Last of the Day, I Promise!
Chapter Four:

Stealin' Stones and Tryin' to Break Bones

In which Caramel Thorpe is hanging around, and an Old Man makes a proposition.

PREVIOUSLY:

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 17:11, 6 replies, latest was 16 years ago)

Stealin' Strones and Tryin' to Break Bones
Caramel Thorpe - international model, after dinner speaker and cat-burglar – was in what she would describe as ‘a bit of a pickle’. Not only was she at home when Mister Cock-Up came around, she had invited him in, advised him to make himself at home and make use of the fridge should he see fit.
The truth of the matter was now inescapable. She hung there; ten feet from the skylight she’d abseiled through, and ten feet from the floor. Caught, in other words, right between a rock and a hard place. The repeller that she used had stopped working completely, and the jolt of the stop had caused her to drop her kit bag. It lay forlornly on the floor, knowing that, should she not get herself out of her current predicament, it would surely give her away.
Don’t be stupid, she thought as she hung there like a giant, beautiful bat, just because you’re in a mess doesn’t mean you can go around anthropomorphising luggage. It’s just not on.

The blood was beginning to collect in her head now. She could hear the roar of it as it flowed around her ear drums. It was beginning to dull her thought processes. Everything seemed to be getting slower. She was fairly sure that she would pass out, and it would probably be very soon indeed.

It was then that she heard the footsteps, and saw the swinging light of the torch. Bother, she thought. It looks like I’m going to have to kill someone. Oh, what a bloody chore.

She held her breath as the footsteps approached. Although she was certain she would have to kill someone tonight, she hadn’t worked out just how she was going to go about it, yet. She wrinkled her nose. The torchlight now swept in to the room she was in, and fixed her in its glare. She couldn’t see the figure beyond it, but she knew that they were there.

“Hello?” The voice from beyond the light said. “My, you appear to be in a bit of a state, don’t you?”

Caramel folded her arms.

“Ah, not talkative, eh? I get that sometimes. Bear with me, I’ll have you down in a jiffy.”

There followed a lot of clanging and bashing, and after a few minutes Caramel felt a pair of arms underneath her.

“OK, I’m about to cut the rope. Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

In the darkness, there was a snip. She felt her body tense for the fall, but that fall never came. Instead she was gathered up in thin arms, and carried down a ladder. Soon she was set right side up on the floor, her perfect golden hair falling once again around her slim shoulders. She adjusted her catsuit so that her bust was showing just so (not too much, not too little), arranged her lips in to a sultry pout, made her eyes go all gooey, and turned to face her helper.

She was faced with a tiny old man. He could not have been more than four feet tall, dressed in a shabby security guard’s uniform. His small face contained pointy yet friendly features framed by a bird’s nest of greying hair. A maglite swung at his waist on one side, and a huge bunch of keys hung loosely at the other.

Caramel realised at this point that she could neither seduce or murder her way out of this one, although she had an idea which the small old man would have preferred from the way he was gazing at her chest. Well, she reasoned, it was a magnificent chest after all. Still, she pulled the zip slightly higher. The man’s face fell in direct proportion to the level of the zip. She found this quite fascinating.

“So,” he said, fighting with every ounce of his being to keep his eyes on hers, “what were you doing up there, then?”

“Oh,” she said, flicking her golden hair behind her, noticing as she did so how it caught the light and sparkled slightly, “you know. Just hanging around.” She giggled her trademarked ‘guaranteed to make men go weak at the knees’ laugh.

“You can cut that right out, young lady.” Said the old man “It’s not going to wash with me.”

“Really?”

“Really. So. What, pray tell, were you doing hanging upside down in the middle of the British Museums Diamond Haul in the middle of the night? And if,” he warned, “you make another bad joke, I shall whack you with this torch.”

I’d like to see you try, buster, she thought. “Well, I...” She looked around for inspiration.

“Yes?”

Oh, the hell with it. She drew back an exquisite calf, and planted a firm, stilettoed kick right in the middle of the old mans face. Or rather, she would have, had he still been there. Not having the support she expected, Caramel toppled over. Rolling, she saw him standing where she had just been.

“Now, now.” He said “Let’s try again. What are you doing here?”

Baring her white teeth from her blood red lips and snarling like a mountain lion, she leapt, aiming to plant herself in the midriff of this annoying, interfering old pest. As soon as she arrived, she found that, once again, he had gone. She turned to see him sitting, legs crossed, on the stairs that led up to the exhibition hall.

