Young Writers Society

As my face twitched nervously, I responded, "Um... they are in the trash."

Henry moved to protest, but I interrupted, "Alright father."

My father grunted as he sat down in a chair next to my mother. "I have never met a man who commenting on their schoolmate's clothing. It is unmanly."

My father took a glance at my shoes. "Well lying about those ugly shoes is not the way to be polite."

Reaching for a glass of wine, my father said, "Well, I'm not one for small talk. In war, small talk gets you no where. So Tetra get to the point of his visit."

Angered by his hastiness, I responded, "Fine then." I exchanged a look with Henry, who looked uncomfortable. "I want to marry Henry," I said bluntly.

Surprise spread over his face. "You what?"

More surprise flashed over his face. "That's not a very manly profession. Pastors on the battlefield are the usually the first got get shot."

"Well no pastor is going to marry my daughter... unless, he can prove his masculinity."

"Do not worry dear. There is a slim chance the game will be lethal," Henry said smiling.

It let out a loud bang and suddenly Henry's eyes went blank. He collapsed on the ground and I saw the red spot on his head where the bullet went through. He was dead.

"He knew the risk."

makar7 wrote:A soft banging sounded against my door. "Come in," I said lightly, not looking up from the novel that I had my eyes planted on for the last hour. The door opened to reveal my mother, who gawked at the sight of me. I like this opening. Creates an immediate question that will be answered when I read more (Why is she surprised at the sight of her?) that makes me want to carry on.

"My dear Tetra (Like the name), your school friend is here for dinner and you're not even dressed yet!" she said, while staring at the slip I wore.

"Sorry, I have been too engrossed in my reading to realize the time. Will you help me into my gown?" I asked politely, standing up. I don't think many women were taught to read in the 1800s, but I've probably got both the time period and my facts wrong, so just ignore this. xD

My mother rushed over to me and helped me get into the gown that had been sitting on my bed. Once that was on, she adorned my neck with some jewelry and combed my blond hair, then looked around for my shoes. I get the feeling that these people are rich, in which case they would probably have a maid to dress her. I walked over to where my flats were and handed them to my mother, who looked at them with disgust. "Dear, you cannot wear these. They are hideous and old! What happened to the heels I bought you a month back?"

As my face twitched nervously, I responded, "Um... they are in the trash." Bin or rubbish would probably be a better word, trash is a bit modern and American. If you're writing about the 1800s like I think, Americans would probably still talk like Brits.

Shock came over her face. "Child, how many times are you going to do that.? Ugh, just put those on and let us hope that he doesn't see them." Then she beckoned to me and we left the room.

We made out way to the Parlor, where my friend Henry (Nice name, fits the era) was sitting, clad in his best suit, patiently on the couch. Upon my arrival to the room, he stood and moved over to embrace me. My heart practically leaped as he did. He kissed my cheek and said, "Hello, dear Tetra."

"Hello Henry," I greeted him while staring at his well-cut brown hair and blue eyes. We stood staring at each other until my mother broke the silence by introducing herself. After that we sat upon the couches and exchanged small talk. Our servants brought in tea and cakes during our conversation, since Henry had come for tea.

At one point, I leaned back to far in my chair and exposed my worn shoes. Henry noticed them and commented while smiling, "I like your shoes."

In the chair next to me, my mother looked like she was about to have a stroke. I just smiled back and responded, "Thank you. But, may I ask why? They are worn and old."

He let out a chuckle "They are different, like you."

I could not help but beam at him.

"So (Doesn't really fit the era if he's the man of the house; he'd be stern and probably not talk like this.) Tetra, you did not inform me that your friend was a critic of fashion," a deep, stern voice said. I looked up at the doorway and saw the tall broad-shouldered figure of my father, wearing his old general uniform from the last war. His dress sense makes him seem important and powerful, I like that.

"He's not. Hello Father In the era I think this is set in they'd adress Father with a capital, like a name.," I said politely.

My father grunted as he sat down in a chair next to my mother. "I have never met a man who commenting on their schoolmate's clothing. It is unmanly."

I held back rolling my eyes. "He was merely being polite, Father."

My father took a glance at my shoes. "Well, lying about those ugly shoes is not the way to be polite."

Henry moved to protest, but I interrupted, "Alright father."

Reaching for a glass of wine, my father said, "Well, I'm not one for small talk. In war, small talk gets you nowhere. So Tetra get to the point of his visit."

Angered by his hastiness, I responded, "Fine then." I exchanged a look with Henry, who looked uncomfortable. "I want to marry Henry," I said bluntly.

Surprise spread over his face. "You what?"

"I would like to marry your daughter sir," Henry interjected.

"What do you do for a living, boy?" Maybe add something like 'He sounded angry.'

"I'm currently in the seminary, studying to become a pastor."

More surprise flashed over his face. "That's not a very manly profession. Pastors on the battlefield are the usually the first got to get shot."

Henry tried to respond, but just fell silent.

"We're not on the battlefield, father," I said sternly.

"Well, no pastor is going to marry my daughter... unless, he can prove his masculinity."

Trying not to make offense show in his voice, Henry asked, "How sir?"

A grin spread across my father's face. "Play me in Russian Roulette."

A flash of nervousness showed in Henry's face as he nodded, accepting the challenge.

My father happily ran out of the room to retrieve one of his pistols. I suddenly became afraid. Russian Roulette could be lethal. It could kill Henry or my father. I moved over to my mother and addressed her. "Mother, you must talk him out of it. That is a dangerous game."

She just shrugged. "It is a man's game. They will be fine."

"Do not worry dear. There is a slim chance the game will be lethal," Henry said, smiling. Then my father burst back into the room, holding a pistol and one load. Henry stood up to meet my father.

"You know this game is played, boy?"

Henry nodded.

"Good, then I will go first," my father said with a grin on his face. He put the one load in the pistol and spun the cylinder. Then he held the gun up to his head and fired.

It sounded, but nothing was shot into my father's head. He was safe.

My nerves went wild as Henry took the gun and held it to his head. He pulled the trigger.

It let out a loud bang and suddenly Henry's eyes went blank. He collapsed on the ground and I saw the red spot on his head where the bullet went through. He was dead.

"Henry!" I yelled, tears filling my eyes. I went down to him and held his head. "Damn you, Father!"

"He knew the risk." Good ending. Makes me hate the father.

As my face twitched nervously, I responded, "Um... they are in the trash."