Aries and Valerius Notes

1st Person switching between characters, starting with Valerius (the beast)

Characters:
Aries (Belle) - similar in character to the girl from Book of a thousand days. Has gumption. Has a normal family. :)
Valerius (the Beast) - dark hair, grizzled from living on the planet, dark coloring. Disease makes him look rocky?
Leo (Gaston) - Not so much like Gaston.

All characters from same planet, of the same species.

Valerius was an explorer (or something like that) and was poisoned somehow, crashed onto a deserted planet. Destroyed his ship in rage and is stuck there. His "disease" makes it look like "an earthquake erupted on his skin."

Aries is a healer, crashes onto the same planet. She works on fixing her ship and meets the beast in the process. He doesn't tell her his name, so she makes up a name for him. A distress call is sent out from her ship and Leo arrives to help her. She knows who he is, but doesn't know him very well. (Maybe they were at school together or he's a well known pilot or something.)

Aries wants to help heal the beast, so she leaves with Leo to get the medicine or herbs or whatever. She left behind a device (like the mirror) that allows her to keep an eye on the beast. She starts falling in love with him while watching him on the device?

Ends with Aries healing Valerius and they travel around together. Leo will live to fight another day (hangs himself...? haha  if we want to go dark :) )

We talked about the planet being forested or rocky.

More Mr. Mailman

As the sun rose over the town of Felder Bart rose along with it. He wandered into his kitchen to poor himself a bowl of cereal, stopping to pick up his newspaper along the way. As he ate his breakfast and tried to rub the sleep from his eyes, Bart flipped open The Felder News and began perusing it. It contained the usual “hang technology” paraphernalia, a few advertisements for the town dance on Friday, and a classifieds section for those seeking employment. Bart smiled to himself when he reached the end of the paper and hadn’t seen a single thing about Lucy Smith, Gary Smith, or himself. He hummed his way back to his bedroom to don his mailman attire when he heard a thud on his door. Fearing the worst, Bart peeked out his window to see who was there. His lot looked empty. He cautiously edged to his front door and pulled it open, waiting for Cynthia to pop out. But nothing happened. He looked about but saw nobody. As he was about to shut his door, Bart looked down to find a pamphlet tied to a rock by his feet. “ah,” he thought, “that explains the thud.” He brought the pamphlet inside, and the color soon drained from his face as he read its contents. Bart wanted to laugh at the blatant lies Cynthia was spouting, but kept reading.

SCANDAL IN FELDER

By Cynthia Weaver

My fellow citizens, friends, and neighbors, it is with a heavy heart that I bring you this information. We have all worked tirelessly to keep the Great Progression at bay and for that I feel we all deserve a large pat on the back. However, there is one among us who most decidedly deserves no pat. His name, as most of you know, is Gary Smith. He is known by some as the owner of a small, inadequate bookstore called “Peacocks,” but he is known to me as a traitor to Felder’s economy.

As most of you know, Mr. Smith’s wife and daughter were among those exiled. His wife had been found in possession of a Mind Reader, a most treacherous evil. Our great Mayor May would have none of it and banished her from our peaceful town. The daughter, a girl most absurdly called Kitten, followed her mother, showing her true colors. But Gary remained. He claimed he had been unaware of his wife’s illicit purchase, so he was allowed to stay most graciously.

And since then, we have all been nothing but kindness to Mr. Smith. We’ve supported him and his decision to stay and even overlooked the fact that he’s a sorry excuse for a man, for what man allows his wife, the recipient of his zap, to buy immoral inventions? And what man shares his zap with a woman who would do such an atrocity? And furthermore, what man let’s his wife and daughter leave without following? But, we all gave him the benefit of the doubt.

Bart wanted to laugh at the blatant lies Cynthia was spouting, but kept reading.

