One of the most difficult and frustrating situations as an author is wanting to write something and being unable to think of a word to put on the page. Yesterday, I had fragments of stories that I wanted to write, but whenever I started a story or tried to add to an old story I got stuck. I hated every word that I wrote and I ended up deleting more snippets of stories than I probably should have. After my billionth scrapped idea, I vented to my younger brother about how frustrated I was with my writing and then we came up with an idea. I gave him a piece of paper and told him to go write four things on it. I didn't give him any parameters for what he could write. It could have been objects, people, random adjectives or verbs—it didn't matter. Just four things. He came back a few minutes later with a list and then I asked him for a song to set the mood of the story (this brother has pretty different musical taste than I do most days so I knew I would get a song I hadn't listened to a thousand times before). With the list of four things in hand and the song cued up, I started writing. I also told my brother to check in with me again after dinner to give myself somewhat of a timeline to work with (it definitely took me longer than that, but it was good to have an end time to aim for). Then I just started writing. I'm not 100% happy with what came of this experiment, but I am glad that I actually wrote something. So, if you are a writer or an artist I am challenging you to do the same thing. Ask someone for four things and a song and then just go and create! You don't have to share it, but I'd love it if you did. This probably won't get big enough that we will need it, but if you do want to share what you created (which can literally be anything: story, drawing, painting, sculpture, script, video, blog post, textile work, popsicle stick creation, or whatever) then please tag it with #corriescreativechallenge so I can see! And then go and challenge someone else to do it to! It doesn't matter how it turns out, it just matters that you get something made. Without further ado, here is the story I wrote. Four things picked by my little brother: 1. A pink bag 2. Bruised apples 3. Fake daisies 4. A knife "pouch" (or sheath) Song picked by my little brother: Flora's Secret by Enya https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gObUqHsxc5A Story: The Baroness (Be warned that there is some brief violence in this story!) High heels clicked on a floor so polished that it reflected the thousands of candles in the ballroom. Skirts swished and the smell of heavy perfume permeated the air. Grins stretched across faces, cracking layers of makeup and showing off teeth that were as polished as the floors. Elaborate hairstyles began to lean and collapse as sweat trickled down the backs of necks. In this thick cloud of celebration an airy song played, keeping every dancer in order as they waltzed. Amidst all of the gracefully gliding nobility and stern faced staff there was one attendee of the ball that should not have been there. Deep inside the gilded room there was a table adorned with a pure white cloth and delicate mountains of hors d'oeuvres. Underneath it, watching the pointed toes of regal, blistering shoes, sat a girl of sixteen. Her name was Wisteria Gundrun, but any friends that she might have had called her Ria (or Wist if they wanted to annoy her). She knew that she should not be hiding under a table at the most prestigious event of the year, but she could not leave now. Particularly because someone would undoubtedly notice a girl dressed in common clothes amongst the enormous gowns of the ladies of the court and question her presence. So, she sat under the table, hungry, but too scared to try and swipe one of the sticky treats above her. The dancing would last another hour at the very least before the brightly colored birds of the court would adjourn for their meal. Once they had eaten as much as their corsets and waistcoats would allow they would find their way back to the dance floor, but Ria would be long gone by then—hopefully with full pockets. She simply had to wait until the host of the party summoned his guests into the dining hall and she could slip out from under the table, eat a few confections, and then take what she came for. Before any of this could transpire, however, the tablecloth was lifted. Ria’s heartbeat paused for a moment, but no curious aristocrat or fierce guard poked their head under the table to spy her. Instead, a thin, ring covered hand dropped a pink bag under the table and a foot (presumably attached to the same body as the hand) gave the bag a light kick so that it was farther under the table and not able to be seen by any passerby. When the tablecloth lowered again Ria allowed herself a relieved breath before inching closer to the bag. Made of fine silk and covered in shimmering jewels and embroidery, the bag appeared to be a woman’s purse with a long beaded strap. Ria knew she ought to leave it be, but the mystery of its sudden appearance prompted her to open it. Inside, she found a compact mirror, a dance card, a fan, and a sheath for a small knife. The knife itself was missing. Unsure of what this meant for the owner of the purse or herself, Ria put everything back and crawled away from the bag in case someone came looking for it. After endless stretching minutes, a bell finally sounded, summoning the dancers to their dinner. From the scents wafting in the direction of the dining hall, Ria could guess that some sort of fish was on the menu. Apart from two overly enthusiastic dancers who were moving as if they had never heard of dancing or