Chrysanthemums
With a distinctive scraping noise and a sudden flash, a match roared to life in the darkness. Irem, cupped the flame delicately until it
matured, and then lit the candelabra in the center of the table. The candles were the only source of light in
the room; however, there were no less than 12 of them, and their collective
glow managed to lend a warm aura to the room. By the candle light, the ornate
table and its inlayed marble top imparted an air of lavishness, which only
served to match Irem’s suit. His features would have been far less impressive
without the veneer of opulence: His face was pallid and his profile mild,
having scarcely any air of forcefulness, and his figure was meager to the point
that it suggested frailty. His awareness of these facts meant that he was always only
a shade less than obsessive in his presentation.
When he was satisfied with the lighting, Irem turned to the silver serving tray behind him and procured a small vase containing perfectly manicured floral accouterments. He placed them with great care on the table, careful to ensure they were visible but not an obstruction. He again looked over his work to ensure his satisfaction before turning to examine the remaining items. Irem's attentions were then set on the two silver serving dishes that lay before him. He carefully removed the dome shaped lids to reveal two plates of food. Like everything else, the food was delicately prepared and presented flawlessly. Irem placed one plate at each end of the table before drawing back a chair and seating himself.
You would have been forgiven at this juncture for assuming that Irem was alone; however, a more in depth study of the room would have proven this false. Across from him, there sat a young woman; though, she had done very little to make her presence known. She wore a charming red dress that suited her figure well, but maintained the spirit of what seemed to be a formal dining occasion. Her skin, in comparison to the vibrant red, appeared quite pale - even more so than her host's. Her ebony hair seemed to catch the light, and the shadows from the birdcage veil that adorned it cast the occasional erie shadow across her face giving her an air of peculiarity. Her posture gave no hint of her inclinations, and what could be seen of her expression in the shadows of the dim light was equally featureless. From the outside, it would have been difficult for an observer to call the scenario anything but odd.
Irem stared across the table at his counterpart for a moment, then elected to break the uncomfortable silence himself.
"Mina...darling....arent you hungry?"
There was no response to his question. Irem's head tilted forward slightly in defeat.
"I suppose that means you're still angry with me," he said, his expression giving way to a grief stained half smile.
Taking up his silverware Irem began to eat, hoping to coax his jilted companion into joining him. The meal consisted of filet of beef, which had been seared and finished to suit carnivorous preferences. As his knife tore into the meat, it stained the plate a faint red; it was a welcome sight, and he greedily devoured the morsel. After a few bites, he peered again at his guest to gauge his manipulative prowess. He was disappointed to find that she hadn't moved, but rather she seemed to almost stiffen in obstinance. He resolved to try a different approach.
"How do you like the flowers," he said confidently. "You always were fond of chrysanthemums."
Much to Irems chagrin, this too elicited no response.
"I prepared them just for you. I even found your favorite color," he said in a boastful tone, gesticulating to the brilliant fuchsia blooms.
Mina however wasn't swayed and remained statuesque; her stillness and deep silence reflecting what Irem felt was an almost stoic judgement.
"Do you intend to continue punishing me," he asked.
Irem's patience had begun to waiver, and it could be noted in the mild hardening of his tone. His nature was such that he did not well tolerate insubordination. It seemed to him a personal insult; injurious to his image, which he prized above all. His grip on the utensils tightened as though their mistreatment might somehow assuage his growing frustrations. If Mina could tell, she showed no sign of concern.
"What do I need to do?" Barked Irem, now angrily chewing a carelessly sawed slice of beef.
"Would you have me beg like a commoner? Is that what you want? Is all that I've done for you still insufficient to buy your pardon?"
Irem expected silence and received it, but even if a reply had been offered his unraveling composure would have been likely to endure. His anger, perhaps an artifact of fatigue with constant maintenance of his facade, was not a feature of which he maintained any semblance of control. Irem began to cut another slice of beef, but stopped prematurely. Now fully exasperated, he abandoned his utensils and sent the plate hurtling into the nearby wall. He simply couldn't tolerate Mina's defiance any longer.
"Do you really need to be so fucking childish?" he shouted through the clamor of the shattered dinner plate.