Well, yesterday I heard it on good authority that Gary Smith is married to an adulterer. Lucy Smith, former resident of Felder, is pregnant. Who is the father? Nobody knows. It certainly isn’t her husband. Why should we allow this man to remain among our virtues when he clearly has no respect for them himself. He does not deserve to stay in Felder. His soul mate, wife, and mother of his child is such a disgrace that Gary must be a disgrace also, for does he not house her zap? Is her energy not coursing through his body? Or is it?

Aha! It is clear now, Gary Smith could not have been Lucy Smith’s soul mate. It is impossible. Thus, I hereby lay my claim to have Gary Smith exiled from Felder.

Bart set the pamphlet down and closed his eyes. Poor Gary. Cynthia had done her worst. She gave voice to the fears so many others shared. Everyone wondered why Gary didn’t follow his wife. Everyone wondered because they all assumed that Gary and Lucy had been soul mates. It was unheard of for two people to get married who had not shared their zap. It was considered an abomination. A sin against yourself. Of course, Bart knew before anyone else that they weren’t soul mates. He knew two weeks after Lucy left when the divorce papers showed up. Nobody got divorced anymore because nobody ever needed to get divorced when they married their soul mate. In fact, until the divorce papers showed up, Bart didn’t even know that you still could get divorced. Gary had certainly done a good job of hushing it up. And lord knows Bart never said a word about it.

But now Gary was trapped. He had to respond to Cynthia, but how could he? For once, she was right. Oh yes, her pamphlet was riddled with over exaggerations and lies, but Cynthia was right-Gary and Lucy were not soul mates. He was sure to be exiled. Bart sighed. He felt upset for Gary Smith, and he wasn’t entirely sure why. They weren’t exactly friends. Yesterday was the first time they’d ever exchanged more than their usual good mornings. But for some reason Bart’s heart went out to Gary. He’d witnessed first hand the ridicule and scorn Felder had bestowed on Gary. Not a single soul, Bart included, had tried to sympathize with him. Nobody thought about how hard it must have been for him to have his family ripped away, his only daughter gone. Naturally, many citizens of Felder lost friends and acquaintances over the exile. Mr. Hough still wrote letters to his old friend, though it might be more appropriate to call them diatribes, but nobody scorned him for keeping contact. In fact, a lot of people respected him for trying to show his friend the error of his ways. But, Gary Smith was a different case altogether. Nobody cared that Gary lost his wife and daughter. Nobody cared that he was forced to open Peacocks since he lost his job as an auto salesman. And nobody cared to talk to him.

Suddenly, Bart felt ashamed. For was he not another member of Felder’s community? He, who saw Gary everyday and never even offered a smile.

“God, what kind of a villain am I?” Bart said into the silence of his kitchen. Suddenly the clock signaled that is was time for Bart to go collect the day’s deliveries. With a knot of regret in his stomach, Bart walked to the edge of town to collect any external deliveries dropped off by representative of Rang or Pooch. He found the usual assortment of letters, but ignored most of them, checking to make sure there was one from Kitten. He let out a breath when he saw that there was. “At least Gary will have this to make him feel better.” For Gary was no doubt in a deplorable state after Cynthia’s pamphlet. Deciding to alter his usual route, Bart walked to Peacocks first to check on the poor man.

Mr. Mailman

Felder was a town unlike any other. While the neighboring towns of Rang and Pooch evolved with the rest of society, Felder was determined to stay “normal.” Felder’s inhabitants were not keen on the rise of such glorious inventions, like the Mind Reader and the Sky Skimmer. They preferred to read good old fashioned books, made of paper, rather than people’s minds. And they never desired a Sky Skimmer because who would want to transport themselves to a technological, evil, forward thinking place, when they could stay in Felder.

 This time of invention and migration away from olden years came to be known as the Great Progression. And while the spirit of the Great Progression excited and captured the hearts of many people, the Mayor of Felder, known simply as May, was not one of them. When Rang and Pooch demolished their outdated businesses, such as libraries, beauty salons, and clothing stores, to make room for “the future,” May declared that anyone who owned a device that “led them to disrespect the economy of Felder” would be exiled. Following this proclamation, approximately 500 people were exiled (though they preferred to call it liberation from the past.) Those exiled went on to enjoy the luxuries of the modern age, printing their own clothes, making themselves grow or shrink according to their fancy, and overall enjoying themselves.

