Thursday, 31 March 2011

I ask the weirdest of questions.

As promised, something I wrote today:

The carriage jolted me awake, coming to a sudden stop. I jumped, clutching madly at my seat, not knowing what was happening.
“Sorry Miss! Bloody potholes in this bloody road. Came down ‘ere yesterday and the flippin’ carriage nearly tipped over! Sheesh!” These comments weren’t exactly helping my confidence levels as a flood of nausea rose suddenly through my stomach. “Don’t worry Miss! Nearly there! I’ll get these potholes one day, I’ll bloody get ‘em!” All I found with this carriage driver was that he liked the word ‘bloody’, he hated potholes and he didn’t really care for a young girl’s confidence in him at all. He hurtled down the road, the carriage swerving and shaking this way and that. “HA! Miss, you’re white as a sheet! Don’t panic, see, I’ve got it all under control. Nearly there, see? Just down this road now. There you have it Miss! The great Farthingale place. Never seen anyone come this way before Miss. Come on, come on, nearly there!” He was talking to the carriage at the end there. I was still scared as I peeped out of the window, at the ghostly, incredulous building before me, in the valley below. It was gothic enough, yet it had beautiful gardens and a lovely atmosphere. I didn’t really know what to think of it. I was just leaning out of the window to get a clearer view, then – BANG!

My eyes fluttered open, the sunlight streaming down, making patterns on the grass and warming my cheeks. I took a minute to take this in, then realized what had happened. I sat up, too fast, my head started spinning. I saw that the carriage was upturned, and the driver was fussing about it, trying to sort it out. Another man was there, and a woman as well, they were walking up the road. I sat up more slowly, and the gathered my wits and began to stand up, my legs shaking. Suddenly the woman I had seen walking up the road was behind me, supporting my back, “You are Cassandra Green.” It was a statement, not a question. I nodded. “Hm, you are very pretty. Straight nose, shiny hair. But ever so pale skin. You shall be good for the children, and the children will do good for you, it may seem. I am Mrs Hare, the cook.” I smiled and shook her hand, taking in the wide smile, the grey hair and the large woman, and thought she was nice enough on first sight. 

I started writing this last year. Yes, last year. I left it alone for a good six months but have recently found it in my computer. So I carried on writing, and this is what I have written so far today. Very Jane-Eyre-y, weirdly.

And now a question for you. Each day, you wake up (6:30.. urgh.) and get ready for school/work, then leave, then get back home. What do you most look forward to?
Yeah, this is a really odd question, I know. I can explain; when I was on the bus going home today, I was most looking forward to my shower. Weird. I have 40 degree showers, and my parents complain about the steam. They say it's unhealthy but I find it so relaxing. I was just wondering what you guys look forward to most when you come home from whatever you did in the day.
FRIDAY TOMORROW! Good feeling :)


  1. lol The carriage driver is awesomesauce. Why is it weird that it's Jane-Eyre-y?

    I don't really know what I look forward most to. Maybe the computer? Is that sad?

  2. Haha, I guess it's because I didn't mean it to be?

    And no. I do sometimes as well :)
    Either that or we're both weird. xD