![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
![]() |
Oh Paris is such a despicable city”, the woman said as she covered the table with a beautiful dark red cloth. “I would rather if I had never seen this place and furthermore the people that suits it”. She began placing freshly washed plates and glasses on top of the cloth. “I know, dearest Ms. Michelle Rose, that there have been many to make you out to be a criminal but myself and Ms. Annabelle have not treated you so. Have we not been your best friends? I believe you just need to meet more of the populous.” There came a loud thud on the back door, startling them both. Michelle Rose quickly approached the window, having armed herself with a brass pipe, and peaked out. In silence she walked across the kitchen and opened the door.
A heavy winter gust whipped through the
small house, as the
guest stepped in, greeting each woman with a kiss.
The door shut. “The winds
out could take the very ghost from you!” the
guest said as she sat hand ironing out creases from
her dress. “Well Annabelle, I am happy
that you could
make it – ghost intact.” Michelle Rose
said, making a play on Annabelle’s statement. She
continued preparing the dinner table in wonder of how
her friends positioned
her in society. She had come a long
ways from the countryside near Italy where she grew from a child. Never living a city life before, Ms.
Michelle Rose Black had come into France seeking a way of life. In the country there was nothing, no
entertainment,
and no new faces. It was quite a boring
place, with everyone keeping similar ideas about the world.
As many as she hated for thinking so about herself, those in the country were loud, ruthless, and popularly uncivilized. However, immediately upon her arrival and the learning of her descent, those of the city stereotyped Michelle Rose with sayings of “Women of the country are just plain uncivilized.” Sitting around and gossiping, many women in the nearby area had come to think of her as “outright” and a “horrid thing”. She, admittedly, is bold, outspoken, and willing to work – all of which makes her unpopular because it just didn’t fit the concept of current female-hood. Men equally ostracized her, though some find her a challenge and wish to tame her. Her name now holds a bad reputation and only a few have befriended her. Two of her very best, Ms. Annabelle Hede and Ms. Victoria Clamitt, dined with her weekly. Though it is obvious the ideas that surround Michelle Rose, they both insist frequently that she should join them in the dances and parties that are put on. Wanting to avoid all contact with those who would bring further hurt to Michelle’s now secluded life, she dismisses each invite.
Finally the table was set and all three
ladies sat in
prayer. Michelle silently prayed for a
way out of her wretched reputation. The
dining began, as the two friends chattered away, “Master Emmons said
that all
of the guys from Lockwood would be present, as well as some from
Landors side
of town”, Annabelle seemed to glide through her speech.
“I am assuming you speak of yet another
wondrous dance, where the ladies shall be whisked away in a fantastic
night of
pleasure?” came the sarcastic and almost disgusted response. “Ms. Michelle Rose, this is not a dance like
the others. This one truly should be of
interest to you” Victoria said in between fork fulls of pasta. “I highly doubt that you would like to miss
the coming of the Prime Minister to our little part of France” taking
another
bite, in hopes of a positive response. Both
ladies looked at Michelle Rose and so she pondered a
proper
response, yet none came.
“Well”, Annabelle decided to continue, “there will be many people there, not just the few close-minded that we seem to run into. As I was saying, there will be plenty of guys from Lockwood Academy, as well as the men that stay in Landor. And I know you have been wide-eyed about a certain young man that stays in Landor”, she stopped, stuffing her mouth with the roasted chicken, as to prevent herself from oversaying. Caught off-guard, for that was the boldest thing she had heard any woman in France say, she responded, “Well I have not much to say on such things. I would indeed like to view the visit of the Prime Minister, yet I have not to wear nor actions to stand in a dance.” Victoria and Annabelle both smiled widely, knowing that this was her way of accepting. “Oh, you will not be disappointed Ms. Michelle Rose” Victoria said in her excitement, forgetting the once previous delight of her dinner. The three women made plans for the dance, which was to be in 3 days.
Looking up into the skies, the clouds seemed to form the figure of the woman. He stared, trying to make detail arrive; yet none did. Christopher Daniel only dreamed of her, because only once had he seen her in the distance and how strongly the image stuck in his memory. He had considered using his magic to make her his own, but he didn’t want a puppet but to feel the voluntary love of a real person. So much had been said about her, he sat pondering this woman’s person. ‘Could it be a female, unmarried, walks so openly and boldly? Why? How? Even I, one of the most anti-social, most rebellious of these common standards am not so bold as they portray her to be.’
“Christopher!” she says in a near screeching tone, “what are you doing!? You should be preparing for the dance. You said you would go! Why aren’t you preparing!?” He, frustrated and unable to speak for his intruding sister’s constant questioning, simply rose from his seated position at the window and walked towards his room. With only one thing in mind, he deviously plotted, while her insistent yammerings continued. “Christopher! Answer me, for it is better for you to travel with us to the dance tonight. You are so awkward and impassionate, yet there will be many ladies there. Come on!”, she began stepping behind him, “Someone will liken to you and wish to dance with you, for your new business and grand dowry if nothing else. Ladies from all over France, even up in Stanhover. I know, Annabelle will be there, and she is the most fair misses from Stanhover.” By now he was up the stairs and closing his door, while she stand at the bottom she inserted once more, “This is your chance to redeem yourself for mother and father! Be ready, dear brother!”
Digging out his mystical practices from his hiding place, he realized that she had said ladies from Stanhover would arrive, as well as Annabelle. From his inquiries, he found that Annabelle be one of this dear lady’s closest friends. His thoughts distracted him from the curse he wished to cast over his sister. ‘Perhaps she will be there. It is just another worthless event, if I pray chance see her…’ He began preparations.