ululate • \ULL-yuh-layt\ • verb: howl, wail
Very short post. So I figure I will just give you a taste of my unedited story! Tell me what you think of the first page! Over the month I probably will give other excerpts, and maybe on November 30, I'll post the whole thing! All 50,000 words (If I last that long). Won't that be exciting? And make you want to ululate! Please remember that I have not gone back and made it all pretty. Sorry this is a somewhat boring post, especially to those who have already read this. =D
Lydia glanced behind her, quite furtively: her blue eyes scanning unceasingly for any source of movement. She wanted to be sure she was not being followed, nor her activities being watched. When she was quite certain there was none, she crept forward, trying to be like a shadow, darting to and fro to get to her destination. Lydia Declan, society’s first class burglar, was at it again.
This young maiden, twenty-two of age, had a slim build which was easy to conceal behind pillars, rock, and anything. Her dark brown hair, she called it mud, but no one else would agree with her, and made it much more pleasant sounding. They called her hair mahogany, which was a little of a stretch considering her hair had only a slight tint of red in it, and other browns. She could not complain, not when if she was born with the signature Declan hair, bright, fiery red, her night time extravaganzas would be a definite no. She was sure to be spotted with that beacon of light making her visible.
Tonight was the night she hit the big boy: Mr. and Mrs. Sanders mansion. They were off at the theater; their alarm system consisted of a deaf dog and maid who left as soon as she could to go on a date. It was almost too easy. Lydia’s objective was not to rob them dry, or to steal their most precious items. It was a way of redeeming money, jewelry, and gems from the notorious card cheater. Lydia would never be able to prove it, nor would she be sure to have retribution if she had proof. No, her way was better. Tonight she would steal and find a way to return the items to their rightful owners.
Everything was going to plan, with the house quiet and her sleuthing skills mastered, it was as easy as walking through the front door and heading upstairs to the safe where the items were kept. It was a seven digit number, which would have taken an amiable amount of time had she not been told the code in a rather compromising position. It’ll be worth it in the end. Lydia had told herself that night as she drew the unfaithful Mr. Sanders away from the crowded room. When they were alone, she coaxed the code out of him, and then drugged him before anything inappropriate happened. She hoped he would be far too intoxicated to remember him giving her the numbers. If not, she would deal with it later. Never let the fear of the future stop you from doing what you want today. It was a motto Lydia had undertaken which had proven useful on more than one occasion.
There was a click as the safe sprung open. For a moment, Lydia felt herself being dazed by all the finery. It would put her somewhat dire financial situation to rights, but Lydia had a very strong sense of honor and being greedy would only get her caught. She grabbed what she came for. One hundred thousand pounds, recklessly bet by Rufus Markee. Money was never usually such a concern for Lydia, but in this instance, she felt Rufus deserved it. He had placed the bet knowing there was no way he could lose, and he was right, if Mr. Sander was a rule-following man. Since he wasn’t, Rufus was being ridiculed and now facing bankruptcy, his family with him. A Sinnet’s family heirloom, a costly sum in its own right, had been passed down from Father to Son for generations. Losing such a memento would cost the young rascal who had bet it great hardship. Mr. Welksin gave his wedding band up, no doubt Mr. Sander would try to find a pleasurable bargain for its return. The deed to Atlantis was Mr. Caroltin’s only source of income. He had spent the last week at a bar, nursing himself into a depression. Lydia feared he contemplates suicide. There also was an emerald as big as her fist. Now this gem Lydia had no idea to whom it belonged, but she was sure Mr. Sanders could not have won it fairly. It probably was one of the black bargains that Mr. Sander committed in secret.
Lydia found most of her information out by eavesdropping on people’s conversations when she was out. She was also in a habit of checking the newspaper and finding clues that marked someone as the victim of Mr. Sander’s crime. Lydia was almost tempted to steal all of his safe’s belongings and let him find out how it was to feel the weight of bills crushing him. She could not abide cheaters, but neither could she steal his money, no matter how deserving he was. Lydia could not drop to his level. She, instead, left her card. It was made herself by her own card making shop, but was undistinguishable to its owner. The only hint at her identity came from the card’s view. This is what, in a cursive writing, her card to Mr. Sander said. “Mr. Cheater, I have confiscated objects of your underhand methods of obtaining them. Do not do it again. I will be watching, and maybe next time I’ll take more than what is due.” She had no name to call herself, so she didn’t sign it. It may not have been the most eloquent of threatening notes, but Lydia had no intuition for such a note. She had to make do with what she had.
(this is my own personal work. Copyrighted)
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