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hathycolDelightfully untitled and quite literally a thousand words long. For me, this is an achievement, and surely that's the very point of NaNo? Unedited, ubetaed, barely skimmed. I present my opening, such as it is. I'm trying to get across an air of Five Children And It but without crazy things like historical accuracy or even a style model as I haven't read that for years and the Eddie Izzard film scares me a little.
When asked when it had all began, they would all give different answers. George, with his curls and smiles, would tell you it began with the curious incidents in the night-time and the forest shifting. Jamie would then furiously protest that no, it had begun the day they moved into the Hawfield Manor. Of course, no one took Jamie seriously – at a little under seven years old and as liable to laugh as cry, he was regarded as quite the baby and had been but five years old at the time the events became truly strange. If you asked Victoria, though, she would look at you with her blue eyes and tell you it truly began the day they heard of Mr Richmond. Given that Victoria was the eldest, the others normally listened to her.
This does not make telling the tale any easier, however. Since asking the protagonists seems fruitless, it may be best to turn our attentions to before it began. For what is better, in story telling, than to give the reader a thorough background so that they may truly know the tale?
They were orphans. That was the fact that bought them together. As far as they knew, they were quite different orphans – no one had ever quite told them the full story, but they seemed to be of different families, and the looks certainly gave that impression. Victoria was the eldest, all dark beauty and blue eyes. Quite the combination, in fact, and one she was not afraid to use to get her way. When they were in the orphanage together, she would bat her eyelids and desperately try to make someone – anyone – take her away from what she termed ‘this horrid place’. Perhaps her desperation showed - the others were too small to remember these days and Victoria certainly would never discuss it. George, on the other hand, was free with talk and smiles, and seemed to be the very light of happiness at any given moment. When asked why no one had come to adopt him, he would give a happy smile and tell you that it wasn’t worth worrying about, because one day he would be a man and free of this place. Despite being younger than Victoria, he sometimes came across as the elder and the wiser. And as for Jamie… what was there to say? Jamie was but the baby. Why no one had adopted him was easy to see. He would squall and cry for his mama. Jamie was the unusual one, though. He, at least, had a mama, or he had once. He wouldn’t tell you what had happened to her, and strict Miss Lucy never gave out details of Before. The young ones always went first, but Jamie wouldn’t take to any of them, nor listen to reason when told that he should go with the kind ladies and gentlemen who were willing to make him a part of their families.
So they ended up together. A fellowship of sorts, nicknamed ‘the unwanted’ by the other children. To a greater or lesser extent, they accepted their roles in life and became friends – George stopped little Jamie from crying in the dormitory at night, and Victoria tried to act as a mama as best she could during the day. It was a curious arrangement, but for the time, it seemed to work. A year, maybe two passed. They were not exactly happy, but it was the most the unwanted could possibly hope for. Then the worst possible thing happened.
Victoria reached fourteen.
It is a curious law in our land that whilst girls of the gentry and even the working class can stay with their parents as long as they wish, our kind and benevolent King and Government wishes rid of such inconveniences by the age of fourteen and finds them useful employment.
Needless to say, it was not a happy birthday. Little Jamie cried, although there was no change there, and George tried to make her grin with jokes and even a song he had made himself, but Victoria simply would not smile.
“Please cheer up, Victoria,” he begged in the end.
“Why should I cheer up? In two days time, Miss Lucy is going to pack me off to some dreadful job as a scullery maid where everyone and everything will know that I am just an orphan. Even the cat will know me as the orphan girl,” she snapped, blue eyes flashing angrily.
“There’ll be a cat?” cried Jamie happily. “Can we come and visit you and the cat?”
(Miss Lucy didn’t allow animals in the home.)
“Yes, Jamie, of course we can go and visit Victoria. And the cat,” said George with a smile. He turned to Victoria. “See? You’ll see us, at least.”
“They won’t allow me guests,” she said despondently. “They’ll probably just keep me prisoner and make me cook and clean and scrub all the day long. I’ll end up like… like… like Marie!” she said with a look of almost ghoulish triumph. Marie was the cook in the home. It was quietly joked within the home that she had eaten a lemon as a child, and that was why she was all shrivelled up and cried a lot of time. Either way, she was unmarried and seemed to spend her entire life in the kitchen.
“Don’t be silly, Victoria,” said George sharply, looking pointedly at Jamie who looked as though he might start weeping. Then George grinned. “You can’t cook, anyway.”
