Thursday, January 6, 2011

"WRITE! WRITE, YOU WHORE." ~ Surmised by Absolutely*Kate of Harbinger*33 ... #FridayFlash Fiction

"WRITE! WRITE, YOU WHORE!"
~ As surmised, by Absolutely*Kate 



"Write! Write, you whore!"

Echo slammed sentiment. Deeply set into the thick, dark-green arched pine door, the scratched brass lock clicked, clenched and shut in the spirit of the striking woman melding shadows at the window.  Cold metallic finality darkened visage. Grey lambasted hues sharded vision. A return hiss from the daughter of Adele Eugenie Sidonie Landoy went unanswered. Hollow bootsteps descending a melancholy staircase seldom respond. The irony of a free spirit imprisoned against her nature with passion for nature twining ivy tendrils outside a third-story sealed window embittered her battered psyche. It was the publication rights of her third story he coveted this month.

Her nom-de-plum was his name. This tainted ink. This blotted reason. Yet the pen beckoned. The pen always beckoned. Twas her freeing salvation that it should. To run free where thoughts tangled pungent as perennial gardens her beloved mother had urged verdant, layered her roots of redemptive grace. "Mon Dieu Maman, if you could see me now. C'est un honte! It is a disgrace."

If not for her predicament, Adele Eugenie would have admired her daughter's presumption to attire:  A hand-embroidered 1923 Vidalou frock of cotton voile. Delicate insets the tint of a hint of beguine to spring. Au printemps subtly warming to full bloom. Irony how it captured her spirit, enlivened inspiration of femininity on the prowl, passion on a time-release until -- too late, much too late -- conquest charged. Pinet satin lavendar evening shoes set off the French novelist's novel ensemble. A sensating mood could evoke. Exuding sexuality would provoke. Her writings tantalized fact where fiction lay wanting, opening, writhing for a prominent climax to kiss the winds of change . . . change which she knew must come. Vivid vehemence underscored sigh, "Changer de cote . . . to change ends". Aware, la femme; her time was on nigh.

Her stride to the well-worn oak desk was direct. Thoughts collided, already splurging expression, the better to warm wanton worlds. Supple burgundy brocade caressed her seated curves as tapered fingers fondled the woodgrain ripples of her preferred Confident Marque Deposee, aware of the irony in the naming of the power of the pen. Her eyedropper urged ink into the barrel for the 18K gold nib's first flamboyance to intercourse pristine paper . . .

She started simply, thus strongly, with a tendency that bliss-indulgence is a worthy practice . . . worth perfecting ~

"If I can't have too many truffles,
I'll do without truffles."


Her glance took in the spacious but closed-off writing salon, windows not open to all senses, door locked as simile of obstacle to the manner of loving she desired . . . and deserved ~


"My true friends have always given me that supreme proof of devotion, a spontaneous aversion for the man I loved."

Mais oui. Her friends were wise. Her pen lamented a life of its own ~
 
"It's so curious: one can resist tears and 'behave' very well in the hardest hours of grief. But then someone makes you a friendly sign behind a window, or one notices that a flower that was in bud only yesterday has suddenly blossomed, or a letter slips from a drawer... and everything collapses."

There were books and short stories to carry her forth. There were dances to be danced far into nights to be remembered, and forgot. There was swooning to consume. Certainement there would be swooning! Henri Gauthier-Villars would claim fame through her as "Monsieur Willy" no more! His literary face was farce through pages poured behind a deadbolt door. This no longer, her talents would endure. The confidence of her wood-grained Confident nibbed forth her greater truths ~

"Look for a long time at what pleases you, 
and a longer time at what pains you." 


Sidonie-Cabrielle signed her given name . . . 
La femme went on to seek her innate fame.


~ Colette 



(c) 2011 ~ Author Absolutely*Kate
~ Another Premiere AT THE BIJOU



P L E A S E      S T A Y      S E A T E D     T O      E N J O Y
   O U R     F O L L O W I N G    S T U N N I N G     S H O W   


*AT THE BIJOU* kicks off 2011
  with BREAD*CRUMBS
  to finding your own ways for picking up
the trails of Authors you know a little
and those who resonate swell. "Do Enjoy!

After all, it's all about the Journey.
~ Absolutely*Kate 
and our fine staff of renown
*AT THE BIJOU*

14 comments:

Matthew S. Magda said...

This is splendid! Among your best writing ever. The flow and beautiful interplay of words are both pleasureable and alluring. Can writing set one free? Well this story ironically makes one believe so, but in unexpected ways. Looking forward to the next chapter in this subtle and intriguing tale. Kate, you must have been channeling this one.

Cathy Webster (Olliffe) said...

I echo Matthew: splendid, indeed!

