Amethyst: A Collection Of Short Stories

Five minutes in the head of Felix.

IGNORE ALL GRAMMAR AND ANY OTHER ERRORS!!

———————————————

I'm not perfect.

I mean, I like to think that I am, but apparently not. Sometimes, I think of faking my death and saying hi to people as they mourn me on my burial day. But who am I kidding? There will be no one to mourn me.

Well, that sucks.

Moving on, you're in my head.

What are you? Who are you?

Why are you in my head? More importantly, how did you get here?

...Are you...?

Oh shit. I'm late. I'm late!

And I'm in the guest room too. Shit.

I untangle her arms from my body. She jerks awake. Oops.

"Sir?" The blonde girl mumbles. Erm, Melany, Melody?

"Uhhh, last night was fun—" I grimace at her— "I need to get going ."

"Hm." She purrs. "When next will we see each other?"

"Hopefully never." I respond, wearing my underwear. "You can ask the guards to show you the way out."

I expect the tears to flow, but this one shrugs and lays back down, covering her chest with the sheets.

"Your loss."

I snort. What makes her think she's so special? More like her loss.

I hurriedly dress up, packing my things with me. I need to freshen up in my room. Damn it.

Shit. Shit. Okay. Maybe you're not even that late, I think to myself as I walk out of my room.

I try my best to keep my smug air in tact as I walk through the halls of the palace. I disregard the servants and the other guards as they greet me. Peasants.

You were once like this, a voice in my head tells me.

Yes, that was before he saved me. And if I'm too late, he will kill me.

The palace will always remain as majestic, I think to myself. Mostly because my portrait is hanging on the wall but eh. I'm not trying to be narcissistic. Though, I do think it deserves more praise. Hm, i should hang it in every village.  Could be used as propaganda. I take a mental note to suggest it during  the meeting.

I take a sharp turn and nearly bump into a servant. He's young, clumsy, lean. I cock my head to the side.

He falls to his knees. "I'm sorry Sir! I didn't mean too."

I bend to his level and tilt his chin up with my finger. His cheeks are wet. He is shaking. I smile. I take out my dagger. He begins to beg.

Peasants, I shake my head.

"Make such a mistake again and your head will be on a pike, you hear me boy?"

He nods, not daring to open his eyes. Just for a bit more drama, I press the cold blade to his neck. "Let me hear it."

"Yes, Sir."

And I laugh. Not one with humor, of course. It's a dry laugh, terrifying. I practiced it as a boy in front of my mirror after he'd hit me. Now, I'd say I've perfected it.

I shove the boy out of my way and continue to the round room. When I arrive in front of the double door, I take in a deep breath, set my face, and run a rand through my dark hair.