Well, with half his town gone, May decided to redirect his attentions by glorifying the traditional. He assured his citizens that the rest of society was up to witchcraft of the worst kind, and proceeded to print pamphlets and pamphlets describing how a simple, old-fashioned life was better for the soul. These pamphlets were so successful that Felder regressed farther into history. People began to view the past as a haven of simplicity and morals, leading them to discard any technological advance that was not altogether necessary. Cars, computers, tv’s, cameras, and radios were the first to be cut. Kitchen appliances, plumbing, heating, and electricity were allowed to stay, for the simple reason that May was not prepared to live without them.

So, although Felder’s electronics stores went out of business, some new (or rather old depending on how you look at it) businesses emerged. Someone was fortunate enough to find a Printing Press, which May deemed critical for circulating news. Thus, Jay’s Prints blossomed. A theater company took over an old car shop, to soon thereafter flourish as the town’s only form of entertainment. Bowling alleys were abandoned to become dance halls and garages became filled with bicycles. And it was in this state of past and present that Felder existed. Rang and Pooch provided Felder with the inventory necessary to maintain their lifestyle and everyone existed happily praising their society and criticizing the products of the Great Progression. In fact, reading about the latest inventions and scorning them became a favorite pastime of many inhabitants of Felder, breeding proud, haughty, condescending natures.

Mayor May had never dreamed that his pamphlets would eradicate so much. He had only been trying to prevent disturbing technology, like that blasted Mind Reader, from infiltrating his peaceful town. But, he was not about to complain. He thought himself a saint, giving up his car and computer to keep his citizens safe from evil. Visitors never came and people never left, leaving Felder the only town not embraced by the Great Progression.

Among those living in Felder was a Mr. Bart Montgomery, known as the local mailman. Every day, excluding Sundays of course, Bart donned his gray mailman pants, his blue mailman shirt, and his stoic mailman face. At 10:47am, Bart would walk into society’s last remaining barber shop to deposit their collection of “The Past is the Future” pamphlets.

 At precisely 11:02am, Bart began his tour down “bookstore” lane. All three of Felder’s bookstores lay side by side, and all three of Felder bookstores charged the exact same price, had the exact same collection of historical, moral novels and the same run-down bathrooms. Their mail, however, showed the differing interests of the owners of each store, and Mr. Montgomery alone knew of these differences. He could tell you that Mr. Pots, owner of “Book Ends,” routinely received correspondences from Miss Olivia, the local theater star. Or that Mr. Hough, owner of “Book Beginnings,” kept up a steady flow of epistolary debate with his old friend who was exiled to Rang. It was obvious to Bart that Both Mr. Pots and Mr. Hough had their personal mail delivered to their shops, and he often wondered why they didn’t direct it to their personal addresses. Although this puzzled him greatly, Bart knew it was not in his bounds as a mailman to questions his deliveries.

The third bookstore housed in Felder was a new establishment called “Peacocks” which was recently opened by a Mr. Smith. Although Peacocks offered the exact same selection of books as “Book Ends” and “Book Beginnings,” it suffered from a severe lack of customers.  The busybody moms who daily entered Peacocks continually left with a fresh piece of misconstrued information, but always managed to avoid purchasing a single item. For, Mr. Smith’s wife and daughter were among those exiled, and everyone blamed him for their evil ways. Mr. Smith regularly looked forward to Bart’s daily visit because he always received a single letter from his daughter, Kitten.

