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Date Posted: 15:54:51 11/27/09 Fri
Author: 
dea
Subject: another entry
In reply to:
dea
's message, "inspired by an awaken dream" on 12:46:06 11/10/09 Tue
here is what Victor has been telling me about Aveline. i decided to suppress the reference to a place. if it's secret, he would write in code, right?
The Secret Journal of Victor Ruidh
By Dea Vianna - 2009 - for critique purposes only, does not constitute publication
* * *
In vain I lay on my bed hoping for the sweet embrace of the arms of Morpheus. Yet I am not worthy of either repose or slumber. I sit immobile whilst my eyes alternate from the exquisite mosaic carved on the oak bureau and the soft golden haze painting the matin hour. I write, then.
The things I know about Aveline: she’s in her early-forties and a widow. Mrs K informs me that Aveline’s spouse perished no more than a year ago in a tragic accident: the horse he was riding during some country race tripped and broke its leg and catapulted the unfortunate cavalier over a stockade and a hedge, to fall on his nape. The poor devil died instantly. Mrs K was very careful and asked of me the utmost secrecy when she revealed that Aveline was in bed for nearly a month after the catastrophic event. She remained confined to her chambers for the two months that followed, until Mrs K’s rather heroic Intervention – my friend described with an air of genuine modesty the day she, in the company of Aveline’s household maid and the game master of the estate, practically demolished the bedroom door and retrieved the mourning lady from her self-imposed seclusion. The poor thing hardly managed to sustain the weight of her body. It was then that Mrs K sequestered the pitiable victim of fate, along with her devoted but incompetent minion – who was unable to at the minimum feed her suffering employer!– to provide a safe haven at the manor.
And the most disturbing aspect of that sad tale is the fact that it happened less than a half year ago! Aveline returned to her own estate some time after her “abduction”. They are neighbours, Mrs K and Aveline, a fortunate happenstance. Nevertheless, Mrs K keeps her ever since protégé under strict surveillance, with the help of that maid I mentioned afore, who was at last of some use to her mistress, making sure that she received the naturally expected amount of nourishment necessary to recover her debilitated health.
After my already dear Aveline gathered some strength and the colour returned to her complexion, Mrs K convinced her to go on the present journey, enjoying a change in landscape during the warmer months of the year.
In such rapid and furtive conversation – which took place during the short minutes I was able to steal Mrs K from Aveline’s company, rather against her will, I did not fail to notice, though I did not have by that time the faintest idea why the novel mistress of my heart is so adamantly attached to my ancient friend – well, in such strained circumstances I learned about Aveline’s ordeal and the chain of unfortunate occurrences that culminated with her advent at my doorstep and into my life not yet four and twenty hours passed.
As I write, a disquieting thought blooms in my mind. My, in every aspect, “rapture” in Aveline’s presence may be not only futile, but shamefully, on my side, ill-founded. A furore such as described by Mrs K indicates that Aveline's heart already and still holds a Tenant.
At the very thought an invisible hand clasps my frail heart with an iron grip. I realise now that I have been subjected to a vile form of intoxication, whose fumes have certainly obliterated my reason. I should have kept a clear mind: the will of my maddened heart is nothing more than this, sheer madness!
For the first time I apprehend the cruel reality of my condition: I am an old man. I must be ten years her senior, I dare to reckon. I am not a free man. What shall I offer that might appeal to such a dear and fair lady? How am I supposed to cross swords with such a mighty and ghostly adversary?
My mind informs me that today will a bonnie day. Nevertheless, my shrinking heart gazes out of the window and sees only a plumbous sky.
* * *
Last edited by author: Mon November 30, 2009 10:28:26
Edited 3 times.
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Hooray, more story! -- Debi, 18:00:07 11/27/09 Fri
>here is what Victor has been telling me about Aveline.
>i decided to suppress the reference to a place. if
>it's secret, he would write in code, right?
>
>
>
>The Secret Journal of Victor Ruidh
>By Dea Vianna - 2009 - for critique purposes only,
>does not constitute publication
>
>
>* * *
>
>In vain I lay on my bed hoping for the sweet embrace
>of the arms of Morpheus. Yet I am not worthy of neither repose nor slumber.Little grammar boo-boo: You've made a double negative. It should read either "Yet I am worthy of neither repose nor slumber." or "Yet I am not worthy of repose or slumber." I sit immobile whilst my
>eyes alternate from the exquisite mosaic carved on the
>oak bureau and the soft golden haze painting the matin
>hour.The light through a window, I'm guessing? I write, then.
