Greetings of the season to you! Those of you who haven't shut down for the holiday season, thank you for coming by. Write...Edit...Publish (WEP) is happening this month when we post our responses to the prompt, Utopian Dreams.
I hope you will enjoy reading my response, a flash fiction set in Venice at the time of Carnevale.
Venice’s
Black Cape
‘Francoise, I’m going to Carnevale. Every year I
dream of the parties, the dancing, the beauty of Venice, but you refuse to
accompany me. This year I’m going. Alone.'
‘Ma chérie? Your home is here in Place Vendome. Is Paris not enough
for you?’
‘Paris is a dream which I’ve achieved. Venice is a dream
I’ve yet to attain. My Utopia. I’ve read so much about Carnevale. I must experience it for myself.’
‘Ma chérie, I beg you, stay.’
‘Pouf! I’m going.’
‘But Anouk, I must warn you. I went one time before I met
you. The men…’ He took out a handkerchief and rubbed a spot from his Ferragamo
loafers.
Anouk refused to let this man in his three-piece charcoal
bespoke suit, his crisp white Dior shirt, and his Louis Vuitton tie, prevent
her from reaching for her dreams.
Darkness floated over Venice like a
black cape, its edges reflecting the glint of the moon. Anouk watched from her hotel balcony
as gondolas floated as in a fantasy world, dipping above the water like slick
black swans. The gondolier’s serenade drifted across the water, calling her.
The vaporetti hummed as they navigated the icy waters of the Grand Canal,
disembodied voices of the passengers bouncing atop the waves. The baroque
palaces along the canal dazzled, grand residences of past glory, now inhabited
by revelers. Anouk shivered. She was part of this night. Her dream was about to
unfold.
She dressed in her purple and silver
satin gown. The fabric rustled deliciously as she flounced her skirts. Glancing
into the Murano glass ornate mirror next to the door, she admired the way her long
blonde hair curled past her shoulders, entwined with silver ribbons. Then, the pièce
de résistance, the mask, decorated with ermine, gems and feathers to which she added a deep purple floppy hat trimmed in lace. Slipping her feet into
black satin slippers, she spritzed herself with her favourite Borsalino perfume.
Opening her black lacquer fan, she swished it over her face, a face hot
with excitement.
She was decadence itself.
Anouk drifted outside into a frosty, starry world. She was
ready to lose herself in Carnevale, where the power of the mask lured party
goers into lurid rites of celebration. Tonight, no rules applied.
Masked and costumed figures ran through the cobbled
streets, tugging her into their band. They hurried alongside the Grand Canal,
past candle-lit icing-cake palazzos dusted with snow before stepping over an
arched bridge, heading deeper into mysterious caverns and back alleyways of the
city.
The happy band entered a baroque apartment, so opulent Anouk gasped. Lifelike black statues stood in homage around the pillars that edged
the magnificent vestibule. The cold of the floating city melted away in the
heated rooms as she danced with a succession of gloriously-dressed masked men
who pressed her close to their bodies and plied her with wine from silver
goblets. She was passed from caped stranger to caped stranger with a
flourish and a kiss.
Back on the street, she slipped and slithered at the back of
the long line, ignoring her damp dress that threatened to trip her up.
The line stopped to watch fireworks exploding above the
Grand Canal. With each burst, light traced patterns across the inky sky.
Then out of the foggy darkness came a man, a man who clasped her hand and
drew it to his chest. While she stood uncertainly, the crowd ran off, leaving
her alone with the masked stranger. He began to run, tugging her along in his
wake.
Through passages and beneath arches they ran until they
came upon a magnificent doorway which appeared burnished in gold. He brushed
snow off their cloaks and shoes before he led her up a flight of stairs to a
luxurious apartment. He hurried her through a warm sitting room where a log
fire blazed. She longed to sit close to the fire and thaw her numb hands and
feet. Instead, she was tugged into a huge bedroom dazzled by moonlight, its
rich furnishings the colour of the Burgundy she’d been drinking all night.