            It is now that a critical part of Bart Montgomery’s character must be delineated. He was a quiet man, wishing to pass by unnoticed. He was happy for his job as the mailman because it kept the local gossips bored with his day-to-day business. For Bart, personal business was meant to be just that, personal. He didn’t care if people thought he was a lonely man withering off into old age. So long as they let him be, he was content. Yet, however much Bart valued his own privacy, he valued helping other’s maintain theirs more. He knew enough of Felder to understand that it took a few solid years before people learned to put their pestering questions on the attic shelves along with their kid’s old toys. Most citizens of Felder were quick to judge and criticize other’s actions, especially the actions of someone closely associated with the exiled. Bart knew the Mr. Smith kept up a correspondence with his daughter. He knew that Mr. Smith had received divorce papers not two weeks after his family’s departure from Felder, and he knew that Mr. Smith had a right to his own anonymity.

            So, when the clock struck 11:15am and Bart entered “Peacocks,” Mr. Smith’s face lit up.

“Good morning,” Mr. Smith would chorus eyeing the single letter in Bart’s hand.

“Mornin’,” delivered with a slight nod of the head was all Bart would offer in return as he set down his letter and picked up any mail Mr. Smith wished to send out. Bart would then leave, knowing without having to look that Gary Smith had already snatched open his letter and was worlds away, lost in Kitten’s words. And this simple exchange occurred every day, except Sunday. Bart never indicated that he wanted to converse with Gary. In fact, he made it a point not to even smile. He didn’t want Gary to tell him anymore about his life than he already knew. Bart was trying to protect Gary from divulging information that was sure to be overheard and reshaped into something quite dreadful.

            After “Peacocks,” Bart continued his deliveries until around 4 o’clock. Then he would make his solitary walk home, where he would shower, make dinner, pretend to be interested in some book or other before dropping off to sleep to start it all over again the next day.

            It was a Wednesday when things changed, that much Bart was sure of. He knew it was a Wednesday because it was his least favorite day. Everyone gossiped more on Wednesdays. Apparently the middle of the week required extra amounts of scandal to get people through it.  As Bart began his normal routine, his temper slowly rose high as he heard the latest of the rumors.

“Yes, and she’s pregnant! I know so. I heard from Cynthia.” Gasps ensued. “Cynthia? Well then it must be so. How scandalous! Pregnant? At her age?”

At first, Bart simply tuned out his ears, trying to get his deliveries done as swiftly as possible. But as he day wore on it became increasingly hard to not hear what everyone was talking about.

“Well, serves her right, the little devil. I told you the Great Progression would be the root of all misfortune. If only Gary had been strong enough to stop them. Now he has to endure his wife sleeping around with lord knows how many men, and getting herself done up with another child.”

“I tell you it’s that MYSTYLIST. People aren’t meant to change their appearance and have access to the latest fashions at the drop of a button. I bet she made herself look years younger and that’s how it happened.”

So by the time the clock struck 11:15 and Bart entered “Peacocks” he was not at all shocked to find Cynthia Weaver pestering poor Gary for all the details.

“So, how does it feel to be the humiliation of Felder? What did you think when you found out? Jay wants me to write an entire article about it, so the sooner you confess the easier this will be. Do you blame yourself? I dare say you should. A husband who can’t keep his wife and daughter from technology surely deserves anything coming to him.”

“umm, well,” Gary was drowning in Cynthia’s muckraking. When he saw Bart he looked up in plea “Good morning, Bart!” he nearly shouted, ”how’s the old…uh” he stopped, realizing he knew absolutely nothing about Bart’s life. Luckily enough, Bart came to his rescue.

“The old bicycle’s still old,” Bart injected, “I reckon it’s time I get a new one, but you know me, always loath to part with anything…uh old.” Cynthia snapped around eyeing Bart suspiciously. She’d never heard Bart talk to anyone.

