Tuesday's Ten Minute Tale - the result!
Feb. 19th, 2008 10:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
martinlivingsHere we go. Thanks to ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
asimmum for "maleficent", devinjay for "oriental" and chrisb74 for "fedex".
Maleficent's Fall
(c) Martin Livings 19-2-2008
Maleficent stood over the prone girl, her pale face stricken. She never intended for this to go so far! It was only a joke, a harmless prank on the niece she loved so dearly. Poor Aurora, lying there, dead, dead! How could this have happened?
Clearly there was a miscommunication, a case of chinese whispers. Aurora had been bragging about how good she'd gotten with the spinning wheel, claiming to be good enough to spin gold from wheat if required, though that was a whole different story. "Ah, Aunty Mal," she'd gloated, "maybe this year I'll take out the coveted Golden Fleece at the annual Spin-Off!"
Maleficent had laughed at that. "Maybe you will, my love," she admitted. But deep down, she had an idea for a jape that would put her niece back in her place. She'd returned to her suites, and looked through her mail order catalogues for the appropriate item.
"Spindle of Curse", the entry said. "Used once only. Cause freeze of muscle. Much hilarity." The translation was awful, the sender's address in the Far East. Still, it sounded perfect for her needs. Aurora was a natural athlete, as well as a champion wool-spinner, so to freeze up her muscles a little would be a fitting hubris. She ordered the spindle straight away.
It arrived by FedEx three weeks later, two days before the regional spinning championships. Perfect! The night before the event, Maleficent snuck into Aurora's room and replaced the spindle with the one she'd ordered. It fitted perfectly. She'd gone to sleep chuckling to herself. This would be such fun!
Oh, if she'd only known...
The day of the championships, the competition had been whittled down to two, Maleficent and Aurora. They spun like they'd never spun before. Sweat glowed on their lovely foreheads. And then Aurora had slipped, her finger catching on the spindle, jabbing into the soft flesh, a poison kiss. She instantly fell backwards, stiff as a board, dead, dead.
How was she to know? How could she? The heart was a muscle, yes, but she never thought of that, not until it was too late! And now Aurora, her beautiful Aurora, was lying on the ground, still in a sitting position, not breathing.
Why???
From the crowd, a doctor rushed over. His nametag read "Phil". He checked her pulse and pupils.
"Please," Maleficent begged him, "please save her!"
He looked at the wheel, and at the spindle, then at her, his eyes suspicious, accusing. Then he knelt beside Aurora and began CPR.
A moment later, Aurora coughed, once, twice, then every muscle in her body twitched. She gasped and sat up straight, confused. Phil stepped back, satisfied.
"Oh, Doctor Phil," Maleficent gushed, "thank you! Thank you!"
"Guards!" the doctor called, and two burly men in armour marched over and took Maleficent by the arms. She squirmed, shocked and uncomfortable.
"What's this?" she asked, but she knew the answer already.
"I've seen these before," the doctor said, pointing at the spindle, careful not to touch it. "The orientals flooded the market with them a few years ago, to try and undermine our spinning industry. They're made from the spines of the Ukupuku fish, utterly deadly. Only CPR can cure it, as quickly after sting as possible." He shrugged. "Something about the contact of muscles, apparently, diluting the effects of the poison. Go figure." He turned to the guards. "Search Lady Maleficent's room. I think you'll find the postal receipt from the mail order."
Maleficent slumped in the guards' grips. Her eyes closed. She deserved this. No, she deserved worse. She deserved...
She pulled suddenly away from the guards, breaking free. She lunged forward, hand outstretched towards Aurora's spinning wheel. "I'm so sorry," she cried, then her finger made contact with the poison spindle, and everything went dark and cold, so cold.
She wondered if anyone would be willing to kiss her cold, pale lips, to bring her back.
She doubted it.
asimmum for "maleficent", devinjay for "oriental" and chrisb74 for "fedex".Maleficent's Fall
(c) Martin Livings 19-2-2008
Maleficent stood over the prone girl, her pale face stricken. She never intended for this to go so far! It was only a joke, a harmless prank on the niece she loved so dearly. Poor Aurora, lying there, dead, dead! How could this have happened?
Clearly there was a miscommunication, a case of chinese whispers. Aurora had been bragging about how good she'd gotten with the spinning wheel, claiming to be good enough to spin gold from wheat if required, though that was a whole different story. "Ah, Aunty Mal," she'd gloated, "maybe this year I'll take out the coveted Golden Fleece at the annual Spin-Off!"
Maleficent had laughed at that. "Maybe you will, my love," she admitted. But deep down, she had an idea for a jape that would put her niece back in her place. She'd returned to her suites, and looked through her mail order catalogues for the appropriate item.
"Spindle of Curse", the entry said. "Used once only. Cause freeze of muscle. Much hilarity." The translation was awful, the sender's address in the Far East. Still, it sounded perfect for her needs. Aurora was a natural athlete, as well as a champion wool-spinner, so to freeze up her muscles a little would be a fitting hubris. She ordered the spindle straight away.
It arrived by FedEx three weeks later, two days before the regional spinning championships. Perfect! The night before the event, Maleficent snuck into Aurora's room and replaced the spindle with the one she'd ordered. It fitted perfectly. She'd gone to sleep chuckling to herself. This would be such fun!
Oh, if she'd only known...
The day of the championships, the competition had been whittled down to two, Maleficent and Aurora. They spun like they'd never spun before. Sweat glowed on their lovely foreheads. And then Aurora had slipped, her finger catching on the spindle, jabbing into the soft flesh, a poison kiss. She instantly fell backwards, stiff as a board, dead, dead.
How was she to know? How could she? The heart was a muscle, yes, but she never thought of that, not until it was too late! And now Aurora, her beautiful Aurora, was lying on the ground, still in a sitting position, not breathing.
Why???
From the crowd, a doctor rushed over. His nametag read "Phil". He checked her pulse and pupils.
"Please," Maleficent begged him, "please save her!"
He looked at the wheel, and at the spindle, then at her, his eyes suspicious, accusing. Then he knelt beside Aurora and began CPR.
A moment later, Aurora coughed, once, twice, then every muscle in her body twitched. She gasped and sat up straight, confused. Phil stepped back, satisfied.
"Oh, Doctor Phil," Maleficent gushed, "thank you! Thank you!"
"Guards!" the doctor called, and two burly men in armour marched over and took Maleficent by the arms. She squirmed, shocked and uncomfortable.
"What's this?" she asked, but she knew the answer already.
"I've seen these before," the doctor said, pointing at the spindle, careful not to touch it. "The orientals flooded the market with them a few years ago, to try and undermine our spinning industry. They're made from the spines of the Ukupuku fish, utterly deadly. Only CPR can cure it, as quickly after sting as possible." He shrugged. "Something about the contact of muscles, apparently, diluting the effects of the poison. Go figure." He turned to the guards. "Search Lady Maleficent's room. I think you'll find the postal receipt from the mail order."
Maleficent slumped in the guards' grips. Her eyes closed. She deserved this. No, she deserved worse. She deserved...
She pulled suddenly away from the guards, breaking free. She lunged forward, hand outstretched towards Aurora's spinning wheel. "I'm so sorry," she cried, then her finger made contact with the poison spindle, and everything went dark and cold, so cold.
She wondered if anyone would be willing to kiss her cold, pale lips, to bring her back.
She doubted it.