The stranger unfastened her buttons and her dress rustled to
the floor. She would offer herself to the allure of Carnevale and her mysterious seducer. This was her dream. Her fantasy.
They fell naked onto the bed, bodies now warmed, hungry,
fired with the lust that decadence brings. They surrendered themselves to the madness of the night.
The mouth that plundered hers, tasted like the wine that had flowed all night,
enhanced by sea and smoke.
Then he tensed.
Footsteps.
Slipping and sliding on the stairs.
The occasional curse word, ‘Merda. Merda.’
‘My Contessa comes,’ he said. ‘Go. Presto! Presto!’
He gathered her clothes from the carpet, thrust them into
her arms and pushed her onto the balcony. Shivering with cold and shock, she
huddled, uncertain. The lapping of the water against the pylons were slaps to
her freezing face. The fog’s tendrils reached up and whirled around her misery. Fool! Fool! Is this the dream you
imagined?
The Contessa’s Borsalino fragrance hung, trapped, in the
freezing air. My perfume. Is that why he chose me?
‘Ah, Contessa, come, I’ve been waiting. I’m desolated we
lost each other in the frenzy of the chase.’
‘I, too, my count.’
Is this a game they play on this one night of the year when there were no rules?
Is this a game they play on this one night of the year when there were no rules?
Tears running down her frozen cheeks, Anouk struggled down
the dark stairs, gripping the ornate balustrade. She hid in the darkest corner
of the carpeted foyer and dressed herself with agonising slowness. Her frozen
hands fumbled with the intricate clasps and zips. What a joy it'd been to
fasten them earlier tonight. Now, her joy had become terror and abandonment.
Wrenching the heavy carved door open, her ruined slippers
stepped into the bewildering night.
Stepped into a nightmare.
She was lost in Venice's black cape.
If you'd like to read more entries for the WEP challenge, click on the names on the list at the top of my sidebar with DL (Direct Link) next to their name or go to the WEP website.
Thanks for coming by.
Merry Christmas!
Happy New Year!
Denise
37 comments:
Dreams fulfilled are not safe places are they? One hopes that if she tells the story Francoise doesn't say 'I told you so'. What happens in Venice stays in Venice.
For sure, Sue. I somehow don't think Francoise would be too surprise at what's transpired, since he's been there, done that.
Thank you for coming by and being the first to read! Hope you're doing well.
Merry Christmas! Happy New Year!
Denise :-)
From the heat of lust
into freezing pain
to cheat on her love
is a crying shame
Oops, that's not quite the happy ending :O
It certainly is, Desk
LOL! Tempted to say serve her right.
This seems one of the more true accounts of when you run into the arms of a stranger. Never know who that person really is. Sad when you end up an easy lay. But lesson learned and hopefully she's more grateful for what she has. This was a lovely story Denise. The descriptions and word choice held me through out. I was lost in your story cape. Merry Christmas!
Hi Denise - a dream, a desire, a need to experience la Carnevale ... the story could develop - she could go back and find her stranger ... and then who knows where the story will lead.
Everywhere I look now I see talk about 'Utopia' - from Thomas More's time to today ... but life just won't allow me to write it up ...
Have a happy warm Christmas and New Year .. enjoy and a very happy 2017 - cheers Hilary
So sad and yet in the end she was very brave to embrace her dream. As in life our dreams are fleeting. Escaping with our desires hidden inside. Well written. I enjoyed your story.
Nancy
Be careful what you wish for! But then again, sometimes a gal has to have what she wants, even if it turns out to be an Utopian dream...Anouk was lucky she got away lightly...I can think of fates far worse than a bit of chill weather and being pushed out :)...at any rate she's learned her lesson and goes back to Paris with a keener appreciation for her blessings hopefully.
Your descriptions and setting details were spellbinding as usual.
Wishing you and yours a Merry Christmas and the very best for 2017!
