Friday, May 21, 2004
The restaurant, Park Grill, that they had chosen was quite lovely. Sebastian mentioned while they waited that it was one of his favorite’s places and she could see why. It was located in Millennium Park right next to the skating rink and from anywhere in the restaurant you could look and watch the skaters. If she closed her eyes she could already picture herself out there in the winter, skating freely among everyone while soft snowflakes fell. Yes, she could already see this place being part of her normal routine here in Chicago. After Misty spoke to the hostess about changing the table to fit three people instead of just two, Veronica was seated at the table in the middle of Sebastian and Misty.
Veronica took the opportunity while Misty was speaking to Sebastian to skim him over and take in what she could of this man that she would be sharing some of her most intimate thoughts and works with. He seemed extremely nervous and jumpy and she hadn’t been able to figure out why. It’s obvious that Misty and him know each other but how well was another subject. He looked a bit disheveled in his rumpled white dress shirt and charcoal pants, almost looking like he had just come from an afternoon romp. His dark hair also looked tousled but it all suited him, just like she was sure a freshly pressed shirt and pants would too. He had gorgeous piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through you, yet when they turned on her they seemed so searching, but for what? It took her a moment but with a gasp she realized it was him, the man from her drawings the night before. The dark hair that curled at the nape of his neck, the piercing blue eyes, but how? Why? How could she have drawn him when this was the first they had met?!
“Veronica. Veronica, you ok?” asked Misty, laying a hand on Veronica’s arm.
“You look a little pale all of a sudden, you feeling ok?” she asked again softly.
Veronica came to with a start and looked around the table to realize both of them staring at her, Sebastian so intently that it made her blush.
“Yes, yes, I’m sorry. I just realized something I had forgotten to do.” She quickly responded.
Taking a quick sip of her sparkling water she composed herself and pushed the thoughts of the drawing and Sebastian out of her mind for now. There will be time to figure out what all that was about later when she was on her own, for now it was best she spend her time getting to know these two new players that would take such a big part of her new life here in Chicago.
Turning to Sebastian she asked, “Sebastian, if you don’t mind me asking, why were you so interested in having my work for your new show?”
Veronica took the opportunity while Misty was speaking to Sebastian to skim him over and take in what she could of this man that she would be sharing some of her most intimate thoughts and works with. He seemed extremely nervous and jumpy and she hadn’t been able to figure out why. It’s obvious that Misty and him know each other but how well was another subject. He looked a bit disheveled in his rumpled white dress shirt and charcoal pants, almost looking like he had just come from an afternoon romp. His dark hair also looked tousled but it all suited him, just like she was sure a freshly pressed shirt and pants would too. He had gorgeous piercing blue eyes that seemed to look right through you, yet when they turned on her they seemed so searching, but for what? It took her a moment but with a gasp she realized it was him, the man from her drawings the night before. The dark hair that curled at the nape of his neck, the piercing blue eyes, but how? Why? How could she have drawn him when this was the first they had met?!
“Veronica. Veronica, you ok?” asked Misty, laying a hand on Veronica’s arm.
“You look a little pale all of a sudden, you feeling ok?” she asked again softly.
Veronica came to with a start and looked around the table to realize both of them staring at her, Sebastian so intently that it made her blush.
“Yes, yes, I’m sorry. I just realized something I had forgotten to do.” She quickly responded.
Taking a quick sip of her sparkling water she composed herself and pushed the thoughts of the drawing and Sebastian out of her mind for now. There will be time to figure out what all that was about later when she was on her own, for now it was best she spend her time getting to know these two new players that would take such a big part of her new life here in Chicago.
Turning to Sebastian she asked, “Sebastian, if you don’t mind me asking, why were you so interested in having my work for your new show?”
