Lovelight
08-02-2010, 06:39 AM
Original Story Planned for that fail RP I set up awhile ago. xD
Critiques would be nice. I would like more critique on the content than on the grammar. I already know that I have issues with switching tenses, but I'm more concerned about if the story makes sense to you or not. Many thanks. No need to sugarcoat your comments if reading this stabbed your brain to death.
Rare was too rich to obey laws. That was what he told himself. His pride was strong enough to break through any law that was thrown at him. That included talking on the phone while driving.
“Oh, how I miss you, Bella Donna,” he sighed drearily, tapping on the back of his cell phone.
“Monsieur, don’t you have work to do?” a female voice with a slight French accent replied.
“Of course. Lots of work to do. I’m just taking a short break to check up on my love.”
“Is that so? And is that the car radio I hear?”
“Oh wh-what? What radio?” He threw his hand from the steering wheel and hastily pressed the volume button on the car radio to silence.
“Rare…you’re driving. And not working. Are you?”
“Well anyway,” changing the subject, he swiftly threw his hand back on the steering wheel before the car swayed off the road.
“Working overtime again?” a rather bitter voice emitted from the phone.
“Yes, my love,” he gritted his teeth knowing that she knew that he was lying.
“I see. I expect gifts when you come home for forgiveness. I don’t know what kind of crap you are doing out there and I don’t know if it involves different women b—”
“It doesn’t, donna. I assure of you that.”
“Uhuh,” a curt, sardonic tone replied, “You know what? I want to renew our wedding vows.”
“What?” No. No. NO. Breaking the law and having an ego wasn’t worth THIS.
“Yes, I do. When you come home tonight, wake me up, and propose to me.”
“Oh my god, woman. You’re just—”
“Messing around with you? Indeed I am, monsieur,” the feminine voice uplifted cheerfully. Rare was relieved to hear a quiet giggle on the end of the other line.
“Adieu, Belladonna. I’ll see you tonight. Maybe not wedding vows, but maybe I’ll get you those pumps that you wanted a couple years ago.”
“Wait. No, I wanted a jacuzzi.”
“You’re getting pumps,” Rare quickly hung up his phone and tossed it on the adjacent car seat. He loved his wife. He really did. What he wanted was more than his wife, however, were excitement and adventure. Infidelity was one of the few gates that he had to drive through to obtain that wish.
His wife was boring. She was beautiful, vain, but too aristocratic for his tastes. Talking to her on the phone was already something he could hardly bare.
The thoughts of his lovely wife distracted him for an iota of a moment when a loud cacophony ruptured his thoughts. Suddenly, talking to his wife seemed like a sundae.
The siren wailed from a distance, and Rare sighed as he slowed down his car to a stop.
“Curses.” He examined the car mirror to see a police car behind him also slowing down to a stop. A policewoman climbed out of the car with a notepad and pen already in her hand. She briskly approached the car.
“Sir, you have been talking on the phone while you were driving. I saw you. You know the law.”
“…” Rare was rich but not rich enough to talk his way out of tickets. That was what he told himself.
“Are you going to deny it?” she tapped her foot impatiently. Her shades hid her eyes, but it didn’t take much of a genius or a rich boy to figure out that she wasn’t really happy.
“Yes. I wasn’t on the phone. I don’t know what you are talking about, ma’am.” Mentally, he slammed his head against the steering wheel for lying. He knew that he was a bad liar.
“You know, ‘ma’am,’ is short for ‘Madame,’ which is a title used to address prostitutes,” was her unexpected reply. Respect obviously wasn’t getting him anywhere.
“…I see,” he wasn’t too sure how to reply to this. Her fuse was shorter than her bob-cut blonde hair.
“Let me see your license and your phone,” she commanded. Reluctantly, Rare reached for his wallet and cell phone and handed both to her. She hastily took it and flipped open the wallet. The wallet had his driver’s license, which was outdated. It also had cash, and a couple gift cards that were expired. She raised her brow at a small packet that shall not be named. Also expired. Finally, she perused at the photo of Rare and his wife. She closed it and handed it back to him. She scribbled a few things down on her notepad before flipping open his phone. She checked the phone’s call history. Her expression was hard to read with the large shades covering half of her face. However, after fiddling with his phone for a few minutes, it was obvious that something didn’t go as planned.
“Is this the only phone you possess in your car?” she asked, closing his phone.
