Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Grand Dame of the Hall by Irene Riot

Grand dame of the hall. Advanced in her years yet life still brimming as if her cup would never empty. If she was hot sauce, she would leave a kick that would last for days. Years of experience ripened her, allowing her flavor to develop its powerful punch.

Sometimes rays of sun bounce ever so lightly across the floor. She was more like burning flames that scorched, illuminating the darkness of the snake pit. Some creatures don’t like light. They prefer to cower in the shadows.

She came from money. Her husband had a more simple upbringing. She was the force that drove him to the distinguished man he is today. The others didn’t like that.

The others hated light. The food they ate was bland. They chose to stick to the same rigid routine even though their methods were out dated and unnecessarily tedious. They hated change and despised anyone who didn’t fit the mold.

Snakes have tongues that dart in and out. Mothers like to talk and assassins throw daggers. Razor sharp tongues soar in search of a place to land. A moving target may sometimes be hard to hit and the back can often be the most accessible area.

Flipping her hair before pulling out her seat, Grand dame of the hall settles herself in the middle. Pulling out a stack of papers, straightening them with loud firm taps; she is in the middle of the snake pit now. One would think she would be immune to snake venom.

Looking up, she announces, “You catty bitches cry wolf, I cry lawyer!” 

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