LindaLeigh

Emile continued to me lead up the stairs to an empty platform of the train station. I followed quietly. I could still smell my mother’s perfume.

I sat down on a hard wooden bench just a few inches from Emile.

“I saw you walk into that Sanctuary”, he started, “. . . I was going to stop you but I thought you had a right to see for yourself.”

This seems like a good friend thing to do. I wish I would have written more Emile.

“Was it real ?”

“Yes, Clara. but-”

“Why didn’t anyone tell me—“

“Clara listen. Although it may look wonderful it’s anything but. You see Specters allow us to visit Earth—but”, he was making sure I was listening, “only for a short time … then you have to make a choice.”

He was speaking in hushed tones, he practically spat the word ‘Specters’.

“The choice”, he continued, “Is to stay here or go back to Earth as a ghost or Specter... forever.”

I was listening to him, but not quiet processing on what he was telling me. I was still stuck on my parents and their grief.

“Emile”, I held his hand, “You know I’d give anything to go back. . . I’m alone here and  a maid here.”

“You’ll live forever on Earth watching, seeing, feeling but never being apart. You may meet another Specter but it’s inevitable.”

“What is?”

“They grow tired, lonely and take it out on humans and cause terrible things to happen.”

Muse : Hmmmm

“I would never—“

“They always do. They want so much to have some form of our lives back they don’t think of the consequences.”

Muse : Hmmmmmmmm

I didn’t want to hear this, I didn’t want to believe that it was some critical decision to want to spend another 5 seconds alone with my parents.

Something Ms. Ginger had said slowly came back to me.

My grandmother had "Moved on".

I thought of every comforting chill, or when I thought I heard her voice or thought I caught a glimpse of her.

“My grandmother”, I said, “That’s why she isn’t here. . . are you telling me she's a ghost ?”

Emile looked up and past me with a grim face, I turned to see Mr. Fierro standing behind me. He was not at all pleased, a brimmed hat was pulled low over his eyes.

Cause Mr. F is a little self-conscious.

“I told her”,  Emile told him, “She went ins--.”

“You”, I started attacking Mr. Fierro’s coat pockets, “You looted my grandmother’s house and stole her watch.”

I pulled the watch from his coat and sure enough there was solid gold “L” engraved into the surface of the pocket watch.

“Lucie DeLune”, I said my Grandmother’s name.

I opened the watch, the hands were  perfectly still, and set at the wrong time.

That’s because it’s broken and something is hidden behind it. Oh, a stopped watch = symbolism. Right ? Right ?

Mr. Fierro snatched the watch from me so fast it almost closed around my finger.

“Emile”, he said looking over me, “Your train is boarding.”

“Clara ?”, Emile asked, “Why don’t you see me off.”

Muse : wait did he say see or ge---

LiLe : Really ?

Once again I quietly followed Emile back to a busy platform and I could not shake the feeling that I had done something wrong.

Emile sat his luggage down as the steam engine train started to pull in.

“It wasn’t your grandmother's”, he said, “The watch”

“Oh, God”, I was certainly out of a job.

oh, um Retconned

“I know you don’t understand Clara but. . .”, he looked around, “Promise you won't tell Mr. Fierro  I told you something, and maybe it will make this time without me a little easier.. . and explain somethings.”

“I Promise”

“Mr. Fierro was in love once. . .not long ago. She was beautiful and saw past his. .. appearances. As much as she loved him it was not enough. She decided to become a Specter and until Mr. Fierro is ready to give up his humanity  and join her  . . .they will never be together again.”

So, when I outline I basically creat one central event and list all the reveals that will take place. Then I write up how those characters have stakes in the reveals. That section was basically paragraph one of his character motivations.

“That’s terrible.”, was all I could say.

It explained a lot, but not everything. 

Now I was more sold on the Lucie/Fierro train, but I was hesitant.

+++

 

Nightfall was far from the fairytale I thought I had woken up to.

Much like the world I had left there was always a divide; good and bad, right and wrong. Perhaps left and right ?

Loyalist and Specters

I closed the dusty spine on the old history book and rubbed my eyes. I had spent all night at the Litany Village Library skimming every history or text book I could get my hands on.

Nightfall’s written history went back 600 years. As far as I could read the The Bordeaux family had ruled as a Monarchy, Nightfall’s history, at best, was peaceful but between the lines there was an obvious unrest.

