Blogophilia 22.10 – Dismas Part 1
I made it back from Missouri. I know. I quit blogging. But I didn’t do anything that exciting to really blog about, so you didn’t miss much. I mean, I enjoyed it a lot because I like low key things that there’s not much to say anything about, but it was just “we watched movies and ate something”. And though I could tell you my opinion of the movies and TV ( Trolls – not good; Moana – cute; Inception – had seen it before and love it; The Blair Witch (new one) – ergh; Chips – better than I expected; Kong Skull Island – can we say Godzilla Crossover? Whoo-hoo! I have chills!; Split – OOoooo. I hope there’s a follow up with the Unbreakable guy; more Big Brother – why not?, Ice Fantasy – I have added this Chinese drama to my watch list now) there’s not much else to say. Oh, we did play Cards Against Humanity and I won for the first time in my life! That was something.
Anyway, it’s time for Blogophilia, the fun blog group where Martien gives participants prompts to use in their blog. This week’s prompts are:
We finished Daniel up the other week, so now it’s Dismas’ turn. This story takes place in 1893, more than 100 years after Daniel’s. Funnily enough, though, Kateesha is still in it!
Dismas leaned back against the rough wall and listened. A mortal’s ears would have heard only silence, but to the ears of the vampire there was a symphony of sound. Crickets chirped. Leaves rustled. Things scuttled through the shadows. The world teamed with night life.
Like us, he mused, though no humor followed the statement. It was a fact, like so many others – like the fact that they would soon be dead.
He glanced toward the low doorway, the way securely shut against intruders. Intruders. It was an idea they’d have once laughed at, just as posting a guard would have been unnecessary, but that was before they revolted.
He ran his hand through his tight, curly hair and closed his eyes. He pictured the citadel in Iowa. Though not completed, what was done was fantastic; an underground castle meant to house the vampire government, their servants and slaves, and those who worked with them. It had taken Dismas thirty years to work his way from lesser guard to greater guard, a promotion that meant higher wages, more respect, and a direct working relationship with the Executioners, the enforcers of immortal law. Though he’d always admired the dark skinned Tormentor, as Kateesha was known, it was the change in status that led him to where he was.
Kateesha was a controversial figure among. She’d come back to the Guild twenty-three years ago, looking both contrite and amused. Though she’d run for her life, and been sentenced to death the last time anyone saw her, upon return she was made head of the Executioners. It was an office that suited her, though it wasn’t just her skill that had earned her the position. Being the daughter in blood of the Guild’s head had helped.
Dismas knew the stories; knew she’d been excommunicated last time for disobeying orders, for killing and reveling when she was supposed to be doing something else. He also knew that her partner had died for the sins, while she escaped. Rumor said an ex-lover was tasked with the job, and so let her go. But, if what he’d witnessed himself was any indication, there was a chance she’d simply talked her way out of it.
Her honeyed words were the reason he was there instead of tucked safely in his quarters at the citadel. He remembered the last meeting in crystal clarity. Kateesha stood before them, clothed in a fashionable scarlet dress, her bosom barely constrained by a low-cut bodice, her dark eyes shining with the passion of a thousand suns. Her voice was low, sweet, suggestive. “Ask yourselves, are you truly happy here? With this way of life? With rules, dictates, paydays? Have we not left such tiresome thigs behind with the mortal coil? When we escaped death did we not succumb to our darker sides? What room is there is a life of blood and night for the niceties of society? For bowing and scraping, for calling sir and madam, for taking orders and accepting our coins? Should we not embrace what we are to the fullest? Should we not explore our newfound power – exploit it even – or at the least put it to some use beyond that our masters deem needful? We fight and follow orders so that those in power can keep their power. If they wish for control, should they not keep it themselves?”
The mention of those in power – the reminder of Malick, and the other members of the High Council – had left many of the attendants uncomfortable. Kateesha soothed their concern with a gesture. “Fear. Such is the reaction they wish you to have. They are secure in your belief that they cannot be toppled, that they are too strong, but that is a falsehood. They may be old, they may have power, but what can their small power do against the strength of many? Like the tide sweeps away the shells, so shall we overpower them.”
Josiah, a fellow guard, looked at the assemblage. “I apologize for the interruption, but the number gathered here…I wouldn’t go so far as to call us many.”
“Not yet,” Kateesha said. “But more will come. A great flame follows a little spark. We are that spark. You are that spark. We fight for our rights, for our freedom from those who would dictate who and what we should be. We fight-”
“We fight for the northern star, or might as well.” Josiah shook his head. “I beg pardon, but though I can feel the press of your will, I shall not succumb to it as these others have. I will not betray your intentions, but neither will I follow them.”
A general murmur of “coward” followed him to the door, silenced only when Kateesha held up her hand. “Pray, let him go. We want none to join us whose intentions are not pure, who does not burn with our purpose, for such a soldier would not fight with fierceness, only obligation. If our masters have taught us any lesson, it is that obligation makes for a weak companion.”
Dismas had felt smug as Josiah left their ranks, as the whispers continued, but now he realized that Josiah was the one who should have felt smug; the one who was right.
The one who won’t be massacred by an Executioner for revolting.
Yeah, it’s a short piece, so expect a longer one next week to make up for it.
And now for guesses:
Topic: Christopher Mitchell
Picture: Linda Thurman
- party hard 2) party time 3) dance party 4) college time 5) fraternity 6) weekend calls 7) dance, dance revolution 8) footloose 9) dancing in the dark 10) party hardy 11) when the gang gets together 12) summer fun 13) out on the town 14) wooo girl 15) drinking and dancing 16) I came to party 17) dancing to the beat 18) I wanna dance with somebody 19) cheap beer 20) mosh