Chaise Hantée

#FanFiction #EstherAndErie by @art_of_goulwenr
#Wss366 Chair

“Psst! Is it all clear?” Clair asked. Her ghostly nightgown fluttered in the dark school hallway. It would have been disturbing to the other two girls, except they had more realistic fears: the headmistress.

“Yes, Mademoiselle D’Arcy is having fun with the servant,” Melissa replied, peeking out of her room.

The third girl’s, Eva’s, voice trembled as she spoke. “I’m not sure we should do this.”

“Then go to your room, scaredy-cat,” Clair said, shoving her.

Eva glanced back at the safety of her room and said, “They say the #chair is haunted. It can talk, and it will grab you somewhere it shouldn’t if you sit in it.”

“Scaredy, scaredy, scaredy-cat,” the other two chanted.

Cowed, Eva trailed the other two as they headed toward the headmistress’s room.

The hallway was dark and silent. The portraits lining the corridor frown down at them, lit only by their solitary candle. Each line on the painted faces seemed to communicate their disapproval of the girls’ late-night adventure.

The two minutes it took to reach the rear of the building felt like an eternity, but they arrived undiscovered.

Melissa peered into the headmistress’s moonlit parlor and reported on the #chair they’d come to see. “It looks like a man.”

“Sit in it,” Clair ordered, pushing Melissa into the room.

“No, YOU do it,” Melissa responded. “Or are you scared?” Her pale face, illuminated by the moonlight, was pulled tight with fear.

“No, I’m not,” Clair said. She walked across the room and sat in the #chair. “It’s hard and didn’t grab me. See nothing...”

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!” a voice said.

The three girls shrieked and ran toward the door, only to plow into Lady D’Arcy and Sir James.

#TootFic #MicroFiction #NMFic #Victorian #SliceOfLife

La Malédiction des Léonins”: Part 1 of 3

#FanFiction #EstherAndErie by @art_of_goulwenr
#Wss366 Classic/Mozart’s birthday

Sir James was humming parts of "The Queen of the Night." He had always been a fan of #Mozart and fancied himself well-educated when it came to music.

Whenever the buggy jostled, he hit a sour note. There were a lot of them. It was #classic cruelty on his part. He knew full well that it was torture for Lady D’Arcy.

“How much further?” she asked their guide, gritting her teeth at Jamie’s mutilation of the aria.

“We git off just around the bend. How d’ya’ll hear about Old Nick’s playground. Speak of the devil, and he’ll appear.”

“If only it were that easy,” D’Arcy thought.

She considered how to answer. Before she could decide, Sir James spoke. “She listens to little kids’ tales." He was just being nasty now. It was true, though. She had dragged him to several “haunted” houses containing nothing more frightening than cobwebs, spiders, and mice after overhearing her students tell ghost stories.

The guide spat tobacco juice over the edge of the seat. “Devil whispers in little heathens’ ears. Ya can see it in thar eyes.”

The buggy stopped. “We’re here. Watch the brambles, ma’am,” he said, waving toward an overgrown road.

“Darling.” Sir James got down and lent his hand to Lady D’Arcy. He was a gentleman after all.

When the guide remained in the buggy, Sir James fished out a silver dollar from his waistcoat and handed it to him. “Lead on, Macduff.”

The man took the coin, spat, and then said. “As fer as the meadow edge. Satan abides thar. Lucifer’s lights dance oar it at night.”

The road had once been solid, but now it was overgrown with scrub alder, ferns, and brambles. Lady D’Arcy’s gown only remained intact with great care.

“My good man, why this trail, if the land so reviled? Sir James asked.

“Betrayed lovers, and them wishing to curse a rival. There are many dour the devil may use.”

"Oh dear," said Lady D'Arcy. It was unclear whether she was referring to the guide's words or the bramble that had snagged her hem.

#MicroFiction #TootFic #Victorian #NMFic #SliceOfLife

Les Disparus et les Défunts: Part I

#FanFiction #EstherAndErie by @art_of_goulwenr
#Wss366 #Relay #MastoPrompt

A light knock disturbed Mademoiselle D’Arcy as she corrected school papers. Next to them was a bowl of cocoa and something the local baker dared call a croissant. Both were luxuries she could once more enjoy.

“Vous pouvez entrer,” she called, and a shy-looking fourteen-year-old girl entered the headmistress’s office.

“What is it, Bridget dear?” she asked. The words may have been kind, but the tone was stern. If this were something trivial, the girl would pay dearly. While the new headmistress spoke, she studied the girl. Her uniform was neat, her hair was brushed, her shoes shone with care, and the black crepe mourning-band was pinned just so.