The souls that inhabited Nightfall had one rite before committing themselves fully to death. That is to inhabit the Earth they had left behind a second chance to watch their loved ones grow and move on.

Throughout the years a handful of people are trained to usher souls between this world and Earth.

This practice went on for centuries, peacefully, until the Loyalist showed up in the early 1800’s.

 Late colonist, revolutionaries and philosophers, Loyalist believed in fierce loyalty to Nightfall and unveiled the unnamed terrors Specters had caused on Earth.

There had been short revolts and riots which lead to nothing more than people choosing sides. There was very little pertaining to recent years. It appeared the war between the Specters and Loyalist had remained a cold war for some time..

 I silently creeped out the library as the streets lights clicked off and the sun began to rise. I waved to shopkeepers opening up for the day. I wanted to dally in town but I hoped I still had a job to get to.

I have mixed feelings about this chapter. I like the idea of the dead CHOOSING to become ghost only to realize that it’s awful and I like the idea that people are for and against it. On the other hand I wish I hadn’t directly involved the characters in it.

I thought it made since that Patriots would belive in allegiance to your country which is why I leaned on Mr. F being so 1700’s-ish.

I pedaled slowly back to Litany Lane and circled around the neighborhood  a few times before returning my bike to my yard.

After quickly showering and changing clothes I cautiously entered Mr. Fierro’s home.

Okay, Emile’s out the picture let’s see what we can do here.

Peeking through the backdoor I could see Kayla was outside playing in the garden. The gate was unlocked so he must be home.

I jumped as a shrill telephone ring came from the kitchen.

Ducking into the parlor with the duster I heard Mr. Fierro hurry down the stairs and pick up the telephone.

“Yes ?”, he said into the receiver, “Of course. . . Thank you,”

He hung up slowly and hesitantly. I waited for him to come out when I head the clattering of cups and spoons. He was making coffee

Look at Mr. F being all independent and what not. This is totally doing it for Clara.

I wondered if I should announce my presence or sneak out and spend the day at home, of course Kayla had already seen me.

I moved the coffee table  and carefully stood on it so I could dust the chandelier, the little glass shingles sounded like bells as the duster tickled them. My shoes threatened to break the glass cover but I hoped they wouldn't

Mr. Fierro appeared at the doorway, he had a half finished cup of coffee in his hand held to his lips. He watched me closely with growing disapproval.

Muse : Please, she is standing on a table stretching to reach the chandelier. It’s not disapproval he is growing with.

LiLe : Just no.

“Ms. DeLune”, He appeared at the door way, “Do not stand on my table.”

“I’m sorry, Sir”

He turned away but hesitated for second

He had heard it in my voice, I wasn't talking about the table. I knew what it was like to be separated from the ones you loved

The wall he had put up was apparent , but not yet showing the pain it covered.

I stepped off the table and placed it back in the corner. Sitting on the edge of the table I took a closer look at my surroundings.

 I couldn’t imagine a woman living here or anyone really. Except for Emile’s room everything was always in it’s perfect place, the house didn’t look at all lived in. it was as if time stood still.

It was as if he was waiting for her to come back.

): Lucie/Fierro FTW

Mr. Fierro returned to the living room setting down a stack of papers on the table, he quietly ignored me while I dusted every clock, vase and painting in the room.

Look, he’s sitting in the same room as her. Someone is opening up or being slightly perverted. Whatevs.

The only sound was the ticking of the clock.

“You’re a Loyalist aren’t you?”, I asked, “I read all about them.”

It was if I hadn’t said a word.

I continued, “You think my grandmother is a bad person because she wants to be with her family again. You know where I’m from people value the right to choose.”

I heard the faint scratching of pen so I knew he was still there.

“I’d almost forgotten what my mother looked like”, I told him, “she was so beautiful, even when she was crying. I’d give anything to--”

Hug her again. Was what she was going to say

 

“What of the humans, Ms. DeLune ?”, I felt him standing behind me, “What choice do they have ? Every relentless evil haunting and sleepless nights, the cold air of an ungodly creature surrounding you. . . and those desperate dark souls who so wish to be human again, reach in and try to posses an innocent body till they are thwarted out to seek their next victim.”

Muse : Oh, what a great plot idea, Mr. F. This is happening.

LiLe : Yeah , but I’d have to do it with new characters.

Muse : Unless . . .

 

I turned around not expecting him to be standing so close to me, his colorless eyes seemed darker and vacant as usual.