“Why, Mr. Montgomery? Aren’t you feeling chatty today? Maybe since you and Gary as so close you would like to be included in my article. You have heard, right? Lucy Smith is pregnant,” she paused letting that sink in, “yes, that’s right. Gary’s old hag of a wife went and got herself knocked up by some technology loving fiend. What have you to say to that?” Her bright green eyes practically sparkled in her excitement to finally get a quote from Bart. Gary’s pallid face grew whiter if possible, as he waited for Bart’s reply. A few quiet seconds passed as Bart rationalized how to respond. He knew he wasn’t about to give Cynthia more ammunition for her article, but he also knew he had to say something to protect Gary from her claws. “Well, goodbye solitude,” he thought to himself before turning on Cynthia and whispering in the most menacing voice he could,

“Get out.” For once, Bart had the satisfaction of seeing Cynthia Weaver without words, but it was short-lived.

“Excuse me? This is not your shop Mr. Montgomery. And I promised Jay I wouldn’t leave until I had a sto—ahhh!” Cynthia let out a shriek as Bart literally shoved her out the door and shut the blinds. 

“Thank you for that,” Gary replied shamefully.

 Bart nodded, “She will be back eventually. Cynthia never leaves a well until it’s completely run dry,” a slight tremor ran down Gary’s spine at Bart’s words. Silence ensued. When Bart decided that he should leave the shop and continue with his route Gary spoke.

“We’re divorced you know,” he said quietly, “Lucy didn’t cheat on me.” Bart nodded acknowledgment.  “I don’t know how Cynthia found out,” Gary continued, “Kitten told me weeks ago, of course. Went on and on about how excited she was to be an older sister, and then suddenly today the whole towns on about it.”  More silence followed before Gary spoke again.

“It was hardest at first. Kitten wouldn’t even write to me. I felt so lost. I almost followed them ya know. I was this close to up and leaving Felder for good, but I was scared. I had no where to go and Lucy would…ah, Lucy. She would never take me back,” Gary stopped to steady his breath, “I did something wrong, and Lucy had every right to leave.” It seemed to Bart that Gary was talking to himself more than anything, and Bart wished with every fiber of his being that Gary would stop. He didn’t want to know what Gary had done. The more Bart knew, the worse it would be. Cynthia was probably already planning an ambush at his house. But, here was a man so broken and alone that the only joy in his day was a single letter, and Bart didn’t want to upset him. Then he remembered the letter.

“I have a letter for you,” he said snapping Gary out of his reverie and pulling Kitten’s letter from his bag. The corners of Gary’s mouth twitched to almost a smile.

“Thanks,” he said taking the letter. Bart shuffled his feet awkwardly, then walked to the door.

“I better get going, got more mail to deliver.” And with that Bart walked out of Peacocks into the sunshine. He continued to deliver his mail and continued to here more gossip about Lucy’s pregnancy. Bart was glad Cynthia hadn’t told anyone about his going to Gary’s rescue. Well, she hadn’t told anyone yet. Tomorrow would be a different story.

Back at Peacocks, Gary sat down and opened his letter.

Dearest Father,

I told you already, didn’t I? I said you needn’t worry about mother being alone and I was right. Harry is such a blessing to mom, and no he never tells her to ‘talk softly.’ What a silly question to ask. I think you would like him. Well, I think you could like him if the situation was different. Nevertheless, Harry is a wonderful companion to mother, and I think he will be a great father (I’m sure I will be a better older sister though).

I’m sorry to hear that business is still slow. Felder really should try to increase their tourism. I can name at least 15 people who would marvel at the peculiar state in which you live. When I tell them about it, they simply stare before pulling out their Mind Readers to see if I am fibbing. I’m not of course, so then it’s good fun. You’ll have to let me know if Mayor May ever decides to be reasonable and let people visit. I would love to see you again.

Do you think 16 an appropriate age to get engaged? Everyone says it is. Fiona got engaged two nights ago. She’s already had her MYSTYLIST print out her dream wedding dress. I can’t say I’m jealous of Fiona’s getting married, but I do envy the dress. It’s beautiful. Mother says I can’t get married till I’m at least 20, how barbaric! Nobody waits that long anymore. And why should they? If you know, you know. Fiona is positive about Justin. She said the first time he held her hand she got the zap. I wonder what the zap feels like? Did you feel it with mom? When I try to ask mother about it, she refuses to be reasonable. Ask all your friends in Felder if they know what it feels like and report back to me. It’s not related to the Great Progression or technology, so they shouldn’t get upset.

