burning deception
January 23rd 2007 19:49
As the police lowered the man-made sun and raised the moon emblazon with a newer man or woman of some sort, Sally, the grass seemed to grow brown and the spring never brought new life to Deppsvilla. The "sun" never turned its backdrop a brilliant light blue, but left it murky.
Contrary to the bleak town, Oliver's ambitions and loves allowed spectacular reds, oranges and yellows to dance upon his clothing bringing him to life among the semmingly dead. Unlike jack Skellington or Victor VanDort, Oliver Loganov fell in love and could do nothing about it until his father moved on or died. The disrespect of a son to marry when his father held no love remained unforgivable.
With the door locked and the curtains drawn they could not be seen together. Isabelle Thatcher dressed in bland maroon floor length dress hugging her hour glass figure. Her chestnut brown hair pulled back tightly in a french braid tied with a yellow ribbon emphasized her lilac eyes with the help of her overall somber appearance.
In his usual authoritative tone of voice, "Now listen m' dahling, the old man is way past his prime. T'would be a civil duty to put 'em to rest. Every citizen knows after mother's death he hasn't been sane. He talks to himself and mother as if she's there."
"But Ollie, hun, you mustn't kill 'em. We can wait. This winter's promisin' to hurt our population immensely he won't make it."
"Don't worry your pretty littl' heart, doll. I've got it under control. You know as well as I, inorder to take governor in this election we must be wed. The people want a leader with a beautiful lover not a father in his death bed."
"You know I love you with my everything and I can't stop you from doin' your heart's desire, but my mama's expectin' me to help cook dinner. I love you." She kissed him on the cheek while gently grabbing his hands and slowly dropping them down to her love's sides. Oliver watched as she glided across the mahogany wood floors and out the mahogany doors which climbed four feet above her head.
"All right, Isabelle, this is for you. 'Tis closing on dusk. My perfect opportunity." Oliver swaggered out the same doors as Isabelle with much less grace, but much more dignity. With his head held high, he exchanged simple pleasantries with civilians on his way to Everglot Home of the Elderly.
"Good evening, Gertrude, is my father in his room?"
"Yes, dear, but I think he's fixin' to take a nap any time now."
"That's all right, I wanted to wish him pleasant dreams."
Down the halls, making a right followed by a left and into room number 1, his father lay asleep on his side facing the view of the fields of brown and damp yellow.
This time Oliver's voice reverberated sympathy- something no one besides Isabelle had the privilege of hearing. "Oh sir, you have raised an incredible son. He cares so much for you, and seeing you in this bed tears his heart to shreds. Knowing you lie here dying slowly makes each step seem to be on shards of broken glass. I will cure your pain and set you free," he leaned over and kissed his father on the cheek. "Sweet dreams and a sweet eternity father."
After leaving the scene of the crime, Oliver wished Gertrude a sweet night and wandered home for a short night's rest before his meeting early the next morning.
"The town crier yelled while ringing his cow bell, "Sir Loganov has been murdered in his sleep, Oliver and Isabelle are to be wed in three days time."
"Here, citizens of our fair town, listen to me, your soon-to-be governor," with that he laughed humbly. "My father is past,but he is in a better place now, and to celebrate his eternal happiness and his productive life, Isabelle and I shall be wed."
"Blasphemer!" "Fool!" "No pity for yer old man, eh?" "He has no soul!" The town's people hated Oliver's tone and lack of compassion.
With these improprieties Isabelle took the stage. "With the election so soon, there is littl' time to waste grieving over this man. He was incredible and we all shall pay our respects. You must understand how long Oliver and I have been waiting for our union to be recognized bu you all. Our wedding ceremony will not be held until Sir Loganov is properly buried. After all, he served us all so well and brought us great fortune." The couple then left their audience unsatisfied.
On the governor's election, the town's people held a meeting.
"That Oliver sure seemed happy his old man was knocked off."
"Yea, that's just not normal. I cried when my pops passed. If he was murdered I'd be fixin' to hrut whoever it was something fierce."
"Alls I know is I personally want to do that guy in."
"Hey Gertrude, who was the last one in there?"
"Well, Mr. Oliver was... you don't think?"
"He'd have good reason to with Isabelle on his side."
"He did seem a li;' out there yesterday."
"It musta been that yella' belly."
"Burn him!" "Stone him!" "Imprison him!"
"No, let's do much worse, let's take away the light of his life. Take Isabelle."
"Nothing like watching your love die becasua summin you did."
