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A year or 2 ago my English teacher made us write an essay with the title "The Black Velvet Gown". So I wrote one:
The Black velvet gown sat on the mannequin in the shop window. Fred looked at it through the glass pane and imagined the dress twirling to the sound of ballroom music. A confident smile came across his face and he entered the shop. “How may I help you?” the assistant asked. “I’d like to buy that black gown in the window” Fred replied. As the assistant took the gown down Fred’s mind was filled with thoughts of the gown being worn for the first time. “I’m sure the lady will love it” The assistant gave an assuring look. “How old is she?” “Forty Three” Fred replied. The assistant looked startled. “….but she’s a queen among men” he continued.
He turned the key in his apartment door and swung open the door. The room greeted him with the same cold stare as always, but he ignored it. Tonight would be different. Fred boiled the kettle and ate his Pot Noodle. His mind wandered to the gown. It sat there, on the chair, full of life and hope. He knew what it meant. A mechanical voice chirped at him “You have no new messages” as if to say “Nobody loves you” but Fred put the phone down and ignored the council. “Tonight” he thought, “I will be loved!”
The clock chimed ten, echoing around Fred’s lonely apartment. He knew it was time to get ready. After showering and combing his hair back he took out the gown and put it on. He thought back to the assistant’s face earlier that day. “If only he could see me now” he thought. Fred donned make-up, a wig, tights, and picked up a red handbag. On his way out he looked in the mirror at his flowing curls and red lips. Tonight he was no longer Fred. Tonight he would be Josephine!
Josephine stepped out of the taxi in the middle of Soho’s Red Light district. Her smile and wink to the driver was met with a frightened stare. As the taxi sped away she considered where to go. Nightclub’s were always dark, and darkness let her be who she wanted, however underground parties were organised in the area and offered a wide range of shady characters. As she crossed the road a poster of a celebrity looked at her from a bus stop, as if disgusted. Her mind became clouded with questions. What if she met someone she knew? What if people found out? Reassuring herself she entered the welcoming arms of a bar.
Inside the bar, music blared from every corner. Male dancers packed the floor. Upon seeing her many turned to her and blew her kisses. Josephine walked over to the bar and a leather-clad dancer came over and offered her a drink. “Do you come here often?” he asked, shouting to be heard above the music. They began to chat despite the music. His name was Lance and he was a gourmet chef. After half an hour if talking they decided to go back to his house. “So, what brings a lady like you to this part of Soho?” Josephine giggled and flashed him a smile. “Same as you” she replied. “Well, I’m here because I just broke up with my girlfriend, and I’m looking for some casual sex.” he said. “you don’t have a problem with that do you?” A cloud passed over her face. He had used the word girlfriend. What did this mean? She decided to pry further. “A nice girl, was she?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Well” he replied. “He was but that’s over now” Josephine couldn’t believe her ears. In the past three months she had picked up countless men in this fashion and ALL had been gay, even at her twenty-fifth year school reunion. Other women never have this trouble. Despair hit her like a tidal wave, spray turning to tears in her eyes. Josephine left Lance in the street and ran off into the night despite him calling after her. Rain poured down and wind howled around her. The familiar streets became a distant haze as she ran, and the world gradually turned to darkness.
Josephine awoke to the sound of a passing truck and the stench of rotting eggs and decomposing food. She lay in an alley amongst cardboard boxes and rubbish bags. What had happened last night? She could remember talking to Lance but after that it was like a blank page. She arose groggily and removed bits of peel from the gown. The ringing in her ears gradually died down, and she staggered out of the alley and tried to work out where she was.
After a short bus ride home, full of glaring mothers and Spanish men who kept saying the same phrase in her ear, she reached her apartment. Pausing outside she noticed a lingerie advertisement across the street. As Josephine stared into the models eyes her eyes widened. The model stared back with an alluring smile. Fred rushed upstairs and tore off the dress. He would no longer hide behind who he wanted to be. He was Fred and no one else. He took all his wigs and feminine clothes and threw them out the window. Enjoying the rush Fred picked up the phone and called an old girlfriend.