In other news, haha! There really is no other news. Love you! Write soon!

Kitten

Gary sighed and set the letter aside. He envied Kitten’s blissful ignorance. “Ask my friends about the zap?” Gary thought, “I would if I had any to ask.” Truth be told, Gary knew more than he wished about the zap. He was aware that when you met your soul mate the first time you touched you would feel it. He had been led to believe that it felt like a jolt of electricity, stronger than any man made current, coursing through your body. The energy created was enough to stop your heart dead. However, it didn’t kill people because if two people felt it at the same time their energy had an outlet. It was able to flow into the other person. “Think of it like a transfer of energy. Yours flows into your souls mates, and theirs flows into you. After the zap, you will always have their energy inside you. You will always feel their love.” Those were the words Gary’s mother had used when she’d described the zap to him. But Gary’s mother hadn’t told him what happens when soul mates don’t match up. He’d learned that lesson the hard way.

 Gary quickly got up and began pottering around his store, doing anything to distract himself. He didn’t want to think about the zap anymore. He wasn’t ready to tell Kitten about it. Instead he began thinking about Cynthia. He knew she would be back. Cynthia was relentless when it came to scandal. He still couldn’t understand how she had found out about Lucy’s pregnancy in the first place. The only communication with the outside world was through mail, so Cynthia must have an outside source. Bart would know. Bart was the only person who had access to Cynthia’s mail. However, after their awkward encounter that morning, Gary was not keen on asking Bart. Gary still didn’t quite understand why Bart came to his rescue. The stoic mailman who never even offered as much as a smile suddenly talking about his old bike. Gary laughed at the memory. “he seemed nice enough,” Gary thought, “it can’t hurt to ask.” That night, Gary penned out a letter to Bart.

Dear Mr. Montgomery,

I want to thank you again for helping me with the situation this morning. I must admit I was in a bit of a shock when you arrived. Cynthia rather sprung herself on me.

To get to the point. As I told you earlier, I have no idea how Cynthia discovered that information. She must have an outside source. I was hoping you, as the mailman, might be able to tell me who said source is. I would really like to know who is making my personal life public.

Thanks again,

Gary Smith

Gary, put the letter in its envelope and pulled out another sheet to respond to Kitten.

My Dearest Kitten,

I am happy your mother and Harry are a good match. And I’m positive you will be the best older sister in the world. And you mustn’t pay too much heed to my silly questions; I am an old man after all.

As for Mayor May letting people in, I find it highly unlikely. He seems more resolute than ever to keep Felder separate from the Great Progression, though I’m sure he secretly misses his tv. Business will no doubt pick up eventually. I try to keep positive.

Now, as for engagement. I’m afraid to say I completely agree with your mother. 20 is not too old of an age. You’ll be there before you know it, then you can print out your own wedding dress far grander than Fiona’s.

Gary paused not sure if he should comment on the zap. He really wasn’t ready to tell Kitten what he knew. She was too young to learn about the zap. He decided to forget she had mentioned it.

Here’s a bit of news to excite you. You know the old bowling alley? Well, it’s been converted to a dance hall and the first dance of the season is in a couple days. I remember how much you love to dance and wish you were able to come. I’ve been personally asked by Mayor May to go as a chaperone, so I will tell you all about it.

Much love,

Dad

Gary really hadn’t been asked to chaperone the dance. He just wanted Kitten to think that he was leading a happy, joyous life in Felder. And he hoped bringing up dancing would distract Kitten from realizing he hadn’t mentioned the zap.

