"Gone With The Wind"
By R. Van Cartier
Fanfiction N'1
The young girl pushed her hair from her face and puffed out her cheeks. She was bored. In fact, she was immersed in her own personal pool of tidium. She opened her compact and dabbed powder of her naturally snow white skin. She observed herself critically, her emerald eyes were large, round and set either side of a freckled nose the tip of which turned up slightly. Her golden blonde hair was pinned in a bun that had loosened letting serveral gold ringletts fall in front of her face. She ran a long white-tipped finger nail under her dusty-pink lips. Pouted. Her lips were very large and full and she raised a corner of them in a half smile. Dusted the powder over her high cheek bones befroe smapping the compact closed.
The concert music played on. Cello, violen, piano. It was all so boring. It was also cold. Sitting out-side listening to Bach in the freezing cold January snow was not her idea of fun.
the beautiful gril's made-up eyes wandered to the crowd around her. the women sat stiff in their corsets and large hats, hands neatly together and eyes cast downwards, like dolls. The men sitting at their sides, legs crossed, handsome and swave.
Emerald eyes scanned these men. Then emerald eyes realised that they, in turn, were being surveyed, by brown eyes.
The lady stood and discreatly made herway towards the owner of those eys who sat a few rows away, smoking. Next to him was an empty chair which she sat in.
The man was black haired and tanned from last summers sun, his black moustache curled in a smile as she sat next to him.
"May i have one of those?" She asked, her English accent cracked by smoking. The man raised an eyebrow but delved into the toop pocket of his jacket and pulled out a cigarette and a match.
"Rather an un-lady-like habbit." He commented as the English lady dragged on the cigarette.
"Yes... one of many. My name's Rita.... Rita Van Cartier. Mr.....?" The handsome man, by the far the most handsome in the garden, smiled and soft lines appered at the corners of his intense eyes.
"Butler. A pleasure to meet you, Ms Van Cartier." Rita extended a hand and the dustinguished Mr Butler brushed it agaist his lips.
"Rhett Butler." He added, placing his left hand on his crossed, pin striped knee. Rita observed the faint white line where a wedding ring had once sat. She blew a cloud of grey smoke from her mouth and moved the hem of her skirt to flick ash onto the floor. Suddenly, the concert was much more enjoyable.