Let's learn how to write! The 100 prompt challenge!
@atrollleanrstowite
A Norwegian hamster who has specialized in drawing, tries to somehow make a short story collection about a bitter girl and her ghost "buddies". Reblogs relating to writing tips and ETC may happen.
That fantastic moment when you look over the profile of your old OCs, and realize what leaps of character development they’ve made.
The meek Victorian lady who was only around to fulfill the classic historical horror trope became a bitter, suspicious and abrasive young woman, who survives barely on her beauty and occasional wit. She became curious above everything else, driving the plot to have an actual end in sight.
Her counterpart, the creature under her bed, gained a sense of humor and toned down on the whole “kill you someday” bit in favor of a more twisted kind of relationship based upon old promises, pride and loathing of both himself and his victim. Oddly enough he became less of a monster, and became more ‘awful’ because of it.
The awful in-law became less of a butt, and conflicted about his desire for revenge. He became more ordinary in terms of looks, but also became more charming in his speech : quick to sarcasm, more expressive, prone to childishness despite knowing better and somehow became worse at handling money. He actually became human-like.
The main protagonist’s twin went beyond, bland perfect girl who is all about marriage. She became driven to elevate her husband’s social rank by making friends with the right people, she struggles with her inability to provide a child, and the jealousy of her sister.
The father ... well... uh...
.....
......... well, maybe not everyone have changed that much? Oops.
Prompt 1.) Worth its weight in strange - knocking out the midsections
Prompt : A fella from a good family in London has gotten an offer he almost can’t resist; rich Hans Lehmann is looking for a suiter for his daughter, Lieselotte, and seemingly he is the number one candidate. Not only would the marriage give wealth, but the young girl is also a beauty. The rumors surrounding her though are a bit sketchy. He decides to take the risk anyway. Indeed, the girl is all that she was promised to be and more, but she’s awfully strange and practically spits poison. Um, now what?
“Quite frankly Temperance is boring : dull : stale : spiritless : the equivalent of a dentist visit followed by high tea with your third cousin. The town is beautiful though, and the bread is always fresh, so I suppose it’s not all terrible and world ending if you’re supplied with proper entertainment and company”. She said it so fast and with such fluidity that Oscar raised a brow. Less distracted, the woman came across as pleasant and almost charming in the way she worded herself. She barely took a breath when she spoke, holding onto long sentences and became prone to exaggerations like she was reciting from a dark comedy.
“I think Temperance is an idyllic patch of land. The clean air, the smell of trees, farmland and the simplicity of the countryside life... I’ve never been outside of London. Away from the bricked walls and paved streets,” Oscar confessed and turned his attention towards the small bowl of toffee on the tea table.
The woman laughed. “You’re too easily impressed”.
“Perhaps,” Oscar agreed and smiled. “My infatuation with the green may be temporary and entirely disappear upon the discovery of a poisonous mushroom, or an encounter with the wildlife”.
“Lambs do tend to strike fear into the hearts of men whenever come across,” she admitted and sighed. Oscar tried to pull out a chair for the young lady, hoping to continue their conversation now that he felt comfortable and curious about her, but she quickly declined.
“I haven’t even put away your coat, Mr. Asplin,” she said as her face turned into a grin. “Please, sit down and relax. I’ll speak with the staff and have your items carried to their proper place. Father will be with you as soon as he can to give you a proper welcome”.
“Oh,” Oscar exclaimed quietly, shoulders dropping slightly. It was as he suspected. The ghostly woman in front of him was Lieselotte, the mad one Harry had so thoroughly warned Oscar about. He should have pieced it together the moment he saw her, or at the very least when she began to speak with such familiarity about the home. Oscar couldn’t deny that she was strange, and nervous, but dangerous and crazy like his brother has insisted? Hardly, or - maybe it was a little early to pass that judgement. After all he did meet this woman only a few minutes ago, and she felt completely comfortable leaving him on the other side of the gate. Oscar began feeling uneasy again, sweat trickling down his neck and back once more.
