Salypsio
This is the begining of a story I wanted to write when I was 14. It isnt particularly delicous at the moment, but I am thinking of revising to plot and writing more, for lack of other things to do.
The butter knife lay on the cream colored tray, and the candles from outside reflected off of it, sending a glittering light throughout the room. The toast beside it was cold and dry and Deraes, leaning back in her chair, lips pouted, let out a long sigh. The clock showed it was midday, but the outside suggested otherwise, the water in the small pond was dark, as well as the ground, and the trees were bare of any leaves, their frail branches nearly snapping in the rain. Deraes leaned forward again; inspiration in her eyes, and began to draw. Each line had to fit perfectly with what she saw in her head; each detail must be in place for it to work, she leaned back again, half a tree drawn in her paper. Then, her hands in fists of frustration, she turned her chair around and half jumped, half walked, over and onto her gold-sheeted bed.
It was nearly time for lunch, but until then she planned to just draw close the curtains of her bed and read by candlelight. She slipped off her shoes and pulled the drapes, then, lighting her candle, she picked up her book, Calister by Alanna Kariniar. Each page filled Deraes with inspiration, but not hope, Deraes didn’t need hope. In Deraes’s world, there was no need for hope; her family was the richest in all of Charan. She didn’t need to worry about anything else, she had home, and that’s all she needed.
A few hours later there was a tentative knock at the door.
“Yes?” Deraes sighed.
“Its Tara”, said the quiet voice of her sister.
“Come in”, she said, happy to have company on such a dark day. Parting the curtains as Tara stepped inside, Deraes stood up and put on a large smile. Tara had always been one of Deraes’s` favorite sisters out of the 10, and Fogs, her favorite brother out of the three. Though her sisters and brothers were great, her father was not so much. He didn’t really like his children too much; at least Deraes didn’t think so. And though the children didn’t talk about it, they knew that he had killed their mother and their five other step moms. Right now he had a wife named Fajilina, and she had been around for a while. Deraes would have thought before, that knowing your father killed your various mothers would be terrifying, but now that it was out and she knew all about it, it just didn’t seem so awful somehow.
Tara looked at Deraes and smiled excitedly.
“Can you just not wait for the party!” she exclaimed finally. Deraes did an over dramatic sigh and rolled her eyes but was laughing.
“What ELSE am I permitted to think about?” Deraes said in a sarcastic voice, Tara laughed.
“I am just so overly exited,” Tara again giggled, “nothing ever happens here”.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Deraes, said in a falsely serious voice.
“Last night when Troy laughed during father’s dinner speech, my whole day was made.” Tara laughed, “I am serious though, it’s going to be fun.”
“Well-” Deraes reasoned.
“Oh my god, you totally have to where your new gold dress,” Tara interrupted.
“Now, now,” Deraes said in a mockly harshful tone. “We mustn’t get hasty, I’ve not even a clue what dress you are speaking of.”
November, November.
Sweet, sweet November
Everyone dancing
With silk dresses
And suits
November, November
Sweet, Sweet November
The trees almost bare
And the leaves
They swirl
With the wind
And her hair
November, November
Sweet, Sweet November
Lovely long gloves
Soft silky doves
So chilly
Must snuggle
Under the street lights
November, November
Sweet, Sweet November
Everyone giggling
For soon comes the dance
They all look like dolls
In a jewelry box
And everyone
Will watch.
November, November
Sweet, sweet November
Forever and forever
Please never
Leave me
November
~^~ Tavla ~^~
Deraes carefully folded the letter and placed it in a drawer in her desk. Deraes had been receiving these letters for some time now, and each was written in a strange way about strange things, such as dresses, or bells, or dancing, or weather, but especially November. Almost all of them were written beautifully and Deraes received one ever other week and someone named Tavla wrote all of them. At first, Deraes was surprised and scared that someone had sent her these letters, but after a while, she began to look forward to them.
Just as Deraes shut the drawer, someone knocked at the door.
“Who is it?” Deraes asked.
“It’s Bye”.
Deraes sighed, “What do you want”?
“I just have your new dress miss”.
“What new dress” she questioned, sitting up and opening the door.
“The one Master Laceris bought you”.
Father bought me a dress? She thought, opening the door to her timid maid Bye. She handed her a long tight gold silk dress.
