Beautiful Disaster
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- Parts 9
Born on the coldest Christmas, in 1859, she killed her mother coming into this world. The effect; he named her Calamity.
Now don't get me wrong, her Pa loved that girl like no other. Now he might have had a bit of a drinking problem, but he ain't never raised no hand nor voice to her. Normally a bull seeing red in a china cabinet, you should've seen him with her. You would've thought that was the softest man alive.
And he did his best with her. She had aunts and women who were friends of the family to help her with some things, but when it came to others he raised that girl straight up as if she had been born a boy instead. Best horse rider I ever met, and I'd bet on that.
One day though, her Pa's luck caught up to him in an alley way after some poker game at the Saloon. So drunk off his ass, the man didn't have a chance to pull his gun before he was dead in the ground.
Calamity was alone, but she was okay. Well off enough since her ma's folks had been pretty successful apothecaries, and her pa had more than a few coins to leave her from all of the heads he'd brought in, he'll, the guy who'd shot her father felt so bad he give her to money for the bounty on that man's head.
And she had us to watch out for her, me and ma. But once my ma lyed down her head for the last time I flew away like "a whisper on the wind" in her words. We kept in touch, for a while, writing letters back and forth. I can't remember if she stopped being able to track me down or if I stopped reaching out to her. I vaguely remember something in her last letter about some man who was gonna make sure she got her due. Pretty sure I stopped writing after that, not wanting to get in the way of a good thing. She needed a good man, not to still hold out hope for me.
But God...Calamity Grace; a beautiful disaster.
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Perfect Without Scars .{major Construction}
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Still mourning from the untimely death of her mother, and a week before leaving the Nassau county with her best-friend, and with that, everything else she had ever known, Sol find herself wrongfully charged and incarcerated for the murder of a member of her family. Already depressed at the idea of her once-promising future now marred by the bleak confine of a prison cell, she now also has to the deal with the fact that she has just caught the eyes of a man, whose power and reputation for brutality alone precede him. ....... "Little flower" , He said, his fingers gently tilting my head up to look at him. "Yes", I breathlessly exhaled "If you ever speak to me like that again, I will rip your fucking throat out.", He continued with a terrifying smile. ...... - And because his ancestors were never picky about their business endeavours, partly due to their direct ties to royalty, and due to their connections to upper-class members of the justice system in Europe and eventually in North America and Asia, the man's family had been direct benefactors of both world wars due to their involvement in the weapon industry, and as suppliers of the adrenaline-pumping drug both the Germans and the French/Americans were injecting in their soldiers before sending them to battle. It's safe to say the man's power knew no bound or restrain. Power that carried through with every single one of the man's actions. Indeed, The man never yelled and never raised his voice, he never had to. The man was curt in his speech. His deep, raspy, baritone voice almost always resonated through with the same monotonous tone. Unless it was to handle his bi-daily entertainments, which were often eccentric in genre and deriving from eclectic sources. It was only then, you'd see the man's eyes twinkle with amusement, frequently at the expense of others. - ______ WARNING [Contains mature, potentially triggering content]
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