Chaotic Pink
Let the zephyr blow.
Tighten the noose
Following:
As the saying goes: "If you were poor you were very, very poor, and if you were rich you were very, very rich." But that wasn't always true. In the human waste smelling streets of north London the people worked together, sharing, caring; taking the load off of each others shoulders. A small woman walked out of a darkened doorway. She peered left, her blue eyes flashed from piercing blue to a darker, more mysterious green. Reflecting her personality. The woman, around 5'1'', shook her brown hair, it was dirty; mud and grime had been rubbed into it and it had clearly not been washed in the last millennium. Could you blame the woman, after all she was probably poor.
"Morning' love!" A small man called across the crowded street, looking in the direction of the woman who was smiling sweetly at him. Many people were strolling past, chatting and shouting hello at one another in a neighbourly fashion. But this made it harder to speak without speech being interrupted and stopped half way through a sentence.
"Alright then Charlie," The woman paused, she lopsidedly smiled as someone stopped right in front of her then walked on. How rude! She thought, continuing again only after they had walked on, she questioned, "How's it going'?" Tamara said cheerfully, carefully stepping out of the darkened doorway makings sure she didn't step on anything nasty.
The man grinned a black toothed smile, his grim teeth did not make him looking unpleasing or even ugly for that matter. If anything they made him feel more down to earth and friendly. "Fine, where you going?"
He was nosey though, his fatal flaw the people called it around here, he always had to know what was happening; about right for a gossip. Which he was. "Down the market to get in supplies for the lot of us. See ya' later Charlie." Tamara shook back her hair, the copped high lights that were natural detracted from the dirtiness. Making bearable to look at. Then set of at a careful walk, unsuccessfully trying to dodge the piles of rotten food that appeared un-edible, she headed towards the market. Lifting up her foot, she saw she had stepped in something foul.
*
The market place was bustling with activity; at most times it was buzzing with activity; but now with winter setting in and the cold times coming the place was so full that there was hardly anyone to stand in without being stepped on. Small children ran between rich men’s legs and pickpockets no older than twelve grinned as they pulled wads of money from wallets. Their ragged clothes are black faces made them unrecognisable, but the rich didn't chase them, instead they called after them saying: 'rascals!' and then began murmuring that they did the same at twelve. Stepping into the centre of the market place, or as close as she could get. Tamara quickly swept round all of the stalls, not bothering to speak to her friends or catch up on gossip. Soon she has a stack of supplies in her arms that she could hardly carry. She spotted a tall girl - at least taller than her, across the market place. The teenager was pretty, with lips a beautiful deep red colour and hair that would make the wig makers jealous. The girl was stood next to a deserted market stall, a rare sight around here now.
Barging past people either side of her Tamara made her way towards her.
Jadian looked up, her brown eyes twinkling, they appeared like great pits of melted chocolate, then looked down again. The magic in them lost. Her long arm moved forward in a graceful movement and she placed her hand out towards her mother. Her hands were a pale shade, like the powder the wealthy bought.
Tamara handed an array of food to Jadian. The young girl swept her long, copper coloured hair to one side of her slender neck so that it bunched onto one side of her head to keep out of the way of the food that could burst or stain it. Unlike her mother she kept her hair clean. As she grasped some of the food with her right hand, letting the rest fall to the cobbled ground. She bent down towards the ground, and poked her finger into a tomato.
Tamara glanced at her, a look of "knew that was coming, she never does anything right." swept over her face. Oh well. she though. Tamara never could grasp what Jadian was thinking, she was mysterious, even to her own flesh and blood. Jadian never really made the effort to speak properly to her mother, as they should do. It was like a long kept secret that made an awkward silence between them every time they saw each other.
"Be careful Jadian, you need to get out of your silly ways before you turn fourteen next year." Her mother explained to her, her height making the order more humorous than serious.
"Sorry." The girls face burned with embarrassment and anger as people walked past and stared at them.
Tamara sighed, she found it hard to stay angry for too long, especially with her only family. "Take these back, tell them I will be there later on. I need to go and see someone. Hurry along."
Bundling the food into her crossed arms, Jadian headed left down the alley way, taking long elegant strides away from her mum until she vanished out of sight.
Tamara did the same, only in the opposite direction. She strode away into the distance, confidently walking with her head up and shoulders back in an elegant position.
*
The claustrophobic area of the black alley seemed to close in on her, squeezing the breath out of her lungs. The atmosphere didn't feel right. The place never did, but today it was worse, how could anything feel good in a murderers paradise? She could feel eyes burning holes into the back of her head. She braved a glance over her shoulder. No one.
No ones following you, your imagining it woman! She thought to herself. She stopped, worried. She slowly turned round, she was sure she would find someone looking bad at her. Still no one. She waited, still in her frozen position. A black silhouette could be seen against the wall. She ran to the end of the alley way and turned right, then left, then into the next passage way.
Now she knew someone was following her, at least she thought she did. Why? Was it even her that was being followed? No, surely not! She was an average person, she had never committed a crime in her life, and she had received so many opportunities. She was just a middle aged, brown haired, blue eyed woman. They probably weren't even following her!
