Thursday, February 13, 2014

Pond

A brief story from a prompt I wrote for last year.

Her skin was pale yellow, like marble stained with butter. Her eyes flitted back and forth, tracking the little green particles around her as the two men in suits stood above, watching her. They had gold in their eyes, not green, and suits as dark as river stones. They looked at her like she was meat, or a jeweled statue.

It was cool down here, and quiet. The diffuse greenhouse light filled her pool with a soft, neutral glow. She liked the glow. She felt good about things, about the green. A ripple disturbed her, and with a flick of her shimmering tail, she darted away from the men.

“The Pale Empress, Mr. Ozawa, is one of our absolute finest specimens. She has a pedigree dating back to the palace at Edo, as you're aware.”

Mr. Ozawa nodded curtly, his hand fishing a silver cigarette case from his breast pocket. He lit a cigarette with a gold foil tip. The smell of tobacco floated upwards on a banner of ash and smoke, like incense in a shrine.

“I am. But it is a lot, Mr. Margolies, to ask for a carp.” She probed the smooth concrete with her barbels.

“Can a price be put on beauty, Mr. Ozawa? On the ephemeral nature of sublime impermanence? On your daughter's happiness?” She exposed her back to the cool air, and darted sideways with a splash.

“You ask me a question you have answered for yourself, Mr. Margolies. The wire transfer should be complete this afternoon. I will take custody by two o'clock tomorrow.” She swallowed a forgotten meal.

“Naturally, Mr. Ozawa. I assure you, your daughter will be delighted.”

She lay motionless underneath the surface of the water with bright green algae.

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