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
Sebastian was jumping up and down and doing what seemed to be some sort of strange looking dance when Christine walked into his office with the aspirin. His back was turned to her and hadn’t noticed her walking in, “A-hemmm” she said in a loud voice while clearing her throat. Sebastian stopped, frozen in embarrassment he could only imagine how idiotic he appeared. He lowered his arms, turning around slowly and in what he hoped was a professional, mature voice said, “Veronica Bell will be here tomorrow at 9:00am to sign some paperwork and than head over to the gallery. I need you to get the paperwork ready.”
“Yes, sir. Here are the aspirin you asked for.” She replied with an amused expression on her face. “Anything else?”
“Yes, im going to lunch than I think I’ll head home afterwards. If you need me at all I’ll have my cell phone with me.”
Christine was having a hard time keeping a straight face especially when he was having an even more difficult time trying to ensure that fact he didn’t blush in front of her. She decided she had more than her share of fun with him for the day and turned to leave when he stopped her.
“Christine, if there was any way possible for you to forget what you saw me doing earlier, whatever we want to call that, I’d be more than happy to give you anything you ever wanted.”
Christine burst out laughing, not being able to hold it in any longer at the sound of desperation she heard in his voice. She glanced back over her shoulder on her way out the door with an innocent look, “Forget what sir?” Sebastian grinned at the closed door, today was turning out to be a damn fine day he thought.
In the cab on the way to his favorite park side restaurant Park Grill, Sebastian thought of the first time he had seen a piece by Veronica Bell. He was in New York City visiting his family and happened to find this out of the way little bistro. He always loved finding places no one else knew about, there was just something to the being new, almost virginal, not yet tainted by mainstream views and outlooks that appealed to him. He had ordered himself a bowl of French onion soup and taken a seat next to a collection of four charcoal drawings on the wall. They were lit up with a blue fluorescent bulb attached to the wall just above them, adding more drama than any actual real lighting. He had put his spoon down and gotten up for a closer look, mesmerized at first glance. Four drawings all of the same face yet all completely different, they were absolutely stunning. He didn’t have to be an expert to see the talent flowing from these drawings, yet he was and not only did he admire it, he envied it. There was such passion with each line the artist made it was almost like the drawings were pulsating with life. The elderly woman who the drawings were of seemed to be alive, yet captured as if frozen in time. Sebastian had scanned the drawings looking for a name but none was given, neither was their a price for any of them. He had asked the quiet boy working the counter about them and he had given him the name, the one he had been obsessing with for over a year now “Oh yea, that’s by Veronica Bell aren’t they great?” Sebastian had thanked him, finished his soup and took one last look at the drawings and left.
That day he had vowed to have her work displayed in his next gallery and today he had made that vow come true. It was time to celebrate and he couldn’t think of any better way than lunch at his favorite restaurant. Maybe afterwards he’d call his lawyer, Lucas, who just happened to be his best friend, and see if he was up to a friendly game of pool. He had been waiting only a few minutes when he heard a voice exclaim “What a surprise, I never thought of seeing you here!” He looked up and there in front of him was the tawny bombshell from the night before. Sebastian couldn’t believe his luck. He got up, grinning and ran a nervous hand through his hair. He was just about to ask her if she was alone when he noticed someone else walking towards them and all capabilities just left him. He had never seen anyone quite so beautiful as the raven-haired woman that joined them. When she turned to look at him he wasn’t sure if he had gone deaf or not but all he could hear was buzzing, her eyes were absolutely bewitching. When she looked at him and asked if he was ok he noticed, he didn’t know how he did, but he noticed a slight southern lilt to it. In order not to appear for a second time that day like an idiot he shook himself out of it and nodded. He than noticed that the other woman was trying to ask him something. He turned, with some effort away from the raven-haired beauty and focused on what he was being asked.
“I said, do you remember me from last night?”
He smiled hoping to appear calmer than how he felt which for the second time that day felt unfortunately like a victim of a hit and run accident.
“Of course” he stammered. “The horse….I, I mean Misty, right?”
“Yes, sir. Here are the aspirin you asked for.” She replied with an amused expression on her face. “Anything else?”
