~a/n: I'm at my cousin's house, and she has a cd by a band called Ra, which
is godly if you can pardon the pun. I was listening to said cd and I heard
a song called "Walking and Thinking". This story idea hit me, and now I
transmit it to you. I know no one really likes to think of Mr. Snicket as
the kind of person who would do what he did in the end, but I felt it was
right to sacrifice that little bit of ooc-ness for the rest of the story.
I'm sorry if you don't agree.
K a m i k a z e
Café Kafka was a small place, and at three thirty two on an Autumn day it was crowded with those enjoying their afternoon tea and the company of a good friend. The tall, scrawny man felt the warmth and comfort in the room as he walked through the door, and it disgusted him.
Why, Count Olaf wondered, did I have to meet him here?
Twenty minutes later another slipped into the door, a tall man who seemed to be hiding underneath his brown fedora hat and mid-length beige coat. Bright eyes shone out from beneath his hat and his mouth was set in a determined grimace. He found his usual table in the back corner and saw that his expected company was already there.
Olaf smiled cruelly. "Well good afternoon, old friend."
"I regret that there was ever a time when I would have referred to you like wise." He sat down and poured himself a cup of tea. "The only reason I agreed to this meeting is for a once noble organization which you destroyed."
"So you are indeed here for the sake of your beloved VFD?" Olaf marveled. "You're more pathetic then I remember."
The shadowy figure snorted. "No. I have long ago given up hope that what you destroyed there could be repaired. I am here for the Bauldilare orphans, the Quagmire triplets, Gustav Seibald, Dr. Montgomery Montgomery, and the rest, but I am here mostly for Jaques and Beatrice."
"Ah. Beatrice. Your BELOVED Beatrice, who died in that tragic accident." Olaf laughed coldly.
"Don't play dumb-we both know that was no accident. That was arson. You're handiwork." He sipped his tea, but their eyes locked.
"Accusations, accusations," Olaf waved his hand as if to brush the other man's words away. "Try to prove I was even in the country at that time, Mr. Snicket."
"I have no proof, other then my knowledge of you. You're exactly the sort to pull that sort of low, cowardly trick, to kill an innocent and kind woman just because you couldn't get to the one you REALLY wanted." Mr. Snicket's voice had dropped to a deadly whisper and he sipped his tea again. "Either you couldn't, or you were afraid to."
Olaf's eyebrow rose in anger, and his eyes flashed an angry fire. "I-You little-" He glanced about and regained his composure. "I've poisoned the tea, you know."
"Knew you would," Snicket replied, downing the rest in the cup in one swallow.
"Really? You already knew that in about three hours time you will die a hideously agonized death? You knew that your last thoughts would be the feeling like your heart was exploding in your chest?"
"Actually I was expecting you go with a neurotoxin."
"I couldn't get one on such short notice. If you knew I was going to kill you, then why did you come."
"I was actually counting on the fact that you would poison me, or find some way of ending of ending my life. I knew there was no way to survive what I have to do today."
"Ah, a Kamikaze mission." Olaf sat back and laced his fingers behind his head. "So, Mr. Snicket, are you to be the divine wind for your beloved Beatrice?"
"No," he replied as he rose. He angled his hat lower over his face. "I knew that was what you had to do in order to justify what I have to do."
Gasping for air, the tall man lay on near the shore of a small lake in the park. His body was wracked with pain and he curled into a ball, coughing.
He glanced down at his bloodstained jacket and felt repulsed. He had to get out of it, leave it behind. He hoped that where he was going there would be no place for hiding, and no place for spilled blood.
He reached into the pocket of his coat and took out an old, blurry photograph of a beautiful young woman, warped slightly by water and crinkling at the edges. He smiled faintly at it and struggled out of his bloodsoaked coat. He crawled away from it and collapsed again. He rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes. The sunlight blared against his face for the first time in many years. He remembered the simple bliss of childhood, and the soft joy one could get from the red of the sun against your eyelids. He remembered a time when he didn't have to hid in dark places, a time when light shined on him always.
He opened his arms and lay flat, letting the light pierce him, letting it clear out all the cobwebs and dark creature that had taken up residence inside him. Clear everything out, the stink of hate and fear and hiding in the secret places in the world.
He took his last breath and lay silently, his eyes closed, a contented smile on his face. Let the light in, he thought, before conscious thought failed him and he descended into darkness.