The mistress nodded approvingly. “You may speak.”

“The sheriff is at the door, Mademoiselle.” D’Arcy would have preferred to be addressed as "Lady," but the colonies were sensitive to the “affection” of nobility.

“Well, next year with a new crop of proper students, that will change,” she thought.

Little favors went a long way with these affection-starved girls, so she pushed the “croissant” toward the girl. “I’m pleased that you are tidy.”

The girl shook her head at the offered croissant and fidgeted. D’Arcy was sure, though, that Bridget would #relay news of the attempted kindness to the other girls. Gossip within the close confines of a girl’s school was one of the few pleasures they had available to them.

“I see you wish to go, but we must tarry. You're old enough to learn. Always keep a man waiting, or he will think less of you.”

The girl nodded and finally ventured to speak. “Mademoiselle, are you going to disappear too?”

“No, I plan to be here for a long time. You can rely on that.”

#MicroFiction #TootFic #Victorian #NMFic #SliceOfLife

Sourires de Crocodile

#FanFiction #EstherAndErie by @art_of_goulwenr
#Wss366 #go #MastoPrompt #holy

Mademoiselle D’Arcy entered Miss Nightly’s office with the barest glance at the interior. She was already familiar with its suffocating stuffiness. The bust of Mary Wollstonecraft on the desk could stay, but the picture of George Washington would have to #go.

These thoughts helped her maintain a bland smile as she looked at the headmistress.

Miss Everston sidled in next to her. That woman would have to go as well, D’Arcy thought. She didn’t mind her progressive views, but Everston’s moralizing was positively narrow, and her Unitarian sermons made D’Arcy whither.

“Good evening, ladies,” Miss Nightly began. “I am sure you would like to rest after your day, but something has come up.”

Mademoiselle D’Arcy hid her smile. It was a gesture she had become accustomed to.

"I don't know how to say this gently, so I'll be blunt. At some point last night, the mortgage and your remunerations were stolen. I am not sure how we will stay open.”

Miss Everston looked sideways at D’Arcy. A frown of suspicion and disapproval on her face.

“I must arrange for that #holier-than-thou woman to disappear,” D’Arcy thought. “And soon.”

“Perhaps one of the students?” Mademoiselle D’Arcy observed aloud. “Mine were all present. How about yours, Miss Everston? Undoubtedly, they are all accounted for. I am sure you have instilled the honesty you mention so often.” She was pleased by the red that spread across Everston’s face.

“Miss Janes, was absent today,” Miss Everston mentioned hesitantly.

“Is she not your favorite student? I am sure there is a mistake.” D’Arcy’s smile belied her innocent tone.

“I shall inform the sheriff.” Miss Nightly aimed a sour look at Everston as she spoke.

Mademoiselle D’Arcy coughed, then spoke. “If I may be so bold, I have certain funds held in trust that I might make available, should the need arise. I am confident the trustees would consent, provided we could offer suitable security. Perhaps my name upon the school’s deed would suffice?”

Lady D'Arcy made no attempt to hide her smile as hope dawned on the headmistress's face.

#MicroFiction #TootFic #Victorian #NMFic #SliceOfLife

Une Vie Nouvelle: Chapter 1:

#FanFiction #EstherAndErie by @art_of_goulwenr
#Wss366 #MastoPrompt

The torn papers fluttered in the cold Atlantic wind, drifting down until they landed on the gray water, and eventually disappeared in the wake of the #Danish liner Ruritania.

Lady D’Arcy stood at the railing in a morning dress the color of the waves, dove-gray with white lace foaming at the collar and cuffs. The last of the papers left her hands as another woman joined her.

D’Arcy surveyed the woman’s gown: spring colors—too bright for chiffon, yet not bright enough for sunshine. She dismissed it at once as tasteless. The red hair earned its own judgment. “Undoubtedly Hibernian,” she thought. “Crass.”

“Mademoiselle D'Arcy. Vous vous êtes levée tôt. Peut-être pour saluer le nouveau jour et la nouvelle année?”

The woman’s French was marred by a heavy American accent and contrasted sharply with D’Arcy’s reply. “Un jour nouveau, une année nouvelle, une vie nouvelle.”

“You speak impeccable French, Mademoiselle,” the American said, switching to Albion.

“I am fortunate to have grown up with it. But you, too, have arisen early. It’s my #understanding that that’s the American way. I hear your motto is, ‘The early bird catches the worm.’ L’oiseau matinal… attrape le ver,” she said, letting her tongue linger on ver.

[Continued Tomorrow]

#MicroFiction #TootFic #Victorian #NMFic #SliceOfLife