“Yes, im going to lunch than I think I’ll head home afterwards. If you need me at all I’ll have my cell phone with me.”
Christine was having a hard time keeping a straight face especially when he was having an even more difficult time trying to ensure that fact he didn’t blush in front of her. She decided she had more than her share of fun with him for the day and turned to leave when he stopped her.
“Christine, if there was any way possible for you to forget what you saw me doing earlier, whatever we want to call that, I’d be more than happy to give you anything you ever wanted.”
Christine burst out laughing, not being able to hold it in any longer at the sound of desperation she heard in his voice. She glanced back over her shoulder on her way out the door with an innocent look, “Forget what sir?” Sebastian grinned at the closed door, today was turning out to be a damn fine day he thought.
In the cab on the way to his favorite park side restaurant Park Grill, Sebastian thought of the first time he had seen a piece by Veronica Bell. He was in New York City visiting his family and happened to find this out of the way little bistro. He always loved finding places no one else knew about, there was just something to the being new, almost virginal, not yet tainted by mainstream views and outlooks that appealed to him. He had ordered himself a bowl of French onion soup and taken a seat next to a collection of four charcoal drawings on the wall. They were lit up with a blue fluorescent bulb attached to the wall just above them, adding more drama than any actual real lighting. He had put his spoon down and gotten up for a closer look, mesmerized at first glance. Four drawings all of the same face yet all completely different, they were absolutely stunning. He didn’t have to be an expert to see the talent flowing from these drawings, yet he was and not only did he admire it, he envied it. There was such passion with each line the artist made it was almost like the drawings were pulsating with life. The elderly woman who the drawings were of seemed to be alive, yet captured as if frozen in time. Sebastian had scanned the drawings looking for a name but none was given, neither was their a price for any of them. He had asked the quiet boy working the counter about them and he had given him the name, the one he had been obsessing with for over a year now “Oh yea, that’s by Veronica Bell aren’t they great?” Sebastian had thanked him, finished his soup and took one last look at the drawings and left.
That day he had vowed to have her work displayed in his next gallery and today he had made that vow come true. It was time to celebrate and he couldn’t think of any better way than lunch at his favorite restaurant. Maybe afterwards he’d call his lawyer, Lucas, who just happened to be his best friend, and see if he was up to a friendly game of pool. He had been waiting only a few minutes when he heard a voice exclaim “What a surprise, I never thought of seeing you here!” He looked up and there in front of him was the tawny bombshell from the night before. Sebastian couldn’t believe his luck. He got up, grinning and ran a nervous hand through his hair. He was just about to ask her if she was alone when he noticed someone else walking towards them and all capabilities just left him. He had never seen anyone quite so beautiful as the raven-haired woman that joined them. When she turned to look at him he wasn’t sure if he had gone deaf or not but all he could hear was buzzing, her eyes were absolutely bewitching. When she looked at him and asked if he was ok he noticed, he didn’t know how he did, but he noticed a slight southern lilt to it. In order not to appear for a second time that day like an idiot he shook himself out of it and nodded. He than noticed that the other woman was trying to ask him something. He turned, with some effort away from the raven-haired beauty and focused on what he was being asked.
“I said, do you remember me from last night?”
He smiled hoping to appear calmer than how he felt which for the second time that day felt unfortunately like a victim of a hit and run accident.
“Of course” he stammered. “The horse….I, I mean Misty, right?”
Sunday, February 08, 2004
From his office, Sebastian listened to the ring of the phone through the receiver and swore. He had missed her yet again, and he had last night to thank for that. He couldn’t remember the last time he arrived at work with a splitting headache due to the careless drinking from the night before, or could he remember the last time he tossed and turned so much and woke feeling as tired and frustrated as he went to bed. That he could at least blame on the tawny bombshell that he let slip through his fingers not once, but twice. He searched his desk drawers silently sending up prayers to whoever was listening for a few aspirin to pop up. It seemed it was a lost cause.