Sometimes fantasies should stat fantasies as they aren't all they are cracked up to be when they become real. Sure brought me right there with the descriptions indeed. Bet she'll never go there again.
Be careful what you ask for. I'm so glad she got out without too many regrets! I can't imagine this kind of desire, but to each his own. Filled with great description as always, but that ending was truly inspired. I've never understood how a simple mask could give anyone anonymity but with that type of makeup (your introductory picture) feasible. Unlike Superman, the only real superhero who got that was spider man, and in some costumes batman. LOL
Some dreams just ask for trouble. Enjoy your holiday!
PS: Having a few computer problems, typical when a current task relies on one. :)
Yes, indeedy, Yolanda, some dreams are dangerous.
Sorry about your computer problems. Always the way, eh? I'm checking on the DLs, so don't worry too much.
Yep Patrick. Some fantasies lead to no good, as is the case here. I think she's had her fill of Carnavale.
Well, will she find her way back to the hotel? Or will another stranger grab her? Could go many ways.
Nila, Merry Christmas and a fabulous writerly 2017. Much success!
I think many women may be afraid to embrace dreams such as this, but at least she put herself out there, literally. Glad you enjoyed it.
Yes, Hilary, thanks for seeing the possibilities in this story. I think I could expand it no problem, in many directions. Yes, I get you on Utopia. There are those fighting for their utopian dreams as we speak and creating havoc in this poor world of ours.
Be safe, Hilary. And many blessings on your kind soul for the holiday season and into 2017. May we see some miracles happen.
Hi Sheena-kay. I'm glad you got lost in Venice along with Anouk. Was a fun write, for sure, and so glad when other writers say they liked something.
Merry Christmas and a fabulous writerly New Year to you! Thanks for taking part in our challenge this year!
Aw, a shattered dream. I love this line: Darkness floated over Venice like a black cape, its edges reflecting the glint of the moon. Beautiful.
Thanks Lynda!
Utopian Dream turned nightmare. Very well done, The descriptions has me right there alongside Anouilh. Great tale of disaster narrowly averted, but hearts broken and dreams shattered none the less.
How many times do we say, "I wish I were a fly on the wall in THAT scene"? I could see the burst of Carnivale colors, feel the crispness of the dress. There was even a change in the way the /air/ felt from pre-assignation to post. Wonderful language!
What a wake up. Her dream destroyed by reality and the appearance of the Contessa. It shows how our desires and our wishes are not always the best thing for us.
The problematic is presented very well.
Excellent writing.
Shalom aleichem,
Pat Garcia
Well, that got my blood flowing, Denise. I would love to visit Venice and it does have a history of a dark side. People go missing during Carnivale, so I've heard (maybe just back in the medieval times). This was a lush read and I enjoyed the pace! I posted my story a few minutes ago and need to have the DL added. The link takes them to it today, anyway. Merry Christmas to you in the Down Under world.
A textbook case of 'Be careful what you wish for', eh? Sounds like Anouk's dream included rather more permanence than Carnavale could offer... A great analogy for all Utopian dreams, I suppose. Expectations kill them every time :)
Happy holidays, darling!
Guilie @ Quiet Laughter
Thank you Guilie!
I hope you get to Venice, D.G. Much beloved city. I think Carnevale is a pretty dodgy time to visit Venice.
Thank you Pat. I enjoyed writing it.
I'm glad I took you there, LuAnn! Thank you.
I'm sure Anouk isn't the first to be in this predicament!
That was a hard and bitter lesson, not to mention a darned cold one. You made me want to travel back to those days of carnival when all the rules vanish. Thanks, Denise.
What a crass thing to do. She wanted the full experience and got more than she bargained for.
There's always rules but sometimes we don't know what they are. Thanks Lee.
She did for sure.
Ah, fascinating stuff! I like the twist ending.
Thanks, J Lenni!
Nice way to catch up! Yes, most definitely, break all the rules! It's acceptable when you're famous, but does it help you get there? Hmmm...
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