Post by Black Sakura on Sept 1, 2006 5:16:27 GMT -5
Arsenic and Tea
I held a flickering and blinking candle tightly in my grasp
As I ascended, with timid steps, up the stairs.
A tray balanced uneasily in my other hand,
Bearing tea for two, china cups and saucers, crumpets, and a bowl of sugar.
I stooped and lowered the platter to the ground
That I might more efficiently open the door.
It jiggled and clinked as it landed, and from within the room, a voice called out.
“Who’s there?” it asked sacredly, with a note of alarm.
“It is but I,” I remarked, a hint of pain in the verse.
That she could so love me, yet not recognize my step!
“My darling Cheryl, who could you but suppose it was?”
I opened the door with my free hand, lifted the platter, and strode into the room.
My little wife was abed after being ill;
She said that it was only a fit of cramps that ailed her.
This, secretly, I did not even remotely believe.
Over the past week, she had had no less than three attacks of them.
Aside from this fact, good deal of the white, crystalline rat killer we had kept in the gloomy garden shed
Was gone, and no little amount it was too, with no reasonable explanation for its disappearance.
I knew someone was trying to murder my wife,
Though who or why would want to kill sweet Cheryl, I couldn’t guess.
I had dismissed all the servants after the second attack, save our old loyal butler Georges
Who wouldn’t hurt a fly, much less his mistress,
And no one else dwelled in our manor but Cheryl’s younger brother Richard, who cared for her a great deal.
I was left to puzzle over whom was left that could try and do such a dastardly thing.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized as I came in.
“I’ve been a bit on edge, as you know. My nerves are still very wrought.”
“That’s all right, dear,” I assured her, and settled the tray down on her bedside table.
“I made you this tea myself; I’m sure it’s fine to take.”
She smiled sadly, and looked at the fine silver belly of the teapot.
“I’m not very thirsty, dear, though I thank you. You partake in it; I shall pretend that I enjoy it with you.”
I shook my head sagely. “But darling, a spot of tea would do you good!”
At this she laughed weakly. “By the fuss you have made over me since I was taken ill, one would never guess that we had such a row last month over that Carmen!”
I remembered, not with pride, how, over the course of the last year,
I had fallen under the influence of a certain village girl.
My wife, only last month, had discovered my infatuation
And helped me to get over it in a timely manner.
Now, I no longer yearned for Carmen; now I hated her.
My eyes must have held a glimpse of disdain
As I looked at my wife. “Mm.” she murmured unintelligibly by way of comment,
And settled down on her pillows, which were plump with the finest of goose-feathers.
As I poured tea carefully out of the pot, I looked at her reflection in the face of a saucer.
She was complacent and was gazing out the window
Beyond which the wind howled with much ferociousness
And the rain splattered on the windows in sheets.
I poured out two cups. “Sugar dear?” I asked courteously.
She shook her head. “I said I wasn’t taking tea.”
“Come now,” I demanded, dropping three generous sthingyfuls of sugar into one cup.
I proffered this one to her. “Take it, I added extra sugar.”
Cheryl smiled faintly. “All right then,” she acquiesced, and took the cup from me.
Her eyes bolted suddenly to the door as it flung open. I myself started.
Richard stood there, a sheaf of papers in his hand. His eyes latched onto me in a look of apprehension.
Then they moved to Cheryl, who gazed at him expectantly.
“Don’t drink that tea, Cheryl!” he demanded, staring and spluttering.
Cheryl already had the cup close to her lips. She continued to hold the cup, looking at her brother inquiringly.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him innocently.
“I…I don’t know how to break this to you.” He walked over to her side.
“I know you’ve always thought you had a loving husband,” he began nervously, casting me a furtive glance.
“Well, to put it plainly, I took the food prepared for you by your husband the other day after your second attack,
And took it to be analyzed. My dear, I am so sorry to say that in the dregs of tea you didn’t finish last night
Was a great deal of arsenic—the missing rat killer.” He glared at me.
