Prudence - Part something - twoish - very very draft

The rain is so loud on the canvas roof of the wagon, that I cannot even hear the person next to me speak.  How do people in the countryside sleep , wondered Prudence, withh all the raicous wildlife debaunchery carrying on in the night. 

Prudence was most sincerely regretting her foolish agreeance to this job opportunity.  It is quite ridiculous.  Who hires a households worth of servants and ships them out to the countryside for the summer?  What had she let herself in for? 

Admittedly all the staff were as they should be.  The Butler would only speak to Senior Servants.  The Housekeeper looked like she stuffed lemons up her arse for fun.  The housemaids were having a very good time with the caravan guards.  Perhaps she should be more suspicious surrounded by such archetypes?  Things were too normal. 

Or as normal as they could be in a caravan train in the forrest in the rain surrounded by sex crazed amphbians.  Did they have to be so loud?

Okay, she admitted, it was nice to be out of the house.  Lucius had let her handle the reins of the kitchen wagon.  Joshua had let her tag along on a hunting trip.  He'd even let her have a go with his bow.  Only she hadn't been able to draw it.  Judith had taught her some songs, though she didn't know where she would be able to sing them unless she changed the lyrics significantly.  Were it not for the frogs depriving her of sleep and her worries about her future, she would be enjoying life on the road.

Judith says the dark haired boy with the earring's name is Fergus.  It's been two weeks and he still looks like he is laughing at me.  I am totally going to say something next time.
Maybe.

Probably not.
Joshua says travellers can't be trusted and that respectable girls shouldn't be alone with them.
I have no great urge to be alone with him.  Unlike half the housegirls I encounter who all seem to be conveniently dropping things in his vicinity or tripping or accidentially tearing their skirts off.  Who did Amelia think she was kidding with that anyway?  As if?

Prudence - Part One

Hers was a narrow world.  Of scrubbed pots and polished cutlery.  Hands red and raw. Or that is to say, it had been.  What a strange thing to be unemployed?

Once accepted, a job was for life. How does a person organise themself?  She'd never really had to make decisions before.  Just do what she was told, when she was told.  Quietly without fuss.  And try and keep her hair neat under her cap.  Bits were always coming loose.  Cook had threatened to shave it once.  Cook said she'd never progress upstairs the state she was in.

Her employer had died and the heir was not interested in keeping the properties.  He resided on some foreign Island, cook had said, and did not wish to be bothered with the upkeep of houses he would never see.

The new owners already had many of their own servants.

How does one go on? She was not twelve anymore to be picked at an apprentice fair.  The governor of the orphanage had organised placement for her originally.

Freedom feels strange. Paritcularly considering her options seemed to mostly be freedom to starve and be homeless once her wages ran out.

Well, Prudie decided, I shall not be like John Coashman and drive about for ages o'cause I won't ask for directions.  She straightened her skirt and resolute went downstairs to ask her landlady what she thought she should do.

In progress and very draft - just messing about

She spun around the room in his arms. Barely conscious of her feet. Lost in the closeness of his eyes. The warmth from his face. A building warmth in her loins. Tingling desire wreathing her thighs and abdomen. Could they see her heart beating? Deep pulsing thuds beneath her breasts. Could they see her lips swollen and yearning for his touch?

If only they could be alone. She ached to give him her tongue again in that oh so shocking kiss he had taught her, but her family were watching with sharp eyes. This one last dance all they could share before she was bundled off to the country and her hearts death.

She could not imagine ever feeling this way again.

(for some reason my brain is off in Barbara Cartland/Regency Romance land today *???* mostly what goes through my brain if trapped into dancing is:  shit what do i do now, did i just stand on his foot, is there someone behind me, i hate stepping backwards, christ i hope he doesn't try to dip me - they always drop me when they dip me, etc)

The Beach

They broke up at the beach. A weekend away. A weekend of grunts and monosyllables. Irritated past apathy at the expected utterings of the other. Politeness was no longer possible. They realised they were not interested in anything they had to say. Didn't want to see themselves so unflatteringly reflected in the other's eyes.

That unedurable, annoying elephant trumphet sound he would make when he stretched. Her habitual “and things like that” when speaking.

Now the flirting was done all that was left were habits of companionship.

They realised they hated eachother.

She thought about what had attracted her in the beginning. She realised it was the 'otherness' of him. He was so very different to the people she had grown up with. She was never quite sure what he was going to do. She knew now. It probably involved football.

He had been attracted to her smile and the way she laughed at his jokes (and her tits). She had stopped smiling a long time ago. She never had liked his friends. Always bitched about the television being on.

The Incident

I don't know why I went with him?
He wasn't my type, at all.
So pale and thin.

At the time he seemed so ... sexy.
Overpowering.

He lead me out the back, through the fire exit door, into the alley behind the club.

I hardly noticed.
His eyes ...
so ...

but then it changed ...
his grip so cruel
nearly tearing my hair out
as he forced my head back ...

I came to myself
why was I here?
It wasn't like me.
It wasn't something I would do?

I struck.

Everything seemed so different then.
He seemed to just crumple.
He seemed so different.

Pale and ... and ... ferret like,
and weak.

I kicked him again.
It was as if his bones were brittle.
The slightest strike broke.
It felt so good.
Powerful.
I didn't want to stop.

His skull was like chalk.
Nothing left but an empty envelope.

I saw his teeth.
So long ...
I understood then.

We've formed a band.
A gang.
We protect the innocent.
Those that aren't strong enough to realise the truth.
Those that can't SEE.

We go out nights searching for them.
Now that we know.
It's our duty.

A Future

space scares me
light
it doesn't feel safe

where are the airlocks
and the irradiation lasers

some people go outside
extreme parties
they walk in the natural air
even play games
without suits
just in ordinary clothes

I don't know how they can do it
they are so ...

just the thought of the germs makes my skin crawl
i feel sick
i have a sonic wave shower to clean the shudders from my skin

I've heard some people eat dead animals and plants
instead of synthesised food
they say rich people do it all the time

a partner did extra studies
he says once upon a time
people stuck their tongues in each others mouths
he wanted to try it
*hurl*

I am not cracking my body suit for anything
let alone for some male to ...
i can't say it again
it is too disgusting
i told him he was sick
i told him i didn't want to see him anymore

i reported him to the department of social order
it was for the good of the community
who knows what he would have done next
i don't think history studies should be allowed

The Edge

She lived in a dome
on the edge
She had to bend her head to eat

which she kind of liked

a nod of respect to the scientists
that had struggled so hard to make
life in a bubble possible

she had sky living on the fringe

unlike the inner dome dwellers
tightly packed in rising towers
slivers of a spinetingling view
only available to the powerful

the rest enclosed in concrete and balconies

why do they have balconies
when there is nothing to see?
except the bundled body
of your neighbour across the way

It was always cold
saving energy on heat
and ordour filtration

bland 'user-friendly' foods

the fringe was dangerous
living on the edge in more ways than one

but the only way a ground dweller could have room
no space wasted

a tiny escape to a horizon bigger than your imagination
pressed against the perspex
at the back of a cupboard
feeling like you could fall into space
one small crack away from death

only the desperate live on the edge