New Story, No Name
I have bits and pieces of this for now, hopefully I can put it all together at a later date =]
As the belltone sounded, Genevive promptly began the brisk walk from school to the small townhouse that she shared with her parents in the city. She didn't think to bring her coat with her that morning since it was late spring, and was regretting it horribly. Although she only lived three blocks from St. Augustine's School for Girls, they seemed to drag on forever when she was in a hurry to get home. The streets were brightly lit with the late afternoon sun, while carriages and merchant carts crowded the busy streets. Genevive waved to a few of the merchants, knowing that she could easily have her way with whatever they were selling. She stopped at Sean McGillans cart and eyed his trinkets.
"What is it today, Sean? Spinning tops and Pears?" Genevive smiled at him. Sean, a short Irish boy of about fifteen, would be the perfect look of a husband for Genevive. If he wasn't lower class. "Aye, ma'am, and by the looks of it, you'll be wantin' one of these for free, I suppose." She took a pear and held it to her lips with a flirtatious smile. "It would be so gracious of you. I haven't eaten since dinner last night, and these Pears look delectable. I promise you something in return tomorrow." Sean eyed her knowingly. "You always stay true to your word, but you never bring me quite what I want." He snatched the pear from her and gave it a kiss, "I'd be willin' to give you a thousand pears if I got one day with you." She smiled and took back her pear, "We both know how that would go over with Father. Thank you Sean, I'll see you tomorrow! Bright and early!" And off she went, making her way from merchant to merchant until she found herself in the alleyway behind Market Street in front of a run down shack.
Genevive proceeded quietly, setting down her books on the side of a tall building. She felt the wood of the walls and the tin of the roof, a shack that looked like it belonged in the middle of an old forest instead of an alley in a busy city. Cautiously peering around, she finally gathered the courage to lightly tap on the frosted window. After a few eery moments, the dark curtain slipped open to reveal a greusome old eye and the side of a leathery scarred female face. Genevive jumped back, falling over a pile of scraps and landing in the middle of a large puddle. As quickly as the face appeared, it was gone; hidden behind the thick material of the curtain.
"Tabitha," Genevive whispered quietly. She heard the faint sound of a lock clicking open, and looked towards the old rickety door. The wood let out a long whine as it slowly swung open to reveal the warm candle light of the room within. She looked around once more before picking herslef up and scurrying inside.
Closing the door and locking it behind her, the wretched old woman prodded Genevive in the direction of two wicker chairs and a large old stone that was rubbed down into a makeshift tabletop. After smoothing her skirt, she stared off at the cozy walls of the shack. Old trinkets and cookware lined the walls, and vines from her unusual plants decorated the ceiling. Genevive watched the old woman hobble around the small space in her dark maroon dress. She wore gold and silver rings on every finger, along with seven rings in each of her ears. Her dark gray hair was like that of a horse, covered by her black scarf. Returning with her arms full, she gave Genevive's hand a soft squeeze and sat down on the other side of the table.
"The weather is quite awful these days, never wanting to make up its mind," Genevive said quietly as the old woman sat down across from her.
"The weather is always beautiful here, Genevive, compared to where I come from," The woman said while muttering in her native tongue. She laid out a deck of cards and a stone bowl filled with water and herbs before taking Genevive's hand in hers. "Now be quiet, I feel as though I have much in store for you this day."
Genevive did as she was told, watching quietly as Tabitha traced the lines of her hands. Dipping her brush into her bowl and lightly brushed the bristles across Gen's hand. "Wherever the pieces decided to land, that is how I will tell your future."
The both waited silently as the small puddle in her hand faded into nothingness, and only the herbs remained. Tabitha took Gen's hand once more, nodding and murmuring knowingly to herself.
"This is like nothing I've ever seen for you, Genevive. It looks as though you will be making a new home somewhere. Somewhere important. This location will be the birthplace of the rest of your life. You will be respected and honored here for your accomplishments."
Genevive smiled. "I've always dreamt of moving to Paris and becoming a fashion designer. Or better yet, the Queen of England, and bossing everyone around. I'm very bossy. Or maybe --"
"Genevive! I'm not here to hear about your dreams, I'm here to tell you you're fortune. We are not done yet, my dear." Tabitha set the bowl aside and grabbed her deck of cards.
