Fiction that is Neither Flash Nor on Friday: A Cup of Tea

            It seemed like the opportunity of a lifetime. When the letter arrived, inviting me to meet with Madam Larosa, I hadn't hesitated for a second. Everyone knew of her power. There was no one better.

            In the taxi, I felt nothing but excitement and pride at the great honor of being singled out. But the moment I saw the house, misgivings crept in. I stepped out of the car, trembling, looking up at the massive building in front of me. It rose three stories, with a tower on the east side, and every inch of it was blacker than devil's magic. The windows were all shuddered so there was no chance to catch a glimpse inside.

            Tentatively, I ascended the black marble stairs and approached the polished black wooden door. A black crescent moon adorned the glowing round doorbell. When I pressed it, a chime like tolling church bells knelled within.

            A pale, pale girl with almost-white hair answered the door. She wore a dress as dark as the house, making her looking ghostly by comparison. There was something apologetic in her posture, and she kept her eyes on the ground.

            "Hello," I said softly, feeling that, if I spoke too loudly, I would scare the girl away. "My name is Lorelei; I have an appointment with Madam Lerosa."

            Nodding, the girl stepped back and let me in. Inside was as dark as out. As I stepped over the threshold, I felt as if I were being swallowed. Deep black wooden floors and black wallpaper, patterned with slightly lighter black flowers, did nothing to make the room warm or inviting. The walls were hung with mirrors that distorted the light from a handful of flickering candles, giving the room an otherworldly feeling.

            The pale girl pointed to a door.

            "Is Madam Larosa in there?"

            She pointed again, so I simply went in.

            The room was shockingly bright, though in any other house it would be considered somber. The furniture was made of black wood, but the upholstery was brown and grey. Golden picture frames hung on the taupe walls, surrounding pictures of stormy seas and crumbling castles. At first, I thought the room was deserted. Then something stirred at the desk and I noticed a small, ancient woman, dressed like a crow. She was as faded as an old photograph, her face indistinct and her hair, though still brown, somehow colorless. The only thing alive about her was her bright amber eyes that watched my every move.

            Curtsying awkwardly, I tried to smile but found I couldn't. My heart trembled within me and I knew without a doubt that I had made a grave mistake in coming here. Those eyes, like an orange moon, sent fear thrilling through every inch of my body.

            "Sit," the woman said, though I didn't see her lips move.

            Sinking down on the stiff brown couch, I watched her as closely as she watched me. Still, nothing moved but her eyes.

            "One lump or two?"

            Somehow, I was holding a teacup I'd never seen before. The tea streamed from a teapot floating at my side. But I didn't want sugar or tea, all I wanted was to get as far away from there as possible. I tried to think of any excuse to escape.

            "None, thank you," I managed to say, though my voice seemed oddly weak and quiet.

            The teapot settled back down on the table. Looking down into my cup, I saw the dark tea swirling, portents flashing across its surface but disappearing before I could comprehend them.

            "You have talent." The voice was low and rumbling, like a cat's purr. "Such talent. But you have wasted it. If only I had gotten to you sooner."

            I blinked in surprise. No one had ever said anything like this to me before. Certainly, I didn't flaunt my power or use it pointlessly, but I had honed my ability. I considered myself well-trained.

            "Ah well," said Madam Larosa, still without moving. She might have been a doll, except for those eyes. "We shall see what we can do."
            "Please," I burst, spilling my tea in my anxiety. The fallen droplets didn't make it to the floor, but held in the air like dark, sparkling rain. "Please," I said again, "I don't think this is right for me. Perhaps I don't have enough talent. I should just go."

            A rich laugh rolled around the room. It didn't seem to be coming from the little woman at the desk. It came instead from the pictures and the fire and the covered windows.

            "Oh, my dear. The choice is not yours to make."

            The door creaked open and the pale girl gestured for me to follow her.

            "She will show you your room. Tomorrow, our work can begin."

            The rumbling laugh echoed behind me as I stepped into the darkness of the hall.

♥/Kat!e

Read Kira's entry here.