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Results are here.
It appears this entry of mine won an Honourable Mention. Thank you to Jeffrey Hollar, the judge!
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| Source - http://fenrirwolf.wordpress.com/2011/05/24/watering-the-flowers-at-night/ |
My Entry
“You don't need to fight over me,” he whispered under a breath. “Hell, you should stay away from me completely.”
Edward leaned against the cold Corinthian pillar. He balanced a champagne flute between two fingers, tipping it this way and that in a lazy game he much preferred to tonight’s company.
A cluster of debutantes had grown closer, many of them still shielding themselves with their fans as the others watched him not-so covertly.
His words of advice had been aimed at them.
Edward pitied them; not because they were particularly unattractive. No, some of them were actually quite fetching in their silk gowns, and he expected would soon have a few courters to pick from. Not to say the simple-looking ones wouldn’t have a chance at matrimony; old Lord Rutherford was always looking for a young thing to liven his nights.
But Edward pitied them because they couldn’t contain their curiosity. Every year the young women were told that he, the sixth Duke of Chessington was a man beyond the reach of any commitment; not least of all, matrimony.
Oh, but would they be women if they simply complied?
Definitely not.
He almost shuddered when he thought of just how many unchaperoned meetings he’d been lured into. Never was he going to trust another doe-eyed woman who was in ‘desperate need of air.’
Never was he going to trust any woman watching him like he was a regal dish to be won.
His free hand clenched a fist, anger tightening all his muscles.
He did away with his drink and anticipating no enjoyment from the evening, waited outside as his carriage was brought to the front.
In no mood to converse with those also emerging from the ballroom, he eased himself away from the entrance till he was by the rustling shrubbery of the gardens.
He craned his neck, for there was no wind to cause the elemental sound.
It was a little thing, a little girl half sat under a shelter of dark green foliage.
“Excuse me?” Edward whispered, with a step towards her.
Her head darted up.
It wasn’t a girl’s . . . it was a woman’s.
She wiped at her eyes with rough gloved hands and the terse movements loosened her curls.
“Yes, your Grace” she said, brokenly.
Edward’s carriage finally arrived and came to a halt behind him. He glanced at it before disregarding it and stepping further onto the greenery.
“Can I be of assistance?” he asked.
Her big blue eyes were shining with newly shed tears and they reminded him of his many matrimonial escapes. But this woman, she looked puzzled and worried.
She couldn’t be one of those schemers.
He knelt down and pulled out a handkerchief for her.
“You can tell me what’s wrong,” he said.
466 words
@Afsaneh_Dreams
Edward leaned against the cold Corinthian pillar. He balanced a champagne flute between two fingers, tipping it this way and that in a lazy game he much preferred to tonight’s company.
A cluster of debutantes had grown closer, many of them still shielding themselves with their fans as the others watched him not-so covertly.
His words of advice had been aimed at them.
Edward pitied them; not because they were particularly unattractive. No, some of them were actually quite fetching in their silk gowns, and he expected would soon have a few courters to pick from. Not to say the simple-looking ones wouldn’t have a chance at matrimony; old Lord Rutherford was always looking for a young thing to liven his nights.
But Edward pitied them because they couldn’t contain their curiosity. Every year the young women were told that he, the sixth Duke of Chessington was a man beyond the reach of any commitment; not least of all, matrimony.
Oh, but would they be women if they simply complied?
Definitely not.
He almost shuddered when he thought of just how many unchaperoned meetings he’d been lured into. Never was he going to trust another doe-eyed woman who was in ‘desperate need of air.’
Never was he going to trust any woman watching him like he was a regal dish to be won.
His free hand clenched a fist, anger tightening all his muscles.
He did away with his drink and anticipating no enjoyment from the evening, waited outside as his carriage was brought to the front.
In no mood to converse with those also emerging from the ballroom, he eased himself away from the entrance till he was by the rustling shrubbery of the gardens.
He craned his neck, for there was no wind to cause the elemental sound.
It was a little thing, a little girl half sat under a shelter of dark green foliage.
“Excuse me?” Edward whispered, with a step towards her.
Her head darted up.
It wasn’t a girl’s . . . it was a woman’s.
She wiped at her eyes with rough gloved hands and the terse movements loosened her curls.
“Yes, your Grace” she said, brokenly.
Edward’s carriage finally arrived and came to a halt behind him. He glanced at it before disregarding it and stepping further onto the greenery.
“Can I be of assistance?” he asked.
Her big blue eyes were shining with newly shed tears and they reminded him of his many matrimonial escapes. But this woman, she looked puzzled and worried.
She couldn’t be one of those schemers.
He knelt down and pulled out a handkerchief for her.
“You can tell me what’s wrong,” he said.
466 words
@Afsaneh_Dreams
Oh that's just beautiful...You had me thinking he was a rake then I mellowed and saw a different side, vulnerability. Oh I hope this woman isn't going to break his heart...
ReplyDeleteThank you, Lisa :)
DeleteOh, no, I won't let her hurt him. Poor man's been through enough!