I know I've been a little MIA here as of late, and while I truly want
to write a great long post full of delightful news, it's hard to do
that without any news to gush about.
So, will you settle for recent story snippets instead?
Lord Neal
had done well on his promise, and as Paige cleared the train’s doorsteps, a
formally dressed, middle aged man approached her. “Ms. Woolington, I presume?”
“Yes” She
smiled, and placed her hand in his, shaking it firmly, “I am; you must be the
butler, Mr. Giles?”
He nodded,
and returned the handshake, then solemnly turned, and picked up her baggage,
loading them into a small covered carriage.
“You do
realize, Ms. Woolington, that you shall probably lose your position when the
year is out, and you risk your life in coming?”
He kept his back to her as he loaded them neatly on one side, leaving
plenty of room for her to sit.
Paige raised
an eyebrow skeptically, “I am aware of the constant shift of the estate’s owners,
if that is what you mean. But I do not
understand how that affects my life”
The Butler
shrugged, and held out his hand to assist her into the carriage, “Then you will
soon find out”
-Stranger Things
What was the use of living if this was to be
the rest of her life? If she would just be reduced to a groveling lunatic
encaged in this dreary world, what was the point of feeling this pain?
She sighed, and a small movement in the corner
of the room caught her eye.
It was a bird, flown in from a cracked window
pane; she watched with half interest as it jumped along the window sill, and
picked at a bug, no doubt a roach, that tried to scurry away. It chirped, and turned a glassy eye towards
her, cocking it’s grey head, and hopping slightly.
It ruffled its feathers, and flew back out, and
Ina sighed again. What she would give
for a pair of wings to fly away with. To
fly above all this hurt, and all this pain that settled in her heart. To fly away from this burden she carried, and
this life she knew was pointless to hide.
What would happen when the curators of this
place discovered her secret terrified her.
And what would happen to this soul that beat within her own? This life
that vied to live, should it come into the world here?
She sunk to her knees, fully aware that no one
was watching her. No one ever watched
here. Maybe they saw, but they never watched.
They looked upon what happened before them, and turned blind eyes.
Blind eyes that could see if they only wanted.
She felt a tear trickle down her face, and she
curled up on the floor like an injured animal, and nursed her spirit, broken by
another man's wickedness, and her own weakness.
-State of Mind
Tears blinded her eyes, she needed him, she needed
him by her, to hold her, and wipe her tears away while he joked about the
serious things of life. She had realized
it wasn’t that London didn’t take things seriously; she had seen enough of him
that it was obvious he felt things deeply.
Laughing at things instead of fearing them was his way of being brave
and comforting himself.
She bit her lip, life without London would
be…unbearable. It was darker then the past he had brought her out of. There was a big world ahead of her, and she
didn’t know how to navigate it. Without him, and those purple jeans, those
thick combat boots and that cocky hat, without him, and that ready smile.
Without him and his off key whistle, without him and his wink that, she had
tried to deny it, had set her heart to fluttering, without him, she was
hopelessly lost.
Ashe jumped to her feet, her cold hands clenched
at her sides, “I love you London!”
The few passerbyers gave her odd looks, and
hurried on their way, but she didn’t notice.
She took off running, she had to find him before he left, before he went
wherever he was heading, she knew now. No offer, no bribe, no threat would keep
her from him.
-London Ashe
“Phelps! What are you on to?” Richards leaned over
the paper where she was scrawling hastily; it looked like just a bunch of empty
figures and random numbers.
“I knew the lack of motive disturbed me, and I
should’ve heeded the disturbance I felt. You know, Richards, part of being
genius is just following the urges and letting them sway you, and I ignored by
urge. And it was costly” She balled the paper up, and tossed it to the floor.
Myra picked it up, and tried straightening it out,
she frowned, “Phelps, this makes no sense”
“Not to idiots, of course” Phelps started again,
her pen flying even quicker, and she crowded the figures closer, “but to me and
him, ah, yes. We know what deadly dance we play. I should’ve known so much
better, it’s him. It always is. Well, not always, but often. He likes toying
with me, dangling a string in front of my face, and if I pull the string, all
hell tumbles down on me” Phelps bit her lip, and started anew, “So, I’ll just
cut the string, and see if it awakens the spider who spun it”
-Phelps
“It’s been nearly 550 years since any living being
has stepped foot on that once green expanse known as Earth, the home of life,
the cradle of humanity, as it was torn from us”
Fern tapped her chin and looked at the blinking
words on the dictation log.
“No, not torn from us. That makes it sound as if
we had no part in the happenings that surrounded our flight from the planet,
and that is entirely not true. We had
everything to do with it, and we will have everything to do with getting it
back.
-Jade 0.2
So,
there it is, all my writing glory for the time being. I must say, I'm
rather proud of my current works. Oh, and, I was partly mistaken, there
are some interesting things that have arisen, such as,
1- I'm going to see Les Miserables
2- I went to a 1940s Murder Mystery Dinner Party (I'll have pictures presently).
and
3- And I really think that is quite all.
-signed with red fingernails, since that was "the style" of the 40s and I just haven't removed it yet
Ashley.
