23rd October
We're getting very close now... To NaNoWriMo that is. Tonight I decided to get down and do a little bit of writing. We went to Warwick Castle today, and because the journey back was over an hour, I decided to sit down and actually do something. Inspiration struck whilst listening to Panic! At The Disco, and I decided that it would be fun to write about Cadence and Lacy, two of my nano06 characters, seven years after the last novel. They'll come into this years novel at 17 years later, but I just wanted to explore how the death they experienced in Delicate Temptation would affect them. I didn't get very far, but I guess I'll post what I did get, and then i can look back and see if my writing has improved at all during nano. if I give myself something crap to measure against, it'll be a real confidence booster :D
Nightfall. I dropped the still burning ciagrette to the floor, and stepped my big toe over it harshly, grinding it into the snow. It sizzled for a few seconds, then went out. I don’t remember when I started smoking, it must have been a few years after I started working at Madam Whittle’s. It wasn’t called that then; I think it was called Moonshine, or some equally inconspicuous thing, but when Sarah took control of the place she revamped the whole thing. I remember that clearly, I helped her.
Sarah hadn’t been the same since Merce died. She’d been quiet, submissive, and I’ll say her sex drive certainly took a hit. I’d certainly be lucky if I saw her once a week in her room. In the good old days it would have been at least four times that. The building was still the same as I looked up at it though; it brought back all those old memories that go right back to when I was in my early teenage years, back when I first started working. I never was much of a dancer, I think it was more my organisational skills that she looked for- or maybe I only got the job because she loved me... Either way, I suppose my first few years of business were good, prosperous. Until Merce.
It’d been seven years to that very night. It was cold outside, bitterly so, and I was wrapped up as warmly as possible against the biting southern wind. I had my jacket drawn up to my chin to avoid the chill and my hands were shoved deeply into my pockets now that there was not lit cigarette to warm them a little. Lacy was stood by my side, mimcking me as she looked into the centre of the old gothic building and grimaced.
“Hard to believe it’s been seven years,” I commented wryly, watching my breath as it spiraled away from my mouth in white swirls.
“Not really.” Lacy wrapped her arm arouund my shoulds and slipped her left hand into my pocket. Her fingers were cold as she clasped onto mine.
“Don’t you think so?”
“Not really,” Lacy gripped her arm tighter around my shoulders and shivered visibly. “If I’m honest, Cay, sometimes it seems like much longer; yet, sometimes, it feels like it was only yesterday. I think, because it’s warmer than it was when- than it was then, only slightly, it just seems different. Last year was the worst- I swear even the sunset was identical.”
“You know, I think I know what you mean.” I nodded to myself and looked up into the black abyss above. The sun had set only half an hour ago, but now there was no trace of the gold or the pink, and suddenly I felt lost. The last seven years had been so different, so awful compared to before. I went from being top of the most popular burlesque house in town, to being a cleaner. Most of the girls had gone home after Merce died, many found other jobs, and soon there were only the people who cared left, or those who couldn’t afford to go anywhere else.
“It’s all her fault,” Lacy added bitterly. I looked down at her in shock, but then her face collapsed into sorrow. “I know it’s been a long time Cay, but I can’t forgive her for what she did to them, to us... It’s not fair, it was so selfish! I don’t understand how she could do it.” Her throat seemed to close up, and I pulled her into a hug, sharing my body warmth.
“It’s okay Lacy, I understand-”
“I know you do Cadence, I know you do... It’s just so hard to forgive her! Cordelia and Kaitlyn- they had so much to give- and after all this time it still hasn’t gone away. I loved Kaitlyn, loved her like a sister, and more, and to be here now, well it just hurts so much.” She began to weep a little. I stroked her back tenderly and whispered to her for a few minutes until I felt her body go still. She pulled from my embrace and wiped her eyes. “I’m cold,” she said suddenly, her golden eyes glistening. “Let’s go inside.”
“Let’s.” I looked away, back at the old gothic building, with it’s gargoyles and wrought iron fence, and then I pulled Lacy by the hand into the side building. We didn’t use the front entrance any more; we han’t since the place closed as an official burlesque house, and so we crossed through the old courtyard and up into the side doorway. Inside, a gush of warm air rushed around us and I fet instantly better.
“Why do we do that every year?” asked Lacy later, sitting up in our room with a glass of warm ale. “It makes me feel like shit every time we do it.”
"I don’t know,” I answered in puzzlement. “I guess to honour the dead, or the living... Or both, I suppose.”
“I wish we wouldn’t.” Lacy curled up underneath my legs and lay back on the sofa. The comforting warmth of the fire and the alcohol mixed together to make me feel tired, and I let this sensation wash over me. I lay back also, but was soon disturbed by a knock at the door. I opened my eyes reluctantly and frowned.
