100 Words a Day 567 La Pintura Negra 10/15

It started with a beautiful woman, as it often does. People got angry; rash words were exchanged, and before anyone knew it, a date and a place were set. It rained the night before, turning the field into a quagmire. Several people came to watch, standing well away from the swampy field. With little ceremony the two men waded towards each other. When they were within swinging distance, they let loose hell. Mired in the soggy ground, neither man could escape the blows of the other and soon they both felt warm flows of lifeblood running down their ruined faces.

100 Words a Day 566 La Pintura Negra 9/15

The landscape was barren and grey. Hovering above the twisted land were three hideous women, each as grotesque as the ruined land they surveyed. Their focus was on the only moving thing for miles, a man. He walked with slumped shoulders. One of the women held a skein of fine thread. The shimmering line ran down to the man and bound his hands behind him. At the behest of one of her companions, the woman surrendered the skein to her sister, who held a pair of scissors. With no emotion, she cut the thread and the man fell down dead.

100 Words a Day 565 La Pintura Negra 8/15

The material of the sofa was uncomfortable. Leocadia ignored the itching, happy to have something to lean against. The funeral was into its third hour and she could see several of the mourners swaying unsteadily. She hated when people died in the summer. Her black dress was uncomfortably warm.

The dress was solid black, except for the sleeves, which were diaphanous. It was not generally considered conservative enough for a funeral, but she wore it all the same. It had a black veil and that was more than enough for Leocadia. Several of the women looked at her with disapproval.

100 Words a Day 564 La Pintura Negra 7/15

The plateau loomed in the background. The sun struggled to peek out from behind the grey rock, but cast only a feeble light. The men posed for a photograph prior to ascending the lonely cliff face.

Ruffians would not be the most accurate word to describe them. Certainly they were poor and ragged, but they lacked the stomach for crime. Rather, they were simply poor men with no better prospects than a laborious, dangerous climb up an uncaring rock face.

After the photograph they looked up with trepidation. Each man felt as though some grey specter looked back at them.

100 Words a Day 563 La Pintura Negra 6/15

Their ugly faces were tanned from living outside and dirty from living in squalor. The women looked on at the man in the white shirt, his hand between his legs. One was leering over his shoulder. Her big, red lips were open in a wide smile, showing crooked teeth.

Neither the man nor the two women bothered hiding what they were doing. The hunger, cold, and constant misery had driven them long past the point of shame. They now took what pleasure they could when it was available to them.

The respite from their misery was brief and quickly forgotten.

100 Words a Day 562 La Pintura Negra 5/15

Judith shed no tears as she raised the knife over the sleeping Holofernes. Her maid prayed in the corner, for what had happened and what was about to be done. The brutal general was spent, having exhausted himself with drink and Judith, and snored as he lay haphazardly on the bed. The deed fresh in her mind, she brought the knife down without mercy. Holofernes awoke in time to see the dead look in the girl’s eyes and feel the push-pull of the blade sawing through his neck before death overtook him.

Her task complete, Judith left with his head.

100 Words a Day 561 La Pintura Negra 4/15

The ragged men huddled around their fire, warding off both cold and the dark. They were of diverse ages, some barely showing stubble while others had full beards. Having shared their meager foodstuff and consumed the wine, they grew bored. One of their number produced a book. Most of the men were illiterate and stared at the cover without reaction. Eventually, they found one among them who had learned his letters. When he read the title out loud a murmur of anticipation ran through the men. The first story detailed a tryst between a highborn lady and her lowly servant.