Friday, December 31, 2010

FOR WHOM THE BELLE TOLD ~ By Absolutely*Kate of Harbinger*33 ... #FridayFlash

~ By Absolutely*Kate

Is a great moment of all time notably spectacular at the exact instance it occurs, or does memorable enrichment glean its merits through gilded legend? That is the question. Well, one of the questions that daunted New Year's Eve's festivities for Stanley and Wanda before the clocktower of 1949 struck life forward.

He was remembering how time flew in the U. S. Army Air Corps in 1945, seemingly a million miles away, across an ocean of thought and a litany of letters from the cat's meow of a dandy dame now clutching her warm grip over the pinstriped arm of his best suit jacket . . . and his heart. Her gloved hand tightened against the possibility of a slipslide as they crossed the icy parking lot. He liked how this night felt. Being reached for, being clung to, wearing his best suit jacket and looking forward . . . to possibilities. They'd get inside before midnight. They'd make it. Then he was going to ask her.

She was recalling for whom the belle told what she was asked to believe in 1946. Colette Broussard had held nothing back when she blew into the windy city. She was certain that either Stanley or his Chicago squadron buddy Chuck was the not so proud papa of her scrawny, whimpering Giselle and she wanted more than nylons and au chocolat for her troubles, as she called them. Wanda listened without judgement across the Kresge dime-store perfume counter the taller, slimmer, more elegant femme fatale leaned her decolletage over. Wanda listened without interrupting the tale of a dark rainy night and a farmhouse and pilots down in a field and a welcome bowl of  soup alongside friendly fire. Very friendly, it seemed from the veracity wriggling against the older woman's shoulder, mewling for her bottle. The story had plot, climax and credence but not a happy ending. 

When Tom, Mr Kresge's eldest son, sent wary glances Wanda's way, she squared her shoulder pads, bared her bravado, and shooed the mad mademoiselle from her scents'ory department, hissing swiftly though, "Why? Why tell - Me?". She'd not seen nor heard tale of the woman, the babe, the story, again. She'd not noticed the column-inch near the bottom of page 14 of the Trib two days later, mentioning the crash of the Nash and the Studebaker with casualties at Lake and Clark Streets.

~ ~ ~

The 40's were something, alright, Stanley mused. History marked in time and temps. The Depression ended and so did the Big One he went through, WWII. The Cold War was changing the climate and some skinny blue-eyed kid from Hoboken was rising his stardom on every hep radio's horizon. Everyone who was anyone in their set of chums had seen and was keen on Casablanca at the picture-show, and romance was warming the climate too. Yes, this world-changing decade was ending and folks were beginning to watch life happen on a television set. He'd read in the Sunday Tribune that over 125,000 American homes now had one firmly nestled into a corner of their living rooms. Why, if Wanda looked up into his eyes and smiled a 'Yes Stanley', they could look into building one of those little homes in the new suburbs like Edison Park and have their own GE to come home to. Life could be good, life could be a dream in the 1950's with the right little lady to love and cherish and create the American dream with. 

The 40's were sure somethin' swell, Wanda mused, knowing what it was like to wait for an overseas man's kisses to come true and his promises to take hold. She knew Stanley was a swell catch and liked how safe she felt holding onto his dapper suit coat arm, and his soft enchanting gaze. She knew she was walking right into the dream, the big one ~ a night as fine and festive as Chicago's swankiest supperclub, The Chez Paree, could entice. She was one lucky gal on one dapper New Year's Eve headed into a brand new decade . . . of possibilities. The Chez was where headliners of the day came to play ~ Durante and Lady Day, the Andrews Sisters and Nat King Cole  -- Gosh it was cold, cold and slippery on this thin ice. The Chez Paree was up ahead. It would feel good to get inside, feel warm, excited, safe, delighted. Safe enough to ask him, before midnight. She should.

Something that happened before midnight struck was going to affect New Year's luck at the Chez Paree and make a memory to last a lifetime.

(c) 2010 ~ Author Absolutely*Kate
another AT THE BIJOU premiere

Time futures us.  ~ Pic ala andoreamon

~ Absolutely*Kate and our fine staff of renown
  wish you hearty prosperities
from dream-themes into the brave new year!
May your JOY be full.