>
>The things I know about Aveline: she’s in her
>early-forties and a widow. Mrs K informs me that
>Aveline’s spouse perished no more than a year ago in a
>tragic accident: the horse he was riding during some
>country race tripped and broke its leg and catapulted
>the unfortunate cavalier over a stockade and a hedge,
>to fall on his nape. The poor devil died instantly.
>Mrs K was very careful and asked of me the utmost
>secrecy when she revealed that Aveline was in bed for
>nearly a month after the catastrophic event. She
>remained confined to her chambers for the two months
>that followed, until Mrs K’s rather heroic
>Intervention – my friend described with an air of
>genuine modesty the day she, in the company of
>Aveline’s household maid and the game master of the
>estate, practically demolished the bedroom door and
>retrieved the mourning lady from her self-imposed
>seclusion. The poor thing hardly managed to sustain
>the weight of her body. It was then that Mrs KeyDid you mean to not use just her intial here?
>sequestered the pitiable victim of fate, along with
>her devoted but incompetent minion – who was unable to
>at the minimum feed her suffering employer!– to
>provide a safe haven at the manor.
>
>And the most disturbing aspect of that sad tale is the
>fact that it happened less than a half year ago!
>Aveline returned to her own estate some time after her
>“abduction”. They are neighbours, Mrs K and Aveline, a
>fortunate happenstance. Nevertheless, Mrs K keeps her
>ever since protégé under strict surveillance, with the
>help of that maid I mentioned afore, who was at last
>of some use to her mistress, making sure that she
>received the naturally expected amount of nourishment
>necessary to recover her debilitated health.
>
>After my already dear Aveline gathered some strength
>and the colour returned to her complexion, Mrs K
>convinced her to go on the present journey, enjoying a
>change in landscape during the warmer months of the
>year.
>
>In such rapid and furtive conversation – which took
>place during the short minutes I was able to steal Mrs
>K from Aveline’s company, rather against her will, I
>did not fail to notice, though I did not have by that
>time the faintest idea why the novel mistress of my
>heart is so adamantly attached to my ancient friend –
>well, in such strained circumstances I learned about
>Aveline’s ordeal and the chain of unfortunate
>occurrences that culminated with her advent at my
>doorstep and into my life not yet four and twenty
>hours passed.
>
>As I write, a disquieting thought blooms in my mind.
>My, in every aspect, “rapture” in Aveline’s presence
>may be not only futile, but shamefully, on my side,
>ill-founded. A furore such as described by Mrs K
>indicates that Aveline’ heart already and still holds
>a Tennant. tenant? Tennant is a brand of lager in Scotland, if I recall correctly
>
>At the very thought an invisible hand clasps my frail
>heart with an iron grip. I realise now that I have
>been subjected to a vile form of intoxication, whose
>fumes have certainly obliterated my reason. I should
>have kept a clear mind: the will of my maddened heart
>is nothing more than this, sheer madness!
>
>For the first time I apprehend the cruel reality of my
>condition: I am an old man. I must be ten years her
>senior, I dare to reckon. I am not a free man. What
>shall I offer that might appeal to such adear and fair
>lady? How am I supposed to cross swords with such a
>mighty and ghostly adversary?
>
>My mind informs me that today will a bonnie day.
>Nevertheless, my shrinking heart gazes out of the
>window and sees only a plumbous sky.
>
>* * *
I love it! Aside from just a few little things here and there, I think this is brilliant. I reminds me so much of the early novels I read for literature classes, Like Pamela. The language really puts me in the time period, the use of the single initial to preserve anonymity of other parties, very Victorian! And that this older man finds himself smitten, not with some fair and lovely maiden, but a real woman, more of his own generation, well that's a breath of fresh air unto itself. I'm very excited to see more of this and I hope Victor Ruidh keeps talking to you!
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[> [> [>
thank you, Debi! -- dea, 10:22:55 11/30/09 Mon
>>here is what Victor has been telling me about Aveline.
>>i decided to suppress the reference to a place. if
>>it's secret, he would write in code, right?
>>
>>
>>
>>The Secret Journal of Victor Ruidh
>>By Dea Vianna - 2009 - for critique purposes only,
>>does not constitute publication
>>
>>
>>* * *
>>
>>In vain I lay on my bed hoping for the sweet embrace
>>of the arms of Morpheus. Yet I am not worthy of
>neither repose nor slumber.Little grammar boo-boo:
>You've made a double negative. It should read either
>"Yet I am worthy of neither repose nor slumber." or
>"Yet I am not worthy of repose or slumber." yes!
