As One Does
She wasn’t surprised the pencils were missing. And the fine paper that she used for writing. And the makeup brushes, and the jeweled combs, and the pot of pale powder. Her Majesty sighed.
Priscilla had been at this dressing table moments before, and Priscilla never did have any scruples about taking what wasn’t hers.
As if she were the queen. Ugh… Priscilla was so common. No amount of cosmetics or costume could cover that up.
Her Majesty beheld herself in the looking glass, applying blusher. Just under the cheekbones, never over.
She could hear the announcements being made.
(“Ladies and Gentlemen… The Duchess Miranda!”) Music. Applause from the assembled multitudes.
Corseted, she sat straight as an elm, fixing her hairpiece.
Two hundred years ago, she would have had servants for this.
And if any servant had dared to remove the Queen’s belongings… Well. Fools like that got what was coming to them.
But one had to suffer fools, didn’t one?
Not everyone could be royalty, after all.
And just like that, there he was again, popping out of her memory like a rancid cork from an ancient bottle. Georgie, age 6. Staring up into her lighted window from the darkened street. Daring to tread on her green lawn for a closer look.
His outburst erupted like a bull horn blaring through a beautiful dawn.
“Harvey wears girl clothes! HARVEY WEARS GIRL CLOTHES!”
She gave a dainty shake of her head. Why couldn’t she get rid of Georgie after all these years? Shouldn’t he have simply blown away on the wind, piece of dirt that he was? He was like a disgusting fly, buzzing around the most elegant wedding cake.
On the cake, the fondant was sweating. She reached for her brush and powder.
At least nowadays, most of the time, she didn’t have to be Harvey anymore.
In her mind, she took a swatter and flattened that filthy fly. It amused her to do so.
(“Ladies and Gentlemen… the one, the only… Priscilla!”)
She was due to go out soon. She musn’t lose track of time. It would never do, to let her people down. They did love their Queen.
She arose, surveying her reflection. The gown, the gloves, the coiffure, everything was in place. Her necklaces shimmered like starlight. Pleased, she smiled.
She’d come a long way since those days of trying on her sister’s Disney dresses.
“Ladies and Gentlemen… Direct from the royal palace, by way of Detroit… Her Majesty the Queen!”
The music swelled. She emerged onto the stage, sparkling. The cheering was fierce. There were always a few gasps as they beheld her. Who could blame them?
Head high, she envisioned the floor where her feet would step. In each step’s outline, Georgie’s grubby face. Her glittering shoes came down on each one. Crash. Splat. Into a million pieces.
A majestic smile parted her lips as she warmed up the crowd. Smashing, darling. Simply smashing.
Writing prompts:
(1) Opening line: "She wasn't surprised the pencils were missing."
(2) Narrator: Her Majesty the Queen
Priscilla had been at this dressing table moments before, and Priscilla never did have any scruples about taking what wasn’t hers.
As if she were the queen. Ugh… Priscilla was so common. No amount of cosmetics or costume could cover that up.
Her Majesty beheld herself in the looking glass, applying blusher. Just under the cheekbones, never over.
She could hear the announcements being made.
(“Ladies and Gentlemen… The Duchess Miranda!”) Music. Applause from the assembled multitudes.
Corseted, she sat straight as an elm, fixing her hairpiece.
Two hundred years ago, she would have had servants for this.
And if any servant had dared to remove the Queen’s belongings… Well. Fools like that got what was coming to them.
But one had to suffer fools, didn’t one?
Not everyone could be royalty, after all.
And just like that, there he was again, popping out of her memory like a rancid cork from an ancient bottle. Georgie, age 6. Staring up into her lighted window from the darkened street. Daring to tread on her green lawn for a closer look.
His outburst erupted like a bull horn blaring through a beautiful dawn.
“Harvey wears girl clothes! HARVEY WEARS GIRL CLOTHES!”
She gave a dainty shake of her head. Why couldn’t she get rid of Georgie after all these years? Shouldn’t he have simply blown away on the wind, piece of dirt that he was? He was like a disgusting fly, buzzing around the most elegant wedding cake.
On the cake, the fondant was sweating. She reached for her brush and powder.
At least nowadays, most of the time, she didn’t have to be Harvey anymore.
In her mind, she took a swatter and flattened that filthy fly. It amused her to do so.
(“Ladies and Gentlemen… the one, the only… Priscilla!”)
She was due to go out soon. She musn’t lose track of time. It would never do, to let her people down. They did love their Queen.
She arose, surveying her reflection. The gown, the gloves, the coiffure, everything was in place. Her necklaces shimmered like starlight. Pleased, she smiled.
She’d come a long way since those days of trying on her sister’s Disney dresses.
“Ladies and Gentlemen… Direct from the royal palace, by way of Detroit… Her Majesty the Queen!”
The music swelled. She emerged onto the stage, sparkling. The cheering was fierce. There were always a few gasps as they beheld her. Who could blame them?
Head high, she envisioned the floor where her feet would step. In each step’s outline, Georgie’s grubby face. Her glittering shoes came down on each one. Crash. Splat. Into a million pieces.
A majestic smile parted her lips as she warmed up the crowd. Smashing, darling. Simply smashing.
Writing prompts:
(1) Opening line: "She wasn't surprised the pencils were missing."
(2) Narrator: Her Majesty the Queen
I enjoyed your take on POV. It was unexpected, and while I saw the darkness below the surface (all the things the queen had gone through to get where she was), there was also a playfulness that felt like it was in balance.
ReplyDeleteI liked the power in her voice toward the end of the writing. Her envisioning Georgie's face under her heels was an especially nice touch. This is sprinkled with some nice ironies, too. The fierce cheering, the beautiful dawn rising while she was being bullied, the grubby face under her brilliant shoes.
ReplyDeleteI felt for the character almost immediately and cheered for her as she walked onto the stage. Nice work!
ReplyDeleteThat's a strong voice! Nice work. :)
ReplyDelete