Meeting Veris Black

A freakshow with blue hair, an orange jacket, and a pissy attitude takes you to a coffee shop. What would you do?

She's not exactly a nice person. That's the first thing I noticed about her. When I tapped on her apartment door, she opened it, with foul language on her lips. Then, when I explained I just wanted to talk to her, not arrest her, she relaxed ever so slighty. I asked for her name, just to make sure I had found the right house. I wasn't sure I had. I mean, I was positive she had better manners than this. She froze, and hesitated, before quietly uttering her name, and stepping aside to let me in.

 

Veris.

 

Veris Black.

 

She's tall. Taller than I will ever be. While I'm 5'2", she looks about even at 6'. Veris is limber and gangly. And thin isn't even a word to describe her. She's underfed, her bones jutting out at odd angles. Scars cover her pale face, as if she got attacked by some sort of beast. Her hair is an ungodly blue, and insanely curly. And her eyes are an emerald green.

 

"Well," I say, looking around the entryway. "You're home is...well, it's alright."

 

The place was a dump. Old books and newspapers were strewn across the floor. There was a coffee table, covered in crumpled pieces of paper. Broken pencils overflowed from the trashcan. There was a pull-out couch, with a greying pillow and old kool-aid stains on it. A black and green blanket was haphazardly thrown across the couch. Veris wades through her sea of junk, before turning around.

 

"Maybe we should go out?" she asks in a fake voice, dripped in sugary sweetness.

 

I nod quickly, before she pushes me out on the door. I walk to the driver's side of my car, but she gets there first. "I'll drive." she inisists, and once again, I can't refuse. She takes a long road out of her crummy neighborhood, and continues down the same road to the City. But before we get there, Veris pulls into a dingy little coffee shop. She leaves the car without me, as I stare after her. She doesn't turn around once. She merely walks up to the counter, and orders something. A coffee. Black. Only then does she turned around, and raise an eyebrow at me, still in the car.

 

I scramble from my seat, unentangling myself from my seat belt. When I stumble through the front doors, Veris is already sitting down, the coffee on the table, and a book in her hands. I sit down across from her, and stare at the book title for a good thrity seconds.

 

"Alice in Wonderland." I say, a bemused tone in my voice.

 

Veris's emerald eyes meet mine, and I shrink. "A classic." she replies cooly. I stare at her.

 

If Veris Black isn't made odd enough by her aqua hair, her clothes finish it off. She wears an orange jacket. A bright orange jacket that is way too big for her. It clashes horribly with her hair. And then, she wears turquoise socks with brown stripes over her hands. The feet have been cut out, to make them arm warmers.

 

I just stare.

 

"Well?" she asks, her tone clipped. "You called me at 4am yesterday, to set up some meeting. Well, here we are. We're meeting. What is it?"

 

I stumble over my words. "W-Well, I just wanted to get to know...you."

 

She raises an eyebrow.

 

"You're a writer. You can't stay with a topic. Sometimes I wonder, well, why? What makes writing so hard?"

 

Her nostrils flare. "Writing isn't just a term your English teacher can fling around! Writing is an art! Sometimes an idea can only be stretched so far until it snaps back like a rubberband."

 

"Nice simile."

 

"Thanks."

 

I twiddle my thumbs on the table. Veris's eyes flicker back to her book, and there is silence. She speaks once more. "Is this all you wanted me for? To tell me my writing fails, and that I should try a new hobby?"

 

I bite my lip. "Possibly. It would be for the best wouldn't it? I mean, look at you! You've let yourself go! You're apartment is covered in old ideas and used up plots."

 

Veris scowls. "Get to know me my a*s. You just want to critisize me! Well, it won't work!"

 

I snort. And here it all comes out. "Veris Black," I reply cooly. "Is washed up. She's hopeless and she'll never learn. No one likes her writing. Hell, no one likes her in general. She's a nobody. She'll never follow her dreams. She'll give up. She'll give up because I told her too!"

 

Veris freezes, her eyebrows coming together. "Why would you tell yourself that?"

 

"What?"

 

"Why would you tell yourself to quit? You can't quit! You're you! You're Veris Black!"

 

It's my turn to freeze. "No. No, you're Veris Black."

 

Veris raises an eyebrow. "Yes. And so are you." and slowly, she reaches out to touch my face, as if to caress it. Instead, her hand is blocked by something. An invisible force. She taps on it, and a soft ringing is heard. It's crystal. It's glass,

 

I reach out as well, but my hand is blocked by the same surface, Then I realize, I am wearing the same arm warmers as Veris is. I pull my hand away, and so does she, at the very same moment I did.

 

I freeze. She freezes. My eyes slowly descend down my front. I am wearing an orange jacket. A single blue curls lays on my shoulder. I look up. So does Veris. I place both my hands on the surface. So does she. And then it hits me like a bullet.

 

I am looking in a mirror.

 

I am Veris Black.

 

 

Author's Note

Alrighty, so I had this dream that I was telling this freaky chick that she needed to change. That no one liked her, and she needed to be someone else. Then she asked me how I could be so cruel to myself? Slowly I realized I was looking at a reflection. I was telling myself to quit and give up, just like our emotions and feelings tell us to do sometime. The 'I' in this story (Me) judges Veris throughout the piece, only to realize she was Veris herself. The Morale of this is, 'Your worst enemy is yourself. No one judges and contimplates yourself as much as you do.' I hope you guys see the whole picture! :)

Reviews

[Pax Analog]

Interesting double/looking glass story. And really this sort of crash and burn trashing of one's efforts is a never-ending onion layer peel.

From personal experience, eventually one's work looks back at one w/an "eff u" at the attempt to destroy it. That might mean one is getting good. ;-) Humorous ruthlessness is a good growth tool.

[Silvario]

Interesting. A good interesting. I've actualy never read anything like this before. I mean there are other stories with a similar idea, sure. But I found your spin and details to be original. Not only original but enjoyable to read. You set up the twist with professional grace. Your banter between characters felt genuine and your descriptive narrative gave a sense of reality to the piece that I felt a part of the scene, watching, not reading.
Also, you are clearly a talented writer. This was masterfully penned and if there is even a hint of self doubt in the actual you; I implore you to dismiss it entirely. Then again, if it's that self critisizm that fuels such creativity and professional execution ... well then I say keep it up! :)

[Initium]

I just sploded! This was very good!
And nice twist ending.
I like how harsh she is. It's like her tongue is a whip! It's extremely interesting and I never took my eyes off the page. I'm glad she's still alive, her. It's just exciting. I'm, like, screaming on the inside.
Oh, and by the way, thanks for the review on my Jesse Booth story. I don't think it'll be continued, or at least that plot exactly, but I had a lot of fun reading it and am happy you liked it, too.
Ugh, you need Aim! We never talk as much as we used to!
Well, ta-ta!