Arthru Stromwell slipped into his fluffy slippers while the harsh glare of the morning sun flitted in through his bedroom window. You see, Arthru is no morning person and no, that is no typo. His name really is Arthru; the parents he was born to seem to have been of the eccentric variety. Arthru, after shutting the nefariously bright curtains makes his way down to the kitchen and starts a pot of coffee.
Beep! after filling his cup with recently brewed coffee, Arthru, in the middle of his kitchen, puts on his pants and pulls on his tailcoat. He may not be a nobleman, but he’s no ruffian. After all, what kind of civil official breakfasts in their nightclothes? He has an image to uphold!
After finishing a meager breakfast of an apple and two slices of unbuttered toast, the same that he has every morning, Arthru hastens through the front door. While making his way down the cobblestone street he notices his neighbor, Lord Beschissenberg emerging from the gates of his manor. Arthru bows his head in acknowledgment, though not enough to seem subservient. After all, what kind of civil official would place himself willingly below a nobleman?
Lord Beschissenberg scowls back, knowing full well the thoughts running through Arthru’s head, the same situation has repeated for the past six years that Arthru has lived on Willowly lane. Arthru, noticing lord Beschissenberg's scowl continues on his way, not paying him any more attention. After all, he has an image to uphold!
After arriving at the grand door of the Civil Administration Building, Arthru knocks thrice, twice too many to be the mere wind, once too many to be a solicitor, and once too few to be an emergency. Knocking is, of course, a courtesy. Arthru has worked as a civil official in this very building for the past five years since he has graduated from the academy. He enters the grand doors, not needing to duck as the grand doors are a full three meters tall and his own height is a mere 1.78 meters in comparison.
Arthru makes his way to his desk, sitting in the worn, yet comfortable seat, he glances across the room, noting the flirtatious smile from his coworker, Ms. Rosenthall. Arthru returns a purely platonic smile, hoping to emphasize friendly, and purely platonic intents. After all, Ms. Rosenthall is nearing fifty years of age, while Arthru is a mere boy at twenty-six. Not to mention he is a civil official and he has an image to uphold!
Ms. Rosenthall, seemingly misunderstanding Arthru’s attempts to keep their relationship professional, starts walking towards him. Nonetheless, it was not meant to be. A loud chime interrupts Ms. Rosenthall while she is halfway across the room towards Arthru’s desk. Arthru looks up, noting the source of the chime, a large bell is now glowing a brilliant, but dim blue color.
“Ah, the director is in.” He remarks. True to his words, the director walks through the front doors scarcely a moment later. Hurrying back to her seat, Ms. Rosenthall quickly begins working on the documents at her own desk, but not before giving the director a hungry look.
A look which the director clearly sees, but pointedly pretends not to have seen. The director walks towards the stairs, where his office is located, with heavy footsteps befitting a man of his stature. Having a height of two meters and scarcely an ounce of fat on his muscled body, it was no wonder he was the target of romantic affections of many of the civil officials.
Making his way up the solid oaken stairs, the director is greeted by everyone in the room, save for one. Arthru, too busy signing documents and sending them flying through the air towards another coworker to notice the goliath known only to the officials as director, forgets to greet his direct superior. A fact of which he is reminded of by the very coworker he was levitating documents to, just a moment before.
“You forgot to greet the director again, he might be upset now.” chirped the young woman with hair as golden as the morning sun. Arthru replied while continuing his work “The director is no petty man, Alice. He wouldn’t be angry over such a small thing.” Shrugging her shoulders, Alice returned to her work.
This exchange was nothing new. Akin to a morning greeting between the two, they held this very conversation every morning for the past two years since Alice had begun working as a civil official. By holding this same conversation every morning one must infer that Arthru has never greeted the director. Why would Arthru continue his work rather than greeting his superior for at least two years? Well, it must be noted that a civil official should always be diligent and complete his work in a timely manner. Arthru, being a civil official, therefore, must be always diligent to uphold his image!
Arthur is finishing up his- damn, the ink has already dried. Oh well. Arthur*, now walking out the grand doors of the Civil Administration Building and into the fleeting light of the setting sun pulls his ornate watch out of the inner pocket of his tailcoat. 5 past 5 o’clock, Arthur is never early to leave the office. After all, a civil official has an image to uphold!
“Arthru!” calls a soft voice from behind. Arthur, turning around peers into the room, noting a few officials getting ready to leave, as well as Ms. Rosenthall irritatedly getting ready to leave. Just ahead of her he sees Alice hurriedly gathering her own belongings. “I was wondering if you’d like to have a meal with me?” Alice meekly adds, a slight blush tinting her pale cheeks. In response Arthur narrows his eyes, considering every possibility for this sudden invitation. Has she finally decided to exact revenge on me for not greeting the director all this time? Could she be romantically interested in me? Is she trying to steal my kidneys for nefarious purposes? Have the bog witches of Streggin from my dreams finally materialized to consume my very soul?