"I wont beg to be forgiven," he growled pressing his palms into his eyes and griping the sides of his forehead.
Mina, like before, failed to react. Neither Irem's fervor, nor his violent outburst seemed to have any effect on her. That she seemed so collected in these conditions spoke readily of the frequency of such events, and verily they were not at all uncommon. To Mina, this may well have been just another dinner.
"I'm not god you know," scoffed Irem with implied mockery.
"I'm not so perfect as to sit in judgement of another. Not like you Mina. You might as well have been the Christ child."
He waived a hand is dismissal before returning to clasping his forehead as if it provided some momentary comfort. Despite his efforts, Mina seemed to have the upper hand in the exchange. Irem needed to find a way to turn the table on her to satisfy his ego, but the more angry he became the less lucidity he could devote to the pursuit. He was fairly certain that had been Mina's plan all along.
"Say something, dammit. 'Fuck You'; 'Piss off'; 'Rot in hell' -- ANYTHING."
Irem's voice boomed across the table, possessing an intensity that might have startled those familiar with him. This proved impotent with regard to Mina, whose disposition seemed nigh impregnable. Seeing this, Irem could no longer muster the desire to restrain himself. Rage flooded into his bloodstream, and he could feel its flames permeate his entire being. He shot to his feet, knocking over his chair and reflexively grabbed the small vase containing the flowers he had so recently been proud of. Summoning the whole of his strength, he flung the vase in Mina's direction. It whizzed past her face by mere millimeters before smashing into the wall behind her. The impact left a sizable divot in the wall with shards of glass embedded therein. One would have expected, and truthfully Irem had hoped for, a visceral reaction, but Mina seemed to treat even the promise of injury with utter disregard. In utter shock, Irem was filled with a volatile concoction of shame and disgust; the former of which only enhanced the latter.
"Have it your way," he seethed through clenched teeth.
Taking the chance to retreat before he could suffer any great damage to his ego, Irem made his way to the door which he slammed angrily behind him. The gust in its wake danced through the candlelight on its way to Mina; her veil trembling slightly in acknowledgment. Then, once again, all was silent. That is, all save the almost imperceptible buzzing that emanated from Mina's slightly parted lips. From within, there emerged a small green fly, which perched casually on her lower lip. The insectile newcomer began rubbing its forelegs together, and in that moment they resembled clasped hands in anticipation of a meal. It was quite an unbecoming image for a lady; however, for a corpse it was nothing at all unusual.
When he was satisfied with the lighting, Irem turned to the silver serving tray behind him and procured a small vase containing perfectly manicured floral accouterments. He placed them with great care on the table, careful to ensure they were visible but not an obstruction. He again looked over his work to ensure his satisfaction before turning to examine the remaining items. Irem's attentions were then set on the two silver serving dishes that lay before him. He carefully removed the dome shaped lids to reveal two plates of food. Like everything else, the food was delicately prepared and presented flawlessly. Irem placed one plate at each end of the table before drawing back a chair and seating himself.
You would have been forgiven at this juncture for assuming that Irem was alone; however, a more in depth study of the room would have proven this false. Across from him, there sat a young woman; though, she had done very little to make her presence known. She wore a charming red dress that suited her figure well, but maintained the spirit of what seemed to be a formal dining occasion. Her skin, in comparison to the vibrant red, appeared quite pale - even more so than her host's. Her ebony hair seemed to catch the light, and the shadows from the birdcage veil that adorned it cast the occasional erie shadow across her face giving her an air of peculiarity. Her posture gave no hint of her inclinations, and what could be seen of her expression in the shadows of the dim light was equally featureless. From the outside, it would have been difficult for an observer to call the scenario anything but odd.
Irem stared across the table at his counterpart for a moment, then elected to break the uncomfortable silence himself.
"Mina...darling....arent you hungry?"
There was no response to his question. Irem's head tilted forward slightly in defeat.
"I suppose that means you're still angry with me," he said, his expression giving way to a grief stained half smile.
