Camp NaNoWriMo is done! And of course, snippets are the order of the day!
schuyler, is this the equivalent of a macaroni and cheese post? i'm just wondering.
yes, miss impertinence. i had to get up at quarter-to-five this morning.
Schuylock started out on a whim.
A friend and I were reading the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, and I posted occasional tweets about my impressions of the stories with the #Schuylock hashtag on Twitter. But a writer is never content simply to read and have impressions. Oftentimes, reading something soon turns into a strong urge to imitate.
And of course, having a name like Schuyler, which combines so wonderfully with Sherlock, I couldn't resist incorporating my name into the working title. Thus, I began a mystery. Camp NaNoWriMo saw me fairly far along in that mystery, though I'm not quite done yet--still have the climax left to go. :) This is a murder mystery with a romance subplot, and it's proved a good challenge both in plotting out clues, and in attempting to make two people fall in love with each other.
we won't talk about the current attempt at cockney accents. no, sir.
Without further ado: snippetttttsssss.
It was in the year 1895 that the strange murder of Edward Hastings came to our attention. The local papers handled it in their usual style, making no mention of my friend’s prowess and having only the vaguest conjectures of what became of Miss Victoria Hathaway, the fiancée of the murdered man.
“Miss Hathaway—“ The inspector cleared his throat. “Lady Fitzalan mentioned that you were seen in a different dress last night after the murder was discovered. The dress you were originally wearing was not in your things. If you could produce this, we would be more inclined to believe your story.”
“Besides the obvious fact that she showed no grief, I find it unlikely that any woman would experience la grande passion towards a violent alcoholic.”
“But women have been attracted to scoundrels before—“
“Not this woman. She said his manner was beneath her notice, certainly not a very lover-like statement. And any woman who removes her engagement ring less than twenty-four hours after her lover has been murdered is far from overcome with affection for him.”
How had she ended up in this place? It had all been a wild promise, late one night, when there was no way to stop the tears. Then the offering up of all her little savings, and now she was Victoria Hathaway—with only one single sixpence left in her pocket, waiting for anyone to discover.
She returned his gaze with a proud, frail grace. “I do not think I have been dishonest, either.”
She looked for one long moment into the fire. Then, to our wondering eyes, she loosened the fingers of her gloves with slow and deliberate movements, and pulled them off. Underneath, her arms were white, with the delicate tracery of aristocrat’s blood running through them. But mottled over the skin, horrible and cruel, were several heavy bruises and the trace of scratches that left thin lines of dried blood behind.
Victoria sat and looked at the silver coin, placed precisely in front of her jewelry box. Her eyes felt heavy from crying, and she rubbed at them, trying to clear away the thick, sleepy feeling that always came after tears. Queen Victoria stared back at her from the polished silver. Victoria traced a finger down the silhouette of her face. Cold, harsh metal, comforting in its rigidity, met the soft skin of her fingertip.
"The sixpence will tell you everything you need to know."
more exciting story news coming in May. Stay tuned....