“Sarah.” We never called her Madam Whittle anymore, it seemed almost disrespectful now.
TBC... I guess... I'll finish it, or add more, a little later. I still have all my holiday homework to do...
Peace.
Kitty.
xx
Nightfall. I dropped the still burning ciagrette to the floor, and stepped my big toe over it harshly, grinding it into the snow. It sizzled for a few seconds, then went out. I don’t remember when I started smoking, it must have been a few years after I started working at Madam Whittle’s. It wasn’t called that then; I think it was called Moonshine, or some equally inconspicuous thing, but when Sarah took control of the place she revamped the whole thing. I remember that clearly, I helped her.
Sarah hadn’t been the same since Merce died. She’d been quiet, submissive, and I’ll say her sex drive certainly took a hit. I’d certainly be lucky if I saw her once a week in her room. In the good old days it would have been at least four times that. The building was still the same as I looked up at it though; it brought back all those old memories that go right back to when I was in my early teenage years, back when I first started working. I never was much of a dancer, I think it was more my organisational skills that she looked for- or maybe I only got the job because she loved me... Either way, I suppose my first few years of business were good, prosperous. Until Merce.
It’d been seven years to that very night. It was cold outside, bitterly so, and I was wrapped up as warmly as possible against the biting southern wind. I had my jacket drawn up to my chin to avoid the chill and my hands were shoved deeply into my pockets now that there was not lit cigarette to warm them a little. Lacy was stood by my side, mimcking me as she looked into the centre of the old gothic building and grimaced.
“Hard to believe it’s been seven years,” I commented wryly, watching my breath as it spiraled away from my mouth in white swirls.
“Not really.” Lacy wrapped her arm arouund my shoulds and slipped her left hand into my pocket. Her fingers were cold as she clasped onto mine.
“Don’t you think so?”
“Not really,” Lacy gripped her arm tighter around my shoulders and shivered visibly. “If I’m honest, Cay, sometimes it seems like much longer; yet, sometimes, it feels like it was only yesterday. I think, because it’s warmer than it was when- than it was then, only slightly, it just seems different. Last year was the worst- I swear even the sunset was identical.”
“You know, I think I know what you mean.” I nodded to myself and looked up into the black abyss above. The sun had set only half an hour ago, but now there was no trace of the gold or the pink, and suddenly I felt lost. The last seven years had been so different, so awful compared to before. I went from being top of the most popular burlesque house in town, to being a cleaner. Most of the girls had gone home after Merce died, many found other jobs, and soon there were only the people who cared left, or those who couldn’t afford to go anywhere else.
“It’s all her fault,” Lacy added bitterly. I looked down at her in shock, but then her face collapsed into sorrow. “I know it’s been a long time Cay, but I can’t forgive her for what she did to them, to us... It’s not fair, it was so selfish! I don’t understand how she could do it.” Her throat seemed to close up, and I pulled her into a hug, sharing my body warmth.
“It’s okay Lacy, I understand-”
“I know you do Cadence, I know you do... It’s just so hard to forgive her! Cordelia and Kaitlyn- they had so much to give- and after all this time it still hasn’t gone away. I loved Kaitlyn, loved her like a sister, and more, and to be here now, well it just hurts so much.” She began to weep a little. I stroked her back tenderly and whispered to her for a few minutes until I felt her body go still. She pulled from my embrace and wiped her eyes. “I’m cold,” she said suddenly, her golden eyes glistening. “Let’s go inside.”
“Let’s.” I looked away, back at the old gothic building, with it’s gargoyles and wrought iron fence, and then I pulled Lacy by the hand into the side building. We didn’t use the front entrance any more; we han’t since the place closed as an official burlesque house, and so we crossed through the old courtyard and up into the side doorway. Inside, a gush of warm air rushed around us and I fet instantly better.
“Why do we do that every year?” asked Lacy later, sitting up in our room with a glass of warm ale. “It makes me feel like shit every time we do it.”
"I don’t know,” I answered in puzzlement. “I guess to honour the dead, or the living... Or both, I suppose.”
“I wish we wouldn’t.” Lacy curled up underneath my legs and lay back on the sofa. The comforting warmth of the fire and the alcohol mixed together to make me feel tired, and I let this sensation wash over me. I lay back also, but was soon disturbed by a knock at the door. I opened my eyes reluctantly and frowned.
“Sarah.” We never called her Madam Whittle anymore, it seemed almost disrespectful now.
TBC... I guess... I'll finish it, or add more, a little later. I still have all my holiday homework to do...
Peace.
Kitty.
xx
posted by Kitty Taylor at 10:49 pm
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