Saturday, November 26, 2005
Bluebeard and his wife: A dialogue (Children's Lit excercise)
“You,” she was trembling as she spoke, but she had to keep talking, “you knew I would open that room. You knew because every other one of those bodies in there, every one, every, single one did it. You knew I would look. You…” her voice trailed off, unable to continue.
He was nonchalant. “Why did you look? I said not to.” He looked down at the bloodstained key and picked absently at the stain.
“Who was the first? What was her crime? Or did you start collecting bodies before you started collecting wives?” She was almost hysterical now, gesturing wildly in his direction as he stared impassively back.
“You know, you are the first to ask. It is an interesting question, isn’t it?” He paused and raised his eyebrows at her. “Catch.” He tossed her the key. “Want to take another look? Or would you prefer to see something else before you join the others in the room?” She fumbled slightly as her fingers closed around the key.
“You’re sick. You’re twisted.” Her eyes raked the vicinity for something she could use to hit him with. She longed to slap him, to get a reaction out of him. Anything was better than the cool, blank expression on his face; the emotionless words falling from his lips. She raised her hand impulsively.
“Are you not interested in the question anymore? Or are you just stalling, biding your time, hoping that someone is going to come rescue you? DEUS EX MACHINA! Ha. You’re funny. You know, no one came to save any of the others in the room, why should anyone come to save you?” He was enjoying this, she could tell. “Well? Are you going to hit me before you tire your hand out by holding it so high?”
She hit him hard across the face. He smiled disconcertingly. “Feel better?” he taunted. “It might interest you to know that you’re not the first to have done that. I’ll answer your question if you really want to know. I want to answer it, I’ve always wondered why no one has ever asked me how I started my collection.”
“Fine,” she said, “fine. Tell me, who was the first, why did she die?” The fact that she was truly interested in his response surprised her. She leaned toward him unconsciously, no longer straining to hear the distant sound of galloping horses.
He did not expect this. His body language began to mirror hers. “The first died in childbirth that room. Broke my heart, turned my beard blue. I erected a shrine to her there. I forbade all to enter that room, it was my inner sanctum. The second entered the room. Jealous that I still pined for my first wife she covered the room in gallons of pigs’ blood. I caught her red-handed, so to speak. In my rage, I killed her. That’s how it started. I keep the room as a test. I do not need a wife so trecherous as to defile that which I privately hold dear. You, like all the others failed. I, the romantic, continue to search for the one who will..."
She did not even notice her brothers charge into the hall. Her screams echoed through the village as their swords landed on his head.
For the story of Bluebeard, click here
posted by Joie! at