100 theme challenge

19. Gray

"What is history, but a fable agreed upon?" he smiled, quoted a famous conqueror words with a perfect intonation. His French accent completed his act, making almost all the girls in the classroom gasped in wonder. Marge turned her face away and snubbed in silent, wished that massive spotlights hanged high above his podium would collapse and ruined that disgusting face she loved the most.

"He looks like Napoleon Bonaparte," said one of the girls beside her. "Look at him. Isn't he beautiful?"

"For your information, Missy, first, he's name is Louis, not that infamous conqueror dwarf. Second, he's not beautiful," Marge said in a cold tone. "And third, history is a written record of an event. It doesn't have to be true, for it was written from the eye of the survivors. But it's an authentic record that will help the next generation to learn from it, not a fable and not agreed! Agreed by whom anyway?"

"You know, Marge, maybe you should go away and keep silent in the back row and let me adore him a bit more," she said, waving her hand and hush her away. "He might be your fiancé, but he's still that Louis Biarritz, the rich ladykiller from Marseille,"

"As you said,"

Margareth Cleardust was about to leave the room when the man on the podium called her name in the most sensational voice he could make. Marge instantly felt sharp hostile gazes stung her back, even though she quite used with those sensation. She turned around and put her best smile on.

"Yes, dear?" she replied with the sweetest sound she can afford.

"Where are you going, mon amour?" he jumped from the podium and chased her.

"Looking for some refreshment," she said, still in her sweetest voice. "I'll bring you some,"

"Parfait," he smiled and gave her a light kiss on her cheek. "I'll be waiting here,"

She stepped away from the room, couldn't help to hid her smile. This would be her victory. No more happy fiancé's mask, no more jealousy, no more after-dinner family council made to discuss why this Louis qualified enough to be a member of their family, no more sadness nor fear. At last, he will be hers and hers alone.

"Yes, I'll bring you some refreshment, darling," she tossed four of the high doze sleeping pills he brought yesterday into his glass. "Together with my kisses. I hope you can endure the scythe of death a bit longer and live another life with me,"

What is life, but a fable created in memories anyway?