Post by anne on Jan 6, 2012 14:18:32 GMT -5
Okay, so I'm re posting this (before it was titled Untitled). I added some more as well, so if you've read Untitled everything after the astrix is new. I didn't want to post anything until I felt it was polished enough, but then I realized, what are writing groups for if not to help you polish your work?
So anyway, this is part one. Please feel free to critique it. I find I have the most trouble with describing where a specific person/ object is, so if you ever feel confused about what is happening, let me know.
Also, its my desire that the reader be drawn into the story, and experience it as if they were the character themselves. Please tell me if you find a part confusing/boring, and let me know when/if your drawn into the story. If you have any tips or suggestions, I would appreciate that as well.
Thank you!
She could smell the colors. The golden walls smelled of fresh honey, oozing from the comb. Her red velvet carpeted floor smelled of hot spice, the spicy candy you couldn’t help but eat. Her white bed, with its frilly laced cover and its canopy of frothy white and pink ribbons, smelled of chilled icing on her birthday cake, delicately layered in thick, mouthwatering sugar. She buried her face in the covers, almost tasting the rich, cold icing.
She was grounded.
She punched the pillow, listening to the children below laughing and eating her birthday cake on her birthday.
So she imagined her bed the icing on the cake, and the walls the drizzling honey caramel, and the carpet the smell of spicy candy, her two favorite toppings for ice cream.
Grumbling, Risa scooted off her bed. To the right of her bed, in the opposite corner, stood her full length mirror, closet, and desk. Across from her lay her mahogany dresser and T.V. with her bedroom door to the right of it. In the left corner sat the rocking chair her mother used to use when Risa was young. Against the wall, next to it, was a book shelf.
Risa made for the bookcase, looking through the dusty textbooks.
She pulled out her favorite, a maths one, and opened it to her favorite story.
It was about a princess and a dragon, with a gallant knight thrown in for good measure.
Her grandfather had given it to her on her 8th birthday, under the guise of a math book.
If her parents ever found out, she’d be grounded for life. That sort of thing was outlawed after all.
Immersing herself within the story, she ignored her growling stomach.
Maybe the maid would save her a piece of cake.
The light coming through the window above her bed began to fade. When the last of the children had left, Risa carefully put the book back amongst the others. She dusted them to ensure it wasn’t obvious that only one had been touched. Then she climbed back onto her bed, clutching her pink frilly dress around her legs, and delicately placing her face upon the tops of her knees, creating the perfect pout.
Her golden curly hair framed her face, blue eyes shimmering slightly with unshed tears. The surest way of avoiding punishment was to create a look of shame and misery.
She was pleased to hear the graceful trod of her mother coming up the stairs.
Her mother did not knock.
Opening the door, Mrs. Elliot Jones stepped through, long dress flowing around her ankles in the popular Victorian style.
“Clarissa.”
She didn’t sound angry which was good. She sounded tired. That was odd.
“Clarissa,” she said again. Stepping through the doorway, Elliot allowed the door to close softly behind her.
Carefully, in that slow, elegant gate, she made her way across the room, settling herself at the foot of the bed, facing Risa.
“Clarissa,” she spoke, “we cannot do this anymore.” She let out a gentle sigh. “you’re getting to old for this. This is your 10th birthday.”
Something in her voice caught Risa’s attention. Why was her mother acting this way?
Elliot passed her hand over her face, shoulders sagging.
“We can’t do this anymore,” her voice was quiet in the room. “Most children grow out of this by the time they turn 5, but this…” she looked up pleadingly. “We thought surely by 10, but then, still…”
Risa’s careful mask of piousness slipped, her repentant face becoming a slight frown.
“It was an accident,” Risa started, “and it’s not like I really did anything—”
“It’s illegal!” her mother’s voice rang harshly in the room. She sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose. “It’s understandable with children…they don’t know what they’re doing. But you can hardly be called a child anymore.”
Risa sat up, alarmed at where this was going. “I won’t do it anymore. I haven’t done it in months! It was just a little slip—“
“No,” her mother spoke firmly, “You shouldn’t have been able to. Your father and I have talked about it. We’re going to have to take extreme measures, I’m afraid.”