As the belltone sounded, Genevive promptly began the brisk walk from school to the small townhouse that she shared with her parents in the city. She didn't think to bring her coat with her that morning since it was late spring, and was regretting it horribly. Although she only lived three blocks from St. Augustine's School for Girls, they seemed to drag on forever when she was in a hurry to get home. The streets were brightly lit with the late afternoon sun, while carriages and merchant carts crowded the busy streets. Genevive waved to a few of the merchants, knowing that she could easily have her way with whatever they were selling. She stopped at Sean McGillans cart and eyed his trinkets.
"What is it today, Sean? Spinning tops and Pears?" Genevive smiled at him. Sean, a short Irish boy of about fifteen, would be the perfect look of a husband for Genevive. If he wasn't lower class. "Aye, ma'am, and by the looks of it, you'll be wantin' one of these for free, I suppose." She took a pear and held it to her lips with a flirtatious smile. "It would be so gracious of you. I haven't eaten since dinner last night, and these Pears look delectable. I promise you something in return tomorrow." Sean eyed her knowingly. "You always stay true to your word, but you never bring me quite what I want." He snatched the pear from her and gave it a kiss, "I'd be willin' to give you a thousand pears if I got one day with you." She smiled and took back her pear, "We both know how that would go over with Father. Thank you Sean, I'll see you tomorrow! Bright and early!" And off she went, making her way from merchant to merchant until she found herself in the alleyway behind Market Street in front of a run down shack.
Genevive proceeded quietly, setting down her books on the side of a tall building. She felt the wood of the walls and the tin of the roof, a shack that looked like it belonged in the middle of an old forest instead of an alley in a busy city. Cautiously peering around, she finally gathered the courage to lightly tap on the frosted window. After a few eery moments, the dark curtain slipped open to reveal a greusome old eye and the side of a leathery scarred female face. Genevive jumped back, falling over a pile of scraps and landing in the middle of a large puddle. As quickly as the face appeared, it was gone; hidden behind the thick material of the curtain.
"Tabitha," Genevive whispered quietly. She heard the faint sound of a lock clicking open, and looked towards the old rickety door. The wood let out a long whine as it slowly swung open to reveal the warm candle light of the room within. She looked around once more before picking herslef up and scurrying inside.
Closing the door and locking it behind her, the wretched old woman prodded Genevive in the direction of two wicker chairs and a large old stone that was rubbed down into a makeshift tabletop. After smoothing her skirt, she stared off at the cozy walls of the shack. Old trinkets and cookware lined the walls, and vines from her unusual plants decorated the ceiling. Genevive watched the old woman hobble around the small space in her dark maroon dress. She wore gold and silver rings on every finger, along with seven rings in each of her ears. Her dark gray hair was like that of a horse, covered by her black scarf. Returning with her arms full, she gave Genevive's hand a soft squeeze and sat down on the other side of the table.
"The weather is quite awful these days, never wanting to make up its mind," Genevive said quietly as the old woman sat down across from her.
"The weather is always beautiful here, Genevive, compared to where I come from," The woman said while muttering in her native tongue. She laid out a deck of cards and a stone bowl filled with water and herbs before taking Genevive's hand in hers. "Now be quiet, I feel as though I have much in store for you this day."
Genevive did as she was told, watching quietly as Tabitha traced the lines of her hands. Dipping her brush into her bowl and lightly brushed the bristles across Gen's hand. "Wherever the pieces decided to land, that is how I will tell your future."
The both waited silently as the small puddle in her hand faded into nothingness, and only the herbs remained. Tabitha took Gen's hand once more, nodding and murmuring knowingly to herself.
"This is like nothing I've ever seen for you, Genevive. It looks as though you will be making a new home somewhere. Somewhere important. This location will be the birthplace of the rest of your life. You will be respected and honored here for your accomplishments."
Genevive smiled. "I've always dreamt of moving to Paris and becoming a fashion designer. Or better yet, the Queen of England, and bossing everyone around. I'm very bossy. Or maybe --"
"Genevive! I'm not here to hear about your dreams, I'm here to tell you you're fortune. We are not done yet, my dear." Tabitha set the bowl aside and grabbed her deck of cards.