Fatell's Magazine
Genre - Teen Fiction and Romance
***
Beclair Jasmyne Fatell has been on her own since the beginning - she thrives in a world where she writes until the sun comes up, and writes until the sun goes down. But Beclair is a girl, a woma...
Cast of Fatell's Magazine Natalia Vodianova As Beclair Fatell Leif Erik As Clayton Warrior Sara Sampaio As Faith Warrior
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
***
I rubbed the split ends of my short hair - it wouldn't be a great first impression to make - interview or not. My heart pounded against my chest, the thumping interfering with my thoughts and making my hands sweat like the gym after Grandma visits. I'd never seen that treadmill again after the Chicago 2014 visit, I felt guilty for weeks for the guy who had slipped on it after she had gotten off.
I sat there with a silent obedience - the nerves were getting to my head, my mental state going from Calm to Clammy Mess in minutes. The door slammed open and there in the doorway stood a starving man with a thick mustache and dark hair. He hadn't eaten in days. He was wearing a tuxedo, and fancy dress shoes - the leather kind that you wish you had in your fantasies. Well, my fantasies. I doubt anyone else even thought about these things - I like to think that I have a "unique" state of mind. Or an Empire State of Mind.
He stood there silent, and he looked like poor Ashlynn Grey in middle school - teased because his name was pretty much for girls. In fact, I was pretty much preparing myself for a squeaky, shy, awkward voice that would come out of his mouth. But what I didn't expect was for his voice to be even lower than the devil's toes. "We're full, lady." He tipped his hat to the floor, but if he was trying to hide that smirk sprawled across his face - it wasn't working.
I controlled my inner workings to the maximum and shoved down my fury to my inner pits. Hell had a throne for him. I smiled at him, my eyes on fire. I pulled on my trench coat and my leather gloves. I grabbed my faux fur hat from the dark oak hat stand and tipped it over my head so you couldn't see my face. I walked outside with an aura of confidence, not looking back to say a goodbye.
This called for revenge, this called for vengeance. Prepare to beware of Beclair, because Beclair was out of meat. I was going to be successful, and I was going to show these judgmental men who they had been turning town. Beclair Jasmyne Fatell was going to become a writer. The first female writer in America. The first female writer ever.
A Few Hours Later ...
I started working on a diary. My teacher had given me a blank, leather bound notebook that she didn't need anymore - Ms. Ilvon was the only teacher in the entire town who supported my dreams of becoming a writer. Mainly because she had wanted to become a writer too but society and stereotypes had prevented her from pursuing her dream. It was my turn - I was up to bat. It was going to be this generation that produced a woman writer. I felt it in the deep depths of my body.
I let my heart and my soul pour into the first chapter of my story.
"Many, many years back women were first granted the biggest privilege that they had ever gotten before. The right to vote. But by now, in 2058, women have lost all of the privileges they had been granted before. Women have lost everything. I, Beclair Jasmyne Fatell had vowed to become the first woman writer. This is my story. This is the story of my story. The story to show that women can make a difference. And one person, me, can make a difference too."
I continued writing after my first chapter, letting the words flow out of me and onto the page in front of me. I smiled as the pen flew across the page, writing fast to catch up with the thoughts that were erupting from inside my head. After a while, I got up to eat a snack, and then sat near the windowsill by the side of my polished cherry desk.
I looked at the birds chirping, the wind blowing past the white paint that was crusting on the window. I smiled sipping my Iced Cappuccino, resting on the quilted pillows, and let my thoughts roam. I nodded and muttered to myself, "I am going to be known. I am Beclair Fatell. I will be the first. The first one. And anyone who tries to get into my way will be sprayed with Ketchup. Because that's the only thing in my fridge."
*** Hope you guys enjoy Beclair and her adventurous mind!
So .... every chapter is going to be about 1000 words so I can write more chapters and update more often! Love y'all!
BTW, THIS CHAPTER IS NOT EDITED!
My cover shop is open, please visit my profile to see!
SHARE and FOLLOW!
social media Instagram : callissa_moore Twitter : callissamoore Wattpad : callissa_moore Email : callissamoore@gmail.com Website : link in bio