Satisfied with the small talk and with tasks at hand, Lieselotte hastily walked back into the hallway, leaving Oscar all by himself while she fetched him something to warm to drink. He took the opportunity to finally sit himself down and cleanse the fog off his glasses. No matter how much he wiped, they clouded over as soon as they were put back on his nose. Maybe it was the east England weather playing a prank on him. The problem arose not long after he had left the station. Oscar made a disgruntled sound in the back of his throat and tried again. It wasn’t cold inside the parlor, not even remotely chilly or humid. Whatever ovens they had were doing a fine job of heating the manor evenly. Oscar couldn’t wrap his head around it.
Resigning that he would just have to live with a mist for now, Oscar chewed on another piece of toffee, enjoying the sound of raindrops behind the curtains. The parlor felt oddly quiet without Miss Lehmann for company, and he became increasingly aware of how noisy the garden was with crow screech and bird tweets. It was another type of ambient backdrop than he was used to. Oscar closed his eyes, absorbing everything he could from the faint burnt scent of incense, to muffled but busy footsteps above him.
Opening his eyes again, he realized how dark the parlor was. Was the ceiling always this black? The longer he stared, the more it felt like his chest pulled skywards, dragging him towards the shadows to be gobbled up by whatever recided there. Oscar felt the blood drain from his fingertips. He was still cold sweating, the upper back of his shirt now soaked and clinging to him.
Lieselotte’s return with a tray and teapot was more than welcomed. Oscar swiftly rose up from the chair to assist her, managing to break free of the mood that had washed over him. Almost as suddenly as it built, the cold stone in his stomach disappeared. The smell of fresh mint and sugar smoothed out the last hairs that stood on edge on nape of his neck, and he cradled the pre filled cup close to his chest like it could fight of a pack of wolves by itself. It looked a little ridiculous, but Lieselotte payed no mind to Oscar’s white face and twisting lips. She offered instead an embroidered blanket with white dogs from a storage box in the furthest corner of the parlor, mumbling something about drafts and how his long journey must have exhausted him. Oscar nodded along, still a bit absent between the foggy glasses and wet clothes.
“Father will be with you as soon as he finishes with Mr Brighton in his office. It shouldn’t take more than fifteen minutes,” Lieselotte chirped and passed along a piece of red currant tart to the guest. “Your suitcases have been carried upstairs. I don’t have permission to escort guests around the house, but should the need arise while you’re waiting, your room is the first door to the left at the second floor. Pansy will assist you with unpacking upon request”. The woman was nimble with her hands, and before Oscar knew it, the tray had been emptied and the table filled with everything he could imagine: a warm towel to clean his hands or face, biscuits with cheese and marmalade, a milk pitcher and a most delicate tea set painted with roses and gilded edges.
“Is there anything else we can do for you, Mr. Asplin?”. Lieselotte straightened up and brushed down a wrinkle in her skirt, playing the part of hostess with little seriousness.
Oscar stuttered. “No, thank you, Miss Lehman. This is more than generous of you”.
Lieselotte strangely enough didn’t smile back, becoming increasingly more transfixed on the door leading back into the hallway. This time even Oscar thought he heard something scraping against the wood.
“Squirrels,” she said before Oscar managed to ask. “A family of squirrels moved into the attic before August, and now there’s five or six of them running around the first floor. Catching them has proven to be quite a problem, but better them than mice or rats”.
Oscar squinted a bit at Lieselotte, noticing.how her shoulders had stiffened and tightened, her head once again unmoving.
“I apologize for the inconvenience. Father is inconsiderate sometimes. I’m certain he’ll arrange a hotel room for you downtown if you mention the pests. He seems convinced they’re not around, despite the nibbled furniture”, and indeed: she pointed towards a couple of bald spots on the carpet and curtains.
“I don’t mind at all,” Oscar replied and left his glasses on the table to avoid clouding them any further with the steaming tea. “I’m very used to squirrels, really. They’re everywhere in Hyde Park. Have you tried luring them using sweet bread?”.
