Post by Kalidah on Jun 27, 2024 3:40:07 GMT
“Oh good grief, this author is absolutely terrible at writing cold openings for his narratives. No wonder why most of his stories are hit or miss.”
The elderly gentleman tosses aside the novella he was reading with disgust and reaches over to the table beside his chair to pick up his cigarette. Raising it to his lips, he takes a long drag from it and exhales the foul smoke through the corner of his mouth. He coughs loudly and grabs a tissue to cover his mouth. When the coughs subside, he clears his throat and spits into the tissue before tossing it into the garbage can.
The door behind him opens. A man, wearing horn-rimmed glasses enters and walks over to the gentleman. He crouches beside him and takes his hand.
“Are you alright, Mr. Ambassador?”
The elderly man chuckles softly and pats the other on the cheek.
“For the seven hundred and thirty-second times, Angus, stop calling me that. I haven’t been the ambassador to Canada ever since its use as a plot device was no longer necessary. You can call me whatever else you like: Mr. Buchanan, Sir, Senior, Asshole; just stop calling me by that tired old title. No one probably even remembers who I am anymore. Well, not anyone of any real importance anyway, no offense intended.”
“None taken,” Angus Stewart replied. He didn’t even try to hide his concern for his long-time employer. “Are you certain you’re alright, Mr. Ambassador?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Mr. Buchanan answered, with a tired sigh, “Don’t worry about me. It will be over soon, then I’ll be out of your hair forever.”
Angus barely twitched at the last remark. He had heard it so many times now, it barely fazed him anymore. Standing back up to his feet, he brushed his pants off and placed his hands behind his back.
“Very well, sir. Dinner will be in soon, as requested: Sasbury steak, mashed potatoes and fried beans, along with your usual double scotch on the rocks. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave for the night.”
The older man began to cough again. He waved Angus off, wordlessly, before sitting back into his chair. Angus stood there looking at him for a moment, concern creasing his face. After a moment, he turned and left the room, making sure to shut the door behind him.
The former ambassador waited a moment, making sure his assistant wasn’t going to come back in, before reaching over to the table and pulling out another cigarette. He pulled his lighter out of his pocket, put the cigarette between his lips and prepared to light it.
“Careful, Father, those things are terrible for your health.”
A figure, dressed in a three piece pinstripe suit, stepped out of the shadow. His blue eyes seemed to glow in the pale light of the room. They contrasted against the red in his hair and beard, which almost made him look like his face was on fire, and for all the old man knew, it really was.
The lighter and cigarette fell from Mr. Buchanan’s hands and landed on the ground between his feet. He let out a gasp of surprise and started coughing again. His visitor stepped over to the table and handed him a tissue. The old man quickly covered his mouth with it and coughed some more, before eventually settling down.
“Goodness, Elijah, you gave your father a fright there. Then again, you always knew how to make an entrance. You’re late though.”
Mr. Buchanan lifted a pocket watch up and stared at the time.
“I was expecting you six years ago. What kept you so long?”
Eli Buchanan, Jr. chuckled. He pulled a chair over and sat down across from his father.
“Well you know how it is, Father, I got distracted. What with my own family growing so quickly, getting tossed over the side of a boat, and going on to become the owner and proprietor of one of the most lovely places in the world, can you really blame me for not coming to see you sooner?”
“No, I suppose not.” The elder Buchanan beant down to pick up his cigarette, but his son was already there, grabbing it and ripping it in half.
“Oh really, Elijah. Was that absolutely necessary?”
“It is,” Eli says as he grabs the packet of cigarettes from the table and pockets them. “I can’t abide the smell of the damn things. It’s bad enough Charlie will give me grief because my suit’s probably going to smell like smoke now and I’ll have to get it dry cleaned again.”
“How is that daughter-in-law of mine?”
“Absolutely wonderful. I’d say she sends her love, but we both know that's a lie.”
“And the children? You’ve got six, yes?”