“Yes…ma—missus,” he quickly corrected himself.
“It has been only merely seconds from the time I saw you talk on your phone to when I stopped you. But your phonebook is completely empty, and your call history has been completely erased. You still have 5000 free minutes. No text messages. No nothing. Also, there’s no signal in this area.”
“Like I said. I’m denying it, right?” he forced a smile. She handed him back his phone and crossed her arms.
“Touché,” a brief reply, “since you’re quite handsome, and I mistakened you for talking on the phone, I’ll let you go with a warning. But you might want to renew your driver’s license. The next police that pull you over won’t be as nice as I.”
“Nice, my a—," he grumbled before interrupting himself, "Thank you, ma—Miss.” The police woman returned to her car without another word and drove away.
Rare looked down at the photo of he and his wife. Along with most things in his wallet that were expired, the photo was expired as well. He closed his eyes as he replaced his wallet and gazed at his phone.
After a few minutes of silence, he drove towards his itinerary. His ‘excitement’ resided at a café that was rumored to be haunted. He had been there many times in a past, not because of the mysteries. It was because of the women. The women had a sundry of personalities. A couple, fierce; others, tame; few, just plain weird. None were as plain and polite as his wife. Ironically, it was also the place where he met his wife.
He parked his car outside the forest that bordered the café. Absorbing the scenery, he ambled towards it. The dreary café erected itself like a medieval castle in the middle of the beautiful meadow. The flowers were soft-colored and glowed under the moonlight. The breeze was cold, but kind. The moonlight was glaring, but soft. Like life itself, there was something soothing behind the deceitful. It took a trained eye to overlook the bad things in life. He had enough money to be more optimistic about life. At least, that’s what he told himself.
Self-deceit was the only way he can even stand with the current facade of a pride he had now. Everything was a lie, but for him, everything couldn't be more real. The expiration dates that tattered his wallet didn't mean anything. He was still married, still rich, still driving, still...able to live. He wasn't outdated. He was 34. Time was not still. Excitement was still waiting within the peculiar hearts of the eleven maidens and mistresses that awaited for him in that castle with the placid meadow ubiquitious.
(to be continued)
Yeah, that was long. ....sorry. This isn't a short story.
Critiques would be nice. I would like more critique on the content than on the grammar. I already know that I have issues with switching tenses, but I'm more concerned about if the story makes sense to you or not. Many thanks. No need to sugarcoat your comments if reading this stabbed your brain to death.
Rare was too rich to obey laws. That was what he told himself. His pride was strong enough to break through any law that was thrown at him. That included talking on the phone while driving.
“Oh, how I miss you, Bella Donna,” he sighed drearily, tapping on the back of his cell phone.
“Monsieur, don’t you have work to do?” a female voice with a slight French accent replied.
“Of course. Lots of work to do. I’m just taking a short break to check up on my love.”
“Is that so? And is that the car radio I hear?”
“Oh wh-what? What radio?” He threw his hand from the steering wheel and hastily pressed the volume button on the car radio to silence.
“Rare…you’re driving. And not working. Are you?”
“Well anyway,” changing the subject, he swiftly threw his hand back on the steering wheel before the car swayed off the road.
“Working overtime again?” a rather bitter voice emitted from the phone.
“Yes, my love,” he gritted his teeth knowing that she knew that he was lying.
“I see. I expect gifts when you come home for forgiveness. I don’t know what kind of crap you are doing out there and I don’t know if it involves different women b—”
“It doesn’t, donna. I assure of you that.”
“Uhuh,” a curt, sardonic tone replied, “You know what? I want to renew our wedding vows.”
“What?” No. No. NO. Breaking the law and having an ego wasn’t worth THIS.
“Yes, I do. When you come home tonight, wake me up, and propose to me.”
“Oh my god, woman. You’re just—”
“Messing around with you? Indeed I am, monsieur,” the feminine voice uplifted cheerfully. Rare was relieved to hear a quiet giggle on the end of the other line.
“Adieu, Belladonna. I’ll see you tonight. Maybe not wedding vows, but maybe I’ll get you those pumps that you wanted a couple years ago.”
“Wait. No, I wanted a jacuzzi.”
“You’re getting pumps,” Rare quickly hung up his phone and tossed it on the adjacent car seat. He loved his wife. He really did. What he wanted was more than his wife, however, were excitement and adventure. Infidelity was one of the few gates that he had to drive through to obtain that wish.