Lieselotte slowly turned towards Oscar. “Sweet bread,” she repeated, not entirely impressed with the suggestion. It wasn’t the direction she wanted the conversation to go, but Oscar continued nonetheless.
“I used to keep a couple in a birdcage when I was small. My mother thought dogs were nasty, dirty little creatures and my father didn’t understand why we would need to keep a cat inside, so I made due with what I had, and what I had were squirrels”. Oscar raised his cup at Lieselotte. “I did release them short after, but I caught them all using sweet bread”.
Oscar couldn’t exactly tell what facial expression Lieselotte was making with his glasses off, but eventually she blurted out a snort. “Charming,” was all she said to that, and wished him a pleasant evening, tone clear that she had done her part, and headed towards the hallway. She didn’t intend to keep him with company till her father arrived?
Oscar threw his glasses on, cup still in hand. He had been so close to starting a pleasant conversation with her, seeing her with her guard down, and now she was about to disappear to --- do what exactly? Chase whatever was scratching at the door? She couldn’t exactly run in a skirt that wide without knocking something over. Oscar began thinking of the window by the entrance again. Lieselotte was anticipating something, that much he was convinced of. A person, or an event. He couldn’t tell at the moment, but she was expecting something to go wrong. Quite frankly at the moment he was willing to believe it himself. The few minutes he had been alone in the parlor in the dank light had him paranoid and claustrophobic for a while, and the heavy drape curtains blocking any and all sunlight didn’t make it any easier.
“Miss Lehmann?” he said as calmly as he could, though he sat at the edge of his seat. “Could you be so kind and tell me a little more about Temperance and the manor?”.
Lieselotte halted at the door handle, and peeked over her shoulder. The ice cold look in her eyes had returned, but this time there was no chill running down Oscar’s spine. He grew increasingly uncomfortable, yes, but the intensity wasn’t directed at him. Oscar watched her as she bit her cheeks, considering, mumbling to herself.
“I have other matters to attend to,” she concluded and left.
1. QUEST - the plot involves the Protagonist’s search for a person, place or thing, tangible or intangible (but must be quantifiable, so think of this as a noun; i.e., immortality).
2. ADVENTURE - this plot involves the Protagonist going in search of their fortune, and since fortune is never found at home, the Protagonist goes to search for it somewhere over the rainbow.
3. PURSUIT - this plot literally involves hide-and-seek, one person chasing another.
4. RESCUE - this plot involves the Protagonist searching for someone or something, usually consisting of three main characters - the Protagonist, the Victim & the Antagonist.
5. ESCAPE - plot involves a Protagonist confined against their will who wants to escape (does not include some one trying to escape their personal demons).
6. REVENGE - retaliation by Protagonist or Antagonist against the other for real or imagined injury.
7. THE RIDDLE - plot involves the Protagonist’s search for clues to find the hidden meaning of something in question that is deliberately enigmatic or ambiguous.
8. RIVALRY - plot involves Protagonist competing for same object or goal as another person (their rival).
9. UNDERDOG - plot involves a Protagonist competing for an object or goal that is at a great disadvantage and is faced with overwhelming odds.
10. TEMPTATION - plot involves a Protagonist that for one reason or another is induced or persuaded to do something that is unwise, wrong or immoral.
11. METAMORPHOSIS - this plot involves the physical characteristics of the Protagonist actually changing from one form to another (reflecting their inner psychological identity).
12. TRANSFORMATION - plot involves the process of change in the Protagonist as they journey through a stage of life that moves them from one significant character state to another.
13. MATURATION - plot involves the Protagonist facing a problem that is part of growing up, and from dealing with it, emerging into a state of adulthood (going from innocence to experience).
14. LOVE - plot involves the Protagonist overcoming the obstacles to love that keeps them from consummating (engaging in) true love.
15. FORBIDDEN LOVE - plot involves Protagonist(s) overcoming obstacles created by social mores and taboos to consummate their relationship (and sometimes finding it at too high a price to live with).