music before but quite enjoyed it, everyone cleared out of the ballroom. Peeking from under the tablecloth, Ria saw that even the two with the terrible dancing skills were soon escorted from the room and only servants were left. The servants were busy collecting hairpins and other bobbles that had fallen from the dancers during the more vigorous songs. With their backs bent to their task they did not notice Ria slide out behind the table and stuff a caramelized onion and apple tart in her mouth. The taste was wretchedly wealthy, but she swallowed it down anyway before filling her pockets with more appetizing appetizers. When she spotted untouched chocolate covered something or other she could barely stop herself from carrying the whole tray away from the unappreciative aristocracy. That plot became especially tempting when the servants left her alone in the room with no one to stop her. Pockets and mouth full, she realized that her pilfered picnic would make it difficult to transport what she actually needed to steal. Her thoughts turned to the pink bag under the table and before she could think too long about it she dropped back into her hiding spot and reached for the bag. At the same time her hand closed around the strap, a familiar ring covered hand snatched at the body of the purse. When met with resistance, the ring covered hand tugged harder and the owner of the hand lifted the tablecloth. Ria flinched back as she locked eyes with a woman. The woman had a face that would have been smooth as porcelain if sweat had not left tracks through the white powder. Her lips were red as pomegranate seeds, her cheeks as pink as a sunburn, and by her right eye she sported an inky black heart shaped mole. A thin, penciled-on brow lifted a notch as her brown eyes took in the girl under the table. Under all of the makeup, the clearly noble woman looked only slightly older than Ria. “I’m meant to be here,” Ria blurted quickly. “Clearly, otherwise you wouldn’t feel the need to tell me that you are,” the woman quipped, “You should have started with ‘you dropped your purse, ma’am’ and I might have believed you a servant despite your lack of uniform… and shoes. Where are your shoes? It is chilly outside.” “Shoes make too much noise,” Ria responded without thinking and then cursed herself, “Not that I need to be sneaking around or nothing, but… seen not heard… is, uh, what I should be. Since I’m a servant. You know.” “So you’re stealing my ploy now, are you?” The woman adjusted her crouched position, pushing her enormous golden skirt behind her so she could balance better, “I’ll hardly believe it now. You’d better just give up the real reason you’re here because now I’m curious.” “I am a serving girl, ma’am. I’m meant to be here, I swear it.” “Don’t you know you aren’t supposed to make oaths you can’t keep? Out with it. Why are you really here? I won’t tell anyone if that’s what you’re afraid of. I’m on my own secret mission and I’ll need you to keep quiet about seeing me as well.” Ria frowned, but decided it would not be the end of the world to tell one nosy noble what she was up to. Besides, with such a cumbersome dress and unstable shoes, this woman could hardly chase after her if she decided to run. “I’m here for food and… the necklace.” Both of the woman’s brows rose this time and she tilted her head as if trying to solve a puzzle. With her head tilted a ringlet of white powdered hair slipped from its updo and Ria caught a glimpse of faux flowers pinned to the woman’s head. They looked to be silk daisies to match her gold and white dress and pink roses to go with her purse. “The necklace? Surely you don’t mean the Pendant of Peace. A symbol of the goodwill between our country and our terribly violent neighbors to the north? The gift brought by ambassadors to mark a peace treaty to save thousands of lives? The reason for the celebration tonight? You don’t mean that necklace, do you?” “Yes,” Ria replied firmly, “The price it fetches in the south should be enough to support the families who suffered loss after loss during the war with the north.” “Ah, you are a little revolutionary? Not fond of how our king has treated the commoners, hmm?” The woman grinned, “I don’t blame you. He is a complete idiot.” A thought struck Ria and she pulled the purse toward her again. “What’s with the empty sheath? Where is the knife?” “You went through my things? That was very rude of you,” the noblewoman pouted. “What are you doing with the knife?” “I hate to spoil the surprise, but after tonight you won’t have to worry about our illustrious incompetant ruler anymore,” the woman’s smile turned wicked and a beautiful knife appeared from nowhere and twirled around her knuckles. “You’re… you’re going to kill the king?” “Shush shush,” she placed the flat of the blade against her lips, “Don’t let that secret out please or I’ll be forced to report you to the guards.” Ria stared at the woman, but was unable to form words. “Now, you may keep my purse and use the jewels on it for those poor, poor families affected by the war. It will also be a wonderful hiding place for the Pendant of Peace, which is on display in the portrait gallery through that door over there,” she gestured with her knife, “I’ll distract the guards from that room and when you see them rush out you run in and take the Pendant, put it in this purse, climb out the window—can you climb?” “Yes,” Ria huffed indignantly, “How do you think I got in here earlier?” “Excellent. Climb out the window and make sure you hide the purse inside your shirt or your petticoat or your bloomers or somewhere, understand? Then head for the gate. The guards there might yell