“They are called history books for a reason”, he said taking his papers and leaving, “get out”, he ordered

“I’m sorr-“

“Get out”, He snatched the duster from me and hurled it out the door. He led me out by the arm and drew the doors shut.

I was going to pay for that.

Well that’s what you get for making him think of Lucie and how they are never going to be together again ): . Also this is alot like a scene in Beauty and The Beast. I guess this would make Emile the clock since we know the candle was straight.

Weird sentence

 

+++

 

I dug the tip of my toes in the dirt and holding on to the fraying strings I twisted the ropes around one more time, before lifting my feet off the ground and letting the swing quickly unswivled.

Because there is something about adults on swings that screams redemption and reflection on youth or something. There has to be a trope for this . . . TRAUMA SWING.

“Push me, Ms. Clara.”, Kayla called.

I suffered from a bit of vertigo as I made my way over to the swing Kayla was sitting on.

“No to high, okay”, she said

“Is this good”, I pushed it a little but I could tell her heart wasn’t in it.

We had snuck away  to a little park that was located in the back of one of the deserted houses at the far end of Litany Lane. It was on top of a hill and I could still see my house if I went up high enough.

I had been watching Kayla from my spot on the ground getting more reading done, when She had goaded me into joining her on the swings.

Oh, there is a playground in the afterlife. Fun times.

“Are you getting tired ?”, I asked her

“No”, she rubbed her eyes, but I knew she couldn’t be tired. It was all in her head. Ms. Ginger seemed to think it was best to keep her schedule as normal as we could.

But I wondered how long it would last. Till she realized she didn’t  need to sleep or eat, it was all just psychological.

“Well, I am. Let’s head back.”

“Ms. Clara ?”

“Yes ?”. I hated when she asked me questions.

“What happened to the man that took me ?”

In the 2 months I had  been in Nightfall I learned everyone had their way of avoiding the unpleaseant. Ms. Ginger and Emile liked to change the subject. Mr. Fierro liked to ignore it and occasionally the old man at the clothing shop would go on tangents about other things.

I stopped mid step and reached down to pick up my shoes.

“Hey, I’ll race you back to Ms. Ginger’s”

Before she could agree I started off running at a slow pace down the hill, she quickly followed and took the lead which I preferred anyways.

We both made it to Ms. Ginger’s front door at the same time. Ms. Ginger was waiting outside when we arrived.

“Are you staying for dinner, Clara ?”, Ms. Ginger asked

“Yes”

I was planning on staying for dinner and then some.

No idea what I was going with here. I just needed some filler ? Or I saw a picture of a swing.

 

+++

 

After Kayla had been put to bed Ms. Ginger and I settled into her TV room.

“So”, I said, “were you going to tell me about the Specters ?”

“It’s so unpleasant”, she said adding some more water to her plants, “It didn’t really effect Litany Lane until your grandmother—“

“And Mr. Fierro’s girlfriend”

“How did you find out about her ?”, she asked

Oh, right Clara doesn’t realize that he was married. Also Ms. Gingers says “her” and not  “them”

“Emile”, I said simply, “You’ve lived here for 20 years and never thought to tell me any of this? What was she like?”

“All I’m going to say is that they were very much in love.”

She practically told her at this point

“What was her name?”

“Well, I knew her as Mrs. Fierro”

I choked on my lemon water.

“He was married?”

Now she knows.

“To think Emile’s a writer and didn’t tell you the full story”, she found it very humorous.

“I had no idea”

“It’s not at very happy story”, she said.

We sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Did you know I was engaged ?”, I asked.

“No… but I’m not surprised.”

This scene is a little short but it shows that Clierro had been in serious relationships before being parted. Now they have something in common. Bonding in 3. . .2. . .1

 

+++

 

 

 

“I want them all removed, Ms. DeLune”

I nodded as I looked at the large tasks before me.

“Yes, Mr. Fierro”

“I will not have thorns on my roses, if I find even one tomorrow I will dock your pay.”

or not.

I opened my mouth to protest, but that was what had gotten me here in the first place. I was getting closer to the piano and more importantly out of the monster’s house.

Okay we have roses which equal beauty and love. We are removing the thorns hmmm, I know there is some symbolism somewhere.

Three days had passed since Emile left and I was counting down the hours till I wouldn’ t have to be alone with Mr. Fierro. This morning he had decided to dull out my punishment for talking back to him.