An icecicle embedded itself within Risa’s heart.
“Mother, really, I’ll be good. You don’t need to…” things weren’t going well at all.
“No, I’m afraid we do.” Her mother stood up and let out a deep breath. “We’ll have to send you off to School.”
Risa shivered, feeling as if the room had just dropped temperature.
School. The place her friend Amy had been sent to and returned so distant and proper, that she couldn’t even sit cross legged, and could only talk about what “ladies” should do.
School. That her brother had been sent to, who came back with his arm broken, and his back in a cast because of a beating a teacher had given him.
“You can’t be serious,” the dry whisper escaped her throat.
“We don’t know what else to do,” Her mother sighed and shook her head.
“I’ll do anything!” Risa scrambled off her bed, “Really! It won’t happen again!”
“I’m sorry Clarissa,” her mother turned for the door. “You left us no choice.”
* * * * * * * * ** * * *
Risa stared at the piece of cake the maid had left her, head on knees, hands clasped around ankles. Appetite missing.
She wasn’t going to that school.
Even if her mother chained her, threw her in a cellar, and dragged her out on the appointed day, she still wasn’t going.
She closed her eyes and listened. She imagined she was a cat, with huge ears that could hear a mile away.
First, the maids were clearing the table. Then her parents were talking low in their bedroom. The back door shut once, twice, three times as the maids went home. Her parents turned off the light. A small sigh, probably her father, a quiet creak as her mother turned over.
Silence.
Risa opened her eyes, the eerie light of the moon shining through the window above her bed, painting the room in silvery white.
Risa slipped off her bed silently. Her pink, lacy party dress slipped from her body in a quiet whisper.
On went her favorite green frock, with the white petticoats. She opted for knee high white socks instead of hose, and slipped on her most comfortable shoes that buttoned up the side. Her golden curly hair she braided back, like Priscilla, the maid, had shown her.
Into a small handkerchief she wrapped her piece of cake. It was time to go.
Risa paused at the door, suddenly unsure. But what else was she to do?
Opening her door, she quietly slipped out, careful to avoid the squeaky floorboard.
Heart pounding, she made her way down the polished wooden stairs, hand resting on the silver oak banister for support.
Risa squinted in the dark, trying to see but failing.
She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, waiting for her heart to slow.
She wasn’t Risa. She was a burglar. A cat burglar. Super sharp eyes and quick reflexes, like on that T.V. show. Able to jump from tall buildings and land with a roll. Able to disappear at a moments notice.
The catburglar opened her eyes, confident.
The room before her had a giant table, now empty of presents and cake.
A small pang went through her. She never had gotten to see her presents.
Then she sniffed. She was a cat burglar after all. If she needed something, she could steal it.
The burglar slipped across the room and down the hall, quiet as a snake. She paused and looked down the darkened hallway. Past her parent’s bedroom lay the study, and past that the backdoor.
Her heart quickened. She could almost taste the freedom.
Keeping her breath steady, the cat burglar began the daring crossing past the parent’s bedroom.
A sudden sound caused her to stiffen.
By the floorboard creak, it was her father.
He was coming out.
Heart in mouth, Risa slipped back down the hall and into the room with the table, standing back against the wall.
The oaken door squeaked as it opened.
Risa’s eyes skittered about looking for a hiding place. Back up the stairs?
No, she’d never make it. She squinted trying to see.
Under the table. Yes, that was the best bet.
Suddenly, light flooded the room. She stood frozen, realizing her father had just turned on the lights.
In her peripheral vision, she saw his leg, as he stepped forward, emerging from the hallway.
She closed her eyes.
She wasn’t Risa, she was a cat burglar. The cat burglar. Who could disappear at a moment’s notice.
She couldn’t be seen. Couldn’t be seen. Couldn’t.
Air stirred against her face.
Her eyes flew open, as she watched his back. Slowly he disappeared around the corner.
The bathroom door closed.
Risa let out her breath, unaware she had been holding it. She slipped down the wall, legs giving out. Heart hammering.
She glanced back up the stairs, suddenly desiring nothing more that to jump back in her bed and hide from everything.