Holiday Noir by Absolutely*Kate follows,
a challenge dared in a crimewriting spree
joining the daunting scene over at DO SOME DAMAGE ~

 E N J O Y ... S T A Y ~ S W A N K Y !  


Harry said...

Getting the jump on the new year with a new story! I'm intrigued, was the crash of the Nash curtains for Collette? What happened at Chez Paree in the waning hours of 1945? These things and more...I hope will be revealed, At The Bijou in 2011!

Happy New Year Katie*Girl!

Paul D Brazill said...

Class act! Happy New year!!

Deanna said...

Wonderfully told story Kate! I read that first paragraph three times before I continued, just to hear the perfect cadence again and again. Bravo!

Happy new year!

Kate Pilarcik ~ absolutely said...

With stars in my eyes before the bubbly has even begun its beguine to my scene, I Thank*You wonders-full HARRY, PAUL and writer'lady DEANNA.

Intrigue? Cadence? Class Act? A gal can put on sequins for commentos like that. *blush* Ah, Har, you caught the jump'ahead feeling I've been zealing ... and to hone on not writing too revealing ... We shall see what we shall see of Collette, the belle who told and what may or may not occur at the Chez Paree.

Much Appreci'kation for your reading me as I grow. This Happy New Year ... lookout where we all go! ~ Absolutely*Kate

Matthew S. Magda said...

Anticipation, anticipation anticipation--does it define a story, or does a story take on its meaning as our imaginations are led by this powerful, alluring emotion? Why does the New Year bring such stirrings of anticipation? Kate, you have captured the inner core of that eve of New Year feeling while letting our imagination play upon it as we would fretter a guitar with a sudued fret haunting in the depth of our mind.

Bravo! Happy New Year

Kate Pilarcik ~ absolutely said...

MATTHEW ~ You melt my heart when you understand and see into it, as you do.

~ Love you and Happiest NewYear of your desires and anticipations ... yet to be ... Absolutely*Katrina

Salvatore Buttaci said...

"The forties were somethin' all right!" A great story, Kate. Reading you is like sitting across the table and taking in your natural delivery. Being a guy from the forties, let me say, they were somethin', but the years back then came to a close just as this one will at midnight. God bless you and all the Harbingers and their families and friends. Happy 2011 from me and Sharon.

Madam Z said...

I feel like I just watched the beginning of a swell movie filmed in 1949. That's how authentic the dialogue and descriptions feel. Will we hear more about Wanda and Stanley?

Happy New Year everyone! Clink!

Anonymous said...

Yes I am intrigued, with out a doubt, and have spent the last hour and a nalf perusing your site. I am ashamed to say that I just don't get it and yet I am determined to do so.There is something here which I need to grasp....something which is clearly missing in most everything else I have read.
Although as of yet beyond my own personal interpretation.

Happy New Year,

Kate Pilarcik ~ absolutely said...

GODFATHER SAL, you dapper 40's fella and the enchanting MADAM Z (of all decades' delights) ~

Truly you have made my writing experience of the "Whoop-de-do" genre. I say let's put on our glad rags and get all ritzy. You two read what my characters tell me they are like the cat's meow. Purrrrfect.

Happiest NewYear to exceeding your Great Expectations.

~ Absolutely*Kate

Kate Pilarcik ~ absolutely said...

Ahhhh COLIN, you man of visionary insight through pristine windows. Mr James I ask you, "Dreams are true while they last, and do we not live in dreams?"

Yes, yes, we share a literary hero and with no such thing in this world as a coincidence, I shall remember that of all the gin joints and theatres of the mind, you ambled in to mine as the brave new year began its beguine. "INTRIGUE" is a most kind perception and I doff my fedora to a writer of your caliber. Would you put me on the list of the Lord Alf novels needing inscriptions? I'd be honoured.

Keep perusing.
But will you let us showcase your works under our kliegs AT THE BIJOU? That is the question.

Happiest NewYear to your own talents transcending . . .

~ Absolutely*Kate

Carrie Clevenger said...

Sharpest thing in the New Year dear lady. Happy eleven.

Kate Pilarcik ~ absolutely said...

Got your point as usual talent-chocked Carrie. Backatcha as we *zing* publishing into 12. (unmeasurable smile inclusive)