The girl in the yellow dress has moved...

You can now find the continuing story of Alice - the girl in the yellow dress, on her very own blog.

Daffodil Dress

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The girl in the yellow dress - part 2

The girl in the yellow dress now has a name - Alice.

And if you've been wondering how she got on at the ball here's the next installment...

Alice was precipitously dazzled by the flash of a camera, not a silly little flash from a mobile phone but the monster brilliance of a paparazzi lens.

“Oh dahling,” a nasally voice whined, “How splendid, a champagne coloured dress. Sebastian. Sebastian, please introduce me to your date. I did see you escort this heavenly creature, now don’t be shy.”

All of a sudden her errant date was beside her again drawing her closer as they had their photo taken together.

“Smile Alice.” He hissed from the corner of his mouth as he switched on that disarming smile again.

She should have just chucked the champagne over him there and then but instead forced a grin for the camera. 

For fortitude she took another gulp of the sparkling nectar, bubbles went up her nose, alcohol rushed to her head and she giggled causing everyone around her to titter too.

She wanted to ask what was happening but whiny woman was speaking again.

“Sebastian, you said you had a plan up your sleeve. You’ve come up trumps this time. What a fabulous marketing plan. I can see the campaign now,” She waved a graceful arm in the air. “The golden girl of Summer Brook sparkling English wine. Of course everyone is comparing it to champagne but we can’t use the name officially. And you my dear are such an English rose, with that pale yet interesting complexion. We’ll photoshop in a little blush on those cheeks but otherwise there is very little to do.”

Alice nearly choked. Did this woman ever shut up?

“But where are my manners.” The whiny whirlwind extended a slender manicured hand. “Melanie Preston Smythe with an e but not hyphenated. Sebastian and I work together in the marketing department. We put this whole  event on. Marvellous isn’t it?” Melanie drew breath for a fraction of a second as she glanced around the room. “Of course you must talk to Edgar, C.E.O. of Summer Brook. Sebastian, he’s going to just love our idea. Come on.”

And where she led it seemed they had to follow. Sebastian grabbed Alice by the hand and almost dragged her in his wake.

As Alice passed the waiter he looked a bit subdued.  He was still smiling but it was fake, never quite reaching his eyes. She noticed because he didn’t wink this time instead held the tray out in a resigned manner. As if he’d rather be anywhere else than here. I know the feeling Alice wanted to tell him.

“You might need another glass.” He sighed.

She graciously exchanged her empty glass for a full one. She reasoned she might need quite a few to get through this evening.

There's plenty more to tell, it could be a LONG short story...although so far it is still less than 1000 words. I've been inspired!

The girl in the yellow dress - part 1.

As well as being inspired to write a Ghazal poem at writing group last week I also started this story.

We were only warming up with a short time of free writing based on a picture prompt chosen from a set of postcards.

I chose the one of the girl in the yellow dress, I didn't notice her expression, or the fact she had a flower in her hand but her dress reminded me of daffodils so I started off...

"Her dress was daffodil yellow..."

And then I was off. I've since changed the beginning and who knows quite where it will end but this is part 1

He was dressed like James Bond, very suave she thought, the unmistakable tailoring of his suit had the air of extravagance to it. 

“You’ve picked a good one this time.” She silently congratulated herself.

As she was assessing his worth she noted he was making his own appraisal. She was thankful for her friend Clare whose skill with a needle created a masterpiece that showed off her curves to best effect.  

Seemingly he approved too, his smile was both dangerous and disarming and something inside her fluttered. 

Her dress was the colour of rich butter; she was no longer a margarine girl from the council estate. She was off to a grand ball, only Sebastian had neglected to tell her it was a black and white "do".

As soon as they entered the ballroom her mistake became apparent even to her uneducated eye. She stood out for all the wrong reasons, a lone daffodil in a bouquet of exquisite lilies. Common – that was the only word for it.

Suddenly she was fourteen again in a hand-me-down dress at the school disco. Tears threatened to spill from her eyes. Sebastian realising his faux pas of picking the wrong kind of flower was nonchalantly looking around and ever so slightly distancing himself from her.

It took courage not to turn her back on the lot of them and run. She didn’t belong here, that was painfully obvious. Were they already sniggering? Or was it her overworked imagination?

In the split second of deciding what to do for the best to salvage the situation a waiter appeared by her side.

“Champagne?” Glasses sparkled elegantly on a tray presented to her. “The colour perfectly matches your dress.” He added with a wink and she knew it would be rude to refuse.

Of course Sebastian had completely deserted her by this point, but she stood a little taller, breathed deeply and took a sip…

How will it end? I have a few ideas, I'll keep working on it and hopefully will share some more soon!

Garden Ghazal

Last night at my writing group I was introduced to a Ghazal poem.

To be honest I wasn’t sure before I went if I would enjoy the evening, although I dabble with poetry some of our group are much more proficient poets.

However as I’ve not managed to make it to the group for a couple of months I thought it really was time to get my writing groove back and flex my sleepy imagination.

As we progressed through the session I began to enjoy fitting my rhymes into the structure and I was still playing around with words before bed and finally came up with this…

Garden Ghazal

“Come with me,” he said. Let’s ramble in the garden.

He leads me on, our hands entangled in the garden.

“Let’s go this way,” and I follow, lost in wonder

“Mind the bluebells; please don’t trample,” in the garden.

Wildlife hidden, but “look a squirrel!”

And some pheasants startle, in the garden.

As the years go, as time passes

Plants will grow and weeds will strangle, in the garden.

Autumn, time of harvest

A reward of juicy brambles, in the garden.

But Sarah there are also leaves to sweep

Wintertime’s preamble, in the garden.

If you want to read another ghazal poem, here’s the Hip Hop Ghazal by Patricia Smith