“Five, Father. You should know that by now, and there won’t be anymore for a while, not until I’m done, I think.”
“Ah, so you’re here to do it then, finally?”
The former ambassador sat himself up straight and looked at his son attentively. His son stared back at him, his face softening. Eli nodded slightly.
“Yes, I have. I only wish I had done it sooner. It might have saved a lot of people grief.”
“Including those three laid up in those coffins in your basement?”
The accusation didn’t catch Eli off guard one bit. He sat back in his chair and laughed.
“Two of the three of them, anyway.”
“You don’t think the third one’s good enough for her, do you?”
“Not one bit,” Eli admitted, sitting forward once more, “but perhaps he’ll prove me wrong. She deserves someone special, both her and her brother do.”
Eli rose to his feet, slowly. He removed his gloves, and put them in his coat. His father looked up at him, a smug look on his face.
“So you’re going to strangle, are you? I knew you were a bold one, Elijah, but that seems messy, even by your standards.”
Eli’s laugh caught the old man off guard. There was sadness there he hadn’t expected. Much to the elder Buchanan’s surprise, his son kneeled down in front of him and took him by the hands.
“Kill you, Father? Is that what you think I’m here to do?”
Eli shakes his head, tears beginning to leak from his eyes.
“No, Father, I’m not here to do that,” Eli said, “You deserve death, of course, after what you did to myself, Holly, Riel and Mom, and I can almost forgive you for what you did to me, but what you did to all three of them, that’s a lot harder, and I don’t believe it’s my place to do so.”
Eli Buchanan, Sr looked up at his son, even more confused than before.
“But if you’re not here to kill me…”
“Do you remember El Bruja, Father,” Eli asked, cutting his dad off mid sentence. “You know, Alice, the woman from that restaurant you and Brute used to take me to all the time as a child in the middle of the desert.”
His father’s eyes widened in recollection. Eli nodded, his lips curled up into a sad smile.
“I see you do, Father. I know what you did, what you sacrificed to save me. I’m still not sure whether you did it because you actually loved me back then, or if you didn’t want to risk losing such an important tool to further your political goals…”
“Elijah, don’t…”
“... but in a strange way, I’m glad you did. So I’ve decided to return the favor.”
“Eli, no…”
The elder Buchanan tried to pull away from his son, but Eli’s grip on his hands was too strong. Leaning forward, Eli pulled his father towards him. Despite the old man’s protests, he was too weak to resist and Eli was able to press his forehead against his father’s.
“It’s time to set you free, Father.”
Eli’s father tried to call out for help, but he didn’t have a chance. A red smoke billowed out of the younger Buchanan’s mouth flew up the old man’s nose and in his mouth. For a moment, Eli Buchanan, Sr.’s eyes turned bright red, before fading back to brown. His body suddenly went limp and he crumbled into the arms of his son, who guided him down to the floor and laid him on his side.
Eli Buchanan, Jr. stayed beside his father for a moment, looking down at him. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the tears from his face. Before he put it away, he used it to clean the drool off his father’s face and tenderly touched the old man’s cheek.
“I love you, Dad.”
His phone started ringing. Standing up, Eli pulled it from his pocket and answered it.
“Hello? Yeah, it’s done. No, if he survives this, he’ll never be able to hurt any of us ever again. Who knows, maybe his grandkids will even get to know him a little before he’s gone.”
Eli looked down at his father, all emotion gone.
“You’ve done your part, I take it? Good. Then I suspect there will be a big announcement soon about your rise to leadership of the company, congratulations. I’ll let Charlie and the kids know you said hi. Have a good night.”
Eli turned to leave, but stopped and picked up the novella his father had been reading. Thumbing his way through it, he turned to the last page and read the last few lines. With a groan, he tossed it into the garbage and it immediately caught on fire, incinerating all the contents.
“The author isn’t very good at writing an ending either, I see. Pity, some of the stuff in the middle was pretty good.”
