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Post by B. on Mar 25, 2012 6:48:04 GMT -5
AUTHORS NOTE- This chapter was going to be about the climbing trip to the mountains and I was going to have Beatrice picked up by the eagle but I didn’t like the end result, so I’ll just make a chapter out of the next letter. Also, can anyone tell me when about (timeline wise) the masked ball occurred?
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It was late afternoon, and a newly graduated Lemony sat in his tiny office at the daily punctilio, just as Jacques had said he would all those years ago. He was not enjoying the new job, which was filled with obnoxious co-workers (except from his brother) and an extremely nosy, bossy editor. Eleanora Poe was constantly ordering him about, and in her eyes it seemed his job extended beyond the duties of assistant obituary spell checker. Whenever she expected a cup of coffee or her toe nails painting, Lemony was obliged to do so without hesitation. It was bad enough having to read articles about dead people, without having to pander to the editors “needs.”
Today though, at last, Eleanora Poe was away from the offices, so he finally had some peace and quiet. As he sat and stared at the misspelled headline, he thought of Beatrice and how much he’d wished he’d followed her into acting. If it meant being with her, he would’ve certainly done it. They had been dating for a while now.
The article itself was one of a rather alarming nature. The headline read “Duchess of Winnipeg is Deaf!” Just one letter could change everything. He had found it underneath the creepy leech paperweight he’d received from I. as a graduation gift not long ago, and had immediately written to Ramona on reading it. Lemony was still awaiting a reply, but he wasn’t too worried- she was probably still grieving. However she was now the new Duchess of Winnipeg, a position although of considerable power, was also considerably dangerous. He would probably not meet with her for a long time. Trying to remain optimistic, Lemony thought of the reshuffle the newspaper would soon have. He’d most likely be moved to Dramatic critic, and if this meant watching plays which had his girlfriend in, he would happily do so. Of course they would have to be very careful, as things at VFD were only getting worse, and there were reports of more fires, deaths and missing volunteers everyday. He wrote in the letter he was typing now:
I know at a time like this we should be thinking of our organization, and what we can do to protect our volunteers but I can only think of you. We will have to be much more careful during out evenings together. We should stay away from open windows, even if we are outdoors, and check carefully under the bed, even if no one is sleeping in it. You should avoid suspicious food in restaurants, particularly if they are the speciality of the house, and I should only sit on certain benches in the park when I read the sonnets you send me.
He was going to see her perform at the Ned.H.Rirger theatre on Friday, and was lucky enough to have a front row seat. They would use the old code they’d invented themselves back when they were only children: Beatrice would not acknowledge Lemony but would instead drop a hatpin off the stage. This would be the signal that it was safe to meet for a midnight root beer float- a ritual they still engaged in even now.
I’m sure the performance will go well, but I hope you will never have to wear that butterfly costume again. I miss you. See you in a few days.
He signed the letter “Lemony Snicket” as always, but left out the usual “With All Due Respect” he used for his siblings and business affairs.
It was Wednesday now. “Roll on Friday he thought,” tying the letter to the carrier pigeon’s leg.
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Post by Dante on Mar 25, 2012 9:29:15 GMT -5
Would you believe that the thing that stuck out most for me in this chapter was the line "Whenever she expected a cup of coffee or her toe nails painting, Lemony was obliged to do so without hesitation"? That was very good; very Snickety, that combination of the mundane and the absurd as if the latter is completely to be expected, and as if there's no contrast between the two of them. Are you going to continue structuring the story around TBL? It works so far.
It's probably a good sign that you're prepared to examine your own work closely enough to discard a chapter, but at the same time, it might also be a learning experience if we could talk that over. It depends on what you're doing. As for the masked ball... tough one. I seem to recall that there are several inconsistencies associated with it (well, I know one: One referred to in the U.A. appears to take place after TRR, but Beatrice was dead by then). But I think the best bet might be shortly before TBB, if Lemony's been separated from Beatrice before it for fifteen years. There have probably been multiple masked balls hosted by the Duchess of Winnipeg, though, so you could write about a hitherto undocumented one if you liked. I guess reading up on the extracts of the books that refer to masked balls might be a good idea.
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Post by Christmas Chief on Mar 25, 2012 9:37:58 GMT -5
Yes, the line about Eleanora was striking, and the absence of Lemony's usual sign-off is a good observation. Hmm, the masked ball. There seemed to be several, if I recall correctly, so you could probably pick one in the UA and run with it. Or, as Dante suggests, create a fictitious one.