16. SACRIFICE - plot involves the Protagonist taking action(s) that is motivated by a higher purpose (concept) such as love, honor, charity or for the sake of humanity.
17. DISCOVERY - plot that is the most character-centered of all, involves the Protagonist having to overcome an upheavel(s) in their life, and thereby discovering something important (and buried) within them a better understanding of life (i.e., better appreciation of their life, a clearer purpose in their life, etc.)
18. WRETCHED EXCESS - plot involves a Protagonist who, either by choice or by accident, pushes the limits of acceptable behavior to the extreme and is forced to deal with the consequences (generally deals with the psychological decline of the character).
19. ASCENSION - rags-to-riches plot deals with the rise (success) of Protagonist due to a dominating character trait that helps them to succeed.
20. DECISION - riches-to-rags plot deals with the fall (destruction) of Protagonist due to dominating character trait that eventually destroys their success.
“She’s in quite a mood,” Kunze beamed up at Jaxx, settling down grumpy child on his lap and petting her skirt down to sit more comfortably on the sofa. “Perhaps it would be kinder to postpone the session, or take a break?”
Jaxx took a deep breath, going near dizzy from the anger and frustration. It was utterly impossible to discipline Lotte when herr Lehmann had guests over. The brat was smart enough to seek shelter among the crowd, and manipulating enough to bat her eyelashes at the more weak willed to have them pleading to her governor to leave the paddle at the door.
Doctor Kunze was one of the worst.
Though a good friend of the family, he didn’t seem terribly interested in Lotte’s training to become a lady, indulging her in gossip and occasionally bringing the child to his coroner job to satisfy her curiosity. Sure, she became well educated as a result, but allowing a little girl with frequent night terrors to be around corpses? Not the brightest idea.
“20 minutes,” Jaxx compromised, looking Lieselotte straight in the eyes. She squirmed a bit and grasped the doctor’s vest a bit tighter. “We’re going back into the library in 20 minutes, and then we’re playing the bodhran”.
__________
WHOOPS, SCREWED UP THE HANDS. NEVER MIND. FLATS IT IS.
MINI THING FOR A FRIEND, WITH MY THING ALSO IN IT.
Useful things I’ve learned about my writing and other tips thanks to friendly feedback
My people descriptions are pretty okay.
I have a bad habit of exaggerating and have to come back to tone things down.
I’m good at writing silly characters who die when there’s unexpect mail
I like long and confusing sentences
“To mud” is a cute phrase and it’s mine now i called dibs.
Too many was/were kills the story and dampens my attempts at description. “Strengheten the primary verb” he says. ... WHELP TIME TO ENGLISH I GUESS AND BRUSH UP ON ME GRAMMAR AND STRUCTURE.
You can, in fact, use emoticons in your roughest of roughest drafts to get across things without searching too hard for words and figure out a scene layout. This is also called witchcraft.
wordcounter.net says I write like a 12th grader, and that’s the best compliment I’ve gotten this week
Prompt 1.) Worth its weight in strange --- drafting the intro
Prompt : A fella from a good family in London has gotten an offer he almost can't resist; rich Hans Lehmann is looking for a suiter for his daughter, Lieselotte, and seemingly he is the number one candidate. Not only would the marriage give wealth, but the young girl is also a beauty. The rumors surrounding her though are a bit sketchy. He decides to take the risk anyway. Indeed, the girl is all that she was promised to be and more, but she's awfully strange and practically spits poison. Um, now what?
____________
Oscar sank deeper into his seat, carriage bopping up and down unevenly under him. Despite the delays at the platform, the driver had kept a steady pace since Titusville. Judging from the flattening road and the smell of oak, they were nearing their destination. Thank the heavens: Oscar wasn't entirely sure how many more times he could accidentally knock his head against the walls. The countryside would be the death of him.