He watched as I took the sharp knife and held on of the bushes carefully shearing away the thorns when the thin stem snapped. One down, hundreds of thousands left to go.

“I can’t do this”, I had already given up, “just dock my pay.”

He sighed with frustration

“Ms. DeLune what do I pay you for ?”

“To be your maid.” I answered

“And what does a domestic worker like yourself do ?”

I wanted to tell him that I didn’t know because I had never been nor personally hired a maid before, but instead I went back to work.

“When you are finished wait for me in the kitchen.”

“Yes, sir”, I said

When the last bush was done I went inside and scrubbed my hands and face clean. I peeked into the piano room to look in the mirror I noticed my hair had grown past my shoulders, but nothing else about my appearance had changed.

And it never would.

I took my time walking back towards the kitchen thinking over every painting, decoration and room I cleaned. Trying to find a hint of the newlyweds who must have lived here.

For the first time since I arrived I thought of Peter Moratti.

Okay, this is an info dump about a random character.

Born and raised in Italy Peter was almost as brilliant of a musician as I was. He’d mastered the viola and violin by the age of ten. At fifteen his parents sent him to the one place where his gift could be nourished.

The DeLune Academy of Rochester, my family's dynasty.

My father had introduced us just before morning classes. I learned he was living in one of the most expensive dorms on campus and like me came from old money.

Like old money. Like since the Roman empire money.

We shared a bench in Classical Theory and a desk in Chemistry.

Peter quickly became one of the popular kids at school, while I kept my status as the President’s daughter spending time with other trustee’s kids.

Our families had, unbeknownst to us, been very close, so Peter was often invited to the Big House on the hill for dinner. We dated for a month but over the years he would come over to spend time with  my sister’s and I, and when Clarice and Claudia went to college it was just the two of us for a year.

Clara’s family home is later retconned to not be on the campus like it’s indicated here.

After graduation Peter went on to the DeLune Conservatory of Rome while I went to University of Rochester. We often e-mailed and visited during summer holidays and family trips.

Peter was beyond handsome with dark hair and emerald green eyes, he was classical handsome and intelligent.

He’s a catch. I should have pulled a Stephanie Meyer and made him gay so Emile could have somebody. Couples ever after.

While I was finishing up my Master’s my mother began to worry about my well being and happiness. She urged how important it was that I share my life with someone.

Peter felt the same way and no sooner had I finished my Master’s we were engaged. He moved to Manhattan and we saw each other every other weekend.

We laughed at how our mother’s doted over wedding plans and spent late nights planning out lives together.

Maybe we would have had a house like this and filled it with pictures and our most prized possessions. Maybe even have dinner parties with our college friends.

And other WASPY things. Wait, Clara is Catholic. Forget I said anything.

Maybe

.“Ms. DeLune”, I jumped at the sound of Mr. Fierro’s voice, “You may join me in the parlor.”

I took my time following him and sat on the couch across from him. With a quick flick of a switch the fireplace roared to life.

“I guess it is getting cold”, I commented. . . I was nervous and still thinking about Peter.

“Ms. DeLune, I have an offer for you.” he adjusted the decorative plates on the mantle, keeping his back to me.

“Really ?”,

Muse : Awwww, yeah *saxophone*

LiLe : Not what you think. I needed a change of scenery.

“I will be going to the City of Bordeaux next week. Emile will be meeting me there.  I want you to accompany me. Additionally if you do your job properly I will compensate you for the rest of our contract.”

“I’ll do it”, I didn’t even think twice

“Very well”, he seemed pleased.

Mr. F POV : This way I can pay her off and get rid of her without making it look like I am. Obviously having her close and torturing her just isn’t giving me any satisfaction. She just brings up things I don’t want to think about.

“Do you want me to stay ?”, I wasn’t quite sure where that came from but for the first time it looked as if I had caught him of guard so I continued., “With Emile gone I know how lonely these big houses can ge—“

“. . . good night, Ms. DeLune”

He didn’t say no

He turned off the fireplace and made his way to his bedroom.

 

+++

 

Autumn came silently to Litany Lane. I hadn’t expected to see the leaves change color and fall from the trees . Emile’s one week vacation had quickly turned into two.

I was surprised to receive a letter from Emile telling me he was doing well and that being in a new environment had fueled his urgency to finish the book.