“CHRISTINE” he bellowed and instantly regretted it. He put his head down on the desk with a pathetic moan and waited for his secretary to answer him. His desk phone buzzed and he answered before the noise could sound once more. “Yes?” he replied quietly, almost painfully. “If you’re never going to use the intercom, why did you have it installed?” It was Christine responding to his bellow with a more than sarcastic edge on the newly installed desk phone. He let out a soft growl and answered, “Christine, today is not the day to try me. Please find me a bottle of aspirin and get me the number to the Art Institute of Chicago. Im trying to track down this person and I think they’re working there. See if you cant find me the number to a Dr. Ralph Goodman.”
“Of course, right away. Anything else?”
“Yes, hurry with the aspirin. And Christine, thank you.” With a soft chuckle he clicked off the intercom. He knew she’d give him a hard time for the state he looked and she had every right too. He would have done the same if she had walked in the same way he did earlier today seemingly close to a victim of a hit and run accident. He got up and went to pour himself another cup of hot coffee hoping this one would perform a miracle and wake him up. He had so much to do and being hung over was not part of the plan. He looked at his desk and groaned at the amount of paperwork that had stacked up almost instantaneously. He had almost forgotten how much work it took to open up a new gallery, at least how much tedious work it took. He didn’t mind the fieldwork at all; he thirsted for it if the truth was to be known. He loved the hunt of finding the perfect spot, in this case being Chicago, the perfect name, and the perfect art to show. He was lucky to do something he loved and each day he thanked his father for that.
15 years ago his father opened up the family’s first gallery in New York City, today, it has become one of the most renowned art galleries in the city. Sebastian remembered the hard work his father had to put in, the long days and nights, the sacrifices the entire family had to go through but it all worked out in the end, it always did. Last year his father passed away and left the gallery to him along with a sizeable amount of money, and the family’s reputation and honor. There were some that would say Sebastian hadn’t always been the model of responsibility, he knew better than to argue that and at family reunions he still had to defend himself quite a bit. He knew he had a less than respectable past but he was young than, stupid, immature and at that time all he thought of was cheap beer and fast women. He had changed and he would prove to himself and his family exactly that. He was on his own now with everything to lose, he was going to make his gallery the most sought out place in Chicago if it killed him. He would achieve his goals by sweat, by charm, by tenacity or by any other means he deemed suitable. For now he would start with the artist he had almost become obsessed with but kept unfortunately missing. The buzzing of his intercom once again interrupted his thoughts.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Sir, Dr. Goodman is on line 1 for you.”
“Thank you Christine, and the aspirin?”
“On their way”
He thanked her once again happily knowing that his aspirin were on their way and picked up the phone call he had been waiting for.
“Dr. Goodman, so nice to finally speak to you. Please sir, what can you tell me about Veronica Bell?”
“CHRISTINE” he bellowed and instantly regretted it. He put his head down on the desk with a pathetic moan and waited for his secretary to answer him. His desk phone buzzed and he answered before the noise could sound once more. “Yes?” he replied quietly, almost painfully. “If you’re never going to use the intercom, why did you have it installed?” It was Christine responding to his bellow with a more than sarcastic edge on the newly installed desk phone. He let out a soft growl and answered, “Christine, today is not the day to try me. Please find me a bottle of aspirin and get me the number to the Art Institute of Chicago. Im trying to track down this person and I think they’re working there. See if you cant find me the number to a Dr. Ralph Goodman.”
“Of course, right away. Anything else?”
“Yes, hurry with the aspirin. And Christine, thank you.” With a soft chuckle he clicked off the intercom. He knew she’d give him a hard time for the state he looked and she had every right too. He would have done the same if she had walked in the same way he did earlier today seemingly close to a victim of a hit and run accident. He got up and went to pour himself another cup of hot coffee hoping this one would perform a miracle and wake him up. He had so much to do and being hung over was not part of the plan. He looked at his desk and groaned at the amount of paperwork that had stacked up almost instantaneously. He had almost forgotten how much work it took to open up a new gallery, at least how much tedious work it took. He didn’t mind the fieldwork at all; he thirsted for it if the truth was to be known. He loved the hunt of finding the perfect spot, in this case being Chicago, the perfect name, and the perfect art to show. He was lucky to do something he loved and each day he thanked his father for that.