~a/n2: you know that feeling you get, that feeling of contentment when you finally get access to a computer and can write the story that's been disrupting your sleep patterns for several days. I feel that now. I haven't felt this kind of peace in so long. It's nice.
K a m i k a z e
Café Kafka was a small place, and at three thirty two on an Autumn day it was crowded with those enjoying their afternoon tea and the company of a good friend. The tall, scrawny man felt the warmth and comfort in the room as he walked through the door, and it disgusted him.
Why, Count Olaf wondered, did I have to meet him here?
Twenty minutes later another slipped into the door, a tall man who seemed to be hiding underneath his brown fedora hat and mid-length beige coat. Bright eyes shone out from beneath his hat and his mouth was set in a determined grimace. He found his usual table in the back corner and saw that his expected company was already there.
Olaf smiled cruelly. "Well good afternoon, old friend."
"I regret that there was ever a time when I would have referred to you like wise." He sat down and poured himself a cup of tea. "The only reason I agreed to this meeting is for a once noble organization which you destroyed."
"So you are indeed here for the sake of your beloved VFD?" Olaf marveled. "You're more pathetic then I remember."
The shadowy figure snorted. "No. I have long ago given up hope that what you destroyed there could be repaired. I am here for the Bauldilare orphans, the Quagmire triplets, Gustav Seibald, Dr. Montgomery Montgomery, and the rest, but I am here mostly for Jaques and Beatrice."
"Ah. Beatrice. Your BELOVED Beatrice, who died in that tragic accident." Olaf laughed coldly.
"Don't play dumb-we both know that was no accident. That was arson. You're handiwork." He sipped his tea, but their eyes locked.
"Accusations, accusations," Olaf waved his hand as if to brush the other man's words away. "Try to prove I was even in the country at that time, Mr. Snicket."
"I have no proof, other then my knowledge of you. You're exactly the sort to pull that sort of low, cowardly trick, to kill an innocent and kind woman just because you couldn't get to the one you REALLY wanted." Mr. Snicket's voice had dropped to a deadly whisper and he sipped his tea again. "Either you couldn't, or you were afraid to."
Olaf's eyebrow rose in anger, and his eyes flashed an angry fire. "I-You little-" He glanced about and regained his composure. "I've poisoned the tea, you know."
"Knew you would," Snicket replied, downing the rest in the cup in one swallow.
"Really? You already knew that in about three hours time you will die a hideously agonized death? You knew that your last thoughts would be the feeling like your heart was exploding in your chest?"
"Actually I was expecting you go with a neurotoxin."
"I couldn't get one on such short notice. If you knew I was going to kill you, then why did you come."
"I was actually counting on the fact that you would poison me, or find some way of ending of ending my life. I knew there was no way to survive what I have to do today."
"Ah, a Kamikaze mission." Olaf sat back and laced his fingers behind his head. "So, Mr. Snicket, are you to be the divine wind for your beloved Beatrice?"
"No," he replied as he rose. He angled his hat lower over his face. "I knew that was what you had to do in order to justify what I have to do."
Gasping for air, the tall man lay on near the shore of a small lake in the park. His body was wracked with pain and he curled into a ball, coughing.
He glanced down at his bloodstained jacket and felt repulsed. He had to get out of it, leave it behind. He hoped that where he was going there would be no place for hiding, and no place for spilled blood.
He reached into the pocket of his coat and took out an old, blurry photograph of a beautiful young woman, warped slightly by water and crinkling at the edges. He smiled faintly at it and struggled out of his bloodsoaked coat. He crawled away from it and collapsed again. He rolled over onto his back and closed his eyes. The sunlight blared against his face for the first time in many years. He remembered the simple bliss of childhood, and the soft joy one could get from the red of the sun against your eyelids. He remembered a time when he didn't have to hid in dark places, a time when light shined on him always.
He opened his arms and lay flat, letting the light pierce him, letting it clear out all the cobwebs and dark creature that had taken up residence inside him. Clear everything out, the stink of hate and fear and hiding in the secret places in the world.
He took his last breath and lay silently, his eyes closed, a contented smile on his face. Let the light in, he thought, before conscious thought failed him and he descended into darkness.
~a/n2: you know that feeling you get, that feeling of contentment when you finally get access to a computer and can write the story that's been disrupting your sleep patterns for several days. I feel that now. I haven't felt this kind of peace in so long. It's nice.