at you, but just tell them you were running an errand for Baroness Flora Chastain and they should let you pass.” Ria nodded, somewhat annoyed that this extravagantly dressed aristocrat could form a better plan for theft than she, a trained thief, could. She was about to respond to the instructions when another voice joined their conversation. “Dear Baroness, what are you doing under the table?” The woman’s eyes widened and she mouthed a swear word. Hiding the knife in the folds of her skirt and motioning for Ria to proceed with the plan, she put a smile on her face and stood up. “Your Most Regal Majesty, I was simply searching for my purse. I thought I might have dropped it earlier and then the idea crossed my mind that it may have been kicked under the table during that rather zesty gavotte. Alas, I cannot find it anywhere.” Ria listened to the conversation as she slipped out from under the table. She peered through the mountains of hors d'oeuvres and spotted the king, wearing a sickly shade of green with enough gold trim to provide food for a small family for a few years. The baroness had sunk into a curtsy in front of him and not risen yet. When he motioned for her to rise she carefully stepped away from the table so that the king was facing toward the room and not toward Ria. The girl took the opportunity to slip closer to the door of the portrait gallery and hide behind a potted fern as big as a horse’s rear. There, she waited to see if the baroness would still bring the guards from the gallery or if Ria would have to find a way to distract them on her own. She wondered what sort of distraction the noblewoman could possibly cause with the king now in the room, but that question was answered shortly. There was a flash of silver and gold, an explosion of red, and the screams of the baroness. Ria felt sick at seeing the king crumple to the ground, even if she hated the things he’d done to the country. Thoughts of his younger brother, now alone in the world, flashed through her mind and she wondered if the boy would be made king or if the baroness meant to topple the monarchy entirely. Ria’s thoughts did not linger on this long. The three guards from the portrait gallery came rushing to the baroness’s side as she wailed in distress. Moving quickly, Ria was about to slip into the gallery when she heard something that made her blood run cold. “It was her!” The baroness shrieked, “That peasant was hiding under the table and she ambushed us! She took my purse and used my dagger to stab the king!” Ria looked first at the purse she’d slung over her shoulder and then at the guards. They hesitated half a second before racing toward her. Yelping in shock and terror, Ria sprinted into the gallery and snatched the Pendant of Peace from its velvet cushion, stuffed it in the pink bag, and dove out the window. Luckily, it was not far to fall and, though she was fairly certain she heard something crack, she was too filled with adrenaline to stop and take inventory of her wounds. Running as fast as she was able, she made it to the front gate before the guards could catch up to her and she stuffed the purse into her shirt as the treacherous baroness had suggested. In an attempt to catch her breath and appear presentable, she forced a smile and made her trembling legs slow to a walk. At the gate she came face to face with two more guards. They had pleasant expressions on their faces and smiled back at her. “Good evening,” she nodded to them, “I was running an errand for the Baroness Flora Ch...uh...Charity. Chastain! Baroness Chastain. My employer.” “All wrapped up for the evening then?” One of the guards asked. “Yes. I won’t be back tonight. Time to go eat my own dinner, though it won’t be anywhere near as fancy as the food in there,” she jerked her thumb over her shoulder and chuckled, “I think I saw a whole swan on the table in there! Feathers stuck back on it and everything!” “Aristocrats,” the guard shook his head and opened the gate, “None of that for me, I’m happy with a warm mug of cider and maybe a roast lamb chop.” “I agree,” she put her hand to her stomach, “If only I had more than a loaf of bread in the cupboard, eh?” She moved forward, terrified that the gate would slam closed at any minute and she would be caught for the crime she committed as well as the one she had been framed for. As she passed through the gate it took all of her willpower to keep from running and hiding somewhere she would never be found. “Wait a minute!” The guard called and Ria prepared to run. Slowly turning to face him, she smiled again. “Yes?” “Here, take this. I might be able to get some leftovers from the kitchen. My sister works there,” the guard tossed a bruised apple at her and she caught it, thinking of the fanciful snacks stuffed in her pockets. “Thank you.” “Have a good night, miss.” “And you as well,” she nodded and walked away. As soon as she was out of sight of the guards, she broke into a run and did not stop until she was home. There she was greeted by her actual employer who asked if she had captured the Pendant. Ria tossed the pink bag at him, collected her thief’s fee, and hunkered down in her room for the rest of the night. She was not quite sure how to break the news that she had gone from rebellious theft to prime suspect for regicide, but perhaps that was something she ought to keep to herself. No one ever needed to know that she had been there. No one apart from Wisteria Gundrun and the brilliant, bloody Baroness Flora Chastain. Thank you for reading! I hope you participate in "Corrie's Creative Challenge" and that you enjoy it! :D
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