I smiled nonchalantly, and began my protest. “This is a most amusing jest. But would you mind telling me why, Richard, I should want to kill my wife, and your sister?”
Richard stared back at me with a cold sneer. “You should know that better than any of us, sir. Carmen.”
The single last word of his sentence was steeped in meaning. However, if he had expected this remark to hit home, it did not.
“I have said this again and again, Richard—I am done and over Carmen.” I smiled at Cheryl, who was staring in incomprehension at me.
“But…are you?” she gasped, gaping like a fish out of water. Suddenly, she seemed to come to a conclusion, and looked at me steadily.
“I will drink the tea,” she said slowly.
“No, don’t!” exclaimed Richard, horrified.
“Yes, I will.” And with that, before either of us could jump up and seize it from her lips, she downed the cup to the last drop. Her face held an unfathomable look as she put the saucer down on the table.
“I shall explain my logic,” she declared simply. “If it is true that my husband poisons my tea, then I shall die, and you, Richard, will have evidence enough to convict him. And, besides,” she added thoughtfully, “If he fancies Carmen, and is prepared to do away with me in order to be free to marry her, I do not see that I have any reason to live, for I know that I cannot live without him. But,” she added in brighter tones, “If the tea was not poisoned, then all is well, and I shall not die, and it will be proven that my husband no longer fancies Carmen.”
Our eyes met. She looked at me with a trusting visage, never doubting that I hadn’t poisoned her tea. She knew that she would live, for that she was the only one I loved.
The convulsions began nearly immediately. And she died, sadly.
Richard was wrong, however. The tea was not what had been poisoned.
I had mixed the arsenic with the sugar.
I held a flickering and blinking candle tightly in my grasp
As I ascended, with timid steps, up the stairs.
A tray balanced uneasily in my other hand,
Bearing tea for two, china cups and saucers, crumpets, and a bowl of sugar.
I stooped and lowered the platter to the ground
That I might more efficiently open the door.
It jiggled and clinked as it landed, and from within the room, a voice called out.
“Who’s there?” it asked sacredly, with a note of alarm.
“It is but I,” I remarked, a hint of pain in the verse.
That she could so love me, yet not recognize my step!
“My darling Cheryl, who could you but suppose it was?”
I opened the door with my free hand, lifted the platter, and strode into the room.
My little wife was abed after being ill;
She said that it was only a fit of cramps that ailed her.
This, secretly, I did not even remotely believe.
Over the past week, she had had no less than three attacks of them.
Aside from this fact, good deal of the white, crystalline rat killer we had kept in the gloomy garden shed
Was gone, and no little amount it was too, with no reasonable explanation for its disappearance.
I knew someone was trying to murder my wife,
Though who or why would want to kill sweet Cheryl, I couldn’t guess.
I had dismissed all the servants after the second attack, save our old loyal butler Georges
Who wouldn’t hurt a fly, much less his mistress,
And no one else dwelled in our manor but Cheryl’s younger brother Richard, who cared for her a great deal.
I was left to puzzle over whom was left that could try and do such a dastardly thing.
“I’m sorry,” she apologized as I came in.
“I’ve been a bit on edge, as you know. My nerves are still very wrought.”
“That’s all right, dear,” I assured her, and settled the tray down on her bedside table.
“I made you this tea myself; I’m sure it’s fine to take.”
She smiled sadly, and looked at the fine silver belly of the teapot.
“I’m not very thirsty, dear, though I thank you. You partake in it; I shall pretend that I enjoy it with you.”
I shook my head sagely. “But darling, a spot of tea would do you good!”
At this she laughed weakly. “By the fuss you have made over me since I was taken ill, one would never guess that we had such a row last month over that Carmen!”
I remembered, not with pride, how, over the course of the last year,
I had fallen under the influence of a certain village girl.
My wife, only last month, had discovered my infatuation
And helped me to get over it in a timely manner.