With one last look around, Eli took a step backwards into the shadows and disappeared into the darkness.
The elderly gentleman tosses aside the novella he was reading with disgust and reaches over to the table beside his chair to pick up his cigarette. Raising it to his lips, he takes a long drag from it and exhales the foul smoke through the corner of his mouth. He coughs loudly and grabs a tissue to cover his mouth. When the coughs subside, he clears his throat and spits into the tissue before tossing it into the garbage can.
The door behind him opens. A man, wearing horn-rimmed glasses enters and walks over to the gentleman. He crouches beside him and takes his hand.
“Are you alright, Mr. Ambassador?”
The elderly man chuckles softly and pats the other on the cheek.
“For the seven hundred and thirty-second times, Angus, stop calling me that. I haven’t been the ambassador to Canada ever since its use as a plot device was no longer necessary. You can call me whatever else you like: Mr. Buchanan, Sir, Senior, Asshole; just stop calling me by that tired old title. No one probably even remembers who I am anymore. Well, not anyone of any real importance anyway, no offense intended.”
“None taken,” Angus Stewart replied. He didn’t even try to hide his concern for his long-time employer. “Are you certain you’re alright, Mr. Ambassador?”
“Yes, I’m fine,” Mr. Buchanan answered, with a tired sigh, “Don’t worry about me. It will be over soon, then I’ll be out of your hair forever.”
Angus barely twitched at the last remark. He had heard it so many times now, it barely fazed him anymore. Standing back up to his feet, he brushed his pants off and placed his hands behind his back.
“Very well, sir. Dinner will be in soon, as requested: Sasbury steak, mashed potatoes and fried beans, along with your usual double scotch on the rocks. If there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave for the night.”
The older man began to cough again. He waved Angus off, wordlessly, before sitting back into his chair. Angus stood there looking at him for a moment, concern creasing his face. After a moment, he turned and left the room, making sure to shut the door behind him.
The former ambassador waited a moment, making sure his assistant wasn’t going to come back in, before reaching over to the table and pulling out another cigarette. He pulled his lighter out of his pocket, put the cigarette between his lips and prepared to light it.
“Careful, Father, those things are terrible for your health.”
A figure, dressed in a three piece pinstripe suit, stepped out of the shadow. His blue eyes seemed to glow in the pale light of the room. They contrasted against the red in his hair and beard, which almost made him look like his face was on fire, and for all the old man knew, it really was.
The lighter and cigarette fell from Mr. Buchanan’s hands and landed on the ground between his feet. He let out a gasp of surprise and started coughing again. His visitor stepped over to the table and handed him a tissue. The old man quickly covered his mouth with it and coughed some more, before eventually settling down.
“Goodness, Elijah, you gave your father a fright there. Then again, you always knew how to make an entrance. You’re late though.”
Mr. Buchanan lifted a pocket watch up and stared at the time.
“I was expecting you six years ago. What kept you so long?”
Eli Buchanan, Jr. chuckled. He pulled a chair over and sat down across from his father.
“Well you know how it is, Father, I got distracted. What with my own family growing so quickly, getting tossed over the side of a boat, and going on to become the owner and proprietor of one of the most lovely places in the world, can you really blame me for not coming to see you sooner?”
“No, I suppose not.” The elder Buchanan beant down to pick up his cigarette, but his son was already there, grabbing it and ripping it in half.
“Oh really, Elijah. Was that absolutely necessary?”
“It is,” Eli says as he grabs the packet of cigarettes from the table and pockets them. “I can’t abide the smell of the damn things. It’s bad enough Charlie will give me grief because my suit’s probably going to smell like smoke now and I’ll have to get it dry cleaned again.”
“How is that daughter-in-law of mine?”
“Absolutely wonderful. I’d say she sends her love, but we both know that's a lie.”
“And the children? You’ve got six, yes?”
“Five, Father. You should know that by now, and there won’t be anymore for a while, not until I’m done, I think.”
