Tuesday, June 4, 2013

Samantha Lee Week 50: Beds and Breakfast

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Samantha Lee’s Picture Choice: 1

Title: Beds and Breakfast

"Are you kidding me?"

It had seemed like a good idea when I made the booking. I thought it would be a nice slice of normal; going to a bed and breakfast in the country was something normal couples did, at least so movies and television would have us believe. I thought normal would be nice for a change.

Apparently, I had thought wrong.

Savannah stood in front of the converted plantation house, anxiously twisting her wedding ring around and around her finger. "Tru, is this...are you serious?"

"You said you wanted a honeymoon," I reminded her, hoping I did not sound as defensive as I felt.

"I did," she admitted, "I do. But, um, I was thinking we'd wander a battlefield or visit a cursed tomb or pick a fight with a slumbering monster. I didn't expect...I didn't think you'd go so..."

"Normal?" I guessed.

Savannah shook her head and winced. "Mortal."

"Is mortal truly that bad a thing?"

With another wince, Savannah gave a half-hearted shrug and cast a baleful glare towards the bed and breakfast. "It's just that mortals tend to be so...tame. They considered a poltergeist and adventure and get all up in a fuss over a little magic going haywire. Remember the Salem witch trials?"

"I was not born until nearly two centuries later, lumina mea. I fear I do not have those memories."

"Oh, well, take my word for it then; it was far from fun. Quite the opposite in fact."

I paused, considering, then frowned when I realization struck. "You were imprisoned in 1692."

"I lived it vicariously," she explained dismissively. She crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself, and focused back on the bed and breakfast, studying it like one might inspect a particularly suspicious looking spider.

Obviously, there was no denying that I had chosen wrong when it came to our honeymoon venue. Sighing, I lifted her suitcase and turned back to where her apple green Dodge Viper idled.

"Where are you going?"

"Clearly, lumina mea, you hate this, and so we will go find a battlefield or cursed tomb or slumbering monster and forget this."

Savannah cocked to head to one side like a curious puppy and frowned. "Why?"

"What do you mean, 'Why?' As I have said, lumina mea, you clearly dislike this place."

"Tru, you put thought into this, took care to plan this, and I'm being an ungrateful bitch. I want to stay. I want...I want the mortal experience."

I eyed her suspiciously. "You hate mortals. I should have thought of that sooner. You love what you are, delight in it, and no doubt consider playing mortal the height of humiliation."

Laughing, Savannah shook her head. "Tru, you make me sound monstrous. I like what I am, yes, and I'm not thrilled about hiding among the mortals, no, but...I can admit there's a certain charm to them. Besides, you know what I was thinking about just now, looking at this old place?"

Frowning, I looked from her to the bed and breakfast and back again, pretty certain a trap was about to be sprung. "What were you thinking?"

She smiled and stepped close to me, wrapping her arms around my neck and pulling herself close. "I was thinking there's at least one thing about playing mortal, of being - what was the word you used? - normal that I can resign myself rather happily to mimicking."

I grinned. "Oh?"

"Well, one can only hope. Now, isn't this the part where you're supposed to sweep me off my feet and carry me through a threshold? I may need a few practice rounds to perfect that mimicking."

And, just like that, the trap was sprung.


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