It wasn't the first time Anne had felt eyes on her as she made her way to the bakers to retrieve their order of rolls for the dinner crowd. Trevaine Road was the straightest shot out of town and
Here the story tried getting away from me, adding more people than I wanted and changing the geography of the town. The hashed out part is what I wrote before I redirected it.
lined with inns and shoppes on one side, taverns and stables interspersed with forest on the other, bisected here and there by smaller roads leading to more homesteaded parts of town. In other words, it was populated by those who had ... an interest in others. Forcing herself to merely glide, a lady doesn't run, she still reached Tevya's yeasty shop in record time. If the kindly old man noticed her twitchy and rushed behavior he made no mention of it as she paid their weekly tab and scurried back into the street. She was nearly home free, past the worst of the taverns when she heard a drunken hail from behind her. It sounded like Jacob Fitch, a young man recently gone into business for himself and feeling every inch the man.
Refusing to acknowledge him, despite the fact she was the only one on the street in earshot to hail, unless her mysterious watcher had shown himself. That thought nearly made her turn and the hesitation hurried Jacob's steps until he was sweeping her up from behind. Her basket of rolls flew down the road as she was swung by the waist in a dizzying circle, a shout dying as the air was knocked from her lungs.
"Anne! Sweet, dear Anne! Ever so good to schee you! Pretty Anne with the pretty green eyes. Eyes like a cat," Jacob rambled setting her back down but keeping a firm hold in her. "When are you going to marry me my little cat? I've a business of my own now. I can buy you pretty ribbons my little cat."
She could smell the whiskey on his breath as nuzzled her hair Enraged, Anne's spine straightened and she struggled against the blacksmith's vice like grip and iron arms. "Jacob, let go of me. I have no wish to marry you, you know that. Let go!"
"Don't wanna. Wanna get married," Jacob said petulantly, his face still buried in her brown locks. He sounded like the small child he had been when they first met.
"If you're looking to marry, Anabelle has been making eyes at you," Anne replied, still struggling.
"I don't want Anabelle," Jacob snarled, whirling Anne around to face him, his goofy, childlike attitude suddenly gone. I want you, Anne Reeves!"
"Jacob, you're drunk and you're hurting me," Anne said, stilling her movements and doing her best to speak placatingly despite the anger and fear burning through her veins. The bright mild day suddenly turned dark and cold as Jacob gripped her tighter, hissing again in her face.
"I am going to marry you Anne."
At once his lips her pressed her hers and Anne went wild. Flailing, she scratched and clawed what she could reach while in his painful grip. She managed to wrest one fist free and raked her nails across his face. Then, as suddenly as Jacob's attack had begun, she was wrenched from his grip and a blade point was above his heart.
"One more move," the blade owner spoke and the rest was a bit of a blur to Anne, who finally succumbed to her nerves a bit. There were impressions of the blade biting Jacob's flesh, his fear and anger. A brief scuffle and then it was only she and her rescuer.
"Are you alright?" She could scarcely believe that it was the same voice that had told Jacob off. The tone was suddenly quiet and calming.
This story wanted so badly to become an epic beyond what I have the time or abilities currently to write, which is why it has taken me so long to post it. Wrestling a highwayman is a difficult task!
This was inspired by "The Highwayman" as sung by Loreen McKennitt (from the poem by Alfred Noyes) and The Scarlet Pimpernel movie starring Jane Seymour, Anthony Andrews, and Ian McKellen(!). Unfortunately when I wrote most of this I didn't have access to either one so it was written to "The Highwayman" by Celtic Thunder and the Trial of Lancelot CD by Heather Dale.
Anne here has definite flavors of Belle a la Beauty and the Beast and Once Upon a Time. The highwayman (who is the rescuer considering I don't think I made that clear) is part Scarlett Pimpernel, part rogue, part local boy gone big, and completely in love with Anne. Interesting fact, I realized that this is not the first story I've written where a man/boy falls in love with a girl, watches her from afar and then swoops in to save her and the things dear to her. In middle school we had to write a newspaper from the perspective of the people living in Roanoke before they vanished, and come up with a theory for why they left. In a side story I started writing (which I abandoned when I realized it was going to turn into a romance novel), an Indian boy falls in love with a settler, meets her on the beach as White leave, gets wind that a rival tribe is going to raze Roanoke, and warns the settlement, saving her dear brother in the process. I gave an edited version (they were only friends and it was much shorter) to my group.
Anne succumbed to nerves because I have no idea what her swashbuckling hero says and I don't know how to write sword fight scenes. What do you say beyond thrust and parry? I can write cat fights (as in the actual felines) but not human fights. That's what I get for roleplaying cats when I was younger.
Day 26 - The Trampoline as a Metaphor
The author discusses her fear of jumping on a trampoline. Perhaps it is because I am still very much a child, but I love the trampoline and don't find it scary at all. Boring maybe, but not "impossible to feel safe on".
She also discusses the freedom of just letting go on said plaything, in which she has a point. If you don't care how you look it is a lot of fun. Also, if you have something to do beyond just jumping in one place.
As metaphors go it isn't the best one I've ever heard but is is a case of knowing your audience. Thank you Ministry School for my public speaking and human interaction and teaching skills.
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