"Forget it!" She said aloud.
***
Tamara relaxed, she decided to take the short cut back to where she sheltered. Meeting no one along the way she calmed down slightly. In all of her life, no one had followed her, and she knew most people in this part of London. Maybe it was children playing tricks on her, testing her to see if she was an evil witch or a nice local lady.
BANG!
A sound of something crashing to the floor behind her. A foul smell rose, she could hear loud footsteps, tap, tap, tapping on the cobbles behind her, not too far away. The steps were painfully loud, and with Tamara's hearing problems it make the sound seem far greater. She stopped, leaning slightly against the wall. Her breathing was becoming increasingly heavier and faster; she must get away.
But, despite herself, she continued walking down the street, to be honest it was more of a hurried jog. Don't worry she told herself not quite believing in herself at this moment in time. Slowing down, she moved to a walking pace. Trying to regulate her breathing so as to calm herself down, it did not work. Instead she began to panic, breathing short breaths that did no good to herself.
Finally she reached the end of the darkened alleyway. The claustrophobia wore away from her like weights lifted from a burdened mans shoulders, the cold hit her in the face. Hunching slightly, the footsteps grew louder. Soon a silhouette could be seen, time slowed. Suddenly she started to accelerate into a jog again, then a run; it became a full on sprint. A marathon runner with the finishing line in sight. People were following her. Her. Her dusty rag of a dress made loud rustling noises; a giveaway to the followers. It slowed her down, as the air resistance beat against it.
"Stop."
Tamara braved turning around for the second time. A rugged, stained face glared back at her evilly grinning his toothless smile. The man, around middle age, itched his head so that a deep running scar could be seen. Intentionally done to try and scare the woman.
"Stop, you'll be commin' wi' me dear. Don't worry we won't be keepin' you long, you'll be gone within' the week..." The man reasured her. Tamara breathed in deeply, her worst fears confirmed. She caught the smell of bad breath, she gipped, that smelt similar to rotten eggs and sweaty socks. The man spotted her grimacing and burped loudly.
She let her arms go limp, and allowed herself to be dragged along.
|Tighten the Noose|
Tighten the noose.
She had been accused. Accused wrongly. How would you react? You've been accused of commiting a theft from Royalty - the Queen; and now your up for the death penalty. Hanging by the noose, face the drop? No, Tamara enlists her daughter to help, Jadian knows who did it! But, proving it is harder that that.
She had been accused. Accused wrongly. How would you react? You've been accused of commiting a theft from Royalty - the Queen; and now your up for the death penalty. Hanging by the noose, face the drop? No, Tamara enlists her daughter to help, Jadian knows who did it! But, proving it is harder that that.
Tighte the Noose is now PG just to be on the safe side, as in later chapters material of a violent/gruesome nature may occur. However; nothing will exeed this, so continue. And enjoy.
Chapter One:
Following
Following
Following:
As the saying goes: "If you were poor you were very, very poor, and if you were rich you were very, very rich." But that wasn't always true. In the human waste smelling streets of north London the people worked together, sharing, caring; taking the load off of each others shoulders. A small woman walked out of a darkened doorway. She peered left, her blue eyes flashed from piercing blue to a darker, more mysterious green. Reflecting her personality. The woman, around 5'1'', shook her brown hair, it was dirty; mud and grime had been rubbed into it and it had clearly not been washed in the last millennium. Could you blame the woman, after all she was probably poor.
"Morning' love!" A small man called across the crowded street, looking in the direction of the woman who was smiling sweetly at him. Many people were strolling past, chatting and shouting hello at one another in a neighbourly fashion. But this made it harder to speak without speech being interrupted and stopped half way through a sentence.
"Alright then Charlie," The woman paused, she lopsidedly smiled as someone stopped right in front of her then walked on. How rude! She thought, continuing again only after they had walked on, she questioned, "How's it going'?" Tamara said cheerfully, carefully stepping out of the darkened doorway makings sure she didn't step on anything nasty.
The man grinned a black toothed smile, his grim teeth did not make him looking unpleasing or even ugly for that matter. If anything they made him feel more down to earth and friendly. "Fine, where you going?"
He was nosey though, his fatal flaw the people called it around here, he always had to know what was happening; about right for a gossip. Which he was. "Down the market to get in supplies for the lot of us. See ya' later Charlie." Tamara shook back her hair, the copped high lights that were natural detracted from the dirtiness. Making bearable to look at. Then set of at a careful walk, unsuccessfully trying to dodge the piles of rotten food that appeared un-edible, she headed towards the market. Lifting up her foot, she saw she had stepped in something foul.