The more he rubbed his sore face and thought about it, the less sense his invitation to the Lehmann house made. He had felt ecstatic at first - he nearly succumbed to lightheadedness when it came through the mail slot. He had to fumble his way onto the sofa to pull himself together, mentally reminding himself that swooning was meant to be a woman's activity, not a man's. Opening the letter, addressed to him, was a clumsy affair and Oscar nearly tore the contents apart in his excitement, leaving scraps of paper all over the living room carpet.
The calling card of Hans Lehmann that came inside the envelope was both beautiful and terrifying, very befitting of the man: a hand-calligraphed gryphon sitting on a worn boot. Simple, strong, but the most intriguing thing was the request for his presence at Mr. Lehmann's residence. Oscar had squinted through his glasses for quite some time before he concluded it was genuine, as it was a privilege awarded to few. Oscar's father had only visited him once many springs ago - and since then it had become nearly impossible to approach the man on a personal level. His eldest daughter Annaliese and son in-law Edward Yorker, however, remained approachable and friendly from what Oscar had heard. Thomas down the street claimed the couple were sloppy with their finances. Somehow Oscar didn't doubt that.
It wasn't until after he had reread the contents of the letter for the sixth time that it dawned on him what was actually proposed.
"Marriage," Oscar muttered under his breath ,before another hole in the road made the carriage dip, resulting in yet another knock in the back of his head as though nature itself was correcting him. The offer Mr. Lehmann had in mind was a formal introduction to Annaliese's younger, elusive twin: Lieselotte. That was as good as it could get. She had yet to debut, despite being a few years into adulthood and if her father had his way, she would most likely sit in a dungeon for the rest of eternity from what Oscar had heard. Why Lehmann would hide one and put the other on a pedestal for all to see was much too strange for Oscar.
The young man didn’t have much to offer besides the good name of Asplin and a few acres of land south of London. It was his brothers, Harry and Jonathan, who were impressive with their bright green eyes and and broad chests, their big businesses in foreign lands and air of pride and dignity. The only trait he seemed to share with them was their darker than black hair. Oscar was lanky with a long nose. He wasn’t terribly tall, pale in an unsatisfying way, and very few could guess his age of twenty-three with his childish face and soft hands, making him look like an awkward crane with uptight posture. The only advantage he dared give himself over his elder siblings was his superior manners and his ability to blend in with the furniture - which was surprisingly useful during dinner parties.
Against all odds, it was him who was called upon --- Oscar’s heart skipped another beat as the carriage rattled and his notebook thumped down on the floorboards. He was beginning to think this ride would be his last. Shouldn’t they be in Temperance by now? The driver had promised an hour at most. Oscar shuffled closer to the window and widened the curtain gap just enough to peek outside.
The scent of fresh moss and aging wood hit him full force as a gust of wind passed. Oscar’s nose hadn’t lied : Temperance was an oak’s paradise. The trunks and branches were nearly on top of one another, the leaves so dense light barely shone on the forest floor. Yet the trees stood tall and fat, reaching for the sky. The thick blanket of clouds that had been around since this morning were turning more grey by hour, but the rain refused to come and relieve them of the humidity. They had been spared from fog so far, but thinking back to what a disaster the train trip had been and how Oscar almost lost his foot to a too eager horse when he stepped outside his front door, it wouldn’t surprise him if they would meet a white wall upon entering the town center and the main road to the Lehmann Manor.
Overall Oscar concluded the town to be a bore and nothing short of confusing. The more he tried to look for landmarks and hints of something distinct - a road sign, a large rock or even rubbish left in the ditch running along the road - the more the landscape seemed to repeat itself. Had the carriage not been so sensitive that it leaned and squeaked every time they took a turn, Oscar could have sworn they were going in circles. He pushed his glasses up a little higher up on his nose as he stuck his head outside the window.
“How much further?” Oscar asked, voice cracking as one of the front wheels jumped and caught a wild stick.
“Twenty minutes, I reckon,” the driver wheezed, working on his pipe. “Shortcut had overgrown with thorns again. Didn’t have choice, really,” he explained lazily as Oscar groaned and thumped back inside. He almost regretted asking.
