Sunday, November 27, 2011

New Pen-Spatterings

Some samples of a new story I've been toying with recently...I have a Feeling in My Bones about this one. It has children. Naughty children. And when a story has naughty children, a nanny who may or may not be a princess banished to this world, and adventures to be had in another land,  I am in my element. :P This new tale doesn't have a name yet, and I am enjoying it immensely.


"There was Nannykins to begin with, but she had a bad knee and left for the North. Then there was Miss Perdue who, when she was not sleeping was cross, and when she was not cross, was dozing near the fireplace with her apron flung over her face. Of course the children meant well—who would hint otherwise?—but they got rather into the habit of making loud noises just so—“Bam!”—and giggling when the apron flapped like the sail of a clipper ship in a gale." ~The beginning to this untitled story

"Mr. Macefield sighed, and rasped his chin once more. “No…no, I suppose it does not matter. Only now I shall have to spend another three weeks looking up a nanny for you when I could be making us wealthy.”
It was a favorite pastime of Mr. Macefield’s—making them wealthy, I mean. Not that he ever succeeded with more than the usual success, but it kept him occupied and happy enough, and the Macefield children lived under the general impression that all fathers spent hours in their studies, scribbling things to get wealthy." ~Ibid.

"The truth was Mrs. Macefield had a horrid case of what is generally known as Nerves. If it rained, she was ill. If it shone she was ill. If the children made more noise than usual she was ill. If her favorite horse did not win the races, she was ill. And, since it is a general maxim in life that things will not always go the way we wish them to, it is safe to say that Mrs. Macefield was nearly always ill." ~Untitled Story

“Hallo! Who are you?” Darby asked, tugging the brim of his cap in the manner of a coal-bargeman, and offering a small hand to the person on her rear amongst the flowers. The young lady allowed herself to be dragged to her feet by Darby and Bertram, who had since recovered himself.
She brushed off her skirt and tried to pin up her wealth of hair. It was useless—like trying to pin up great quantities of brook-water, or something equally rippling and beautiful." ~Ibid.

"I am Cecily Woodruff, and I have come to be your nanny.” She said it, not in the usual manner of nannies coming to be interviewed and hoping to be accepted, but as if she were doing them an extreme favor." ~Ibid.

4 comments:

Hope's Treasures said...

sounds really neat, I'd love to hear more.

londongirl said...

Oh, this was absolutely amazing!! You have me so intrigued!! And love how the words flow and leap off the page. Please, post more! I look forward to reading this story.

Jenny Freitag said...

I am excessively diverted. Your prose is charming, to really say the least. I must say the least because you prose speaks so very well for itself already. You are funny without trying to be funny (which is a sure way to make oneself stupid), you know childnature to a T, and your particular views on the conduct of Mr. and Mrs. Macefield must be shared by readers universally. Well done. Well done indeed.

Rachel Heffington said...

Thank you so much for the sweet comments. Despite our best intentions, we writers write for a public, and it's the greatest sense of relief to know your sisters are not the only ones who enjoy what you are writing. :P
And Jenny, especially, thank you so very much for leaving such a dear comment. I have been pen-slain so many times by you, and finally had to come to terms that *this* is my style, not your beautiful, ethereal prose. For awhile I wondered if I should even try writing when there were already people like you who loved my craft so well. So your encouragement was especially warming to my heart-cockles. ;) ~Rachel