Excerpt(?): The Black Rider
Feb. 24th, 2003 02:40 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jakebe
A short story that I'm messing about with. I'm intrigued by the subject (of course), and frankly, I need some kind of incentive to keep writing.
Don't tell me it's good; tell me where it sucks.
***************
The Black Rider
"You're fucking insane," said the very large tiger with the small, beady eyes, and for a moment it looked like he believed it. The rest of circus workers assembled must have believed it, too, because they gasped and grit their teeth expecting any moment for the 'you're' in question to explode in an unimaginable fury of blood and mental unstability.
Theophilous Bolt, for his part, just rolled his red eyes and tapped a booted paw, hands on hips. He did not look insane, and more importantly he didn't look to be heading in that direction any time soon. But you never could tell with him; the trip for him was always progressing, though you could never see the miles of sanity being eaten away under the fluffy white fur and hard red eyes.
"Don't curse," he said, patiently but impatiently so. "It makes you look like a complete nimrod."
"I don't fucking care what it makes me *look* like," Tiny the tiger said. More gasps, and more gnashing of teeth. Here it *surely* comes, the circus workers thought, and the tension of their tightly-drawn mouths could be felt all around the big top. Tiny went on, unmindful of how the stale air had grown so taut that not a stick of straw dare stir. "It's god-damned insane. How the hell do you expect me to lift *that* and spin around like some fucked-up ballerina?"
His paw, of course, had pointed to Petunia, the bearded hippopotamus. She tried to shrink back when all of those bulging eyes turned towards her, but with that much bulk it was next to impossible. Her spandex bathing suit gave an inch or two, though, just enough so you could see the rolls of her body shaking ever so slightly, giving her a blurry appearance. After a moment's regarding, all eyes jumped in unison to the tall white rabbit in the tall black riding boots. The Black Rider, they called him, for that very reason. That, and his demeanor. The circus performers looked at him expectantly, in awe. There had to be answer. There would be an answer.
The rabbit blew air from his short muzzle, which whistled over his two front teeth in a faint, sickly rush. He pulled at the long black gloves that ran up to his elbows smoothly, tugging on them just enough to hear the satisfying snap once he let go. He looked up at the offending tiger, and the entire company took one step back, such was their fear. He let the tension and expectation hang in the air for one delicious moment before he began; even to your employees, you were performing, only now you made them fear you, not like you. That was what kept this freak show running, after all.
"I do believe," he said with incredible enunciation, "that when I picked your sorry, mange-ridden tail from that audition in the mountains a few years ago, you claimed you could lift anything. That was why I picked you. That was why I've invested so much time and effort into you, and your gym. That is why you are paid. Are you telling me now that you can't lift a simple hippo -- 400 pounds or otherwise -- and perform a few basic steps across the ring?" He tut-tutted, walking towards Tiny with a decidedly casual stride. "If you believe yourself to be unfit for the job, you may gather your things and go."
Tiny narrowed his eyes suspiciously. This was a comparative slap-on-the-wrist to what he (and the rest of the company) was expecting. "I'm not going anywhere, bucko," he said, but there was confusion in his voice. He stepped up to the rabbit to compensate. "I'm just not doin' it."
Theophilous took a step forward, putting him face-to-chest with the circus strongman. He looked up, a ridiculous display of defiance in the face of such blatant mismatching, but he held himself enough to salvage a small bit of the menace he was intending. "You have two options. You may stay and perform what I demand, or you may pack your things and leave when we arrive at the next town. Those options are non-negotiable. You have until this evening to think it over." He was the first to take his eyes away, but he gave Madame Sara a meaningful glance before leaving. Very few caught it but the rabbit, the tiger, and the fortune-telling sorceress. All knew what it meant. The Black Rider strode casually out of the tent, then, his boots making soft thumps on the straw and dirt. Madame Sara and Tiny the Strongman exchanged glances of their own behind him.
Don't tell me it's good; tell me where it sucks.
***************
The Black Rider
"You're fucking insane," said the very large tiger with the small, beady eyes, and for a moment it looked like he believed it. The rest of circus workers assembled must have believed it, too, because they gasped and grit their teeth expecting any moment for the 'you're' in question to explode in an unimaginable fury of blood and mental unstability.
Theophilous Bolt, for his part, just rolled his red eyes and tapped a booted paw, hands on hips. He did not look insane, and more importantly he didn't look to be heading in that direction any time soon. But you never could tell with him; the trip for him was always progressing, though you could never see the miles of sanity being eaten away under the fluffy white fur and hard red eyes.
"Don't curse," he said, patiently but impatiently so. "It makes you look like a complete nimrod."
"I don't fucking care what it makes me *look* like," Tiny the tiger said. More gasps, and more gnashing of teeth. Here it *surely* comes, the circus workers thought, and the tension of their tightly-drawn mouths could be felt all around the big top. Tiny went on, unmindful of how the stale air had grown so taut that not a stick of straw dare stir. "It's god-damned insane. How the hell do you expect me to lift *that* and spin around like some fucked-up ballerina?"
His paw, of course, had pointed to Petunia, the bearded hippopotamus. She tried to shrink back when all of those bulging eyes turned towards her, but with that much bulk it was next to impossible. Her spandex bathing suit gave an inch or two, though, just enough so you could see the rolls of her body shaking ever so slightly, giving her a blurry appearance. After a moment's regarding, all eyes jumped in unison to the tall white rabbit in the tall black riding boots. The Black Rider, they called him, for that very reason. That, and his demeanor. The circus performers looked at him expectantly, in awe. There had to be answer. There would be an answer.
The rabbit blew air from his short muzzle, which whistled over his two front teeth in a faint, sickly rush. He pulled at the long black gloves that ran up to his elbows smoothly, tugging on them just enough to hear the satisfying snap once he let go. He looked up at the offending tiger, and the entire company took one step back, such was their fear. He let the tension and expectation hang in the air for one delicious moment before he began; even to your employees, you were performing, only now you made them fear you, not like you. That was what kept this freak show running, after all.
"I do believe," he said with incredible enunciation, "that when I picked your sorry, mange-ridden tail from that audition in the mountains a few years ago, you claimed you could lift anything. That was why I picked you. That was why I've invested so much time and effort into you, and your gym. That is why you are paid. Are you telling me now that you can't lift a simple hippo -- 400 pounds or otherwise -- and perform a few basic steps across the ring?" He tut-tutted, walking towards Tiny with a decidedly casual stride. "If you believe yourself to be unfit for the job, you may gather your things and go."
Tiny narrowed his eyes suspiciously. This was a comparative slap-on-the-wrist to what he (and the rest of the company) was expecting. "I'm not going anywhere, bucko," he said, but there was confusion in his voice. He stepped up to the rabbit to compensate. "I'm just not doin' it."
Theophilous took a step forward, putting him face-to-chest with the circus strongman. He looked up, a ridiculous display of defiance in the face of such blatant mismatching, but he held himself enough to salvage a small bit of the menace he was intending. "You have two options. You may stay and perform what I demand, or you may pack your things and leave when we arrive at the next town. Those options are non-negotiable. You have until this evening to think it over." He was the first to take his eyes away, but he gave Madame Sara a meaningful glance before leaving. Very few caught it but the rabbit, the tiger, and the fortune-telling sorceress. All knew what it meant. The Black Rider strode casually out of the tent, then, his boots making soft thumps on the straw and dirt. Madame Sara and Tiny the Strongman exchanged glances of their own behind him.
