Let me see your smoke swing.

[Rose Decumbry]

[atrb=width,450,true][atrb=border,0,false][cs=0][bg=000000] Rose was sitting along a park bench. A park bench in New York City, a bench that actually rested across an old bar. The Green Toe. The Green Toe had been one of the biggest speakeasies that had New York had ever established. And yours truly, had been one of those flappers; one of the girls she would have dreaded to be if she had ever remained a truly societal woman. Rose let her eyes close and her head rest back along the cool bench. It was almost as if she had been swept back in time. Rose reopened her eyes; in a memory this time. Her large doe blue eyes were now rimmed with charcoal eyeliner, and vamp red lips. Rouge dotted on her pinched cheeks. She had been ninety one years of age, but didn’t look a day over fifteen. Rose’s hair was cut short, short against her scalp. It was pinned against her head, in waves that looked like they had careful and talented hands run through them. Her blond locks were nonexistent in this period. Rose’s dress was gold and glittery, the torso being horizontally striped while its skirt was vertical. It dropped at her waist dramatically, gold fabric covering her breasts in a modest way while dropping midway down her back. Gold and diamonds lined the dip in her outline. She was a naturally small person but to achieve the true flapper style, you had to have had a boxy figure. Rose was just a smidgen off of having that boy figure; and a corset eliminating any trace of a curve. Her Mary Janes clicked along the pavement, while black pantyhose outlined the muscle in her legs. Long strands of real pearls laced her neck, adding that dramatic flair. A peacock feather hung in the back of her head, poking up at the top of her head. She wore Chanel perfume; smelling naturally of roses. Precious diamonds the American economy was slowly starting to miss and wish they had again. And here she was; the little vampire playing in the big bad States. Looking for a delicious meal. Her dark red lips pulled back into a smile as she approached The Green Toe. Password? a gruff voice demanded peering through an eyehole at her. Rose batted her thickly curved lashes at him. She could smell him, and his blood smelled oh so good. I’m a moll, can’t you tell? she lit an extravagantly long cigarette, and blew out the smoke. Of course she wasn’t a gangster’s woman. She belonged to no one. Yeah, you do look like one. Nonetheless, what’s the password Doll? Here’s a hint, you look like one. Rose clenched her jaw slightly, but kept her dramatic and sensual face blank. Sheba... the title of a sexy woman rolled off her tongue, and Rose let her eyes hold to the man and he nodded and opened the door to let her pass. Smoke instantly overwhelmed her sense along with alcohol and the smell of human blood. Rose smiled. This was just the beginning of her era. Rose opened her eyes, back in the present once more. Some habits haunted you to the grave, she dually noted as another cigarette; much shorter and less elegant than what she had carried in the past. Her legs crossed over one another, pale skin exposed. Oh time, how cruel you can be… she sighed out with a moan. Her head tilted upwards once more and blew out white smoke into the black sky. How cruel indeed. ----------------------------------------------- So this is Rose. Living in a memory. Open to anyone. She was wearing this in her memory. And wearing this in the present.