Skip to main content

The morning passed in a confusing whirl of names and faces until Cassandra had met almost everyone in the laboratory.

But she had still not yet seen the wolves.

She was only too grateful to find the little coffee shop where she had had her interview with Dr. Thorn-and it was almost surprising to encounter people that smiled in return at her, or took any notice of her.

"The world of humans," she said to herself, "is a strange and varied one. It must be the myriad of professions and experiences that makes them so different from each other." She took a slow, lasting breath as her eyes combed the cafe menu, written in pastel-colored chalk. "I am not doing this for fun. I have to remember that. When I see the wolves it will be different."

The coffee shop was bustling with life at noon. Wonderful aromas lifted from the coffee roaster, while the oven was redolent with smells of rising dough and sugar.

She took a seat by the window and watched two young women around her age having a chat and sharing a plate of pastries. She felt an unfamiliar pang as she remembered the special times she had shared with her friend Eliza-before she had fallen victim to human violence. Would she ever meet such a sweet spirit again?

"I like the way you look and dress," Mahalia had pronounced after a once-over. "You're obviously not one of those gothic people like Scar-like Dr. Thorn."

Cassandra felt herself shrink minimally at the charge. Dr. Thorn was not quite out of earshot-and Mahalia might be mistaken. Cassandra worshipped at the altar of Dianna-so a worshipper of Yeshua, as she plainly was by the large cross about her neck-might not look upon her kindly. She was glad she had taken advice of an antique etiquette book she had found and left off all traces of religious regalia in her attire, not to mention the cobweb-like shawls she favored.

She had been aware the whole morning that Mahalia was testing her out-listening to every word she said, watching her every move. Great-considering one of her goals might be to sabotage the whole operation, this was not ideal.

Labels:

Popular posts from this blog

The secret to a happy home

I finished Marion Harland's guide tonight and I wonder ceaselessly at two things. 1. She is so down on America! Even more than I am. She complains of things in which I am so well-steeped I could not see them for what they were. In particular, American style and cookery. It is true that our food, which we count as so much more generous in portion than the overseas counterpart, is as coarse and indecorous as it is plentiful, but as an American woman I cast up my hands and declare I would rather spend my time on something else. She makes an interesting point about American women's fashions. In France women wear what looks good on them, and in America women wears what comes off the manufacturing line in the latest style. It is very conformist, and I have to admit I feel it in myself, for I would be embarrassed to wear something that is "out" even if it flattered me better. 2. Harland's other point I feel clearly from last night's experiences. I looked in my journ...
more &

Sprouts

Sprouts Originally uploaded by ladyhildegarde . I am getting sprouts. Hopefully they are carnations. It is such a beautiful spring day. It's good I'm taking the chance to come outside: I have craved a moment to reflect on something beautiful.
more &

Blanche, a re-telling of Snow White

I began this story after reading a collection of short stories by Angela Carter. “Snow White” has always been a favorite tale of mine and I have placed this re-telling in nineteenth-century rural Louisiana. Near Vacherie, Louisiana, there are not only swamps but also old beautiful plantations. Some of them are restored but others are abandoned and ruined. The places I have seen captured my imagination and I combined them with my impression of Snow White as an object of envy and lust. My heroine Blanche is a hard-working girl who longs to be rich and to live in New Orleans, where her father was born. She is threatened constantly by the attention of the rustics who live around her. Her stepmother beats her when she finds Blanche in Jean-Jacques’ arms. When Blanche runs away from home she is beguiled by Philipe de la Roche, who persuades her to live in New Orleans in a fancy house with seven women. Blanche does not realize that the women are prostitutes. The farmer Jean-Jacques, who love...
more &