One month later Fred passed the shop again. A new gown stood in the window. Fred smiled to himself and entered the shop. The assistant recognised him immediately, “Ah, hello again sir. Did the lady enjoy the dress?” “She certainly did!” replied Fred. He left the shop ten minutes later carrying a new dress. That night Josephine left her apartment and headed into Soho. She gazed mournfully into the dim streetlights. She knew who she was. There was no mistaking it. But for one night a week she would be who she wanted to be. “So, what’s your name then?” asked the taxi driver. “Fred” she replied, “but you can call me Josephine.” The taxi swerved, narrowly missing another car and drove off into the night.
~fin
So I wrote than when I was uhhh, 16 I think. SO I handed it in but mysteriously wasnt there for the next class, after the teacher had read it (I wanted to be but I couldnt for some reason) um..so apparently theyd talked about it. She wrote this after it was marked "Strange topic for a story Brendan. Don’t know if it would be to everybody’s taste, particularly the examiner". Apparently she said it suggested something about my lifestyle. lol. um. Some people who read it said it was reminiscent of 1984. She also (supposedly) rolled her eyes and said I obviously got it from a book or film. NO! The idea sprang out of my evil little mind.
The Black velvet gown sat on the mannequin in the shop window. Fred looked at it through the glass pane and imagined the dress twirling to the sound of ballroom music. A confident smile came across his face and he entered the shop. “How may I help you?” the assistant asked. “I’d like to buy that black gown in the window” Fred replied. As the assistant took the gown down Fred’s mind was filled with thoughts of the gown being worn for the first time. “I’m sure the lady will love it” The assistant gave an assuring look. “How old is she?” “Forty Three” Fred replied. The assistant looked startled. “….but she’s a queen among men” he continued.
He turned the key in his apartment door and swung open the door. The room greeted him with the same cold stare as always, but he ignored it. Tonight would be different. Fred boiled the kettle and ate his Pot Noodle. His mind wandered to the gown. It sat there, on the chair, full of life and hope. He knew what it meant. A mechanical voice chirped at him “You have no new messages” as if to say “Nobody loves you” but Fred put the phone down and ignored the council. “Tonight” he thought, “I will be loved!”
The clock chimed ten, echoing around Fred’s lonely apartment. He knew it was time to get ready. After showering and combing his hair back he took out the gown and put it on. He thought back to the assistant’s face earlier that day. “If only he could see me now” he thought. Fred donned make-up, a wig, tights, and picked up a red handbag. On his way out he looked in the mirror at his flowing curls and red lips. Tonight he was no longer Fred. Tonight he would be Josephine!
Josephine stepped out of the taxi in the middle of Soho’s Red Light district. Her smile and wink to the driver was met with a frightened stare. As the taxi sped away she considered where to go. Nightclub’s were always dark, and darkness let her be who she wanted, however underground parties were organised in the area and offered a wide range of shady characters. As she crossed the road a poster of a celebrity looked at her from a bus stop, as if disgusted. Her mind became clouded with questions. What if she met someone she knew? What if people found out? Reassuring herself she entered the welcoming arms of a bar.
Inside the bar, music blared from every corner. Male dancers packed the floor. Upon seeing her many turned to her and blew her kisses. Josephine walked over to the bar and a leather-clad dancer came over and offered her a drink. “Do you come here often?” he asked, shouting to be heard above the music. They began to chat despite the music. His name was Lance and he was a gourmet chef. After half an hour if talking they decided to go back to his house. “So, what brings a lady like you to this part of Soho?” Josephine giggled and flashed him a smile. “Same as you” she replied. “Well, I’m here because I just broke up with my girlfriend, and I’m looking for some casual sex.” he said. “you don’t have a problem with that do you?” A cloud passed over her face. He had used the word girlfriend. What did this mean? She decided to pry further. “A nice girl, was she?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Well” he replied. “He was but that’s over now” Josephine couldn’t believe her ears. In the past three months she had picked up countless men in this fashion and ALL had been gay, even at her twenty-fifth year school reunion. Other women never have this trouble. Despair hit her like a tidal wave, spray turning to tears in her eyes. Josephine left Lance in the street and ran off into the night despite him calling after her. Rain poured down and wind howled around her. The familiar streets became a distant haze as she ran, and the world gradually turned to darkness.