I sit
>immobile whilst my
>>eyes alternate from the exquisite mosaic carved on the
>>oak bureau and the soft golden haze painting the matin
>>hour.The light through a window, I'm guessing? yes!
>I write, then.
>>
>>The things I know about Aveline: she’s in her
>>early-forties and a widow. Mrs K informs me that
>>Aveline’s spouse perished no more than a year ago in a
>>tragic accident: the horse he was riding during some
>>country race tripped and broke its leg and catapulted
>>the unfortunate cavalier over a stockade and a hedge,
>>to fall on his nape. The poor devil died instantly.
>>Mrs K was very careful and asked of me the utmost
>>secrecy when she revealed that Aveline was in bed for
>>nearly a month after the catastrophic event. She
>>remained confined to her chambers for the two months
>>that followed, until Mrs K’s rather heroic
>>Intervention – my friend described with an air of
>>genuine modesty the day she, in the company of
>>Aveline’s household maid and the game master of the
>>estate, practically demolished the bedroom door and
>>retrieved the mourning lady from her self-imposed
>>seclusion. The poor thing hardly managed to sustain
>>the weight of her body. It was then that Mrs
>KeyDid you mean to not use just her intial
>here? sure!
>>sequestered the pitiable victim of fate, along with
>>her devoted but incompetent minion – who was unable to
>>at the minimum feed her suffering employer!– to
>>provide a safe haven at the manor.
>>
>>And the most disturbing aspect of that sad tale is the
>>fact that it happened less than a half year ago!
>>Aveline returned to her own estate some time after her
>>“abduction”. They are neighbours, Mrs K and Aveline, a
>>fortunate happenstance. Nevertheless, Mrs K keeps her
>>ever since protégé under strict surveillance, with the
>>help of that maid I mentioned afore, who was at last
>>of some use to her mistress, making sure that she
>>received the naturally expected amount of nourishment
>>necessary to recover her debilitated health.
>>
>>After my already dear Aveline gathered some strength
>>and the colour returned to her complexion, Mrs K
>>convinced her to go on the present journey, enjoying a
>>change in landscape during the warmer months of the
>>year.
>>
>>In such rapid and furtive conversation – which took
>>place during the short minutes I was able to steal Mrs
>>K from Aveline’s company, rather against her will, I
>>did not fail to notice, though I did not have by that
>>time the faintest idea why the novel mistress of my
>>heart is so adamantly attached to my ancient friend –
>>well, in such strained circumstances I learned about
>>Aveline’s ordeal and the chain of unfortunate
>>occurrences that culminated with her advent at my
>>doorstep and into my life not yet four and twenty
>>hours passed.
>>
>>As I write, a disquieting thought blooms in my mind.
>>My, in every aspect, “rapture” in Aveline’s presence
>>may be not only futile, but shamefully, on my side,
>>ill-founded. A furore such as described by Mrs K
>>indicates that Aveline’ heart already and still holds
>>a Tennant. tenant? Tennant is a brand of lager in
>Scotland, if I recall correctly ooops!
>>
>>At the very thought an invisible hand clasps my frail
>>heart with an iron grip. I realise now that I have
>>been subjected to a vile form of intoxication, whose
>>fumes have certainly obliterated my reason. I should
>>have kept a clear mind: the will of my maddened heart
>>is nothing more than this, sheer madness!
>>
>>For the first time I apprehend the cruel reality of my
>>condition: I am an old man. I must be ten years her
>>senior, I dare to reckon. I am not a free man. What
>>shall I offer that might appeal to such adear
>and fair
>>lady? How am I supposed to cross swords with such
>a
>>mighty and ghostly adversary?
>>
>>My mind informs me that today will a bonnie day.
>>Nevertheless, my shrinking heart gazes out of the
>>window and sees only a plumbous sky.
>>
>>* * *
>
>
>I love it! Aside from just a few little things here
>and there, I think this is brilliant. I reminds me so
>much of the early novels I read for literature
>classes, Like Pamela. The language really puts
>me in the time period, the use of the single initial
>to preserve anonymity of other parties, very
>Victorian! And that this older man finds himself
>smitten, not with some fair and lovely maiden, but a
>real woman, more of his own generation, well that's a
>breath of fresh air unto itself. I'm very excited to
>see more of this and I hope Victor Ruidh keeps talking
>to you!
thanks! he's talking everyday, intensily, faster than i can type!
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