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Literature Text
Thursday 3:36pm
The driveway was gravel. She could feel it through the thin soles of her flats. It crunched as she walked. She focused on it, trying to use it for courage as she approached the cement walkway that lead up to the intimidating old gothic mansion. The old stonework was covered in riots of ivy, and the accusing eyes of chipped and timeworn gargoyles filled her with unease. Amanda tried to block it all out and focus on the plan, her cover story.
The rusted old knocker felt stark in contrast to the smooth white skin of her young hand. She felt strange just using the ancient thing. It clanged against the door and an echo followed inside, giving a healthy dose of gooseflesh to her arms beneath the long grey sleeves of her sweater. The sound of footsteps from behind the imposing door felt ghoulish in their mystery. Their clicks came to stop and the silence was tense. For a moment of time, nothing happened. Then with a mix of clang and metal groaning, the door was pulled open and the ghoulish mystery was revealed in the form of a towering presence. Amanda's body tensed and she didn't even have the decorum to stifle her gasp. The woman had to be 6' 2"… and with her heels… she had to be 6' 6"… and then standing on the raised threshold of the door… she must have stood a full 6' 11"! The calculations just kept coming in. This woman literally loomed over Amanda. Looking up at her, made the plucky sleuth feel a sense of vertigo. She had to tilt her head so far back, the ground was out of sight. Even at 5' 9" in her cute silver flats, it was a feeling she found very unfamiliar. More intimidating still was the corded muscles that wound up around her long lean arms. They continued through her shoulders, neck, and back. For someone who was so tall and lean, she was impossibly strong.
Amanda Jones suddenly felt very small. With this woman snarling down at her, Amanda felt far less like her high school girl cover was an act. Her hair felt too messy, makeup too wrong, skirt suddenly felt too short, sweater too tight and itchy, her pantyhose too sheer with not enough support in her quaking knees. The cute silver flats on her nervous feet suddenly felt too immature. She was small, delicate, and vulnerable to being crushed by this monster of a woman glaring down upon her. Amanda Jones realized she did not need any extra help maintaining her cover story. She did not feel a day over 18 years old.
Amanda had investigated Carla Lachesis multiple times before this moment. She had observed her several times in the Library, had even been so bold as to follow her home in preparation of setting up this operation. All this time, Carla had been at quite a distance. In the Library she was always sitting down, wearing a dark jacket. She never knew that Carla was this tall. Amanda had never stood this close, and felt it. Felt the miniaturizing effect of standing in Carla Lachesis' personal space, the intimidating heat that her muscular structure emanated. She wore dark flared trousers, and a stylish tank top that advertised her muscular upper body. On her neck was a strangely unnerving medallion. She appeared to be in her 40's and the unstoppable march of time's footprints was etched in her face. Her mouth was painted in a perpetual frown, while her eyes transmitted little more than contempt for those beneath her. Her dark hair was stylishly pinned back by a pair of long sticks that gave her a mysterious feel of a woman from another time and place. Combined with that face, the towering height, and the sinewy-corded strength, her appearance was startling. Amanda never prepared for this. Now that it was suddenly all happening, it was too late. Amanda had no choice but to go forth with the plan, for better or for worse!
"Yes, may I help you?" her voice seemed terse and hypnotizing all at once. It immediately reminded her of the pebbles crunching under her flats moments ago, and the deep shadowy hallway that loomed behind the tall serpentine woman. Amanda grabbed at the hem of her skirt for courage.
"Yes, hi. My name is, Victoria Reynolds. I'm a senior at Ivy Ridge Academy. We are doing a fundraiser for the arts, and I was wondering… Well, I was just wondering if you would be willing to give to our charitable cause?"
The driveway was gravel. She could feel it through the thin soles of her flats. It crunched as she walked. She focused on it, trying to use it for courage as she approached the cement walkway that lead up to the intimidating old gothic mansion. The old stonework was covered in riots of ivy, and the accusing eyes of chipped and timeworn gargoyles filled her with unease. Amanda tried to block it all out and focus on the plan, her cover story.
The rusted old knocker felt stark in contrast to the smooth white skin of her young hand. She felt strange just using the ancient thing. It clanged against the door and an echo followed inside, giving a healthy dose of gooseflesh to her arms beneath the long grey sleeves of her sweater. The sound of footsteps from behind the imposing door felt ghoulish in their mystery. Their clicks came to stop and the silence was tense. For a moment of time, nothing happened. Then with a mix of clang and metal groaning, the door was pulled open and the ghoulish mystery was revealed in the form of a towering presence. Amanda's body tensed and she didn't even have the decorum to stifle her gasp. The woman had to be 6' 2"… and with her heels… she had to be 6' 6"… and then standing on the raised threshold of the door… she must have stood a full 6' 11"! The calculations just kept coming in. This woman literally loomed over Amanda. Looking up at her, made the plucky sleuth feel a sense of vertigo. She had to tilt her head so far back, the ground was out of sight. Even at 5' 9" in her cute silver flats, it was a feeling she found very unfamiliar. More intimidating still was the corded muscles that wound up around her long lean arms. They continued through her shoulders, neck, and back. For someone who was so tall and lean, she was impossibly strong.
Amanda Jones suddenly felt very small. With this woman snarling down at her, Amanda felt far less like her high school girl cover was an act. Her hair felt too messy, makeup too wrong, skirt suddenly felt too short, sweater too tight and itchy, her pantyhose too sheer with not enough support in her quaking knees. The cute silver flats on her nervous feet suddenly felt too immature. She was small, delicate, and vulnerable to being crushed by this monster of a woman glaring down upon her. Amanda Jones realized she did not need any extra help maintaining her cover story. She did not feel a day over 18 years old.
Amanda had investigated Carla Lachesis multiple times before this moment. She had observed her several times in the Library, had even been so bold as to follow her home in preparation of setting up this operation. All this time, Carla had been at quite a distance. In the Library she was always sitting down, wearing a dark jacket. She never knew that Carla was this tall. Amanda had never stood this close, and felt it. Felt the miniaturizing effect of standing in Carla Lachesis' personal space, the intimidating heat that her muscular structure emanated. She wore dark flared trousers, and a stylish tank top that advertised her muscular upper body. On her neck was a strangely unnerving medallion. She appeared to be in her 40's and the unstoppable march of time's footprints was etched in her face. Her mouth was painted in a perpetual frown, while her eyes transmitted little more than contempt for those beneath her. Her dark hair was stylishly pinned back by a pair of long sticks that gave her a mysterious feel of a woman from another time and place. Combined with that face, the towering height, and the sinewy-corded strength, her appearance was startling. Amanda never prepared for this. Now that it was suddenly all happening, it was too late. Amanda had no choice but to go forth with the plan, for better or for worse!
"Yes, may I help you?" her voice seemed terse and hypnotizing all at once. It immediately reminded her of the pebbles crunching under her flats moments ago, and the deep shadowy hallway that loomed behind the tall serpentine woman. Amanda grabbed at the hem of her skirt for courage.
"Yes, hi. My name is, Victoria Reynolds. I'm a senior at Ivy Ridge Academy. We are doing a fundraiser for the arts, and I was wondering… Well, I was just wondering if you would be willing to give to our charitable cause?"
Triple Trouble - part 5... Now begins the sleuthing...
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Comments7
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Excellent description of apprehension and stark fear entirely through descriptive perspective! We know what Amanda felt and thought, because we did it with her! I like that Carla dominates Amanda by sheer presence. Clearly, this actress was not just another pretty face, but a primal force which exuded its energy on screen. Well done!