Josephine awoke to the sound of a passing truck and the stench of rotting eggs and decomposing food. She lay in an alley amongst cardboard boxes and rubbish bags. What had happened last night? She could remember talking to Lance but after that it was like a blank page. She arose groggily and removed bits of peel from the gown. The ringing in her ears gradually died down, and she staggered out of the alley and tried to work out where she was.
After a short bus ride home, full of glaring mothers and Spanish men who kept saying the same phrase in her ear, she reached her apartment. Pausing outside she noticed a lingerie advertisement across the street. As Josephine stared into the models eyes her eyes widened. The model stared back with an alluring smile. Fred rushed upstairs and tore off the dress. He would no longer hide behind who he wanted to be. He was Fred and no one else. He took all his wigs and feminine clothes and threw them out the window. Enjoying the rush Fred picked up the phone and called an old girlfriend.
One month later Fred passed the shop again. A new gown stood in the window. Fred smiled to himself and entered the shop. The assistant recognised him immediately, “Ah, hello again sir. Did the lady enjoy the dress?” “She certainly did!” replied Fred. He left the shop ten minutes later carrying a new dress. That night Josephine left her apartment and headed into Soho. She gazed mournfully into the dim streetlights. She knew who she was. There was no mistaking it. But for one night a week she would be who she wanted to be. “So, what’s your name then?” asked the taxi driver. “Fred” she replied, “but you can call me Josephine.” The taxi swerved, narrowly missing another car and drove off into the night.
~fin
So I wrote than when I was uhhh, 16 I think. SO I handed it in but mysteriously wasnt there for the next class, after the teacher had read it (I wanted to be but I couldnt for some reason) um..so apparently theyd talked about it. She wrote this after it was marked "Strange topic for a story Brendan. Don’t know if it would be to everybody’s taste, particularly the examiner". Apparently she said it suggested something about my lifestyle. lol. um. Some people who read it said it was reminiscent of 1984. She also (supposedly) rolled her eyes and said I obviously got it from a book or film. NO! The idea sprang out of my evil little mind.
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A year or 2 ago my English teacher made us write an essay with the title "The Black Velvet Gown". So I wrote one:
The Black velvet gown sat on the mannequin in the shop window. Fred looked at it through the glass pane and imagined the dress twirling to the sound of ballroom music. A confident smile came across his face and he entered the shop. “How may I help you?” the assistant asked. “I’d like to buy that black gown in the window” Fred replied. As the assistant took the gown down Fred’s mind was filled with thoughts of the gown being worn for the first time. “I’m sure the lady will love it” The assistant gave an assuring look. “How old is she?” “Forty Three” Fred replied. The assistant looked startled. “….but she’s a queen among men” he continued.
He turned the key in his apartment door and swung open the door. The room greeted him with the same cold stare as always, but he ignored it. Tonight would be different. Fred boiled the kettle and ate his Pot Noodle. His mind wandered to the gown. It sat there, on the chair, full of life and hope. He knew what it meant. A mechanical voice chirped at him “You have no new messages” as if to say “Nobody loves you” but Fred put the phone down and ignored the council. “Tonight” he thought, “I will be loved!”
The clock chimed ten, echoing around Fred’s lonely apartment. He knew it was time to get ready. After showering and combing his hair back he took out the gown and put it on. He thought back to the assistant’s face earlier that day. “If only he could see me now” he thought. Fred donned make-up, a wig, tights, and picked up a red handbag. On his way out he looked in the mirror at his flowing curls and red lips. Tonight he was no longer Fred. Tonight he would be Josephine!