15 years ago his father opened up the family’s first gallery in New York City, today, it has become one of the most renowned art galleries in the city. Sebastian remembered the hard work his father had to put in, the long days and nights, the sacrifices the entire family had to go through but it all worked out in the end, it always did. Last year his father passed away and left the gallery to him along with a sizeable amount of money, and the family’s reputation and honor. There were some that would say Sebastian hadn’t always been the model of responsibility, he knew better than to argue that and at family reunions he still had to defend himself quite a bit. He knew he had a less than respectable past but he was young than, stupid, immature and at that time all he thought of was cheap beer and fast women. He had changed and he would prove to himself and his family exactly that. He was on his own now with everything to lose, he was going to make his gallery the most sought out place in Chicago if it killed him. He would achieve his goals by sweat, by charm, by tenacity or by any other means he deemed suitable. For now he would start with the artist he had almost become obsessed with but kept unfortunately missing. The buzzing of his intercom once again interrupted his thoughts.
“Yes?” he asked.
“Sir, Dr. Goodman is on line 1 for you.”
“Thank you Christine, and the aspirin?”
“On their way”
He thanked her once again happily knowing that his aspirin were on their way and picked up the phone call he had been waiting for.
“Dr. Goodman, so nice to finally speak to you. Please sir, what can you tell me about Veronica Bell?”
Monday, January 26, 2004
BEEEEP BEEP BEEEEEP BEEP!!! Veronica groaned and shifted. BEEP BEEEEP BEEEP!
Muttering soft curses she lifted her head to glare at the alarm that was now insolently waking her. The alarm’s face showed that it was eight am, and with all the beeping it was doing it looked like the clock itself was about to topple over. Against her strong desire to burrow further down under her covers and ignore it she reached over and silenced it.
Stretching and yawning, she turned on her back to stare at her ceiling and reflect back on the last few days. So much had happened that she was still in a bit of shock to realize she had actually left her childhood home in Georgia and was now living in the windy city itself. Everything was so different from back home. There it was quiet, remote, oh so polite. Here everything was so big, rudely busy, insistently loud and in so many ways challenging. That reason alone, the challenges she knew she’d face, made it all worthwhile. She never backed down from a challenge. She’d miss her family; she knew that and it would be her biggest worry. She knew no one in Chicago, though the way things ended with her parents she was happy at least for now to be away. She knew her mother and father loved her, they just didn’t understand. Not yet at least, she’d make them understand. Art meant everything to her and nothing to her parents. She knew most would call them old fashioned, set in their ways, whatever it was it was suffocating her. Being the perfect daughter was already impossible to live up to but them trying to make her the perfect wife for some man who had about as much warmth as a freshly caught fish. Aarrggh. It still infuriated her to think of what her parents did and how deceiving they had been with her. She rolled her shoulders, put those thoughts out of her mind for now and sat up in bed. She looked around at the amazing apt she was able to find. It had been pure luck to find this place and at such an amazing price. Boxes were half unpacked everywhere and the walls were still bare. She grinned and knew that was only temporary. As soon as she had a cup of coffee she’d get moving on fixing the place up and putting some of her own artwork up along with those of her favorites; Picasso, Van Gogh and the others. She’d make this place home, her place; filled with all the things she loved all the things that were hers. With a smile she pushed the covers aside and got out of bed.
