A Collection of Short/Long Stories I've Written;

Emilia;Juliet

Summary:

                Emilia doesn't want to be a blue-blood. She doesn't want to belong to the society. She doesn't want to be a dress anymore. She wants to be free. Emilia, the Dark Lady, interests every man that lays eyes on her, even the ones she not condemed to see by heirarchy in society. So what happens when she meets William? A blue blood laying eyes on a pesant is something no-one in higher status would want to witness.

               (All rights are by myself, Amanda-Rose, the author.)

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“Love is much like a wild rose, beautiful and calm, but willing to draw blood in its defense" -- Mark Overby

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                                                          Looking back, understanding how that night progressed, I realised that all it came down to was a child losing her innocence. She didn’t mean for what came; but she did what she thought was right for her. She did it because she felt like she was in love; not to deceive her family or name.

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                                               “I don’t understand why you wouldn’t want to go. People are going to expect to see you there.” Mary knew this; many people had personally walked upto her to request that Emilia, her daughter, attended tonight’s ballroom event.  The majority of those people were fine, young bachelors, many of whom were interested in Emilia. Mary knew her daughter cropped up in many conversations. People would murmur their thoughts on the girl whenever she was nearby, and with her outstanding beauty and dark complexion, many mistook her as Italian. Emilia bared no resemblance to any others, and people would point this out. Emilia knew she was different; she liked how she looked; but standing next to Mary, they looked nothing alike.

        Emilia stood gracefully as her mother dressed her in many layers. She wanted to reply that she didn’t want to go, but thought better of it. It was inacceptable to disrespect her mother.

       “This is important to us,” Mary carried on and Emilia lowered her head, letting her dark curls fall in front of her face. Although she knew it wasn’t right to speak now, she wished she could because to her, this was only really important to Mary, because Mary was the only one who cared.

        Mary lifted her daughters chin and smiled warmly. “Tonight will be wonderful.”

         Emilia simply nodded her head, silently complaining in her own head as she couldn’t say it out loud. Mary walked past Emilia to the large bed where a dress had been placed earlier. It was a deep burgundy, made out of beautiful material with a corset decorated in pearls and fine needle printing. Mary gently caressed the rich material, smiling as she admired the beauty of it. She knew no other would be wearing such a bold colour tonight and she wasn’t ashamed to show off her daughter. Snapping out of her reverie she swiftly moved across to Emilia again, who hadn’t moved. Emilia smiled, not at the dress, but at how excited her mother seemed. She then did as she was instructed and patiently stood still as her mother continued by adding the final layer of her outfit. Content with how her daughter then looked, Mary left, agreeing to meet Emilia at the ball. 

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                                                      Finally alone the girl sat down and placed her head in her hands, rubbing her eyes to clear her mind and calm herself down because no matter how much she loved her mother she wishes she could voice her own opinion instead of agreeing to her mother; usually with a strained smile. She sighed heavily, thinking about how she wished she could tell her mother her true spirits on her own lifestyle.

       Dusk was settling in and Emilia decided it was about time she left. She slowly stood up and walked over to the mirror to take a look at the dress in the comfort that she could analyse it in private, where she was sure her facial expressions – which would match her personal thoughts – were sure to disappoint her mother. Emilia tilted her head to the side, looking at her dress intensely. It was a beautiful dress, she had to admit, but it just wasn’t her. It’s perfectly weaved thread created an exquisite pattern and Emilia picked up the bottom of the dress before letting it slip through her fingers. The texture was unique; a new material to her previous dresses, yet still the concept of the dress was the same. The material looked beautiful, and fitted perfectly  on the right person. Emilia looked down, ignoring the concept of using the mirror now as she touched the details of the dress. There wasn’t a single detail out of place, and like Emilia’s life, she thought, everything had been carefully designed.

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                                                                Mary was informed that Emilia’s carriage was approaching and so, even though it was cold weather, she stood at the entrance waiting to accompany her daughter in to be introduced. The wind hit the woman and made her shiver, so she pulled her scarf closer to her dainty physique . Mary straightened up when she noticed her daughter had arrived, and a young lad, the same one who’d opened the door for herself, opened the door. Mary smiled at her daughters beauty, feeling proud, but her smile soon dropped and her body turned ridged as the boy, she’d heard from through acquaintances that his name was William, held out his hand.

    ‘She wouldn’t take it,’ Mary thought, her daughter knew better than that. But Mary was shocked when Emilia did take William’s hand, and she smiled. Emilia looked up into William’s dark eyes, the same eyes Mary avoided looking into, and nodded gracefully. The boy then helped her daughter down before standing next to the carriage; his pleats tucked in but not straightened. Mary glanced at the boy now, her eyes narrowed. He was an attractive man with a low bone structure and a sturdy jaw line, his messy umber hair fell into his eyes as the wind blew. But that didn’t matter for anything, because he wouldn’t be able to support Emilia, and so Mary quickly decided to intervene.

      “Emilia,” the young girl’s mother spoke aloud as she walked towards the pair. ”You’re here.” Emilia nodded before closing the distance with her mother. They entered together but the thoughts of touching William still lingered in her mind.

       Emilia danced with many men, all of whom were struck by her beauty. She was a mystery, dark, beautiful, they couldn’t resist her.

      “Maybe you’ll find an eligible bachelor?” Mary suggested.

       ‘Not here,’ Emilia wanted to say, but instead a strained smile was forced onto her face. Emilia’s eyes scanned the room, looking at all the men, who, to her, looked the same: socially vain, ignorant and materialists, who were all obsessed with their status, were everywhere. Not one of them had the same effect on her as the young man outside.

      “Maybe I will,” Emilia finally replied, decided she was going to stand up for something she believe in – even if it was condemned. She knew she couldn’t stand down now, no matter how much she was disrespecting her mother. It was her life to lead and not everything was structured. Not if it can’t be helped. She wasn’t like the dress, the thread wasn’t weaved perfectly and she didn’t fit in. She was a pearl out of place. It didn’t feel right.

      And as her daughter walked out of the ballroom, Mary knew this was never what Emilia had wanted, just what she, as a mother, had planned.

       Emilia silently walked to her love with not the burden of walking away from her mother but the pleasure of being free.