No matter how excited he was over the potential of being within Mr. Lehmann’s social circle, one of England’s most influential men, the thought of interacting with his daughter was a frightening one.
“She’s probably a lovely young lady,” Oscar mumbled to himself as he started to clean up the warzone of spilled paper in front of him. Unfortunately he couldn’t say it with much confidence. Harry had had the brilliant idea of telling Oscar every single rumor he could muster about her, after finding his little brother laying down on the sofa, wheezing and steaming like a machine with the letter in hand.
Hysteric. Absolutely mad, Harry had promised, and Oscar was too stunned to object and chastise his brother for speaking so cruelly about a woman he had never even seen. Warnings of her being a witch, a trip to the asylum, tales of ghouls and things under the stairs and blood and death and ---- quite frankly Oscar had tuned out halfway through and stared blankly till his brother finished and left to take a pint with some friends from university.
Oscar was very clear on matters of the supernatural: they did not exist. None of it. Nothing. Levitation? Bogus. Tarot reading? Guesswork. Seances? Elaborate pranks and hoaxes. Ghosts? Bad bread or cheese most likely. That, however, didn’t stop him from having nightmares whenever someone even whispered the words ‘barghest’ or ‘banshee’.
Amongst his muttering and fretting, Oscar didn’t notice the carriage tilting backwards ever so slightly. They had already passed through Temperance, and were heading up the hill leading straight to the manor. For once the carriage was gentle as it came to a slow halt, and Oscar was already out the door and on sweet ground before the driver could stand up himself. He was tempted to simply sit down and breathe for a while, appreciating the stillness of the steady earth beneath him, but the last thing Oscar wanted now was to mud his trousers. As the driver unloaded the suitcases, pipe still glowing in the corner of his mouth, Oscar finally got a good view of this strange, new world around him. Being able to see something other than thickets of trees certainly made the countryside more appealing. Turning around and unfogging his glasses on his jacket sleeve, Oscar took a proper look at Temperance, and, well --- it was more pleasant than he had expected, if that was the right word.
It was too far to make out the signs, but all the shops were made out of brand new bricks, looking very bright against the surrounding farmlands and the forest encasing the area. From this height Oscar could actually make out more clearings and fields that had been invisible on the main road, though what they were growing he wasn’t able to tell. It was all brown or yellow to him. Everything outside of the wheeled box he’d been stuck in suddenly felt enormous and vast,.
As Oscar passed the huffing horses to inspect the town a little closer, it dawned on him that he hadn’t heard any of the townsfolk passing by the carriage. Now he knew why : a big group of people were collected on the east side of town, closing down a market for the day with cherry red flags hanging everywhere, or so he imagined as they pulled down their tents and wandered inside the shops and homes. What had happened down there? A celebration? Was there a holiday Oscar had forgotten about? He scratched his chin as he watched the town continuing their business. No. He couldn’t recall any special dates : he would have sent his aunt and uncle a card had it been so. Something local then, he decided, and retracted his previous statement. Temperance was far less dull than he made it out to be. Maybe Oscar was simply too spoiled, having grown up in London.
As the final and third suitcase thumped down, Oscar went back to the carriage and turned his attention to what he came for. Lehmann, he had to remind himself. He was here for Lehmann, not sightseeing.
The Lehmann manor was something to behold. It was massive - more imposing than ludicrously large. Dark bricks with white corners, high towers with spears on each side, and an impenetrable iron fence featuring lions and owls dancing and battling to death. The windows had a light frame, dark green curtains covering up the majority of them, preventing outsiders from peering inside. Oscar’s jaw almost dropped when he realized how many rose bushes there were in the front garden, though they were unruly and had seemingly been left alone for a bit longer than needed. A generous amount of thorns sticking out among the iron bars, as though they weren’t enough to keep people out. The front door was surprisingly small compared to the rest of the home, and the lack of a front porch and beams in favor of plain stone stairs was an unusual and simple choice, compared to the gothic and bombastic appearance of everything else. Oscar couldn’t help but imagine that something had happened to forced Mr Lehmann to make more modern renovations. The manor, though in good shape, oozed of old age.