Although there was never a shortage of task for Mr. Fierro to give me, I still kept everything rather light and honestly could have put more effort into it.

I was growing homesick, tired of playing the working girl and wanted to settle back into my life of being taken care of, financially anyway.

Kneeling in the cool dirt of Mr. Fierro’s garden I used the kitchen shears to carefully remove some Old English roses from the ground and arranged them in the white vase I'd found in the cupboard.

Mr. Fierro had been busy preparing for his upcoming trip. From what I could tell this had something to do with Emile’s book but apart from that he kept me in the dark.

Once the flowers were artfully arranged I carried the heavy vase back through the backdoor , leaving my shoes by the door. I continued to the piano room and placed the vase so it was facing the window and mirror.

Getting all comfortable cutting the flowers and finding vases. She is also not wearing shoes and such

I took a seat at the forbidden piano and toyed with the petals of the flowers, letting some of them fall onto the keyboard.

I was incurably lonely.

This was the synopsis of this chapter. I wanted to show Clara being sad.

“Ms. DeLune ?”

I could hear the disapproval in his voice before he spoke, but I didn’t care today.

Taking a deep breath I stood up ready to hear my lecture about breaking his rules.

“Yes, Sir ?”

Mr. Fierro was as always handsomely dressed considering the large amount of time he spent shut away in his home office.He turned on his heels and motioned for me to follow. I did so almost too adamantly.

I followed him into the living room not quite sure what was left to clean.

“Sit”, he ordered pointing to the Settee in the corner.

I didn’t respond but followed his directions.

“Ms. Delune, we will be leaving for The City of Bordeaux soon. As I am sure you have gathered this is a business trip. It is important to convey considerable respect and I—“

“Please, Mr. Fierro, it’s almost seven. Could you hurry this along ?”

If he was shocked by my outburst he didn’t let it show. I just wanted to crawl under the covers and sleep.

“I would appreciate it if you dressed appropriately and mind your behavior, if possible.”

He was scolding me like a child, as if he was somehow better than me.

“I am perfectly capable of dressing myself.”

He handed me the white envelope that was in his hands.

“Money ?”

“No  more hand-me downs, Ms. DeLune. Good Night”

“I don’t need your money”, I protested

“I have been withholding twenty percent from your wages and now I am giving it to you. It’s quite simple”

I didn’t know how to respond, this had been the closest thing to a conversation we’d had since we first met.

“Good night, Mr. Fierro”

 

+++

 

“Oh, yes ! I love it”

“It’s. . .very pink ?”

I turned around in the three way mirror, scrutinizing the hot pink sheath dress the sales woman had talked me into trying on.

It was short just above the knees but if fit perfectly, It was a bit short and very loud but I had just wanted to try it on.

“Well, I still love it !”, said the sales woman again

“Do you think it’s appropriate”, I asked

“It certainly is for you. Why don’t you think about it ?”

I nodded as she walked off. Staring into the  mirrors I could see myself very clear.

The truth was I hadn’t changed much physically, since arriving something that was beginning to irk me.

“Melanie ? Melanie ! here is an open one.”

I froze as two girls entered the dressing room I quickly ducked into my fitting room. One of those girls had looked very familiar.

“I just think he is very odd.” said Melanie’s Friend

“You think everyone is odd, Carla.”

“He lives in the big creepy house and what kind of man keeps roses ?”, continued Carla

Peeking through the opening in the door, I saw two petite blondes in the dressing mirror, as Melanie  twirled in the mirror I  recognized her as the Bordeaux girl who had visited with Mr. Fierro.

“Your just jealous”, concluded Melanie

 "You have heard the rumors. . . now those are odd.”, Carla retorted.

I heard the clanking of hangers and zippers as they stepped out in new dresses. I could see Melanie was in the pink one I was wearing.

“You say odd. . . I say romantic.”

Yeah, marrying a woman 3 times your age is so romantic.  I’m not sure if I’m being serious or not.

They left the subject and chatted about their dresses once they left I quietly emerged.

“Oh,  are you still trying this on ?”, the sales woman snuck up on me.

“oh . . .um, I’ll take it.”

Rumors ?

It seemed maybe there was a little more to learn about Litany Lane.

And the dress was never heard from again. Even though it had plenty of UST-y potential.

http://lindaleighblog.blogspot.com/2010/01/whats-going-on-kayla-first-off-i.html - I'm apologize if past!lile and JB nauseate you with their hearts.