|
Post by R. on Mar 7, 2021 4:25:26 GMT -5
No, not really. In case you were wondering how I created her, I heard the name and immediately thought that it was a much better name than Veruca Salt. It, and the girl who appeared in my mind when I heard it, seemed very Snicketty as well, so I decided to put her in my ficverse as a friend and guardian of sorts for Carmelita until she meets Esmé.
|
|
|
Post by counto on Mar 7, 2021 5:05:36 GMT -5
Interesting
|
|
|
Post by the panopticountolaf on Jun 20, 2021 12:34:10 GMT -5
X,
I write to you from the inside of a cement mixer, where I had to hide when the authorities spotted me. Apologies if my hand is not as steady as it usually is.
I arrived at St. Drogo's Orphanage for the Orphaned by bus, disguised as an incredibly "in" and much thinner woman. My busmates were comprised of a group of equally "in" people, all going to St. Drogo's to shop for orphans. The target (henceforth referred to by her name, Miss Gashlycrumb) was waiting for us at the gate. With her she had several of her charges, each wearing a price tag. The other "in" people swarmed these children — if memory serves me two men got into a fistfight over this poor young girl who could not have been much older than three. I stayed back and spoke to Miss Gashlycrumb. I shall now transcribe her answers to the questions that you sent to me prior to my arrival at St. Drogo's:
-Yes. -Yes. -No. -Perhaps. -Twenty seven point five eight two. -It depends on the weather. -She doesn't care if it's illegal. -She knows how to make a quick buck. -It's their fault for wanting to buy children. -Of course not.
By this point the swarm had begun to circle Miss Gashlycrumb and I. They began buzzing incessantly about hors d'oeuvres and something called "parsley soda" and going up to the Orphanage, so I was unable to ask the target the remaining fifty-seven questions you had sent to me. Instead, I followed the swarm into the orphanage and learned what parsley soda was. In addition to learning about parsley soda, I learned that a great many of Miss Gashlycrumb's charges have met grisly ends under her watch. (I mean, of course, that they have perished during her stint as the Head of St. Drogo's, not that they were literally underneath the tiny clock on her wrist, which I should add was hideous.) I then asked her what she, as he head of the orphanage, was doing about such tragedies. Please forgive me for going off-script. It was an important question and very similar to the fifty-fifth question you sent me in my mission brief. Miss Gashlycrumb wrung her hands for several minutes before someone told her that the wringing of hands was not "in". She then proceeded to not answer my question.
Unfortunately, the telephone then rang. On the other end of the line was a mysterious figure who said something about illegal activities being "out". The swarm fled quickly after that, and I had to leave with them. Thankfully I was able to steal a photograph of Miss Gashlycrumb in the city with a couple who appeared to have bought many children and pocketed it. I send it to you now in the hopes that it brings this woman to justice.
I hope this finds you well. Give your dear cat a bowl of milk for me.
Y.
|
|