I have written a story that I want to share with you. It is pretty much a first draft that I am working on while posting, so please be gentle. Although constructive criticism is always welcome.
It is a short story in 3 parts of about 500 words each – a quick and easy read. Today you will read part 1, part 2 on Wednesday, and part 3 on Friday.
Why 3 parts?
I recently watched a documentary on Charles Dickens and (my favorite book of his) Great Expectations. I was quite surprised to learn that he released the book chapter by chapter in a self-published ‘zine (well, what we would call a ‘zine). Who knew good ole Charlie was a DIYer?!
I really like the idea of hooking your readers and getting them to come back for more. I didn’t do this to be gimmicky though. I wrote each part separately and presenting the story in parts just felt right.
I hope you enjoy part 1 below, and make sure to return on Wednesday and Friday for parts 2 and 3.
Mrs. Rose was the type of woman who always left you wanting more. I first met her when her husband invited me to a soiree they were hosting. They were the type of people who used words like soiree, darling, lovely, and bosom. Her husband, Mark Rose, was an accountant at the paper I worked for. We became friendly over scotch one cold, winter snow day when no one else bothered to show up to work.
That day, we drank and he told me about his wife, who in his opinion was the perfect specimen of womanhood and femininity.
“Not that she’s dainty, darling,” he emphasized over and over as he told me more and more about her. “She has a body. Oh what a body!” I’ll spare you the details. Alcohol and thoughts of Mrs. Rose’s body would make any reader blush.
“How did you two meet?” I inquired, which led to a long story of a trip to India and ashrams, where he found her meditating. Something about the light hitting her just so and she looked so otherworldly. He obviously envisioned her a goddess.
Is it any surprise then that when I met her I had the same impression? She really was a goddess and she captivated people with the most banal conversations. Hearing her talk about the weather could be a spiritual experience.
I bet you’re dying to know what she looked like. I know I was after all that Mark had told me. Well, comparing her to a young Jayne Mansfield would not do her justice, but it’ll have to do.
I don’t know of anyone who was not smitten with her upon meeting her. I was no exception. I fell and I fell hard. Her hair, her skin, her eyes, and THAT body.
She truly was a goddess.
A goddess who adored her husband.
Despite my friendship with Mark, I spent the next several months plotting how I shall find myself alone with Cynthia Rose. How I would entice her and somehow make her fall madly in love (or at least bed) with me.
You can judge me. Go ahead. You’ve never seen her. You’ve never met her. You don’t know what that kind of woman can do to a mind.
Soon enough, though, I would learn a secret.
Will our hero succeed in seducing Mrs. Rose? What in the world could go wrong? Is this narrator even worthy of being called a hero?
Tune in Wednesday to learn more (maybe).