My Telling
(a fan fiction based on the Lady Lovely Locks cartoon)
This is a more mature version of the Lady Lovely Locks tale, based on the DIC cartoon, told from one POV. While this first chapter is not for mature audiences, the rest will have common, but not child-oriented themes.
I do not own Lady Lovely Locks, and the characters are not mine, unless I add an original character to this story.
She doesn't actually resemble her mother in anything but her hair color. She doesn't actually PHYSICALLY resemble her mother in anything but her hair color. And even her hair is not entirely stolen from her mother's basket of charms; oh, no, this little one (that is what I still call her) has hair of an entirely different density-it is not nearly as fine, and it has a slight wave on the bottom. It also shines more than her mother's ever did. Her mother's black was an ashy black, and she did not wear it loose often. My little one is less exacting and pays far more attention on what is going on around her than on how many clamps and sticks she can secure her hair with-as if those could secure her hair very easily. No, once she spends her time in the mornings brushing it, there she goes. She also has that fringe above her eyes her mother never would have thought to cut for herself; in those days, it was not as often seen on women. It makes it easier, I imagine, for her to care for her main charm, her hair. My darling little one-how can I say that when she and I are nothing more than employer and servant-oh, how much different would she have been if she really HAD been my little one?
Would she have had that stocky little build? Would she have had those uncommon eyes? Not in their color so much as in their shape? I can go on like this until my insides feel like they are heavier than the rest of me; this body I have carried for years with its proportions so alien to everyone here-or anywhere that I know, unless someone else has fallen under the same misfortune-what do I know, when I decided to part company with that scum whom so many supplicate themselves before. I do not know if my little one would treat me better even if my body were the common man's body-she is so focused on what her goals are, and she has done every ounce as poorly as her mother. What am I doing here then?