Writing101, Day Seven: Give and Take

Write a post about comparison of two different things. For a twist, use dialogue.

A vase of water on the table held three dead and withered roses, that had once sung with the love of the two identities that now stood on either side of  it, quarreling loud enough that the stagnant liquid began to vibrate with their dulcet tones.

The room was lit by candle light because the electric bill had not been paid that month, which was the very reason the argument had surfaced. What once would have been a romantic time alive with attraction had become the very worst experience it could be..

An accusation containing the physical force of a slap across the face, ” If you just paid more attention to your money, we wouldn’t be in this situation!” rang through the room tinged with resentment and despair.

“Me paying attention, when you are the one going to the mall nearly every day, spending the hard earned money that I bring home for the very purpose of keeping the damn lights on!”, came the retort. Shame and rage colored the voice with their angry red and crimson hues.

The candles that crowded on every available surface of the bedroom flickered with the uncontrolled emotions of deep infatuation poisoned and corrupted to become something resembling hatred. The self-loathing in the room was almost tangible, and, if it were possible, the dead roses would have shriveled even further upon themselves, an echo of the emotionally damaged children that a once starry-eyed, untainted couple had envisioned once for their partnership.

As those fights tend to do at times, the words moved from the conflict of the lights, to character attacks and damaging words that could never truly be taken back or forgotten.

“Don’t you EVEN talk about my mother! What about all the nights you used to come home crying, looking for my sympathy to build you back up! Maybe you should just run home to her, it’s clear you prefer her company to mine now. You’re just as big of a bitch as her now, and you swore you never would stoop to her level! If I were you-”

But the words were cut short as the offending party made to duck to avoid the hot candle, dripping wax over the carpet, as it sailed across the room, the heavy glass of the holder aimed true and just avoided a collision with the head that formulated those harsh words.

“You know what! She was right about you, you are just like my father, fat, lazy, stupid, and MEAN!” The last word was emphasized by second candle, one that this time made its mark, trailing more melted wax, and ending at the gut of the target, winding and no doubt bruising the other party with heavy metal candlestick holder.

Many more words would be exchanged about evening, none of them kind and all of them vile as possible.

As the sun crested over the eastern horizon after the many hours of conflict and strife, the candles became unnecessary, what were left of the ones that had not found their way to the floor in the ten hours that had passed.

As an orange glow began to permeate the room, reflected off the placid lake outside that contrasted with the torn apart room and ruined furniture, blankets, pillows, even the television, which had somehow found its way through one of the sliding glass doors and out onto the patio.

Another trail, this one of clothing, lead to the spare bedroom. The master bedroom continued to flood with light from the broken slider, the results of a passion neither one could contain remaining as evidence of everything that had transpired that night.

She turned over onto her side, under his arm, her head on his stomach as she listened to his heart beat strong and rhythmic under his flesh. The blotch that would become a purple and blue reminder of this latest fight caught her eye, and she looked at the mark with revulsion and regret.

He met her eyes, his warm brown gazing into her sapphiric blue irises. He opened his mouth to make the requisite apologies that always followed these nuclear explosions of emotion, but she silenced his unsaid words with her mouth. The tenderness and love that passed between them would never have indicated the fight beforehand.

She rested again against his shoulder and arm, as he watched the sunrise continue through the bay window facing the bed. He put his lips to her hair, and without even thinking about it, whispered the very anti thesis of everything he had said to her, “I love you, dear, more than life itself”.

The she was sleeping tranquilly, and his words were just have to wait. And presently he nodded off to join her in the dreamland where life was perfect and nothing ever went wrong.