*
The market place was bustling with activity; at most times it was buzzing with activity; but now with winter setting in and the cold times coming the place was so full that there was hardly anyone to stand in without being stepped on. Small children ran between rich men’s legs and pickpockets no older than twelve grinned as they pulled wads of money from wallets. Their ragged clothes are black faces made them unrecognisable, but the rich didn't chase them, instead they called after them saying: 'rascals!' and then began murmuring that they did the same at twelve. Stepping into the centre of the market place, or as close as she could get. Tamara quickly swept round all of the stalls, not bothering to speak to her friends or catch up on gossip. Soon she has a stack of supplies in her arms that she could hardly carry. She spotted a tall girl - at least taller than her, across the market place. The teenager was pretty, with lips a beautiful deep red colour and hair that would make the wig makers jealous. The girl was stood next to a deserted market stall, a rare sight around here now.
Barging past people either side of her Tamara made her way towards her.
Jadian looked up, her brown eyes twinkling, they appeared like great pits of melted chocolate, then looked down again. The magic in them lost. Her long arm moved forward in a graceful movement and she placed her hand out towards her mother. Her hands were a pale shade, like the powder the wealthy bought.
Tamara handed an array of food to Jadian. The young girl swept her long, copper coloured hair to one side of her slender neck so that it bunched onto one side of her head to keep out of the way of the food that could burst or stain it. Unlike her mother she kept her hair clean. As she grasped some of the food with her right hand, letting the rest fall to the cobbled ground. She bent down towards the ground, and poked her finger into a tomato.
Tamara glanced at her, a look of "knew that was coming, she never does anything right." swept over her face. Oh well. she though. Tamara never could grasp what Jadian was thinking, she was mysterious, even to her own flesh and blood. Jadian never really made the effort to speak properly to her mother, as they should do. It was like a long kept secret that made an awkward silence between them every time they saw each other.
"Be careful Jadian, you need to get out of your silly ways before you turn fourteen next year." Her mother explained to her, her height making the order more humorous than serious.
"Sorry." The girls face burned with embarrassment and anger as people walked past and stared at them.
Tamara sighed, she found it hard to stay angry for too long, especially with her only family. "Take these back, tell them I will be there later on. I need to go and see someone. Hurry along."
Bundling the food into her crossed arms, Jadian headed left down the alley way, taking long elegant strides away from her mum until she vanished out of sight.
Tamara did the same, only in the opposite direction. She strode away into the distance, confidently walking with her head up and shoulders back in an elegant position.
*
The claustrophobic area of the black alley seemed to close in on her, squeezing the breath out of her lungs. The atmosphere didn't feel right. The place never did, but today it was worse, how could anything feel good in a murderers paradise? She could feel eyes burning holes into the back of her head. She braved a glance over her shoulder. No one.
No ones following you, your imagining it woman! She thought to herself. She stopped, worried. She slowly turned round, she was sure she would find someone looking bad at her. Still no one. She waited, still in her frozen position. A black silhouette could be seen against the wall. She ran to the end of the alley way and turned right, then left, then into the next passage way.
Now she knew someone was following her, at least she thought she did. Why? Was it even her that was being followed? No, surely not! She was an average person, she had never committed a crime in her life, and she had received so many opportunities. She was just a middle aged, brown haired, blue eyed woman. They probably weren't even following her!
"Forget it!" She said aloud.
***
Tamara relaxed, she decided to take the short cut back to where she sheltered. Meeting no one along the way she calmed down slightly. In all of her life, no one had followed her, and she knew most people in this part of London. Maybe it was children playing tricks on her, testing her to see if she was an evil witch or a nice local lady.
BANG!
A sound of something crashing to the floor behind her. A foul smell rose, she could hear loud footsteps, tap, tap, tapping on the cobbles behind her, not too far away. The steps were painfully loud, and with Tamara's hearing problems it make the sound seem far greater. She stopped, leaning slightly against the wall. Her breathing was becoming increasingly heavier and faster; she must get away.
But, despite herself, she continued walking down the street, to be honest it was more of a hurried jog. Don't worry she told herself not quite believing in herself at this moment in time. Slowing down, she moved to a walking pace. Trying to regulate her breathing so as to calm herself down, it did not work. Instead she began to panic, breathing short breaths that did no good to herself.
Finally she reached the end of the darkened alleyway. The claustrophobia wore away from her like weights lifted from a burdened mans shoulders, the cold hit her in the face. Hunching slightly, the footsteps grew louder. Soon a silhouette could be seen, time slowed. Suddenly she started to accelerate into a jog again, then a run; it became a full on sprint. A marathon runner with the finishing line in sight. People were following her. Her. Her dusty rag of a dress made loud rustling noises; a giveaway to the followers. It slowed her down, as the air resistance beat against it.
"Stop."
Tamara braved turning around for the second time. A rugged, stained face glared back at her evilly grinning his toothless smile. The man, around middle age, itched his head so that a deep running scar could be seen. Intentionally done to try and scare the woman.
"Stop, you'll be commin' wi' me dear. Don't worry we won't be keepin' you long, you'll be gone within' the week..." The man reasured her. Tamara breathed in deeply, her worst fears confirmed. She caught the smell of bad breath, she gipped, that smelt similar to rotten eggs and sweaty socks. The man spotted her grimacing and burped loudly.
She let her arms go limp, and allowed herself to be dragged along.
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I can't wait for more!