             

Tomorrow's another day...or so they say

Mirabella realized she wasn't asleep anymore, but she didn't want to open her eyes. The beautiful things she had just been dreaming were slowly slipping away, and she tried with all her might to return to them. They were much better than real life. Finally, when all that she could remember of the dream was a happy feeling, she opened her eyes and rolled over. She felt around on her side table until she found her clock and looked at the time: eight-thirty. She sighed and rolled to the other side of the bed. Time to get up, I suppose, she thought and sat up. Stretching her arms and yawning, she made her way downstairs and opened the front door. Blue sky, sunshine, not a cloud in sight. She breathed in the fresh air and then bent down to get the mail, thrown in a pile on her front door step. There were two letters. One from her cousin, Kathleen, who wrote to her almost every day, and another with the address written in a handwriting she didn't recognize. She pried it open with interest as she went back indoors. It read:

Dear Miss Mirabella Fontaine,


I am so sorry to disturb you at such a time as this, but I have some important matters to discuss with you concerning your late brother's affairs. Please contact me at your next convenience to set up a meeting.


Wishing you health and my sincerest condolences,


Mr. George Fulbright

Mirabella read it through a few times as the handwriting was very fine, but difficult to read. She did not recognize the name, and wondered how he knew her brother. She set it aside to deal with later and opened Kathleen's letter.

Mirabella,


You'll never believe what just happened last night. Well, first let me tell you, you missed an AMAZING time at the Harvest Ball. Why ever did you decide not to come? I thought I specifically told you to come AND you agreed to. I am highly disappointed in you.
Anyways, now that I've got you feeling guilty let me tell you what you missed.
Josiah proposed to Milly. IN FRONT OF EVERYONE! Can you believe it? Oh and it gets better. At first Milly covered her face and everyone thought she was hiding her tears of joy. But I knew better. I knew she had to be hiding her pity because, well, haven't I always told you she was going out with him because she felt sorry for him? Anyways when she finally uncovered her face, she said something very quietly. No one caught it, not even Josiah. He said, "speak up darling," and she replied, her face very red, "I'm sorry Josiah... but no." WELL! I must say everyone was surprised, except me of course.   Well, after that things were a little awkward, but soon Milly left (and I hear she left with Lyle, but I don't believe it, she's not THAT heartless) and not long after Josiah left, looking EXTREMELY downcast. I actually feel quite sorry for him, despite his pinched face. After they left, the band struck up some tunes and we had such a MAGNIFICENT dance, my feet shall ache for weeks. 
You should be burning with jealousy.
Love you cousin!
Kathleen


P.S. Charles danced with me a total of six times. SIX TIMES!!


Mirabella stifled a laugh and set the letter down. "Poor Josiah!" she sighed. She felt real pity for him. The town wouldn't stop talking about this event for some time.
After dressing and eating, Mirabella sat down at her writing desk and composed a note to Mr. Fulbright:

Mr. George Fulbright,


I thank you for your sympathy. There is nothing in the world like losing a brother. Would Wednesday at three work for you? Shall I come to your office? (Do you have an office?)


Sincerely,
Mirabella Fontaine


After reading it through, she added:

P.S. How do you know my brother?


She then pulled out another sheet of paper and wrote to Kathleen:

Kathy,


I can't believe I missed such an event. Who do you think Milly is going to torment next? If your feet are going to ache for weeks, does that mean you won't be attending Gwyneth's party on Saturday? Does that mean you won't bother me about going?


Full of red jealousy,
Mirabella


P.S. Charles must be tired from all that dancing.

Ta Da!

We can still comment on the other post and continue the story about Jane, but I just thought I'd start a new post for other ideas. I started writing a story yesterday that I actually kind of like and have ideas for so here's what I have so far:

Far away upon a hill

There is a Lady Fair.

And many a knight has tried and failed

To find exactly where.

Her name is lost to memory

Gone from the minds of all.

And whether she be young or old,

Nobody can recall.

She dances with the willows

And sings among the birds

And tells spellbinding stories

Though no one hears the words....

"Mommy, what are they singing?" A small girl with dark curls and bright blue eyes pointed a chubby finger at the group of singers. Her mother smiled down at her.