"Let's wait, they're supposed to come here 'bout seven."
"Hello my fellow mourners."
"Murderer!" "Betrayer!" "Get him still and make him watch!"
"Hold him back, we'll start the fire!"
"What's going on?"
"This is yer punishment!"
"Heh, we're gonna burn her."
"You can't burn her, she is all I have left."
"You should have thoughta that before you killed pops."
"I will always love you, Oliver."
Contrary to the bleak town, Oliver's ambitions and loves allowed spectacular reds, oranges and yellows to dance upon his clothing bringing him to life among the semmingly dead. Unlike jack Skellington or Victor VanDort, Oliver Loganov fell in love and could do nothing about it until his father moved on or died. The disrespect of a son to marry when his father held no love remained unforgivable.
In his usual authoritative tone of voice, "Now listen m' dahling, the old man is way past his prime. T'would be a civil duty to put 'em to rest. Every citizen knows after mother's death he hasn't been sane. He talks to himself and mother as if she's there."
"But Ollie, hun, you mustn't kill 'em. We can wait. This winter's promisin' to hurt our population immensely he won't make it."
"Don't worry your pretty littl' heart, doll. I've got it under control. You know as well as I, inorder to take governor in this election we must be wed. The people want a leader with a beautiful lover not a father in his death bed."
"You know I love you with my everything and I can't stop you from doin' your heart's desire, but my mama's expectin' me to help cook dinner. I love you." She kissed him on the cheek while gently grabbing his hands and slowly dropping them down to her love's sides. Oliver watched as she glided across the mahogany wood floors and out the mahogany doors which climbed four feet above her head.
"Good evening, Gertrude, is my father in his room?"
"Yes, dear, but I think he's fixin' to take a nap any time now."
"That's all right, I wanted to wish him pleasant dreams."
Down the halls, making a right followed by a left and into room number 1, his father lay asleep on his side facing the view of the fields of brown and damp yellow.
This time Oliver's voice reverberated sympathy- something no one besides Isabelle had the privilege of hearing. "Oh sir, you have raised an incredible son. He cares so much for you, and seeing you in this bed tears his heart to shreds. Knowing you lie here dying slowly makes each step seem to be on shards of broken glass. I will cure your pain and set you free," he leaned over and kissed his father on the cheek. "Sweet dreams and a sweet eternity father."
After leaving the scene of the crime, Oliver wished Gertrude a sweet night and wandered home for a short night's rest before his meeting early the next morning.
"The town crier yelled while ringing his cow bell, "Sir Loganov has been murdered in his sleep, Oliver and Isabelle are to be wed in three days time."
"Here, citizens of our fair town, listen to me, your soon-to-be governor," with that he laughed humbly. "My father is past,but he is in a better place now, and to celebrate his eternal happiness and his productive life, Isabelle and I shall be wed."
"Blasphemer!" "Fool!" "No pity for yer old man, eh?" "He has no soul!" The town's people hated Oliver's tone and lack of compassion.
With these improprieties Isabelle took the stage. "With the election so soon, there is littl' time to waste grieving over this man. He was incredible and we all shall pay our respects. You must understand how long Oliver and I have been waiting for our union to be recognized bu you all. Our wedding ceremony will not be held until Sir Loganov is properly buried. After all, he served us all so well and brought us great fortune." The couple then left their audience unsatisfied.
On the governor's election, the town's people held a meeting.
"That Oliver sure seemed happy his old man was knocked off."
"Yea, that's just not normal. I cried when my pops passed. If he was murdered I'd be fixin' to hrut whoever it was something fierce."
"Alls I know is I personally want to do that guy in."
"Hey Gertrude, who was the last one in there?"
"Well, Mr. Oliver was... you don't think?"
"He'd have good reason to with Isabelle on his side."
"He did seem a li;' out there yesterday."
"It musta been that yella' belly."
"Burn him!" "Stone him!" "Imprison him!"
"No, let's do much worse, let's take away the light of his life. Take Isabelle."
"Nothing like watching your love die becasua summin you did."
"Let's wait, they're supposed to come here 'bout seven."
"Hello my fellow mourners."
"Murderer!" "Betrayer!" "Get him still and make him watch!"
"Hold him back, we'll start the fire!"
"What's going on?"
"This is yer punishment!"
"Heh, we're gonna burn her."
"You can't burn her, she is all I have left."
"You should have thoughta that before you killed pops."
"I will always love you, Oliver."
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