Josephine stepped out of the taxi in the middle of Soho’s Red Light district. Her smile and wink to the driver was met with a frightened stare. As the taxi sped away she considered where to go. Nightclub’s were always dark, and darkness let her be who she wanted, however underground parties were organised in the area and offered a wide range of shady characters. As she crossed the road a poster of a celebrity looked at her from a bus stop, as if disgusted. Her mind became clouded with questions. What if she met someone she knew? What if people found out? Reassuring herself she entered the welcoming arms of a bar.
Inside the bar, music blared from every corner. Male dancers packed the floor. Upon seeing her many turned to her and blew her kisses. Josephine walked over to the bar and a leather-clad dancer came over and offered her a drink. “Do you come here often?” he asked, shouting to be heard above the music. They began to chat despite the music. His name was Lance and he was a gourmet chef. After half an hour if talking they decided to go back to his house. “So, what brings a lady like you to this part of Soho?” Josephine giggled and flashed him a smile. “Same as you” she replied. “Well, I’m here because I just broke up with my girlfriend, and I’m looking for some casual sex.” he said. “you don’t have a problem with that do you?” A cloud passed over her face. He had used the word girlfriend. What did this mean? She decided to pry further. “A nice girl, was she?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Well” he replied. “He was but that’s over now” Josephine couldn’t believe her ears. In the past three months she had picked up countless men in this fashion and ALL had been gay, even at her twenty-fifth year school reunion. Other women never have this trouble. Despair hit her like a tidal wave, spray turning to tears in her eyes. Josephine left Lance in the street and ran off into the night despite him calling after her. Rain poured down and wind howled around her. The familiar streets became a distant haze as she ran, and the world gradually turned to darkness.
Josephine awoke to the sound of a passing truck and the stench of rotting eggs and decomposing food. She lay in an alley amongst cardboard boxes and rubbish bags. What had happened last night? She could remember talking to Lance but after that it was like a blank page. She arose groggily and removed bits of peel from the gown. The ringing in her ears gradually died down, and she staggered out of the alley and tried to work out where she was.
After a short bus ride home, full of glaring mothers and Spanish men who kept saying the same phrase in her ear, she reached her apartment. Pausing outside she noticed a lingerie advertisement across the street. As Josephine stared into the models eyes her eyes widened. The model stared back with an alluring smile. Fred rushed upstairs and tore off the dress. He would no longer hide behind who he wanted to be. He was Fred and no one else. He took all his wigs and feminine clothes and threw them out the window. Enjoying the rush Fred picked up the phone and called an old girlfriend.
One month later Fred passed the shop again. A new gown stood in the window. Fred smiled to himself and entered the shop. The assistant recognised him immediately, “Ah, hello again sir. Did the lady enjoy the dress?” “She certainly did!” replied Fred. He left the shop ten minutes later carrying a new dress. That night Josephine left her apartment and headed into Soho. She gazed mournfully into the dim streetlights. She knew who she was. There was no mistaking it. But for one night a week she would be who she wanted to be. “So, what’s your name then?” asked the taxi driver. “Fred” she replied, “but you can call me Josephine.” The taxi swerved, narrowly missing another car and drove off into the night.
~fin
So I wrote than when I was uhhh, 16 I think. SO I handed it in but mysteriously wasnt there for the next class, after the teacher had read it (I wanted to be but I couldnt for some reason) um..so apparently theyd talked about it. She wrote this after it was marked "Strange topic for a story Brendan. Don’t know if it would be to everybody’s taste, particularly the examiner". Apparently she said it suggested something about my lifestyle. lol. um. Some people who read it said it was reminiscent of 1984. She also (supposedly) rolled her eyes and said I obviously got it from a book or film. NO! The idea sprang out of my evil little mind.
The Black velvet gown sat on the mannequin in the shop window. Fred looked at it through the glass pane and imagined the dress twirling to the sound of ballroom music. A confident smile came across his face and he entered the shop. “How may I help you?” the assistant asked. “I’d like to buy that black gown in the window” Fred replied. As the assistant took the gown down Fred’s mind was filled with thoughts of the gown being worn for the first time. “I’m sure the lady will love it” The assistant gave an assuring look. “How old is she?” “Forty Three” Fred replied. The assistant looked startled. “….but she’s a queen among men” he continued.
