fic: lower me down to culprit south
lower me down to culprit south.
the hour. marnie madden. She grew up or she didn’t grow up, she took a set of manners and an outfit and perhaps a string of pearls and became a woman. 508 words.
She begins to think she will not be carried
unscarred, untorn into any heaven. Wants
someone to hold her while she burns.
(rishma dunlop)
And before Hector?
Is it strange if she says nothing?
There is a past, to the extent that everyone must have a past but she doesn’t think of it (the un-drawn outline she must have been). Marnie Madden put those things aside the day she married, a kind of passing as her father gave her to her husband (and her husband gave her back).
She grew up or she didn’t grow up, she took a set of manners and an outfit and perhaps a string of pearls and became a woman. Something about it felt insufficient, of course, a play-act, a masquerade but what of that? She does well in her own way, her pulled together impressions. She pretended to be film stars in front of the mirror when she was younger.
It’s no different.
She pricks herself on the day of her wedding, an accident, an earring gone into the end of her finger. There is a small mark, blood, at the edge of her dress and she looks down at herself and it is funny because nobody will notice, she thinks nobody will notice but there is blood on the dress. It won’t wash out and she remembers playing Lady Macbeth in school, in sixth form-she was a terrible actress, always a terrible actress.
She wonders if the day is ruined, the small circle of red on her dress (her white silk!) and her mother says nobody will notice and don’t be silly, darling and Marnie smiles in that tight way she does and walks.
Nobody does notice, of course, and she wonders why it matters.
Marnie Madden, of course, has a talent for making things easy (Marnie Sherwin did not).
She wins in the small way, in the easy way that she has the capacity to. Hector is not a prize (in her way, she knows it) but she has won him in any case, has locked him up where he can lock her up, has kept him away. After Bel Rowley, it does not matter, really. After Bel Rowley, there will not be a threat.
She finds a newspaper with Bel’s picture open, months after the shows finishes, that tight haughty smile (oh, she did always admire Bel in her way) as she stands with Mr. Lyon. It is spread across their table, open, and he has been looking at her, she thinks. Marnie reads over the article, quickly, briefly-politics has never been her specialty. It is terribly scandalous, of course, it’s quite a story, spies and murders. It is exactly the kind of story, she thinks, that suits Bel Rowley.
She throws away the paper before he gets back.
When the divorce goes through, she goes to France for a month. She needs to hide, perhaps and she stays alone in a hotel room in Paris and smokes and birds go outside the window and she wonders if this is how it is be alone, to cast spaces around oneself. She wonders if this is how others live.
She comes back to London in a yellow dress and magnifique, she says.
She marries again a year later.
the hour. marnie madden. She grew up or she didn’t grow up, she took a set of manners and an outfit and perhaps a string of pearls and became a woman. 508 words.
She begins to think she will not be carried
unscarred, untorn into any heaven. Wants
someone to hold her while she burns.
(rishma dunlop)
And before Hector?
Is it strange if she says nothing?
There is a past, to the extent that everyone must have a past but she doesn’t think of it (the un-drawn outline she must have been). Marnie Madden put those things aside the day she married, a kind of passing as her father gave her to her husband (and her husband gave her back).
She grew up or she didn’t grow up, she took a set of manners and an outfit and perhaps a string of pearls and became a woman. Something about it felt insufficient, of course, a play-act, a masquerade but what of that? She does well in her own way, her pulled together impressions. She pretended to be film stars in front of the mirror when she was younger.
It’s no different.
She pricks herself on the day of her wedding, an accident, an earring gone into the end of her finger. There is a small mark, blood, at the edge of her dress and she looks down at herself and it is funny because nobody will notice, she thinks nobody will notice but there is blood on the dress. It won’t wash out and she remembers playing Lady Macbeth in school, in sixth form-she was a terrible actress, always a terrible actress.
She wonders if the day is ruined, the small circle of red on her dress (her white silk!) and her mother says nobody will notice and don’t be silly, darling and Marnie smiles in that tight way she does and walks.
Nobody does notice, of course, and she wonders why it matters.
Marnie Madden, of course, has a talent for making things easy (Marnie Sherwin did not).
She wins in the small way, in the easy way that she has the capacity to. Hector is not a prize (in her way, she knows it) but she has won him in any case, has locked him up where he can lock her up, has kept him away. After Bel Rowley, it does not matter, really. After Bel Rowley, there will not be a threat.
She finds a newspaper with Bel’s picture open, months after the shows finishes, that tight haughty smile (oh, she did always admire Bel in her way) as she stands with Mr. Lyon. It is spread across their table, open, and he has been looking at her, she thinks. Marnie reads over the article, quickly, briefly-politics has never been her specialty. It is terribly scandalous, of course, it’s quite a story, spies and murders. It is exactly the kind of story, she thinks, that suits Bel Rowley.
She throws away the paper before he gets back.
When the divorce goes through, she goes to France for a month. She needs to hide, perhaps and she stays alone in a hotel room in Paris and smokes and birds go outside the window and she wonders if this is how it is be alone, to cast spaces around oneself. She wonders if this is how others live.
She comes back to London in a yellow dress and magnifique, she says.
She marries again a year later.