But.
She couldn’t go to School.
Standing on shaky legs, Risa clutched her cakey package to her chest and made for the door.
So anyway, this is part one. Please feel free to critique it. I find I have the most trouble with describing where a specific person/ object is, so if you ever feel confused about what is happening, let me know.
Also, its my desire that the reader be drawn into the story, and experience it as if they were the character themselves. Please tell me if you find a part confusing/boring, and let me know when/if your drawn into the story. If you have any tips or suggestions, I would appreciate that as well.
Thank you!
She could smell the colors. The golden walls smelled of fresh honey, oozing from the comb. Her red velvet carpeted floor smelled of hot spice, the spicy candy you couldn’t help but eat. Her white bed, with its frilly laced cover and its canopy of frothy white and pink ribbons, smelled of chilled icing on her birthday cake, delicately layered in thick, mouthwatering sugar. She buried her face in the covers, almost tasting the rich, cold icing.
She was grounded.
She punched the pillow, listening to the children below laughing and eating her birthday cake on her birthday.
So she imagined her bed the icing on the cake, and the walls the drizzling honey caramel, and the carpet the smell of spicy candy, her two favorite toppings for ice cream.
Grumbling, Risa scooted off her bed. To the right of her bed, in the opposite corner, stood her full length mirror, closet, and desk. Across from her lay her mahogany dresser and T.V. with her bedroom door to the right of it. In the left corner sat the rocking chair her mother used to use when Risa was young. Against the wall, next to it, was a book shelf.
Risa made for the bookcase, looking through the dusty textbooks.
She pulled out her favorite, a maths one, and opened it to her favorite story.
It was about a princess and a dragon, with a gallant knight thrown in for good measure.
Her grandfather had given it to her on her 8th birthday, under the guise of a math book.
If her parents ever found out, she’d be grounded for life. That sort of thing was outlawed after all.
Immersing herself within the story, she ignored her growling stomach.
Maybe the maid would save her a piece of cake.
The light coming through the window above her bed began to fade. When the last of the children had left, Risa carefully put the book back amongst the others. She dusted them to ensure it wasn’t obvious that only one had been touched. Then she climbed back onto her bed, clutching her pink frilly dress around her legs, and delicately placing her face upon the tops of her knees, creating the perfect pout.
Her golden curly hair framed her face, blue eyes shimmering slightly with unshed tears. The surest way of avoiding punishment was to create a look of shame and misery.
She was pleased to hear the graceful trod of her mother coming up the stairs.
Her mother did not knock.
Opening the door, Mrs. Elliot Jones stepped through, long dress flowing around her ankles in the popular Victorian style.
“Clarissa.”
She didn’t sound angry which was good. She sounded tired. That was odd.
“Clarissa,” she said again. Stepping through the doorway, Elliot allowed the door to close softly behind her.
Carefully, in that slow, elegant gate, she made her way across the room, settling herself at the foot of the bed, facing Risa.
“Clarissa,” she spoke, “we cannot do this anymore.” She let out a gentle sigh. “you’re getting to old for this. This is your 10th birthday.”
Something in her voice caught Risa’s attention. Why was her mother acting this way?
Elliot passed her hand over her face, shoulders sagging.
“We can’t do this anymore,” her voice was quiet in the room. “Most children grow out of this by the time they turn 5, but this…” she looked up pleadingly. “We thought surely by 10, but then, still…”
Risa’s careful mask of piousness slipped, her repentant face becoming a slight frown.
“It was an accident,” Risa started, “and it’s not like I really did anything—”
“It’s illegal!” her mother’s voice rang harshly in the room. She sighed and massaged the bridge of her nose. “It’s understandable with children…they don’t know what they’re doing. But you can hardly be called a child anymore.”
Risa sat up, alarmed at where this was going. “I won’t do it anymore. I haven’t done it in months! It was just a little slip—“
“No,” her mother spoke firmly, “You shouldn’t have been able to. Your father and I have talked about it. We’re going to have to take extreme measures, I’m afraid.”
An icecicle embedded itself within Risa’s heart.
“Mother, really, I’ll be good. You don’t need to…” things weren’t going well at all.