Oscar startled as the driver cleared his throat, and pulled out his pipe to refill the tobacco, sniffling and taking his time. “This is as far as I can take you,” he said slowly and rubbed his forehead with a flat palm. “I’m too old to take the suitcases up those stairs. Mr Lehmann has a healthy staff. You just ring the bell right there and you’ll be taken care of. If not, the gate’s never locked. Walk right up and knock. ” He dragged himself back on the carriage, obviously having no interest in staying longer than he had to. “Well, uh, good luck Mr. Asplin. Hope you have a good stay and all that”
“Yes, thank you,” Oscar stuttered out, rather taken back by the driver rolling away at snail pace. But with only a few steps away from the bell and the gate doors it didn’t require any effort to get assistance. Awfully rude, he noted, and lingered on the carriage for a few moments before he stepped up to the bell. It was an ancient thing made of copper or some other heavy material. It had discolored to green a long time ago, judging from the moss at the top. Unsure of how much noise the bell made, Oscar decided to try a gentle hand. The noise was astonishingly loud. Oscar almost felt his body vibrating and echoing along with it, and instinctively paddled back from the gate with his heart up his throat. Surely the staff must have heard that? Oscar corrected his glasses quickly and glanced back up at the manor.
Silence.
Oscar squinted. “Odd,” he remarked and tried to ring again with a more firm hand. He looked up again. There was movement in the window on the left side of the door, presumably the entrance hall. The curtain pulled back a little, revealing a pale shape behind the glass. Oscar squinted some more. He couldn’t quite make out who it was. The glass was slightly frosted and the floral pattern at the top was quite distracting. Was it one of the staff? It was a woman no doubt. He could spot the silhouette of a crinoline skirt. Whoever it was, she was standing very still. Unmoving, and with no intention of budging.
Oscar swallowed and rang once more. The shape remained in the exact same spot, only her head tilting slightly to get a better view of him. Oscar returned the gesture, standing there in awkward silence for at least a minute. He tried one more weak ring of the bell. This time the woman was quick to open the window, and Oscar let out a sigh of relief, entered the gate, and trotted up towards the door, leaving his suitcases behind.
“Excuse me, miss,” he panted as he neared the top of the steps. “My name is Oscar Asplin. Mr. Lehmann called upon me last week to ---” and like hitting a wall, which he almost did, Oscar stopped, his back covered in cold sweat. In the open window stood a short woman, no taller than five feet, tightlaced and with hair like spun gold resting on her narrow shoulders. No wonder she had appeared so pale : her skin had a translucent quality and her eyes were so light and blue it was as though they weren’t real. They stared with such intensity at Oscar that he didn’t dare to move any closer to the door, let alone call out for someone. Her mouth was small, painted he swore, and unusually relaxed compared to the rest of her face. He couldn’t decide if he was enthralled or terrified. The two felt the same right now.
Opening the window to take a closer look at him appeared to be the limit of the woman’s generosity. She didn’t sprint to the door, nor did she apologize for leaving him out there. No excuses like ‘the lock is broken, please come around’ or ‘we were not expecting you so soon’. She seemed quite content to have him in that exact spot. She eyed him up and down like she were window shopping, inspecting him with no rush and mild intrigue.
Feeling confident that the woman would not move until he did so himself, Oscar cleared his throat.
“Miss?“ he said quietly, but with no meekness behind the word. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Oscar Asplin. I’m a mechanical engineer”. And almost like magic, the woman’s brows raised slightly and the window gap widened. “Mr. Hans Lehmann invited me for a visit last week to discuss a possible partnership and investment. I was encouraged to arrive before the thirteenth, and to stay a couple of days,” Oscar continued, taking the opportunity to climb the last two steps. He dipped into his pocket and pulled out Mr. Lehmann’s calling card, presenting it to the woman with a polite head bow to clear away any suspicion. “May I come inside? My luggage is by the gates and I’d rather not have it get wet. It makes unpacking difficult.”
