May be too intense for some viewers.

Even so, what was his alternative? Just let things continue to go down the path of "order" and oppression without at least doing his part to soften up the earth under the foundations of the Church State? He could no more live with that kind of moral acquiescence than he could fly. He concealed a chuckle with a cough, lest his aides become inauspiciously curious. Perhaps he should have chosen a different internal turn of phrase. He brushed a speck of white off the front of his dark suit jacket and straightened his "power tie." There was work to do.

The ambassador from New Avignon would soon be waiting downstairs with his attaches and his ostentatious finery, and Algernon did not want the arrogant peacock to get his feathers ruffled. The Archbishop-in-Chief had given him specific duties to fulfill in this meeting and though he was loathe to undertake them, he was sworn to fulfill his constitutional role. Also, this was not the time for anyone to find any cracks in his carefully crafted facade. But first he was going to arrange a surreptitious side-trip to the Smithsonian, where a particularly needful item awaited him in the Hall of Minerals.

He excused himself to the restroom, leaving his aides behind, and once inside spread his awareness throughout the elegant but conservatively appointed lounge, the edges of his aura sweeping over the cold white glazed tiles and into the stalls, behind the couches, and especially through the mirrors. Just as he was accustomed to, this lounge was clear of mundane and mystic surveillance, and thankfully devoid of people. He reached under his cobalt silk tie and pulled out his pentacle, holding it in his right hand. With his left he let power flow outward widdershins, stirring local time into an eddy.

Now that he was no more than one stroke away from the most powerful office in the world, he was insulated from the more mundane tribulations of life in the Dominion of America, but the stakes were higher than ever considering the scrutiny he now lived under, not to mention what lurked in the shadows of the capital and in the lights of its tabernacles. His gift for bargaining with Synchronicity served him well in such conditions, but he knew that every bargain struck had its price as well as its promise. Caveat Emptor, went the old proverb. Buyer beware.

Even so, what was his alternative? Just let things continue to go down the path of "order" and oppression without at least doing his part to soften up the earth under the foundations of the Church State? He could no more live with that kind of moral acquiescence than he could fly. He concealed a chuckle with a cough, lest his aides become inauspiciously curious. Perhaps he should have chosen a different internal turn of phrase. He brushed a speck of white off the front of his dark suit jacket and straightened his "power tie." There was work to do.

I know its NaNoWriMo month and the Writer's Block meme is going around, but I thought this might be fun for creative writing fans too.  It seems like it went around a few years ago.

Write a story or a snippet of one using no more than 100 words.

• It can be based on anything - a recollection, pure fiction, some dialogue, a dream, whatever, as long as it is no more than 100 words.

• Try to make it as off-the-cuff as you can, just run with the first thing that comes to mind.

• It must have complete sentences and clauses. No running out of words in mid-sentence or not finishing a thought within the 100 word limit.

• Hyphenated words (side-mounted, yellow-green) count as one, but not hyphenated phrases (late-to-the-party, too-good-to-be-forgotten, etc.)

Post the story and this meme on your journal.

My twist: If anyone says "encore" in your comments you have to write another 100 words of the same story, and repost.  Rinse, repeat.

****

Algernon had always hated his name ever since he was a grade-school child in Mrs. Cooper's class. Kids could be cruel and he knew this from personal experience, though he'd taught his fair share of hard lessons in his day - many to the very children that had teased him. He thought of himself as well-adjusted now but he knew that was vanity - it was easy to look back and smile once you had your vengeance and no one else would dare contradict you. Not that being a witch was easy, mind you, but it did have its perks.

Now that he was no more than one stroke away from the most powerful office in the world, he was insulated from the more mundane tribulations of life in the Dominion of America, but the stakes were higher than ever considering the scrutiny he now lived under, not to mention what lurked in the shadows of the capital and in the lights of its tabernacles.  His gift for bargaining with Synchronicity served him well in such conditions, but he knew that every bargain struck had its price as well as its promise. Caveat Emptor, went the old proverb. Buyer beware.