“No, I’m afraid we do.” Her mother stood up and let out a deep breath. “We’ll have to send you off to School.”
Risa shivered, feeling as if the room had just dropped temperature.
School. The place her friend Amy had been sent to and returned so distant and proper, that she couldn’t even sit cross legged, and could only talk about what “ladies” should do.
School. That her brother had been sent to, who came back with his arm broken, and his back in a cast because of a beating a teacher had given him.
“You can’t be serious,” the dry whisper escaped her throat.
“We don’t know what else to do,” Her mother sighed and shook her head.
“I’ll do anything!” Risa scrambled off her bed, “Really! It won’t happen again!”
“I’m sorry Clarissa,” her mother turned for the door. “You left us no choice.”
* * * * * * * * ** * * *
Risa stared at the piece of cake the maid had left her, head on knees, hands clasped around ankles. Appetite missing.
She wasn’t going to that school.
Even if her mother chained her, threw her in a cellar, and dragged her out on the appointed day, she still wasn’t going.
She closed her eyes and listened. She imagined she was a cat, with huge ears that could hear a mile away.
First, the maids were clearing the table. Then her parents were talking low in their bedroom. The back door shut once, twice, three times as the maids went home. Her parents turned off the light. A small sigh, probably her father, a quiet creak as her mother turned over.
Silence.
Risa opened her eyes, the eerie light of the moon shining through the window above her bed, painting the room in silvery white.
Risa slipped off her bed silently. Her pink, lacy party dress slipped from her body in a quiet whisper.
On went her favorite green frock, with the white petticoats. She opted for knee high white socks instead of hose, and slipped on her most comfortable shoes that buttoned up the side. Her golden curly hair she braided back, like Priscilla, the maid, had shown her.
Into a small handkerchief she wrapped her piece of cake. It was time to go.
Risa paused at the door, suddenly unsure. But what else was she to do?
Opening her door, she quietly slipped out, careful to avoid the squeaky floorboard.
Heart pounding, she made her way down the polished wooden stairs, hand resting on the silver oak banister for support.
Risa squinted in the dark, trying to see but failing.
She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing, waiting for her heart to slow.
She wasn’t Risa. She was a burglar. A cat burglar. Super sharp eyes and quick reflexes, like on that T.V. show. Able to jump from tall buildings and land with a roll. Able to disappear at a moments notice.
The catburglar opened her eyes, confident.
The room before her had a giant table, now empty of presents and cake.
A small pang went through her. She never had gotten to see her presents.
Then she sniffed. She was a cat burglar after all. If she needed something, she could steal it.
The burglar slipped across the room and down the hall, quiet as a snake. She paused and looked down the darkened hallway. Past her parent’s bedroom lay the study, and past that the backdoor.
Her heart quickened. She could almost taste the freedom.
Keeping her breath steady, the cat burglar began the daring crossing past the parent’s bedroom.
A sudden sound caused her to stiffen.
By the floorboard creak, it was her father.
He was coming out.
Heart in mouth, Risa slipped back down the hall and into the room with the table, standing back against the wall.
The oaken door squeaked as it opened.
Risa’s eyes skittered about looking for a hiding place. Back up the stairs?
No, she’d never make it. She squinted trying to see.
Under the table. Yes, that was the best bet.
Suddenly, light flooded the room. She stood frozen, realizing her father had just turned on the lights.
In her peripheral vision, she saw his leg, as he stepped forward, emerging from the hallway.
She closed her eyes.
She wasn’t Risa, she was a cat burglar. The cat burglar. Who could disappear at a moment’s notice.
She couldn’t be seen. Couldn’t be seen. Couldn’t.
Air stirred against her face.
Her eyes flew open, as she watched his back. Slowly he disappeared around the corner.
The bathroom door closed.
Risa let out her breath, unaware she had been holding it. She slipped down the wall, legs giving out. Heart hammering.
She glanced back up the stairs, suddenly desiring nothing more that to jump back in her bed and hide from everything.
But.
She couldn’t go to School.
Standing on shaky legs, Risa clutched her cakey package to her chest and made for the door.