Settit Beyene: The Arcamortis
Meet Settit Beyene - a shortlisted writer of the Bad Form x Bad Love short story competition. Settit wrote the short story The Arcamortis, inspired by the following line from Bad Love:
“He was the colour of dark mahogany these days, strong and weathered but more beautiful for it, from weekend trips to sunnier climes throughout Europe."
Settit Beyene
Q&A with Settit…
Why do you write?
I love it, writing is like playing a long game of 'What if...?'
What's your secret talent that not a lot of people know about you?
I can hitchhike across continents!
If you could be one character who is considered a 'bad lover'/ relationship villain from books, TV or film, who would you be and why?
I'd be the Greek goddess Circe and live on my own private island and turn people I don't like into pigs or sea monsters.
Read Settit’s shortlisted story below.
The Arcamortis
I laid him on the table and traced a finger across his family crest on the box. The mahogany had been bleached by the sun during an indecent amount of jaunts throughout the various coasts of Europe in which I alighted. Sometimes for a weekend, sometimes for months. I placed my dark sunglasses on the table and a waiter greeted me. He looked at the box and back at me.
‘Coffee for two?’
I laughed.
‘Don’t worry, I’m not one of those widows who treats their arcamortis like a real person. An espresso, please.’
His eyes narrowed and he left to fetch my order. The raven from my deceased husband’s family crest stared at me, squawking, wings outstretched. I flicked open the golden clasp and my husband’s dulcet tones rang out.
‘Happy 28th birthday lovely.’
His voice was like honey. With just one video I took of him before his untimely death, the software company was able to mimic his tones.
‘Thank you.’
I smiled at the control panel in the box and the flickering lights started to irritate me. My husband continued.
‘I was thinking today, we could-’
I shut the box. The software captured his annoying habit of framing commands as suggestions, his honey voice turning to vinegar. The waiter reappeared with my coffee, looking incensed. He had seen inside the box. I arched an eyebrow
‘I had his ashes turned into a diamond.’ I held up the pink jewel around my neck, which complemented my dark skin. ‘Ashes are messy and get blown in the wind.’
He averted his eyes.
‘Madam, what you do with your arcamortis is none of my business. Will sir be taking anything today?’
‘Nothing.’
I saw three other women, each sat alone at her own table. Old and grey, they talked to their boxes. They caressed them and pretended to laugh at their husband’s jokes, much like when they were alive.
A seagull’s squawk made me jump and I was transported back to our honeymoon in Mexico. It was difficult planning a trip for the man who wanted for nothing; he was always vague about his family money, that’s how I knew he had lots of it. I dabbed at my eyes and noticed the waiter watching me out of the corner of his. My darling Haile loved to swim and I found the perfect spot. I’d visited the area three times before, I blame myself for what happened. I took him to the water’s edge and felt too unwell to go in, but it was hot out and I encouraged him to dive in. The tour company never warned us that crocodiles resided there. My poor Haile, gone too soon! I dabbed at my eyes once more and laid fifty euros on the table before walking off.
‘Madam,’ the waiter called me. ‘Your husband.’ He gestured at the arcamortis on the table. The sun reflected the gold on Haile’s family crest.
‘Of course.’
I smiled and dumped the box into my bag.