Now, I no longer yearned for Carmen; now I hated her.
My eyes must have held a glimpse of disdain
As I looked at my wife. “Mm.” she murmured unintelligibly by way of comment,
And settled down on her pillows, which were plump with the finest of goose-feathers.
As I poured tea carefully out of the pot, I looked at her reflection in the face of a saucer.
She was complacent and was gazing out the window
Beyond which the wind howled with much ferociousness
And the rain splattered on the windows in sheets.
I poured out two cups. “Sugar dear?” I asked courteously.
She shook her head. “I said I wasn’t taking tea.”
“Come now,” I demanded, dropping three generous sthingyfuls of sugar into one cup.
I proffered this one to her. “Take it, I added extra sugar.”
Cheryl smiled faintly. “All right then,” she acquiesced, and took the cup from me.
Her eyes bolted suddenly to the door as it flung open. I myself started.
Richard stood there, a sheaf of papers in his hand. His eyes latched onto me in a look of apprehension.
Then they moved to Cheryl, who gazed at him expectantly.
“Don’t drink that tea, Cheryl!” he demanded, staring and spluttering.
Cheryl already had the cup close to her lips. She continued to hold the cup, looking at her brother inquiringly.
“What’s wrong?” she asked him innocently.
“I…I don’t know how to break this to you.” He walked over to her side.
“I know you’ve always thought you had a loving husband,” he began nervously, casting me a furtive glance.
“Well, to put it plainly, I took the food prepared for you by your husband the other day after your second attack,
And took it to be analyzed. My dear, I am so sorry to say that in the dregs of tea you didn’t finish last night
Was a great deal of arsenic—the missing rat killer.” He glared at me.
I smiled nonchalantly, and began my protest. “This is a most amusing jest. But would you mind telling me why, Richard, I should want to kill my wife, and your sister?”
Richard stared back at me with a cold sneer. “You should know that better than any of us, sir. Carmen.”
The single last word of his sentence was steeped in meaning. However, if he had expected this remark to hit home, it did not.
“I have said this again and again, Richard—I am done and over Carmen.” I smiled at Cheryl, who was staring in incomprehension at me.
“But…are you?” she gasped, gaping like a fish out of water. Suddenly, she seemed to come to a conclusion, and looked at me steadily.
“I will drink the tea,” she said slowly.
“No, don’t!” exclaimed Richard, horrified.
“Yes, I will.” And with that, before either of us could jump up and seize it from her lips, she downed the cup to the last drop. Her face held an unfathomable look as she put the saucer down on the table.
“I shall explain my logic,” she declared simply. “If it is true that my husband poisons my tea, then I shall die, and you, Richard, will have evidence enough to convict him. And, besides,” she added thoughtfully, “If he fancies Carmen, and is prepared to do away with me in order to be free to marry her, I do not see that I have any reason to live, for I know that I cannot live without him. But,” she added in brighter tones, “If the tea was not poisoned, then all is well, and I shall not die, and it will be proven that my husband no longer fancies Carmen.”
Our eyes met. She looked at me with a trusting visage, never doubting that I hadn’t poisoned her tea. She knew that she would live, for that she was the only one I loved.
The convulsions began nearly immediately. And she died, sadly.
Richard was wrong, however. The tea was not what had been poisoned.
I had mixed the arsenic with the sugar.
Creepy is good. Although, it does resemble more of a story than a poem... or perhaps it looks that way because the edges are so close together and you can't tell the meter as well. Ah, well. Excellent tale anyway. Arsenic is a good idea. I must use that sometime... *shifty eyes*
We had to create a company for our product and advocate it in advertisements...and so we made our brand name called 'Coldfish.' (as a spoof of Goldfish. We used a picture of the real Goldfish logo, only we crossed out the eyes so it was dead. Get it? Cold...fish...as in a dead fish? Aahahahahaha.) My goodness that was fun...