“Thank you Bye,” she said to her maid, shutting the door and laying the dress across her bed. Each fiber of it seemed to flow over her hands like water as she laid it on her bed. It was a gold silk dress with glittering lace for sleeves and a beaded design of water drops in the front, done in red so they looked more like blood drops than anything else. She decided to try it on, slipping it over her head, she tied up the back laces and, wrapped her hair up in a tight knot at the back of her head, she looked in the mirror, a smile crossing her face. Well now I know what dress dear Tara was speaking of. It was a beautiful dress made of flowing gold silk with cream-colored lace sleeves and beautiful embroidery at the bottom…
The butter knife lay on the cream colored tray, and the candles from outside reflected off of it, sending a glittering light throughout the room. The toast beside it was cold and dry and Deraes, leaning back in her chair, lips pouted, let out a long sigh. The clock showed it was midday, but the outside suggested otherwise, the water in the small pond was dark, as well as the ground, and the trees were bare of any leaves, their frail branches nearly snapping in the rain. Deraes leaned forward again; inspiration in her eyes, and began to draw. Each line had to fit perfectly with what she saw in her head; each detail must be in place for it to work, she leaned back again, half a tree drawn in her paper. Then, her hands in fists of frustration, she turned her chair around and half jumped, half walked, over and onto her gold-sheeted bed.
It was nearly time for lunch, but until then she planned to just draw close the curtains of her bed and read by candlelight. She slipped off her shoes and pulled the drapes, then, lighting her candle, she picked up her book, Calister by Alanna Kariniar. Each page filled Deraes with inspiration, but not hope, Deraes didn’t need hope. In Deraes’s world, there was no need for hope; her family was the richest in all of Charan. She didn’t need to worry about anything else, she had home, and that’s all she needed.
A few hours later there was a tentative knock at the door.
“Yes?” Deraes sighed.
“Its Tara”, said the quiet voice of her sister.
“Come in”, she said, happy to have company on such a dark day. Parting the curtains as Tara stepped inside, Deraes stood up and put on a large smile. Tara had always been one of Deraes’s` favorite sisters out of the 10, and Fogs, her favorite brother out of the three. Though her sisters and brothers were great, her father was not so much. He didn’t really like his children too much; at least Deraes didn’t think so. And though the children didn’t talk about it, they knew that he had killed their mother and their five other step moms. Right now he had a wife named Fajilina, and she had been around for a while. Deraes would have thought before, that knowing your father killed your various mothers would be terrifying, but now that it was out and she knew all about it, it just didn’t seem so awful somehow.
Tara looked at Deraes and smiled excitedly.
“Can you just not wait for the party!” she exclaimed finally. Deraes did an over dramatic sigh and rolled her eyes but was laughing.
“What ELSE am I permitted to think about?” Deraes said in a sarcastic voice, Tara laughed.
“I am just so overly exited,” Tara again giggled, “nothing ever happens here”.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Deraes, said in a falsely serious voice.
“Last night when Troy laughed during father’s dinner speech, my whole day was made.” Tara laughed, “I am serious though, it’s going to be fun.”
“Well-” Deraes reasoned.
“Oh my god, you totally have to where your new gold dress,” Tara interrupted.
“Now, now,” Deraes said in a mockly harshful tone. “We mustn’t get hasty, I’ve not even a clue what dress you are speaking of.”
November, November.
Sweet, sweet November
Everyone dancing
With silk dresses
And suits
November, November
Sweet, Sweet November
The trees almost bare
And the leaves
They swirl
With the wind
And her hair
November, November
Sweet, Sweet November
Lovely long gloves
Soft silky doves
So chilly
Must snuggle
Under the street lights
November, November
Sweet, Sweet November
Everyone giggling
For soon comes the dance
They all look like dolls
In a jewelry box
And everyone
Will watch.
November, November
Sweet, sweet November
Forever and forever
Please never
Leave me
November
~^~ Tavla ~^~
Deraes carefully folded the letter and placed it in a drawer in her desk. Deraes had been receiving these letters for some time now, and each was written in a strange way about strange things, such as dresses, or bells, or dancing, or weather, but especially November. Almost all of them were written beautifully and Deraes received one ever other week and someone named Tavla wrote all of them. At first, Deraes was surprised and scared that someone had sent her these letters, but after a while, she began to look forward to them.
Just as Deraes shut the drawer, someone knocked at the door.
“Who is it?” Deraes asked.
“It’s Bye”.
Deraes sighed, “What do you want”?
“I just have your new dress miss”.
“What new dress” she questioned, sitting up and opening the door.
“The one Master Laceris bought you”.
Father bought me a dress? She thought, opening the door to her timid maid Bye. She handed her a long tight gold silk dress.
“Thank you Bye,” she said to her maid, shutting the door and laying the dress across her bed. Each fiber of it seemed to flow over her hands like water as she laid it on her bed. It was a gold silk dress with glittering lace for sleeves and a beaded design of water drops in the front, done in red so they looked more like blood drops than anything else. She decided to try it on, slipping it over her head, she tied up the back laces and, wrapped her hair up in a tight knot at the back of her head, she looked in the mirror, a smile crossing her face. Well now I know what dress dear Tara was speaking of. It was a beautiful dress made of flowing gold silk with cream-colored lace sleeves and beautiful embroidery at the bottom…
posted by Anonymous Bitch at 4:14 PM
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