She didn’t take the card. Instead she disappeared inside, but before Oscar could call out to her, the front door began to rattle. The woman opened the door just enough for Oscar to slip inside, and as soon as he was over the threshold and into the entrance hall, he heard the lock click behind him.
“I convinced the staff the bell didn’t ring,” the woman said quickly but nonchalantly, and snapped the curtain shut. “A mistake on my part. I’m sorry for the inconvenience. I’ll speak with Witherspoon. He’ll fetch your things,” and with that she extended her arm and asked if she could take his coat and fetch him some tea. Her hands were small and fingers short.
“You convinced the staff the bell didn’t ring?” Oscar replied slowly and looked puzzled at the woman, his own manners forgotten by her sudden change of nature.
“I didn’t think you were there” she said with utmost sincerity and shrugged. She asked this time if he would like some cherry tarts on the side: dinner was still many hours away.
Oscar couldn’t help but squint through his glasses. He was tempted to tell her straight forward that telling the staff that there was no one ringing the bell - when there clearly was - hardly made any sense. As gracefully as she moved, the woman was abrasive and not at all ladylike. The words came out much like how an automaton might draw or perform a task: ingrained and stiff, with only the mask of something human. The woman had obviously undergone proper training. Her head was held high and her posture was as regal as any other dame Oscar had seen. She simply didn’t care how she addressed him at the moment. Oscar wasn’t blind or dumb. He saw her eyes dart towards the same window she has been standing in several times during their short conversation.
“Are you expecting someone?” Oscar said low and leaned in slightly when the woman slipped up and looked over again. It didn’t earn him much in terms of an answer, but she apologized and began leading him to the parlor, asking once more if he needed anything.
The parlor wasn’t very grandiose or big, but the high ceiling and wooden walls were inviting and warm. It appeared Mr. Lehmann wasn’t a fan of wallpaper and they were instead covered in landscape paintings, war trinkets, a covered mirror and framed letters. The green curtains were indeed a recurring part of the decor, and the chaise longue was covered in the same, thick and fuzzy material to match. A tea table stood ready for use in front of one of the larger window, along with some personal reading material beside the chairs in a basket. From what Oscar could tell there were three mystery novels and a german newspaper that had been cut into. It was a surprisingly personal space, completely unlike the parlor Oscar’s parents had, who had designed it down to the floor nails to impress whoever entered their home.
The woman gently guided Oscar further inside, and seemed rather happy that she had managed to coax him out of his coat and gloves. Getting further into the house had had a calming effect upon her. Her previous stone cold eyes had softened, and she was more than willing to small talk, telling short tales about the interior and the town itself. Her darting eyes however had found a new target in shape of corners and sofas.
________________________
Around here Oscar is, like, supposed to feel uneasy leaving the strange lady all by herself, because seriously --- she’s bothered by something to the point where she’s rude to guests. Things get confirmed, she’s indeed Lieselotte Lehmann, and Oscar isn’t too surprised. Harry hadn’t told all lies : Lotte be a very nervous person, but she isn’t bad as far as he can tell. She’s eager to ask about mechanical engineering after confirming with the staff that he is who he is and will be staying a while, and is clearly educated in things a woman of her standing shouldn’t even have the slightest clue about. Hans finishes his paperwork, and Oscar is overall excited that he got to meet Lotte first because SHE WEIRD AND BLUNT BUT INTERESTING? Yuck. Things.
Since hiring writers is an expensive affair, I figured it was time to learn how to write and English myself. Having over 100 original prompts planned for a single story this ain’t gonna be an easy task. However, I will do my very bestest and attempt something creative outside of drawing. Results may vary.
Let's learn how to write! The 100 prompt challenge! @atrollleanrstowite - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