The penthouse was spacious and bright. It had more than enough room for all her art supplies and some left over too. She enjoyed the fact that her living room opened up to a grand balcony that stretched the width of the room itself, with an amazing view of the city and all its glory. She loved how the sun would just stream in and brighten everything up including her, chasing out every last shadow that was hiding. Her cozy kitchen that was set off to the side was big enough to allow her to cook comfortably but small enough to be intimate. She was heading there now to make herself a nice pot of coffee when she spotted what had woken her up last night and given her such restless dreams. His face just called to her, drawing her closer and his eyes seemed to pierce right through her. She sighed and put the sketch away with all her others. There was no need or time to get caught up in fantasies right now, she had things to do. She looked around and didn’t know where to start; there was so much to do. She stared longingly out the window to the pulsating streets of the city. With a fast grin she dashed off towards the shower, she had made up her mind. She’d set things up later but for now she’d go exploring, meet people, find a job, a place to show her art. It was time Veronica Bell from Georgia said hello to Chicago!
Muttering soft curses she lifted her head to glare at the alarm that was now insolently waking her. The alarm’s face showed that it was eight am, and with all the beeping it was doing it looked like the clock itself was about to topple over. Against her strong desire to burrow further down under her covers and ignore it she reached over and silenced it.
Stretching and yawning, she turned on her back to stare at her ceiling and reflect back on the last few days. So much had happened that she was still in a bit of shock to realize she had actually left her childhood home in Georgia and was now living in the windy city itself. Everything was so different from back home. There it was quiet, remote, oh so polite. Here everything was so big, rudely busy, insistently loud and in so many ways challenging. That reason alone, the challenges she knew she’d face, made it all worthwhile. She never backed down from a challenge. She’d miss her family; she knew that and it would be her biggest worry. She knew no one in Chicago, though the way things ended with her parents she was happy at least for now to be away. She knew her mother and father loved her, they just didn’t understand. Not yet at least, she’d make them understand. Art meant everything to her and nothing to her parents. She knew most would call them old fashioned, set in their ways, whatever it was it was suffocating her. Being the perfect daughter was already impossible to live up to but them trying to make her the perfect wife for some man who had about as much warmth as a freshly caught fish. Aarrggh. It still infuriated her to think of what her parents did and how deceiving they had been with her. She rolled her shoulders, put those thoughts out of her mind for now and sat up in bed. She looked around at the amazing apt she was able to find. It had been pure luck to find this place and at such an amazing price. Boxes were half unpacked everywhere and the walls were still bare. She grinned and knew that was only temporary. As soon as she had a cup of coffee she’d get moving on fixing the place up and putting some of her own artwork up along with those of her favorites; Picasso, Van Gogh and the others. She’d make this place home, her place; filled with all the things she loved all the things that were hers. With a smile she pushed the covers aside and got out of bed.
The penthouse was spacious and bright. It had more than enough room for all her art supplies and some left over too. She enjoyed the fact that her living room opened up to a grand balcony that stretched the width of the room itself, with an amazing view of the city and all its glory. She loved how the sun would just stream in and brighten everything up including her, chasing out every last shadow that was hiding. Her cozy kitchen that was set off to the side was big enough to allow her to cook comfortably but small enough to be intimate. She was heading there now to make herself a nice pot of coffee when she spotted what had woken her up last night and given her such restless dreams. His face just called to her, drawing her closer and his eyes seemed to pierce right through her. She sighed and put the sketch away with all her others. There was no need or time to get caught up in fantasies right now, she had things to do. She looked around and didn’t know where to start; there was so much to do. She stared longingly out the window to the pulsating streets of the city. With a fast grin she dashed off towards the shower, she had made up her mind. She’d set things up later but for now she’d go exploring, meet people, find a job, a place to show her art. It was time Veronica Bell from Georgia said hello to Chicago!
Monday, January 19, 2004
Across town, the ear-shattering tune of Guns N’Roses was rudely interrupting night’s peaceful slumber. In the spacious top floor penthouse amidst the chaos of unpacked boxes and strewn clothing she sat. Woken from hours of deep sleep with an urgent, but familiar, desire to sketch she had risen almost automatically and moved towards her sketchbook. The smell of freshly brewed coffee, that still sat untouched, emanated from the distant kitchen. She sat, entranced, captivated at what her own mind was creating before her. Her hands, slender but firm, stained black with the dusty charcoal, moved over the page in a mesmerizing rhythmic dance. To an untrained eye it would almost appear as if she were scribbling instead of creating what people call “art.”
