Anecdote Love

Stories and Musings from a girl named Harvey

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Leslie’s Morning Part 1

So I am now attempting to write Leslie’s story somewhat chronologically.  This bit is nearish to the beginning and I obviously had a tearoom craving when I wrote it.  Written for Friday Fictioneers.

No cream.  Her small striped jug contained a speck.  It was a “C.C’s” morning Leslie decided and promptly went out.  Leslie first went to “C.C’s” because they advertised “a very nice cat”.  She continued to go because at “C.C’s” she found sunny nooks, a feline to snuggle, exquisite scones, and Devonshire cream for her morning tea.  Plus Mabel, the proprietor, was chatty.  Thus the sensible decision upon running out of cream was not the market, but “C.C’s”.  Upon approaching “C.C’s” on that drab morning Leslie noted an oddity. The purple sign with cream lettering was advertising “a very nice dog”.



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Beginning of the Story

Oh my goodness my story has a beginning !  And here it is the first paragraph to precede all those other paragraphs in Leslie’s ongoing adventures.  The beginning is inspired by this week’s Friday Fictioneers.  To read more of Leslie’s adventures you can check it out here

The front door to her small Victorian townhouse was green.  Leslie bought it for that door.  Forest green with stained glass panels of Art Nouveau flowers.  Green as the grass she read in as a child.  Green as her memories of travels and bruises. Green as his eyes and her heart.  Everyday opening the heavy creaking green redwood Leslie stepped into her blue parlor.  The picture rail holding nostalgic watercolors of now concrete vistas, bookshelves with pleasantly molding words, the yellow pinstripe armchair with a snugly ginger tom ensconced, smell of dahlias and lavender.  Until one day the door didn’t.


A Green Dress

Another little confusing bit of the Leslie puzzle written for Friday Fictioneers I haven’t quite decided where to take this storyline I’m slowly building yet. So interpretations and ideas would be most appreciated!

The dress in the window seemed familiar to Leslie.  Dark green in silk.  Typical 50’s with a petticoat. V-neck and elbow length sleeves trimmed in boisterous ruffles.   She had to have it, despite the $450 price tag.

At home Leslie swayed in the mirror.  The dress fit perfectly, it brought out the amber in her eyes and hair.  It was labeled “G.G. designs”.

The room shifted and a woman in 50s attire handed Leslie a drink.  A crowded room with cigarette smoke clinging to surfaces.  As if she had stepped into a living vintage photograph.  A party?


Leslie in NYC

This story was written for Friday Fictioneers.  Check it out here:  Slightly over word count this week at 107.  Also I had an extreme fascination with the film “Man on Wire” a few years back which also inspired this story.   More on that:

Leslie in NYC, visiting mother.  She intensely disliked both.

Sitting on mother’s white sofa, drinking mocha, staring at the skyline from the penthouse.

“Cheerio” greeted Gregory.

Leslie raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t you see it’s an interesting day?”

She shook her head.

“There’s a man on a tightrope at the top of the world.”  He leaned towards her.

Leslie looked in the direction indicated, toward Ground Zero.

“A hole” she said flatly. “A big hole.”

“You’re not looking hard enough.” Gregory adjusted his red bowler and flickered away.

Looking she saw a man on a tightrope between the towers.  Their gaze met.  The next instant he was gone.


100 Word Story Challenge

Leslie driving Tower, familiar.  Rainy window shows gray house in the wheat field.  Not there before.  She veers onto the shoulder.  Under yellow umbrella she approaches.  Charming dilapidation on red door.  She knocks, no reply, enters. Inside white wainscoting, empty picture rail, smell of lavender, worn pine floors, hat stand waiting for her umbrella.  Following lavender she enters a parlor, sees a portrait.  The man wears a red bowler hat, wisps of brown curls, stern jawline, soft smile, black gray eyes, curious.  Leslie determines to meet him.  In sunshine she returns to the wheat field.  Gray house not there.

Written for Friday Fictioneers.  Check it out here: