It was 1908, the war had just ended. The little town which sat on a hill was slowly recovering. Sally Stone, daughter to Frederick and Emma Stone liked to pick flowers during her free time as it was an escape from the memories of the war and those that haunted her. Her daddy was lost to the war, momma too stricken with grief had taken her own life. Sally was left with the vast estate they had built, she had no siblings; her momma couldn’t have more children – this Sally saw as more of a blessing than curse. No one should have to bear the burden she bore.
Still in her own world, Sally scooped up a handful of blue dandelions she had picked into her basket. Evening was approaching and she had promised the Mayor’s daughters she would have them over for tea by Four. Hat in one hand, the hem of her dress and her basket of flowers in the other, she strutted back to the estate…
Maids and servants snapped into a frenzy of activities as though they just were aroused from a trance. Miss stone your bath has been drawn;. Before going off to endure the rituals of affluent ladies when they expect company, she tells the cook blueberry muffins and cheese cake would be fine for tea time.
A bubble bath with lavender does little to heal the ache in her chest for she was out of sorts. But she had her smile perfected for the Mayor’s daughters. She gets powdered up and dressed and reaches out to ring the Butler and the door bell goes off. Girly giggling calms her unease. She goes down to welcome them…
Halfway down the stairs, Miss Stone is greeted with the most green eyes she had ever seen, a quick perusal and Sally concludes such chin and body are as the books would say, “like those of a Greek god”.
***
The End of a War brings a wary kind of peace, the kind that had settled over Sugarplum Town. Little crime existed, only few miscreants who would rather steal than go to a party with free food. War had scarred them so, it’s how they got by… it was all they knew. John Alden, son to James and Margaret Alden was having to deal with two of such miscreants.
”I was going to pay for the food mister, I just wanted to have a taste first. And you see, my friend had our money, he just was six stalls away" the older miscreant tried to convince Alden, but that story won’t save him… At least his mother wasn’t sick this time. He locked them up at the station and left his deputy in charge. His father had sent for him.
”Miss Stone has graciously invited your sisters over for tea, I’d like you to drop them off. They are running late as it stands”
Too exhausted to argue with his father on the intricacies of his sisters’ movement arrangements, he replied ”very well father”. The car ride to the estate was full of girly chatter about girly things; ”ohh your hair looks nice, they compliment your eyes”, ”ohh your dress accentuates your features”, ”I hope Miss Stone doesn’t find us boring”, ”I hope to marry a rich man, so I won’t have to work”, ”’oh my wedding is going to be the biggest in Sugarplum Town”.
And people wondered why he wasn’t married, he thought to himself, he couldn’t stand weak women, they offered him no challenge. How else would he enjoy breaking them, and making them bend in every way. He loved his time in the war. He grieved when the war ended. Nomore women to rape, no more children to molest.
Squeals of ”John we are here” snapped him back to reality. The girls rush off and the door bell is rung. The Butler ushers them in and offers them seat in the parlour of arts, portraits hanging from every nail, the upholstery and drapes oddly seem to match. Soft footsteps has John raising his head to see; he wouldn’t call her curvy
But she wasn’t skinny, she had an interesting jawline, with very thin lips. He knew corsets could be misleading but those breasts looked appealing, bigger than pears but not as big as grapes, just the right shape to fill a man’s hand and spill a little. He was thinking already of demeaning ways to get off her layers of all black attire. When she spoke, ”and you would be?” ,”John Alden” he said, reaching out his hand. ”Ohh I’m Emma stone” she took his hand smiling.
Image Credit : wikipedia.org
Monaleesaah is a black skinny writer and singer, who can be a substitute therapist, and can be baited and thus kidnapped with pounded yam.
P.s she loves, white, black and grey
