Part 2 of 3
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In this, the middle chapter of our current serial, a rash of violence breaks out between a man in love and the woman he once charmed.
The Skinner Co. Network
047 - Sap: A Blackhall Tale, Part 2 of 3
[ Music ] >> Welcome to FlashPulp Episode 47. Tonight, SAP, The Black Hall Tale, Part 2 of 3. This evening's story is brought to you by the FlashPulp Facebook page. People who've joined already may be discussing your haircut. I'm just saying. To join, search in Facebook for FlashPulp, find the link at Skinner.fm or direct your browser to http colon slash slash bit.ly/cbk yv2. [ Music ] [ Music ] >> FlashPulp is an experiment in broadcasting fresh pulp stories in the modern age. Three to ten minutes of fiction brought to you Monday, Wednesday and Friday evenings. In this, the middle chapter of our current serial, a rash of violence breaks out between a man in love and the woman he once churned. SAP, The Black Hall Tale, Part 2 of 3. Written by J.R.D. Skinner, Art and Narration Biopopanax, and Audio produced by Jessica May. There was a moment in which the only movement on the small porch came from the dancing flame of the dimmed oil lamp that Annie Elutharios, once Annie Henley, had carried into the sharp breeze. I beg your pardon ma'am, I know you've a lot on your mind just at the moment, but I think we would all be best served if you'd allow me to take the light from your hands, Black Hall said, reaching out to the woman's white knuckles. I appear to owe you many favors, sir, but it will take more than the removal of this torch to spare Wilfred my anger. She spat out each phrase like cannon shot. Her brow was furrowed over the dark blue of her eyes, and a vein upon her forehead began to visibly twitch. While I agree that your husband's fate is a matter of discussion, it's your digestion for which my concern currently extends. She released a lamp into his grasp. My fate? Wilfred's eyes moved from his wife to the man he had thought until recently would assist him in retaining his marital status. Annie began to wretch noisily. With a look of surprise, she stumbled to the railing and emptied her stomach. I apologize. A man of greater knowledge might have made the transition easier for you, but I have only the crafts I know. Black Hall turned to Wilfred, whose face was still puffy from his evening's ale. Get her some water. A lutherious move sluggishly inside. As he waited, Thomas removed his coat, placing it about the woman's shoulders, even as she continued to expel her supper into the darkness beyond. The illness had passed by the time of Wilfred's return, and Annie was wiping at the last of the spittle on her chin as he once again stepped onto the porch. Her movements were of such a speed that he barely had time enough to stumble back. As she pounced, her hands locked into Raven's claws. It was only Thomas's swift left arm, snatching her bodily from the air that kept Wilfred's eyes in place. "Become," he told her, and yet her limbs flailed wildly as if she were a cat caught about the belly. "Do you not recognize me, Annie? Do you not know your love?" Wilfred asked, his back hard against the door. The woman discontinued her thrashing. "No you? No you?" "Am I not the woman who's scrubbed your well-marked drawers for these last nine years? Am I not the woman you drunkenly shake to consciousness when the fancy takes you? Have I not made your meals? Cut your hair? Raise your child? What of little Michael?" The point of her finger was the only source of her attack now, and she used it vigorously. Setting the woman gently down, Thomas saved the cup, still in Wilfred's hand, from an untimely end. "What of, Michael? Is he not the light of both our eyes? The fruit of both our seeds?" Even as he spoke, Annie seemed to strain her finger in preparation to plunge it into his chest. "No! You've no idea what the role of a father is. You've spent these years gallivanting. If it were not from my father's money sense, we'd long have been driven into despair. You spend no time with him. You make no effort to raise him up. The sadness in his eyes is instilled there by the lack of your attentions." Whenever I speak with the boy, his tone is always one of adulation. He was under the power of Noah Lickser, and yet I hear no such brutality. "How could you, as I've done nothing but fill the boy's ear with full tails while you've been napping off your drunk and living on the dowry you stole? You've stolen my family's land, my innocence. You've stolen nine years from my life. You've made me a mother while I was forced to drift through your sick dream." "I loved you. I love you. I'd do anything." In taking off his coat, Blackhall had laid his rifle against the porch's white-stained rail. Before either man could move to stop her, Annie had lifted it to her shoulder, aimed at Wilford's chest. She set the lock. Wilford threw up his arms. "Annie!" She pulled hard at the trigger. Blackhall allowed no pause after the woman's discovery that the weapon was unloaded. A motion which saved Wilford some injury, as she immediately set about turning the firearm into a club. Using his forearm as a shield against the blows, Thomas stepped between the two, wrestling the rifle from the maltreated wife. Disarmed, Annie backed the far side of the porch, breathing heavily, and Wilford sat down directly where he'd stood, fear still creasing his brow. Thomas offered him the cup he'd previously rescued. Huffing from his panic, the assaulted man drank greedily. "Further violence will not be necessary," Blackhall said, turning to Annie. "I have already taken care of the matter." FlashPulp is presented by http colon slash slash Skinner dot FM. The audio and text formats of FlashPulp are released under the Canadian Creative Commons attribution non-commercial 2.5 license. [Music] (jazzy music)