Hello there. At the beginning of March, I saw a post on Twitter. The gist was that instead of 'The Ides of March' writers could do the 'Ideas of March' and note down daily at least one story idea. So I shared it with the writer's group I am in and we decided to have a bash at the Ideas of March, with no pressure though because that's how we roll.
Anyway, so far I have actually managed to come up with a new idea each day and today I thought I would take an idea and play around with it a little and see what happened.
The idea I chose was "It's just an ordinary tea shop...or is it?" so here is the little flash of a thing for you, including my nod to the Bard this Shakespeare Week.
The Tea Shop
The brass handle on the door squeaked a little as it moved to open, seemingly disconnected from the shadow you could see through the frosted glass. The bell above the oak door tinkled announcing the customer’s arrival.
Cary emerged through the beaded curtain that led to the private quarters. The owner of this establishment was not what one would consider to be conventional. Today she wore her standard working boots, a victorian style of heeled boot with button fastenings running up the side, combined with purple tights and a multilayered skirt. This was paired with a crisp white shirt and waistcoat, in the pocket of which she kept her pocket watch. Cary was never seen without one of her amazingly designed hats and today’s number was a purple top hat with a tulle bow and cascading tails down her back.
“Good morning, how may I…” Cary started her bright and inviting welcome as was customary for all visitors to the shop but stopped dead when she saw Julie before her.
Rushing around the counter Cary caught Julie as she stumbled to the floor. Her clothes were torn and under the grime blooms of blue and purple were starting to rise on her face with a dribble of blood coming from the corner of her mouth.
“Harelson” Cary all but screamed, “Harelson, it’s Julie.”
“Oh, sweet Apothecary.” Julie sobbed into Cary’s arm.
Harelson, Cary’s assistant, burst through the beads in his tweed slacks and waistcoat with his shirt sleeves rolled up and collar missing. A sure sign the delivery had already arrived.
“Get her in the back,” Cary ordered as she transferred the now unconscious form to Hare. Rising to action Cary flipped the closed sign on the door and twisted the lock before Hare had even had time to stand with Julie in his arms. Cary then yanked all of the blinds down on the door and the two windows of the double-fronted high-street store, if you could call it a high-street anymore, but not before glancing down the street looking for anything she needed to worry about.
In the comfort of the back room, dressed and designed like a Victorian ladies parlor, Cary knelt in front of the prone figure on her couch. “What was she playing at?” She mused under her breath.
“Hare I need some boiled water and clean rags.”
“Already on it mistress.” Hare bobbed his head before backing away to finish gathering supplies.
“And Hare. Send a runner to get Rome, we don’t need him starting a war over this,” She sighed. “I’ll put a pot of tea on,” Carey said to no-one in particular. “I have a feeling we are going to need it.”
Say hi, let me know you're still around after this crazy crazy year.