His wife was boring. She was beautiful, vain, but too aristocratic for his tastes. Talking to her on the phone was already something he could hardly bare.
The thoughts of his lovely wife distracted him for an iota of a moment when a loud cacophony ruptured his thoughts. Suddenly, talking to his wife seemed like a sundae.
The siren wailed from a distance, and Rare sighed as he slowed down his car to a stop.
“Curses.” He examined the car mirror to see a police car behind him also slowing down to a stop. A policewoman climbed out of the car with a notepad and pen already in her hand. She briskly approached the car.
“Sir, you have been talking on the phone while you were driving. I saw you. You know the law.”
“…” Rare was rich but not rich enough to talk his way out of tickets. That was what he told himself.
“Are you going to deny it?” she tapped her foot impatiently. Her shades hid her eyes, but it didn’t take much of a genius or a rich boy to figure out that she wasn’t really happy.
“Yes. I wasn’t on the phone. I don’t know what you are talking about, ma’am.” Mentally, he slammed his head against the steering wheel for lying. He knew that he was a bad liar.
“You know, ‘ma’am,’ is short for ‘Madame,’ which is a title used to address prostitutes,” was her unexpected reply. Respect obviously wasn’t getting him anywhere.
“…I see,” he wasn’t too sure how to reply to this. Her fuse was shorter than her bob-cut blonde hair.
“Let me see your license and your phone,” she commanded. Reluctantly, Rare reached for his wallet and cell phone and handed both to her. She hastily took it and flipped open the wallet. The wallet had his driver’s license, which was outdated. It also had cash, and a couple gift cards that were expired. She raised her brow at a small packet that shall not be named. Also expired. Finally, she perused at the photo of Rare and his wife. She closed it and handed it back to him. She scribbled a few things down on her notepad before flipping open his phone. She checked the phone’s call history. Her expression was hard to read with the large shades covering half of her face. However, after fiddling with his phone for a few minutes, it was obvious that something didn’t go as planned.
“Is this the only phone you possess in your car?” she asked, closing his phone.
“Yes…ma—missus,” he quickly corrected himself.
“It has been only merely seconds from the time I saw you talk on your phone to when I stopped you. But your phonebook is completely empty, and your call history has been completely erased. You still have 5000 free minutes. No text messages. No nothing. Also, there’s no signal in this area.”
“Like I said. I’m denying it, right?” he forced a smile. She handed him back his phone and crossed her arms.
“Touché,” a brief reply, “since you’re quite handsome, and I mistakened you for talking on the phone, I’ll let you go with a warning. But you might want to renew your driver’s license. The next police that pull you over won’t be as nice as I.”
“Nice, my a—," he grumbled before interrupting himself, "Thank you, ma—Miss.” The police woman returned to her car without another word and drove away.
Rare looked down at the photo of he and his wife. Along with most things in his wallet that were expired, the photo was expired as well. He closed his eyes as he replaced his wallet and gazed at his phone.
After a few minutes of silence, he drove towards his itinerary. His ‘excitement’ resided at a café that was rumored to be haunted. He had been there many times in a past, not because of the mysteries. It was because of the women. The women had a sundry of personalities. A couple, fierce; others, tame; few, just plain weird. None were as plain and polite as his wife. Ironically, it was also the place where he met his wife.
He parked his car outside the forest that bordered the café. Absorbing the scenery, he ambled towards it. The dreary café erected itself like a medieval castle in the middle of the beautiful meadow. The flowers were soft-colored and glowed under the moonlight. The breeze was cold, but kind. The moonlight was glaring, but soft. Like life itself, there was something soothing behind the deceitful. It took a trained eye to overlook the bad things in life. He had enough money to be more optimistic about life. At least, that’s what he told himself.
Self-deceit was the only way he can even stand with the current facade of a pride he had now. Everything was a lie, but for him, everything couldn't be more real. The expiration dates that tattered his wallet didn't mean anything. He was still married, still rich, still driving, still...able to live. He wasn't outdated. He was 34. Time was not still. Excitement was still waiting within the peculiar hearts of the eleven maidens and mistresses that awaited for him in that castle with the placid meadow ubiquitious.
(to be continued)
Yeah, that was long. ....sorry. This isn't a short story.