“Are you finished?” He said pleasantly.

She was breathing hard. “Yes. One thing?”

“M-hm?”

“How are you so damned fast?”

“Oh, I’m not fast, dear. It’s just that I’m very good at being where other people aren’t.” He winked conspiratorially.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s quantum, isn’t it?”
“Is it?”

“It is. Anyway,” he said, before she could keep the whole sorry cycle going on all night “which of the stones was it you were after?”

Damn, she thought, he’s like Columbo. Reels you in and then BAM! But she decided to play along, she didn’t get the feeling he was going to turn her in.

“The Empress.”

The old man drew a sharp breath between his two front teeth, and stood up. Planting his hands firmly in to his pockets, he rocked backwards and forwards on the balls of his feet. He stepped forward and walked across the vast expanse of room, his little feet clicking on the floor as he went. As he reached her, he squatted down and held out his fist. Slowly, he opened it.

Nestled there, in the palm of his hand, Caramel saw The Empress. A pure cut diamond, the size of a baby’s fist, that had a heart of pure emerald. No other white diamond had ever been seen with an emerald heart, which made the stone the most valuable and sought after in the whole world.

Tentatively, Caramel reached out to touch it. The old man snapped his hand back, and concealed The Empress from view. “Now why,” he said “would a pretty girl like you be after The Empress? Would it have anything to do with the rumours that it can restore life? The fact that it can, apparently, provide endless beauty? The outside possibility that it might, maybe, possibly be the key to opening doors between worlds?”

“Can it?” she breathed.

“Oh yes. All of that. Is that why you want it?”

“Yes.”

“Is it vanity that makes you want it?”

“Yes. And no.”

“Which is more important?”

“The no part.”

“Hm.” He gave her a long, appraising look. She found herself staring deep in to his eyes. She found herself being weighed and measured, and she found herself wanting.

“I will let you have this stone, Miss Thorpe, if you do one thing for me.”

Here we go, she thought. It always comes down to my lips and a thingy at some point. As she prepared her mouth, a thought at the back of her mind was battling to make itself heard amongst her many other current misgivings. As she stepped forward, it finally came to her.

“How do you know my name?”

“Does it matter?”
“Kind of. You wanted me to do that.”

“Do what?”

“You know.” She made an indistinct and very rude gesture.

The old man balked. “What?!” He cried. “You thought I wanted you to...? Oh Me, no! I mean, you’re very beautiful, but I’m old enough to be your” he moved his lips in quiet calculation “well, I’m quite old anyway.”

“So what did you want? And how do you know my name?”

“I would like you to work for me, Miss Thorpe. For a short while with a select team of people. Your payment for this will be The Empress stone.”

“What do I need to do?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. You just have to accept.”

“Then I accept.”

“Excellent!” The old man did a small jig on the spot. “Then let’s begin.”

“One more thing, before we do.”

“What’s that?”

“For the last time, how did you know my damned name?”

“Oh, that’s easy,” he said, as he snapped his fingers. The world went funny, the colour drained out of it and Caramel could feel herself stretching very tall and being crushed very small all the same time.

“I’m God.” He said, and both He and Caramel disappeared in a flash of light.

Some time later, Caramel’s kit bag shook itself off and got up. It hurried out of the gallery in search of a luggage rack, which just goes to show you should never anthropomorphise in the presence of the Almighty. You never know what might happen. How else would you explain the Platypus?
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 17:11, Reply)

Last of the day!?
Boo I demand more!

It's massively addicting DiT you.. addicting devil you...
( TGB checking Off Topic is still shit at, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 17:28, Reply)

*applauds*
*whistles*

I'm incredibly jealous.
I want to read the whole lot now.
( Boss Keloid Got your mother's maiden name tattooed on my arm, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 17:32, Reply)

"It's quantum, isn't it?"
Yes, it's a tradition, or an old charter. Or something.

Rankin fan?
( Kroney, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 17:53, Reply)

Well...
I've read a bit of Rankin, so there is a bit of a knowing nod there! ;)
( Devil_In_Tights the *real* DiT!, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 19:09, Reply)

If you haven't already
then start yourself a writing blog DiT. Very useful for keeping everything in one place and you can copy and paste quickly into here for when threads drop off the page and get lost in the mists of time.
( fuck shit up the best you never had, Fri 29 Aug 2008, 21:32, Reply)