“Ah, so you’re here to do it then, finally?”
The former ambassador sat himself up straight and looked at his son attentively. His son stared back at him, his face softening. Eli nodded slightly.
“Yes, I have. I only wish I had done it sooner. It might have saved a lot of people grief.”
“Including those three laid up in those coffins in your basement?”
The accusation didn’t catch Eli off guard one bit. He sat back in his chair and laughed.
“Two of the three of them, anyway.”
“You don’t think the third one’s good enough for her, do you?”
“Not one bit,” Eli admitted, sitting forward once more, “but perhaps he’ll prove me wrong. She deserves someone special, both her and her brother do.”
Eli rose to his feet, slowly. He removed his gloves, and put them in his coat. His father looked up at him, a smug look on his face.
“So you’re going to strangle, are you? I knew you were a bold one, Elijah, but that seems messy, even by your standards.”
Eli’s laugh caught the old man off guard. There was sadness there he hadn’t expected. Much to the elder Buchanan’s surprise, his son kneeled down in front of him and took him by the hands.
“Kill you, Father? Is that what you think I’m here to do?”
Eli shakes his head, tears beginning to leak from his eyes.
“No, Father, I’m not here to do that,” Eli said, “You deserve death, of course, after what you did to myself, Holly, Riel and Mom, and I can almost forgive you for what you did to me, but what you did to all three of them, that’s a lot harder, and I don’t believe it’s my place to do so.”
Eli Buchanan, Sr looked up at his son, even more confused than before.
“But if you’re not here to kill me…”
“Do you remember El Bruja, Father,” Eli asked, cutting his dad off mid sentence. “You know, Alice, the woman from that restaurant you and Brute used to take me to all the time as a child in the middle of the desert.”
His father’s eyes widened in recollection. Eli nodded, his lips curled up into a sad smile.
“I see you do, Father. I know what you did, what you sacrificed to save me. I’m still not sure whether you did it because you actually loved me back then, or if you didn’t want to risk losing such an important tool to further your political goals…”
“Elijah, don’t…”
“... but in a strange way, I’m glad you did. So I’ve decided to return the favor.”
“Eli, no…”
The elder Buchanan tried to pull away from his son, but Eli’s grip on his hands was too strong. Leaning forward, Eli pulled his father towards him. Despite the old man’s protests, he was too weak to resist and Eli was able to press his forehead against his father’s.
“It’s time to set you free, Father.”
Eli’s father tried to call out for help, but he didn’t have a chance. A red smoke billowed out of the younger Buchanan’s mouth flew up the old man’s nose and in his mouth. For a moment, Eli Buchanan, Sr.’s eyes turned bright red, before fading back to brown. His body suddenly went limp and he crumbled into the arms of his son, who guided him down to the floor and laid him on his side.
Eli Buchanan, Jr. stayed beside his father for a moment, looking down at him. He pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the tears from his face. Before he put it away, he used it to clean the drool off his father’s face and tenderly touched the old man’s cheek.
“I love you, Dad.”
His phone started ringing. Standing up, Eli pulled it from his pocket and answered it.
“Hello? Yeah, it’s done. No, if he survives this, he’ll never be able to hurt any of us ever again. Who knows, maybe his grandkids will even get to know him a little before he’s gone.”
Eli looked down at his father, all emotion gone.
“You’ve done your part, I take it? Good. Then I suspect there will be a big announcement soon about your rise to leadership of the company, congratulations. I’ll let Charlie and the kids know you said hi. Have a good night.”
Eli turned to leave, but stopped and picked up the novella his father had been reading. Thumbing his way through it, he turned to the last page and read the last few lines. With a groan, he tossed it into the garbage and it immediately caught on fire, incinerating all the contents.
“The author isn’t very good at writing an ending either, I see. Pity, some of the stuff in the middle was pretty good.”
With one last look around, Eli took a step backwards into the shadows and disappeared into the darkness.