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Date Posted: 10:22:55 11/30/09 Mon
Author: dea
Subject: thank you, Debi!
In reply to: Debi 's message, "Hooray, more story!" on 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? 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
>>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
>>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
>>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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