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Post by B. on Mar 25, 2012 13:48:28 GMT -5
Thanks for the feedback. That line- about the coffee and the toenails- was an idea I got when I read an article about work experience. In it someone volunteered to work at an editors office, and she made them paint her toenails. The plan is to continue to structure it around TBL, yes but I was also thinking about Lemony's research on the Baudelaires. That must've been quite a journey and I suppose you could write a story about that. An idea I'll keep for later, maybe. As for the masked ball wasn't there a mention in TAA that the Baudelaire parents often went out and left their children in the house? They could've easily attended the masked ball then.
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Post by Dante on Mar 25, 2012 14:47:38 GMT -5
Using that kind of inspiration from everyday life for your story is a good way of working. I often find ideas in the smallest things, although I don't have time to write much.
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Post by Hermes on Mar 25, 2012 18:32:31 GMT -5
The toenail story is real? We don't need Lemony Snicket, if life can produce such absurdities!
I agree with Dante that the most likely date for the masked ball is just before the Baudelaire fire - 'fifteen long and lonely years' probably begins with the telegram, sent when Beatrice was pregnant with Violet. The letter in TUA which refers to a masked ball happening later than that may well be a forgery - it's very badly written - or else it refers to another ball.
Keep up the good work!
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Post by B. on Mar 26, 2012 11:20:21 GMT -5
short one, it was all homework would allow, I'm afraid.
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A few days later, Lemony was roused from his work by the sound of a carrier pigeon tapping on the glass. Opening the window, he let the scrawny looking bird in and proceeded to untie the think envelope from its leg. Immediately he recognised the red seal of Winnipeg- a reply from Ramona. He was just about to open it when Eleanora Poe burst into his office. Quickly, he stuffed the envelope underneath a pile of papers and tried to look busy. “Are you still spell checking death notices,” she barked craning her head over Lemony’s shoulder. “Er, yes….” the misspelled headline on his desk read “Local Rabbi lies!” Just one letter could change everything. “Well, chop chop!” Eleanora yelled using a particularly rude expression which here means ‘get on with it or I’ll fire you!’ “Yes, right away…” “Oh, and you’ll forfeit your lunch break today, Mr.Snicket, I have furniture which needs to be reupholstered.” She left the office slamming the door behind her, making several papers fall to the ground.
Lemony slid the letter opener between the folds of the envelope and began to read:
L, I do not have much time to write this; being the duchess of Winnipeg is a busy job. I am still mourning my dear mother, but thank-you for your sympathy. I was thinking of you and Beatrice the other day, and of our organisation and the schism, and all the mysteries we are entangled in. The world is a harum-scarum place, as my associate O likes to say. Love is a rare and wonderful thing, especially in these dark times, and I cannot help but look upon you love for Beatrice as a symbol of hope. Please accept this ring, give it to Beatrice as a token of friendship from my dear mother and I.
With all Due Respect, R
Reaching into the envelope, Lemony pulled out a silver ring with the words “love conquers nearly everything” engraved round it. As he turned the ring over and over in his fingers he came to a decision: he was going to propose to Beatrice.
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Post by Dante on Mar 26, 2012 13:32:16 GMT -5
This is very good. You're filling in details that aren't in the canon but do make a lot of sense. The furniture reupholstery reference I'm guessing is more original than the toenail painting, but what's more important is that it's also an absurdity casually introduced - a feature of Snicket's style - and you introduced it in a way different to the last absurdity you used. That's good; you have to have the capacity for diversification.
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Post by Christmas Chief on Mar 26, 2012 14:08:48 GMT -5
The set-up here is good, as is the relationship between characters, on- and off-screen. "Local Rabbi Lies" is a nice deviation of "Duchess of Winnipeg is Deaf," and something I wouldn't be surprised to see in the canon.
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Post by B. on Mar 26, 2012 14:46:47 GMT -5
Thinking about it now though, did Snicket not mention once in ASoUE that "he once learned how to reupholster furniture, a skill which proved to be more useful than he could've imagined"?
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Post by Christmas Chief on Mar 26, 2012 16:39:08 GMT -5
Aye, he did. The author bio in TCC reads, "Early in his life, Mr. Snicket learned to reupholster furniture, a skill that turned out to be far more important than anyone imagined."
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Post by B. on Mar 31, 2012 4:45:36 GMT -5
AN: Let’s just assume Lemony and Beatrice are engaged now, because to be honest you don’t want to read any romance written by me.
