows scatter. The rats scurry. He drags her through the ash and bones to lay beside his broken bassoon. The symbolism in this is almost too much for the Bassoonist to bare.
Returning to the oak, he searches the area for the matches. Unable to find them, he begins searching the pockets of the dead. Finally, checking the Banker's shirt pocket, he pulls the box.
He returns to the pyre, collects fallen branches that fell on the field before the fence and timber from the fence. He returns the pyre and using the Beautician's jacket, starts the fire. It burns, and cooks her, but not nearly enough to turn her to ash. More a broiling. He gets more timber and piles it atop. The fire roars now. She cooks, emanating foul odor.
As the Bassoonist stokes the fire, he hears a muffled beeping. It continues, incessantly, for over five minutes.
Finally, taken from his romantic revelry, more annoyed than curious, the Bassoonist searches among the corpses for the beeping. He stands over the bloated corpse of the Astronaut, raises the Astronaut's arm, and unbuckles the beeper on his belt. He looks at the message - CALL HQ ASAP, then (without much pause) presses the off button. The beeping stops. He drops the beeper and, after stopping to meditate at the site of the pyre again, returns to the oak.
The Beekeeper, a patrician woman of middle age and shortish hair and a gold broach in the shape of a bee pinned to the lapel of her blouse, walks across the field from the road. They greet each other.
Given the demur, taciturn nature of the Beekeeper and the awkward, preoccupied state of the Bassoonist, no conversation is made. They simply choose their guns (politely) - the Bassoonist takes the nicked gun - and take the field, standing ten paces apart.
They raise their guns. Their guns go off.
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