Her hair, dark like a ravens, normally fell in thick cascading waves to the middle of her back, was now carelessly tied in a lopsided knot at the base of her neck. She was slender at first appearance but if you noticed carefully you could see she was naturally fit, possibly a runner or maybe yoga. She was barely five feet six inches and on occasion she liked to cheat by wearing ridiculously high-heeled shoes for her own guilty pleasure, but all those that met her would say the most intriguing detail about Veronica Bell were her eyes. Violet eyes that would make the namesake flower jealous, they were often filled with such warmth that they appeared to be on fire. Large and almond shaped, when she laughed they seemed almost pixie like. She was the complete opposite of what a Georgian belle should look like and if it weren’t for the slight southern lilt in her voice no one would ever guess it, in this alone she reveled.
All at once she stopped, her eyes carefully assessing what her mind created. She leaned back slowly in her chair, one hand automatically moving to release her hair from its confinement the other to touch the sketch. She traced her fingers over the lines trying to understand. Confused she shook her head and stood, she placed the sketchbook on the nearby desk and lingered for a minute more. The male face that she had drawn stared back up at her, reckless in expression with dark hair the curled at the nape of his neck. With one last impulse she picked up her light blue pencil and colored in his eyes. There, that’s just right she said to herself. Perfect, but who is he?? She lingered a second more finding it hard to tear away from his eyes. With a soft laugh she admonished herself for being silly. It was just a dream, a silly little dream she reminded herself. With that she turned and headed for bed, maybe now she’d be able to sleep.
Her hair, dark like a ravens, normally fell in thick cascading waves to the middle of her back, was now carelessly tied in a lopsided knot at the base of her neck. She was slender at first appearance but if you noticed carefully you could see she was naturally fit, possibly a runner or maybe yoga. She was barely five feet six inches and on occasion she liked to cheat by wearing ridiculously high-heeled shoes for her own guilty pleasure, but all those that met her would say the most intriguing detail about Veronica Bell were her eyes. Violet eyes that would make the namesake flower jealous, they were often filled with such warmth that they appeared to be on fire. Large and almond shaped, when she laughed they seemed almost pixie like. She was the complete opposite of what a Georgian belle should look like and if it weren’t for the slight southern lilt in her voice no one would ever guess it, in this alone she reveled.
All at once she stopped, her eyes carefully assessing what her mind created. She leaned back slowly in her chair, one hand automatically moving to release her hair from its confinement the other to touch the sketch. She traced her fingers over the lines trying to understand. Confused she shook her head and stood, she placed the sketchbook on the nearby desk and lingered for a minute more. The male face that she had drawn stared back up at her, reckless in expression with dark hair the curled at the nape of his neck. With one last impulse she picked up her light blue pencil and colored in his eyes. There, that’s just right she said to herself. Perfect, but who is he?? She lingered a second more finding it hard to tear away from his eyes. With a soft laugh she admonished herself for being silly. It was just a dream, a silly little dream she reminded herself. With that she turned and headed for bed, maybe now she’d be able to sleep.
Friday, January 16, 2004
Rules:
1. Always post in sequence. Do not jump another person.
2. Minimum of a paragraph post. *that means 4 complete sentences*
3. Maximum of 4 paragraphs each turn. *coughs*
4. Try to stay as close as to the story possible. *coughs*for those drunken evenings*coughs*
5. Post in a timely fashion. Max allowance of 3 days to post.
1. Always post in sequence. Do not jump another person.
2. Minimum of a paragraph post. *that means 4 complete sentences*
3. Maximum of 4 paragraphs each turn. *coughs*
4. Try to stay as close as to the story possible. *coughs*for those drunken evenings*coughs*
5. Post in a timely fashion. Max allowance of 3 days to post.