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No. He thinks. All outrageous possibilities, but what could she possibly be trying to achieve? Then and there Arthur made a choice. Although dining with a coworker might damage his image as a civil official, he is determined to find out what Alice is after! His decision had nothing to do with Alice’s beautiful, pale face, blood-red lips, silky golden hair, or positively glowing green eyes that felt they would pierce his very soul. Nothing to do with them, of course.
“I would be delighted to dine with you tonight,” Arthur quickly assented. Alice, slipping on her coat and taking her bag into her hands, exits the building and falls in stride with Arthur as they make their way downtown. “What do you fancy?” inquires the blonde official. Ah, with all this talk of hair I’ve only now realized I have yet to describe Arthur’s own features. With a head of shaggy, but kempt brown hair, he has the look of a- Oh damn, they speak too fast to write this down!
“-orian, or perhaps there’s this new Streggisch restaurant I’ve seen.” Arthur, speaking too fast for his own damn good replies. Alice, after contemplating a moment, which she could have done earlier, but apparently has to say everything important while I’m distracted noting Arthur’s features, oh this is a very long run-on sentence, speaks “I’ve never had Storian before, do you think I would like it?” Storian is absolutely not something a dainty lady would like, it's all eaten with one’s own hands, like some kind of savage’s food. “I think you would love it!” comes a stupid reply from Arthur. They continue the conversation in this manner until the pair enter the rustic Storian establishment and are seated at a table.
“Wow! This is really good!” Alice expresses her factually incorrect opinion. “I would have to agree, eating food with your hands really makes you feel like a Storian!” replies Arthur in an equally stupid manner. Arthur starts, “So, Alice.” “What does a fine lady such as yourself usually do after work?” asks Arthur, trying to tease out the meaning of this dinner date. Alice, with food still in her hands, like a savage, replies “Well, usually I’d work on preparing documents and organizing any work for the next day.”
What the hell?! Thinks Arthur, Even I don’t do a lick of work after leaving the building. I thought I was a good civil official, but I should have thought of that! Alas, it seems Alice is the better public servant of the two. “However, tonight I thought I’d finally make a decision on something I’d been struggling with for the past year.” Added Alice, with a tinge of blush reaching her ears.
Finally! Thinks Arthur. I had no idea she was going to directly tell me, but I will now find out why she has called me out to dinner!. “What, pray tell, would this decision entail?” inquired Arthur. “Well…” Alice starts, shortly thereafter continuing “I think it would be better to speak in a more private location” glancing at the bustling establishment, Arthur agrees “Would a walk through the central park fancy you?” A beautiful smile gracing her face, Alice replies “That sounds perfect! Let's go right now!”
Quickly pulling Arthur through the restaurant, Alice makes her way out. It’s probably not important to note, but they did of course pay, including a sizable tip! They have images to uphold after all!
As they quickly make their way to the park under the gentle glow of the stars, Arthur notes a strange sight in the evening sky. Rather than the yellow and white shades of stars he usually observes, the sky is filled with stars of various dazzling colors! Pink, blue, even black stars decorate the evening sky, though Arthur has no idea how he can see black stars, but he can!
Glancing down to Alice, who is leading him by his outstretched arm he notes several more oddities. First off, Alice’s arm has extended to dozens of meters in length, and secondly, his own hands have lengthy black claws. All of this, for some reason, feels completely natural, yet new. “We’re finally here,” Says Alice, reaching a small outcrop of bushes in the area, with a flying hippo overhead. Ignoring the peeping hippo Arthur sees the colorful stars are now crashing down from the sky turning into giant explosions of Storian finger food!
Arthur glances down and locks eyes with the beautiful blonde, staring deep into her giant blue… green… purple… rainbow-colored eyes. I mean they’re seriously huge, like three-quarters of her face huge. Arthur, closing his eyes from the intense colors immediately loses consciousness.
Feeling the hateful rays of sunlight on his face, Arthur groans. I haven’t felt this bad since Kalli dared to me to jump out a fifth-story window with a simple levitation spell. Groaning awake he notes several things. First, his tailcoat is gone, second, his previously pristine white shirt is muddied, and thirdly, and most likely the cause of the second, he’s laying in a patch of mud beside an outcrop of bushes.
Sitting up he feels a sharp pain in his sides, noticing a previously unseen patch of red on his shirt. Don’t tell me I’ve fallen into a raspberry bush! He lifts his shirt to dispel his doubts. Gazing at his shirtless abdomen Arthur comes to two realizations. First, I’ve been working out, nice! And lastly, but most importantly, that wench stole my goddamn kidneys!
> Thanks for reading! This is the first of two parts in a short story I'm writing. I'm trying to determine how useful/entertaining using the narrator as a living entity observing the world as we are, reacting along with the readers and sharing his own opinion. All while the world goes on, with or without his recording of the events.
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> If you have any thoughts, critiques, comments or just wanna say hi please feel free to leave a comment or a review.
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> Let me know what worked/didn't work for you while reading, what you think could be improved, if the flow is good or if you feel there are jumps throughout, etc. Again, thanks for reading!
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> Again, thanks for reading!