Sean Patrick Reardon said...

Another gem. I do have two questions though.

Did you come up with this line, or is it a famous quote? If you came up with it, wow, it is awesome.
"If I can't have too many truffles,
I'll do without truffles."

Do write descriptions based on the pictures, or do you write and find a the pictures after?

ABSOLUTELY*KATE said...

@SEAN, my new insightful writing goombah, as you say. Gosh darn it, but since running into you, the share of the sheen of writing has even more valour to its colours.

1. I search and search the right images AFTER to further convey feeling, mood, sense of story. In this case, that IS the remarkable French novelist Colette, whom I was entranced with in those passionate years of 17-21, and then forth.

2. Yesterday I read as a buried notation that she was locked in a room to write by her first (loser) husband who took credit for her successes. This went way past piqueing me to out and out research a hundred places, and past Rumplestiltskin, I realized that a story which interested a writer so highly should be a story told to readers. Is that a barometer, Sean? Damn, but I felt it - stayed up til 5am and Matt up there was right. I felt channeled to convey the passion behind the indignity ... a voice I didn't know would say, "No, say it different. You know the word that will colour the moment. See the room."

3. That's her quotation, Colette's. When I came across it - I felt exactly as you - not only wishing I had writ that gem, of course - but in smiling, silent nodding awe. I had to share and credit her the further. Sean, is that would being 'compelled' feels like?

4. I think my Steelers may last longer than your Pats. We gotta bet?

ABSOLUTELY*KATE said...

@Cathy ~ How very, very good to see you 'rounding the aisles AT THE BIJOU, sneaking popcorn outta other folks bounty. How they smile when they're startled and look up and find out it's You.

So appreciate what you said. Now I've goning to hunt up your latest Canadian pearls of wisdom. Happy publishing brave new year, dear lady.

ABSOLUTELY*KATE said...

Oh Matt,
How could an author be more fortunate than to be not only read and intuited, but ever encouraged by the intellectual global mind which resonates as You? History and literature both flourish under discussion and gleaning. You embody that and express it so one finds further their own learnings.

I learned that you were "allured".
WoooHoooo! Merci beaucoup

Sean Patrick Reardon said...

A*K- Thanks for the great answers. I'm really not a fan of football anymore, with the exception of my beloved "Fighting Irish". I played it in HS and college, but now lacrosse rocks my world.

I am no fan of Giselle's lapdog either, but do respect the hair, while the plugs take root. Like rock stars, I like my athletes to be characters, not beards. Big Ben is my kind of QB and I hope, if they meet, the Steeler put a huge whoopin' on the Pats, just because I like Big Ben, simple as that.

theothersideofdeanna said...

Bravo! This is absolutely brilliant Kate!

This may be the first story I've read that could be described as "eerily hopeful", if there wasn't such a thing, there is now.

I am in awe, period.

Susan Cross said...

"A sensating mood could evoke. Exuding sexuality would provoke." Ah yes, truly A*Kate!

Love the description of the frock.

Bukowski's Basement said...

Great stuff, Kate (as usual) ;)

Lily Childs said...

Kate, this is *Absolutely* beautiful and if I may, I shall allow it to set my attitude for the day. It's years since I read Colette, but I may well seek her out again - and then go and watch 'Coco Before Chanel' just for the hell of it.

Stunning, stunning writing. You should frame it in gilt with a mount of embroidered Chinese silk.

Madam Z said...

Thank you, Kate,for giving me the opportunity to show Colette that I am a "true friend." I "have given (her) that supreme proof of devotion, a spontaneous aversion for the man (she) loved."

And now it's time for me to lead a spontaneous ovation to Absolutely*Kate, the star performer at the Bijou!

ajhayes2 said...

The divine Isadora would understand this. And a certain D, Parker. Understand that the beast must claw its way out. That, no matter how clever a turn of word or how deliciousy delicately the phrases fall, you must always satisfy your red, raging soul. Satisfy the beast or be lost in another's world. Gigi inderstood that better than most . . . but not better than her creator. Cool.

Kristin Fouquet said...

Thank you, my new dearest friend, for directing me to this. As you know, I am a fond fan of our Colette. Yes, that evil Willy stole her words and locked her up to write them for him. Interesting also is that she took her father's surname Colette as her sole name. He was always tucked away in his office writing his magnum opus- never to be disturbed. I think this was the luxury of self-imposed exile as after his death, they found reams of blank paper in his desk- the phantom opus.

One wonders how much of Scott Fitzgerald's lovelies were penned by Zelda. He admitted to reading her diary for inspiration and occasionally pinching passages. In "Save me the Waltz," she proves she was indeed a writer.

It's delightful meeting a kindred spirit. You are an inspiration. Thank you, Kate.

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