Disclaimer - All characters and recognisable elements of the following story belong to whoever owns the rights to A Streetcar Named Desire.
The humid Mississippi air rippled with heat as a young woman casually made her way up the steps of the grand Belle Reve mansion. She paused before the great carved doors, placing a trio of boutique shopping bags on the ground and lowering her parasol which had been defending her delicate complexion from the late afternoon sun. her hand delved into her handbag for a moment before re-emerging with a set of keys, one of which she selected and slid into the brass lock of the doors allowing them to swing open and the young lady to enter after retrieving her bags and parasol. Her belongings deposited in the entrance hall, the woman returned to the entrance, closing the door with an elongated screech of hinges. Only a little of the sun's light managed to penetrate the dusty windows keeping the entrance hall submerged in dreary grey shadows through which the young woman navigated with the ease and comfort of someone who expected nothing more. The house was quiet, only the random creaks that are to be expected from an old house breaking the silence until the soft clicking of the lady's shoes on the tiles floor joined them.
"Allan?" she called out as she hesitated at the foot of the stairs; the echo of her husband's name as it reverberated about the vast room was the only response. Accepting that the house was empty the woman climbed the stairs and, upon reaching the landing, walked down the corridor to the bedroom she shared with her husband. She stopped for a moment by the closed door to jostle her shopping bags onto one hand; the other reached for the doorknob and twisted. The latch clicked free allowing her to push open the door and flick on the light.
"Blanche?" Allan floundered ineloquently on the bed as he made a futile attempt to preserve his modesty with the blanket, his bed partner imitating his actions with equal haste. The young woman, Blanche, remained still in the entryway, her hand covering her mouth to stifle a horrified gasp, the shopping bags lay abandoned at her feet.
"Blanche, I'm…" she did not stay to hear what he claimed to be as she turned and retreated from the room with impressive speed, her hand clamped over her mouth to quell the nausea rising from her stomach. The muffled sound of her hurried footsteps on carpet faded into the sharp click of heels on tile as she moved into the bathroom and collapsed, heaving, before the toilet. Tears stung at her eyes, sliding from her face to mingle with the water and bile at the bottom of the toilet bowl.
Thirty minutes later found Blanche clean, dry-eyed and silent, sitting in a large faded armchair in the shadows of her living room. Her legs were drawn up onto the seat of the chair, her shoulders hunched over giving her the appearance of having shrunk to a fraction of her usual size. A small table had been set next to her, bare save for an unstoppered decanter or whiskey, half empty. Both of her hands were wrapped tightly around a single tumbler, the amber liquid within sloshing against the sides as her hands trembled; she raised it to her lips and drank deeply.
Laughter rang through the car as it rolled to a stop in the car park of a lakeside casino. It remained still for a moment before the doors opened and three young and highly inebriated adults climbed out. The car drove swiftly away leaving two men and their lady friend to stagger haphazardly in the direction of the casino's entrance.
In contrast to the calm stillness outside, the interior of the casino welcomed the trio with a sonic boom of noise and blinding light, their drunken antics blending perfectly with those of the many other young people occupying the games tables and dance floor.
"Dance with me!" Blanche demanded of her husband, grasping his arm with both hands and tugging him towards the whirling pit of dancers, leaving their companion to fend for himself. Together the couple twirled into the throng of partiers, dancing with practised ease.
It was not until midway through their second dance that Blanche noticed her husband failed to share in her merriment and the intoxicated smile disappeared from her face. He looked to her with concern as she raised her hand to cup his cheek in her palm. She smiled softly at him and brought her mouth close to his ear to help him hear over the loud chatter.
"I know, I know," she crooned. "You disgust me!"
Immediately he pulled back, surprise and shame registering on his face before he tore himself away from his wife and fled the dance floor, racing across the casino and exiting into the night.
Blanche remained where she was for a moment, stunned by her own words and the sudden departure of her husband, until she noticed their companion making his way hurriedly towards the exit after Allan; she proceeded to follow him. She was almost to the door when the sound of a gunshot tore through the building, loud enough to be heard easily over the loud music and excited calling of patrons. A hush fell for all of a second before screams rang out and a herd of security pushed past Blanche to get to the exit.
It took a moment of being pulled along by the crowd of fleeing gamblers for Blanche to recover from her shock and begin to understand what was happening, upon which time she began to make her way back to the door, praying all the while that her husband was not involved in the commotion outside.
The air seemed cooler than it had just a short while earlier when she had entered the casino, but this time it was filled with noise and excitement and hysteria. A crowd had formed by the lake and was steadily growing as curious patrons tried to see what had caused the disturbing noise. As Blanche neared the crowd a familiar young man caught sight of her and pulled her back.
"Don't go any closer! Come back! You don't want to see!" Blanche barely paid attention to what he was saying, more interested in listening to the conversations around her, shouting something about 'Allan', the 'Grey boy', her husband.
And then the crowd parted, just for a moment, to let more security personnel through and she saw what they had been talking about. Allan, lying horribly still on the shore of the lake. Blanche had just enough time to see someone pull the revolver from his mouth before the gap closed and she collapsed back into the young man's arms.
A/N - This was written as part of my A2 English Literature and Language coursework. I didn't receive much feedback on it from my teachers other than my grade due to the rules about teacher interference in coursework so I would appreciate it if you left some comments and feedback in a review.
Cheers m'dears.