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They had been engaged for six months. No, they weren’t engaged- not now, not ever. The past couldn’t be undone.
Lemony had done everything, everything he could, to make her believe his innocence. It didn’t matter that everyone from the city to the hinterlands believed him a criminal, a coward a traitor; it didn’t matter so long as Beatrice knew the truth. He had begged Jacques to let her know, prove it to her, convince her in some way, by bat or carrier pigeon or telegram. He’d been separated from her for so long since he’d gone into hiding, this was all he could’ve hoped for.
It was done now, though. Beatrice believed the Punctilio. The words still drifted in front of his eyes, for he’d stared at them for so long. “A disgrace……you are a traitor, Lemony…..You have failed our organization!”
He clasped the manuscript against his chest, because it was the only piece he had left of her now. That and the ring, was sat on the edge of the coffee table. It glinted in the firelight, almost twinkling merrily. Lemony sent is flying, and it landed dangerously near the open fire.
He’d read the two hundred page letter three times that night before he’d worked up the courage to reply. It had been handwritten: there were times when she’d pressed the green pen onto the paper so hard the page had torn, there were blots and tear stains and angry scrawled out words. It seemed almost human, and that made everything so much more unbearable.
He set the typewriter on his lap. Lemony wanted to rage, to scream, to shout and cry, but he promised himself that he would do this first. Do it for Beatrice.
Lemony began to type with shaking fingers. He was returned the lock of hazel coloured hair, just as she’d returned the ring. He put in a coded message asking if Bertrand could be trusted.
In the book she’d asked thirteen questions- all the wrong questions it seemed. But the worst, and most wrong question of all was Question Nine: Do you love me?
Lemony took three full pages listing how he loved her. He was begging her to come back, change her mind, anything to make her see that he was innocent and he was still the same Lemony and that he never had been a traitor or an arsonist. He sent the letter to her, knowing this was the last communication she wanted with him, yet still naively hoping she would change her mind.
After weeks of waiting though he just had to accept that she wasn’t coming back, that she didn’t believe him and that she didn’t love him. But he couldn’t.
He read and reread the book, desperately searched for some kind of coded meaning, something he’d missed or read wrong- but there was nothing.
Weeks blurred into months, and months slowly became years. What terrified him most was that he was starting to forget her face, because he only had a single blurry picture of her. He could still remember the colour of her eyes and hair of course- but not her mannerisms. He was forgetting the little details, and was afraid he would soon forget completely.
There was never a day when he did not think about her. He’d heard rumours that she’d married Bertrand, and hoped she was happy. Beatrice deserved to be happy, even though he was slowly dying inside. When he heard of her pregnancy, he decided he had to send a telegram to her. The last thing he wanted to do was alarm her or upset her, so he addressed it “Mrs. Baudelaire” and kept the congratulations painfully formal. Lemony wanted to say something else, but he knew that Bertrand would read it too.
However, he did try to warn her- warn her about O. and how he was planning to kill them. Maybe not for years yet, but Lemony knew he would stop at nothing to get the Baudelaire fortune. He could only hope that the telegram he sent correctly, and that the device had not jammed, so that Beatrice could see the message, and hopefully go into hiding with her family, just as so many other noble volunteers had. It seemed that the world was becoming less and less quiet, and was becoming more and more consumed by fire and treachery.
Yet more years passed, and Beatrice and Bertrand Baudelaire had three children. Lemony had not heard back from her after he’d sent the telegram, and although that hurt him almost more than he could bear, he hoped she had heeded his words.
So when he received news of her death, Lemony blamed himself. He could’ve disguised himself, gone to the city and warned her in person- no matter how much it would’ve hurt him to. He was a coward- just as Beatrice had said he was.
There were words though- that although the Baudelaire parents were dead- her children lived. Lemony’s last promise to Beatrice after her death was to find her children, track them down, and record everything that happened to them. He would do it for Beatrice.
The End
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Post by Dante on Mar 31, 2012 5:08:27 GMT -5
So I guess this chapter takes place over nearly two decades? That's a pretty dramatic sum. But you narrate well the way time passes so drearily for Lemony, with nothing of note for him except what happens to Beatrice. Your description of Beatrice's own two-hundred-page letter is very vivid; you'd have a hard time communicating everything she said, but the way she said it says all we need to hear. Well done, and I hope this story has served as good practice for future fanfiction from you.
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