"They are singing the Tale of the Lady Fair, a very old song. Do you like it Lilly-lil?" Lilian nodded, entranced by the singers' beautiful harmonies. Her mother picked her up and put her on her shoulders. "Then I shall teach it to you." She turned away from the square and headed towards the fields, Lilian giggling above her. "Would you like that?" she squeezed one of Lilian's chubby legs. Lilian giggled harder.

"Yes mommy," she gasped out between laughs.

"Okay, it goes like this..." she thought back to when her own mother had taught her the song and began the haunting tune, "Far away, upon a hill..."

"Lilian! Wake up!" Lilian opened her eyes sleepily and saw a little face above her.

"Good morning Ollie," she murmured as she sat up. Olive jumped off the bed and began hopping excitedly from foot to foot.

"Today is Fair Day! Fair Day, Lilian!" she exclaimed, her eyes shining.

"Really? Are you sure it's today?" Lilian teased as she pulled on her dress. Olive had been counting down the days for months.

"Yes, I'm sure. Hurry up! Your hair looks fine, let's go!" She tugged on Lilian's arm.

"Just a second!" Lilian laughed, putting a final pin in her dark curly hair. "Okay, I'm ready. Did you tell your mom?"

"Yes, she told me to get something pretty for her." They went out the door and out into the street. Suddenly Olive's face grew solemn. "Lil, how come mommy can't come with us?" Lilian looked down into Olive's green eyes and felt a twinge of sadness.

"Well, she's been feeling tired lately, you know, and she wants to save up her strength for another special day." Lilian smiled and took Olive's small hand in her own. "It's your birthday soon, right?"

Olive gasped in delight and Lilian sighed in relief. It was getting harder and harder to explain to Olive why her mother couldn't get out of bed. Lilian thought sadly about Ellie and wished there was some way she could help her dear cousin. Ellie was a few years older than her and after the birth of Olive had grown sicker and sicker. Lilian had moved in a few years ago to help care for Olive and had watched helpless as Ellie became weaker. Ellie's husband Peter was away and had been for the past year, trying to preserve peace on the border. War had almost broken out between Vistol and their neighbors Algarkia to the south, and thousands of men had been sent to the border to prevent further outbreaks. There had been talk recently of the men returning and Lilian urged it to be true. She thought perhaps Ellie would recover a little just by having Peter back.

"Lilian look!" Olive gasped as they reached the square. All the shops were decked out in colorful ribbons and banners hung above. Besides the regular shops, artists and crafts booths had been set up, and the square was filled with people from neighboring towns. Delicious smells of cakes and cookies and candy filled the air. Lilian looked at Olive's shining eyes and imagined hers were shining just as brightly.

"Where to first?" she asked and they ventured into the crowds. They spent a great deal of time splurging on delightful cream cakes, and then went on to the jewelry booths to find something for Ellie.

"Let's get this one!" Olive said pointing to a silver necklace with shiny green pendant.

"It's very pretty," Lilian replied. It would go nicely with Ellie's golden hair. She asked how much and as she dug through her purse for the change, the vendor turned to Olive.

"You're very lucky your mommy is buying that for you," she said, smiling. Olive giggled.

"But Lilian's not my mommy. She's only...thirteen years older than me!" Olive replied, proud that she knew the age difference. "I'm almost six," she added with a grin.

"Oh, I see," the vendor replied, and smiled at Lilian. "Then you are very lucky that Lilian is buying it for you."

"But she's not. We're getting it for my mommy," Olive replied instantly.

"Oh..." the vendor replied coloring a little.

"Just stop talking," Lilian laughed, handing over the money. "That's what I do." The vendor laughed and they went on their way.

"Lilian, are you going to get anything?" Olive asked, "you should get a pretty necklace 'cause you're so pretty." Lilian laughed.

"Well, if I should, you should too 'cause you're much prettier." Olive swelled with the compliment. They decided on matching bracelets and were putting them on when Olive gasped.

"What's that music?" she asked.

I have more written but the lab is closing so that's all for now.