Taking up his silverware Irem began to eat, hoping to coax his jilted companion into joining him. The meal consisted of filet of beef, which had been seared and finished to suit carnivorous preferences. As his knife tore into the meat, it stained the plate a faint red; it was a welcome sight, and he greedily devoured the morsel. After a few bites, he peered again at his guest to gauge his manipulative prowess. He was disappointed to find that she hadn't moved, but rather she seemed to almost stiffen in obstinance. He resolved to try a different approach.
"How do you like the flowers," he said confidently. "You always were fond of chrysanthemums."
Much to Irems chagrin, this too elicited no response.
"I prepared them just for you. I even found your favorite color," he said in a boastful tone, gesticulating to the brilliant fuchsia blooms.
Mina however wasn't swayed and remained statuesque; her stillness and deep silence reflecting what Irem felt was an almost stoic judgement.
"Do you intend to continue punishing me," he asked.
Irem's patience had begun to waiver, and it could be noted in the mild hardening of his tone. His nature was such that he did not well tolerate insubordination. It seemed to him a personal insult; injurious to his image, which he prized above all. His grip on the utensils tightened as though their mistreatment might somehow assuage his growing frustrations. If Mina could tell, she showed no sign of concern.
"What do I need to do?" Barked Irem, now angrily chewing a carelessly sawed slice of beef.
"Would you have me beg like a commoner? Is that what you want? Is all that I've done for you still insufficient to buy your pardon?"
Irem expected silence and received it, but even if a reply had been offered his unraveling composure would have been likely to endure. His anger, perhaps an artifact of fatigue with constant maintenance of his facade, was not a feature of which he maintained any semblance of control. Irem began to cut another slice of beef, but stopped prematurely. Now fully exasperated, he abandoned his utensils and sent the plate hurtling into the nearby wall. He simply couldn't tolerate Mina's defiance any longer.
"Do you really need to be so fucking childish?" he shouted through the clamor of the shattered dinner plate.
"I wont beg to be forgiven," he growled pressing his palms into his eyes and griping the sides of his forehead.
Mina, like before, failed to react. Neither Irem's fervor, nor his violent outburst seemed to have any effect on her. That she seemed so collected in these conditions spoke readily of the frequency of such events, and verily they were not at all uncommon. To Mina, this may well have been just another dinner.
"I'm not god you know," scoffed Irem with implied mockery.
"I'm not so perfect as to sit in judgement of another. Not like you Mina. You might as well have been the Christ child."
He waived a hand is dismissal before returning to clasping his forehead as if it provided some momentary comfort. Despite his efforts, Mina seemed to have the upper hand in the exchange. Irem needed to find a way to turn the table on her to satisfy his ego, but the more angry he became the less lucidity he could devote to the pursuit. He was fairly certain that had been Mina's plan all along.
"Say something, dammit. 'Fuck You'; 'Piss off'; 'Rot in hell' -- ANYTHING."
Irem's voice boomed across the table, possessing an intensity that might have startled those familiar with him. This proved impotent with regard to Mina, whose disposition seemed nigh impregnable. Seeing this, Irem could no longer muster the desire to restrain himself. Rage flooded into his bloodstream, and he could feel its flames permeate his entire being. He shot to his feet, knocking over his chair and reflexively grabbed the small vase containing the flowers he had so recently been proud of. Summoning the whole of his strength, he flung the vase in Mina's direction. It whizzed past her face by mere millimeters before smashing into the wall behind her. The impact left a sizable divot in the wall with shards of glass embedded therein. One would have expected, and truthfully Irem had hoped for, a visceral reaction, but Mina seemed to treat even the promise of injury with utter disregard. In utter shock, Irem was filled with a volatile concoction of shame and disgust; the former of which only enhanced the latter.
"Have it your way," he seethed through clenched teeth.
Taking the chance to retreat before he could suffer any great damage to his ego, Irem made his way to the door which he slammed angrily behind him. The gust in its wake danced through the candlelight on its way to Mina; her veil trembling slightly in acknowledgment. Then, once again, all was silent. That is, all save the almost imperceptible buzzing that emanated from Mina's slightly parted lips. From within, there emerged a small green fly, which perched casually on her lower lip. The insectile newcomer began rubbing its forelegs together, and in that moment they resembled clasped hands in anticipation of a meal. It was quite an unbecoming image for a lady; however, for a corpse it was nothing at all unusual.