Post by andreelacour on Sept 27, 2009 19:23:00 GMT -5
It was a gorgeous night to Andrée as she was walking through the deserted streets of New Orleans. There were no clouds in the sky and she could see all the stars overhead. The moon was bright and gave the illusion of daylight.
The only sound was that of her shoes on the pavement. And that is what she was concentrating on as she wandered around and peered into closed shops and restaurants. Sometimes she would picture herself dining there during the day. But then the reality of her life of the past 100 years would remind her that she would never get to enjoy that again.
She sighed and began to cross the street. As she reached the other side, no lifting her foot up enough to clear the edge of the sidewalk, Andrée tripped and fell, tearing her dress.
"Oh damn," she cursed. As she inspected herself and her attire, she noticed that she had fallen hard on her hand it had been cut a little and a small thin line of red was travelling down her wrist.
On further inspection her determined that the bustle on the back of her dress was still intact and she just tore it up the side on the seam.
As she got up she cursed at her clumsiness. "One hundred years and I still can't walk in these damn shoes." She almost had the erg to taken them off them throw them into the nearest line of bushes, but brushed the though aside. She didn't want to walk all the way home with no shoes on. That would just be ridiculous.
With that last train of thought, she began to walk towards her house. This night seemed to be bringing nothing for her. Another boring night, another boring walk, and now a torn dress.
I guess that tomorrow night, I'm doing some sewing.
She walked back the way that she had come lost in her own thoughts.
The only sound was that of her shoes on the pavement. And that is what she was concentrating on as she wandered around and peered into closed shops and restaurants. Sometimes she would picture herself dining there during the day. But then the reality of her life of the past 100 years would remind her that she would never get to enjoy that again.
She sighed and began to cross the street. As she reached the other side, no lifting her foot up enough to clear the edge of the sidewalk, Andrée tripped and fell, tearing her dress.
"Oh damn," she cursed. As she inspected herself and her attire, she noticed that she had fallen hard on her hand it had been cut a little and a small thin line of red was travelling down her wrist.
On further inspection her determined that the bustle on the back of her dress was still intact and she just tore it up the side on the seam.
As she got up she cursed at her clumsiness. "One hundred years and I still can't walk in these damn shoes." She almost had the erg to taken them off them throw them into the nearest line of bushes, but brushed the though aside. She didn't want to walk all the way home with no shoes on. That would just be ridiculous.
With that last train of thought, she began to walk towards her house. This night seemed to be bringing nothing for her. Another boring night, another boring walk, and now a torn dress.
I guess that tomorrow night, I'm doing some sewing.
She walked back the way that she had come lost in her own thoughts.