Tickle My Fancy
Have you ever experienced one of those moments when you say something in conversation which makes you laugh hysterically while whoever you are speaking with looks at you as if you’ve lost your mind?
Call me crazy, but I love sharing an inside joke, even if it is just with myself.
Now and again I write a few lines which, when I go back and read them after weeks or months, tickle my fancy or tug on my heartstrings. I thought I might share one such scene on the off chance it might tickle, tug or otherwise touch you, too.
I finished the manuscript of my Novella for the Super-Secret Box Set last week and went back to reread the story from start to finish for the first time in months. When I came to this scene in the first chapter I experienced one of those shared moments with myself and laughed like a loon.
“It isn’t fair.”
“Life rarely is.”
As Sissy continue her litany in four alternating languages, Lilith dropped her gaze back to the slim book in her hands.
My Darling,
I miss you so dreadfully I am tempted to toss pebbles at your window in hopes you will join me in the gardens for a midnight stroll among the roses and hydrangea. In my absence (are you as monstrously miserable as I?) I hope you will enjoy this little token of my adoration and affection and think of me as you peruse the pages.
All my love,
Your Dearest Heart
The penmanship was typical of her mother, elegantly slanted loops and swirls spanning one edge of the yellowing parchment to the next, like ivy left to run rampant, clinging to smooth stone by sheer force of will.
That her father had held onto the book of poorly rendered and poorer rhymed erotic poetry came as something of a surprise. Lilith doubted the words were lewd enough to hold his attention for more than a minute, and if he had a streak of sentimentality in him he’d buried it deep, in deed.
As evidenced when the carriage finally pulled into the inn yard of a little village somewhere west of Wiltshire where Lord Dunaway waited in the parlor between his chamber and that the ladies would share for the night.
“Have I told you lately you are a sorry excuse for a father?” Lilith punctuated the question by tossing the book at his lordship, hitting him square in the chest where, by all accounts, his heart ought to reside.
Lord Dunaway picked up the slender volume from the table, turned it over and flipped open the cover. When he’d read the inscription he lifted his gaze, peering at her from vivid green eyes one debutant had proclaimed – aloud and in the hearing of a gaggle of gossips – made her think of wicked things like rolling about in warm grass entirely unclothed. “Are you someone’s darling, Lil?”
“I pilfered it from your library.”
“Hmm, I suppose that means I am someone’s darling.”
“You are everyone’s darling,” she replied. “Rather like a communal privy.”
As always I love to hear from my readers so please feel free to post a comment below. Share your thoughts about this little excerpt which you may or may not find funny, or share a bit of news, a notion of any sort, an idiom that’s always struck you as amusing, a regency ideal you’ve found ludicrous, or just a random thought. You’ll be entered to win October’s Floral Corset.
Crystal Young left me a comment in September and won a pretty pink corset of her own. I’ll be randomly choosing a winner for October’s lovely floral corset at the end of the month.
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