Post by ginger newts on Oct 11, 2004 21:11:02 GMT -5
Okay, well I had no computer this weekend (long story) so I had lots of time to write, thus tonight you get two stories. 
The Intruder
It was just past midnight, the only light in the room came from the embers of a dying fire. Waiting for her husband to come home from another of his endless meetings, the woman had fallen asleep curled, cat-like, in an armchair. The newspaper, two days old, had fallen from her limp fingers and covered her legs. Silently, a window opened, all that could be seen in the darkened room was a gloved hand pushing the window further open. The hand was followed by a masked face, thin but unmistakably male with dark beady eyes that darted around the room, taking it all in within a few seconds. The woman was sitting in a wing-backed chair near the dying fire, there was a small round table beside her chair that held the cooling dregs of a cup of tea and a plate littered with crumbs. Facing the chair was a small settee and across the room a very organized desk. Papers piled neatly, ink well properly capped, a single framed photograph sat off to the left side of the desk near the wall. The mantle held a few more photos and a small clock, three of the walls were lined with overstuffed bookshelves. The woman was alone, the intruder deduced, if her husband had been home she surely would have been in bed with him.
All of this he observed in mere seconds before soundlessly slipping through the window and into the sitting room. He stood, just inside the window, and listened for a moment – nothing. Outside the wind shifted and the clouds moved to momentarily uncover the moon, briefly casting a beam of light across the room and onto the face of the sleeping woman. She shifted and the man froze, ready to either make his escape or finish his business quickly. His hand reached automatically into his pocket and closed around the handle of the blade he had stored there. The woman shifted, sighed softly, but did not wake up and then, just as quickly as they had left, the clouds covered the moon again, bathing them once more in darkness. Slipping the long thin blade out of his pocket, the man stole across the carpeted floor, his steps quick and sure. He walked around behind the woman and lifted his right hand, the blade gleamed in the dying firelight for a moment and then –
A hand descended quickly on her shoulder and Minerva jumped out of her chair by the fire and spun around, wand out, book dropping to the floor with a soft thump. Clutching her chest, she drew a few ragged breaths, lowering her wand to her side with a shaky hand.
“Don’t do that!” she cried.
Albus chuckled, “My dear, what are you reading? And why are you waiting up for me, it’s after midnight and the fire has nearly gone out, you should be in bed.”
Slowly, flushed both from the fright and with a small amount of embarrassment at her reaction, Minerva wordlessly picked up her book and offered it to Albus. He read over the passage she had been engrossed in when he entered and then looked up at her with a mixture of amusement and apology written on his face.
“I thought you didn’t like books of this nature. I am sorry if I scared you, but I can’t help laughing. Minerva, it is most unlike you to have such a dramatic reaction.”
Snatching the book back, she found her tongue again and with a slight edge to her voice, told him, “I took the book from Dean Thomas during class today and decided to find out what was so fascinating that he would risk reading it in my classroom. You happened to enter at the moment the woman was about to die. You really should be more careful, Albus, I could have hurt you.”
“I see, well do you need to see the woman off or will you be coming to bed with me?” Albus asked with a smile that at once infuriated Minerva and reminded her why she loved him.
It was a smile she could never refuse. Placing the book on the table next to her empty tea cup and the plate of biscuit crumbs, she took the hand Albus offered and walked with him into the bedroom. As the door closed behind them, the clouds parted and a beam of moonlight briefly illuminated the sitting room, glinting off the picture frames that lined the mantel on either side of the clock and falling across the very organized desk on the far side of the room.
The Intruder
It was just past midnight, the only light in the room came from the embers of a dying fire. Waiting for her husband to come home from another of his endless meetings, the woman had fallen asleep curled, cat-like, in an armchair. The newspaper, two days old, had fallen from her limp fingers and covered her legs. Silently, a window opened, all that could be seen in the darkened room was a gloved hand pushing the window further open. The hand was followed by a masked face, thin but unmistakably male with dark beady eyes that darted around the room, taking it all in within a few seconds. The woman was sitting in a wing-backed chair near the dying fire, there was a small round table beside her chair that held the cooling dregs of a cup of tea and a plate littered with crumbs. Facing the chair was a small settee and across the room a very organized desk. Papers piled neatly, ink well properly capped, a single framed photograph sat off to the left side of the desk near the wall. The mantle held a few more photos and a small clock, three of the walls were lined with overstuffed bookshelves. The woman was alone, the intruder deduced, if her husband had been home she surely would have been in bed with him.
All of this he observed in mere seconds before soundlessly slipping through the window and into the sitting room. He stood, just inside the window, and listened for a moment – nothing. Outside the wind shifted and the clouds moved to momentarily uncover the moon, briefly casting a beam of light across the room and onto the face of the sleeping woman. She shifted and the man froze, ready to either make his escape or finish his business quickly. His hand reached automatically into his pocket and closed around the handle of the blade he had stored there. The woman shifted, sighed softly, but did not wake up and then, just as quickly as they had left, the clouds covered the moon again, bathing them once more in darkness. Slipping the long thin blade out of his pocket, the man stole across the carpeted floor, his steps quick and sure. He walked around behind the woman and lifted his right hand, the blade gleamed in the dying firelight for a moment and then –
A hand descended quickly on her shoulder and Minerva jumped out of her chair by the fire and spun around, wand out, book dropping to the floor with a soft thump. Clutching her chest, she drew a few ragged breaths, lowering her wand to her side with a shaky hand.
“Don’t do that!” she cried.
Albus chuckled, “My dear, what are you reading? And why are you waiting up for me, it’s after midnight and the fire has nearly gone out, you should be in bed.”
Slowly, flushed both from the fright and with a small amount of embarrassment at her reaction, Minerva wordlessly picked up her book and offered it to Albus. He read over the passage she had been engrossed in when he entered and then looked up at her with a mixture of amusement and apology written on his face.
“I thought you didn’t like books of this nature. I am sorry if I scared you, but I can’t help laughing. Minerva, it is most unlike you to have such a dramatic reaction.”
Snatching the book back, she found her tongue again and with a slight edge to her voice, told him, “I took the book from Dean Thomas during class today and decided to find out what was so fascinating that he would risk reading it in my classroom. You happened to enter at the moment the woman was about to die. You really should be more careful, Albus, I could have hurt you.”
“I see, well do you need to see the woman off or will you be coming to bed with me?” Albus asked with a smile that at once infuriated Minerva and reminded her why she loved him.
It was a smile she could never refuse. Placing the book on the table next to her empty tea cup and the plate of biscuit crumbs, she took the hand Albus offered and walked with him into the bedroom. As the door closed behind them, the clouds parted and a beam of moonlight briefly illuminated the sitting room, glinting off the picture frames that lined the mantel on either side of the clock and falling across the very organized desk on the far side of the room.
Very nice. 