Marie was, at least, able to cook. Victoria had never showed much aptitude.
Thoughts, comment, tomatoes, all welcome. I may actually get this buggar for 10,000 by the end of the month.
~Hathy_Col~
When asked when it had all began, they would all give different answers. George, with his curls and smiles, would tell you it began with the curious incidents in the night-time and the forest shifting. Jamie would then furiously protest that no, it had begun the day they moved into the Hawfield Manor. Of course, no one took Jamie seriously – at a little under seven years old and as liable to laugh as cry, he was regarded as quite the baby and had been but five years old at the time the events became truly strange. If you asked Victoria, though, she would look at you with her blue eyes and tell you it truly began the day they heard of Mr Richmond. Given that Victoria was the eldest, the others normally listened to her.
This does not make telling the tale any easier, however. Since asking the protagonists seems fruitless, it may be best to turn our attentions to before it began. For what is better, in story telling, than to give the reader a thorough background so that they may truly know the tale?
They were orphans. That was the fact that bought them together. As far as they knew, they were quite different orphans – no one had ever quite told them the full story, but they seemed to be of different families, and the looks certainly gave that impression. Victoria was the eldest, all dark beauty and blue eyes. Quite the combination, in fact, and one she was not afraid to use to get her way. When they were in the orphanage together, she would bat her eyelids and desperately try to make someone – anyone – take her away from what she termed ‘this horrid place’. Perhaps her desperation showed - the others were too small to remember these days and Victoria certainly would never discuss it. George, on the other hand, was free with talk and smiles, and seemed to be the very light of happiness at any given moment. When asked why no one had come to adopt him, he would give a happy smile and tell you that it wasn’t worth worrying about, because one day he would be a man and free of this place. Despite being younger than Victoria, he sometimes came across as the elder and the wiser. And as for Jamie… what was there to say? Jamie was but the baby. Why no one had adopted him was easy to see. He would squall and cry for his mama. Jamie was the unusual one, though. He, at least, had a mama, or he had once. He wouldn’t tell you what had happened to her, and strict Miss Lucy never gave out details of Before. The young ones always went first, but Jamie wouldn’t take to any of them, nor listen to reason when told that he should go with the kind ladies and gentlemen who were willing to make him a part of their families.
So they ended up together. A fellowship of sorts, nicknamed ‘the unwanted’ by the other children. To a greater or lesser extent, they accepted their roles in life and became friends – George stopped little Jamie from crying in the dormitory at night, and Victoria tried to act as a mama as best she could during the day. It was a curious arrangement, but for the time, it seemed to work. A year, maybe two passed. They were not exactly happy, but it was the most the unwanted could possibly hope for. Then the worst possible thing happened.
Victoria reached fourteen.
It is a curious law in our land that whilst girls of the gentry and even the working class can stay with their parents as long as they wish, our kind and benevolent King and Government wishes rid of such inconveniences by the age of fourteen and finds them useful employment.
Needless to say, it was not a happy birthday. Little Jamie cried, although there was no change there, and George tried to make her grin with jokes and even a song he had made himself, but Victoria simply would not smile.
“Please cheer up, Victoria,” he begged in the end.
“Why should I cheer up? In two days time, Miss Lucy is going to pack me off to some dreadful job as a scullery maid where everyone and everything will know that I am just an orphan. Even the cat will know me as the orphan girl,” she snapped, blue eyes flashing angrily.
“There’ll be a cat?” cried Jamie happily. “Can we come and visit you and the cat?”
(Miss Lucy didn’t allow animals in the home.)
“Yes, Jamie, of course we can go and visit Victoria. And the cat,” said George with a smile. He turned to Victoria. “See? You’ll see us, at least.”
“They won’t allow me guests,” she said despondently. “They’ll probably just keep me prisoner and make me cook and clean and scrub all the day long. I’ll end up like… like… like Marie!” she said with a look of almost ghoulish triumph. Marie was the cook in the home. It was quietly joked within the home that she had eaten a lemon as a child, and that was why she was all shrivelled up and cried a lot of time. Either way, she was unmarried and seemed to spend her entire life in the kitchen.
“Don’t be silly, Victoria,” said George sharply, looking pointedly at Jamie who looked as though he might start weeping. Then George grinned. “You can’t cook, anyway.”
Marie was, at least, able to cook. Victoria had never showed much aptitude.
Thoughts, comment, tomatoes, all welcome. I may actually get this buggar for 10,000 by the end of the month.
~Hathy_Col~