He turned the key in his apartment door and swung open the door. The room greeted him with the same cold stare as always, but he ignored it. Tonight would be different. Fred boiled the kettle and ate his Pot Noodle. His mind wandered to the gown. It sat there, on the chair, full of life and hope. He knew what it meant. A mechanical voice chirped at him “You have no new messages” as if to say “Nobody loves you” but Fred put the phone down and ignored the council. “Tonight” he thought, “I will be loved!”
The clock chimed ten, echoing around Fred’s lonely apartment. He knew it was time to get ready. After showering and combing his hair back he took out the gown and put it on. He thought back to the assistant’s face earlier that day. “If only he could see me now” he thought. Fred donned make-up, a wig, tights, and picked up a red handbag. On his way out he looked in the mirror at his flowing curls and red lips. Tonight he was no longer Fred. Tonight he would be Josephine!
Josephine stepped out of the taxi in the middle of Soho’s Red Light district. Her smile and wink to the driver was met with a frightened stare. As the taxi sped away she considered where to go. Nightclub’s were always dark, and darkness let her be who she wanted, however underground parties were organised in the area and offered a wide range of shady characters. As she crossed the road a poster of a celebrity looked at her from a bus stop, as if disgusted. Her mind became clouded with questions. What if she met someone she knew? What if people found out? Reassuring herself she entered the welcoming arms of a bar.
Inside the bar, music blared from every corner. Male dancers packed the floor. Upon seeing her many turned to her and blew her kisses. Josephine walked over to the bar and a leather-clad dancer came over and offered her a drink. “Do you come here often?” he asked, shouting to be heard above the music. They began to chat despite the music. His name was Lance and he was a gourmet chef. After half an hour if talking they decided to go back to his house. “So, what brings a lady like you to this part of Soho?” Josephine giggled and flashed him a smile. “Same as you” she replied. “Well, I’m here because I just broke up with my girlfriend, and I’m looking for some casual sex.” he said. “you don’t have a problem with that do you?” A cloud passed over her face. He had used the word girlfriend. What did this mean? She decided to pry further. “A nice girl, was she?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “Well” he replied. “He was but that’s over now” Josephine couldn’t believe her ears. In the past three months she had picked up countless men in this fashion and ALL had been gay, even at her twenty-fifth year school reunion. Other women never have this trouble. Despair hit her like a tidal wave, spray turning to tears in her eyes. Josephine left Lance in the street and ran off into the night despite him calling after her. Rain poured down and wind howled around her. The familiar streets became a distant haze as she ran, and the world gradually turned to darkness.
Josephine awoke to the sound of a passing truck and the stench of rotting eggs and decomposing food. She lay in an alley amongst cardboard boxes and rubbish bags. What had happened last night? She could remember talking to Lance but after that it was like a blank page. She arose groggily and removed bits of peel from the gown. The ringing in her ears gradually died down, and she staggered out of the alley and tried to work out where she was.
After a short bus ride home, full of glaring mothers and Spanish men who kept saying the same phrase in her ear, she reached her apartment. Pausing outside she noticed a lingerie advertisement across the street. As Josephine stared into the models eyes her eyes widened. The model stared back with an alluring smile. Fred rushed upstairs and tore off the dress. He would no longer hide behind who he wanted to be. He was Fred and no one else. He took all his wigs and feminine clothes and threw them out the window. Enjoying the rush Fred picked up the phone and called an old girlfriend.
One month later Fred passed the shop again. A new gown stood in the window. Fred smiled to himself and entered the shop. The assistant recognised him immediately, “Ah, hello again sir. Did the lady enjoy the dress?” “She certainly did!” replied Fred. He left the shop ten minutes later carrying a new dress. That night Josephine left her apartment and headed into Soho. She gazed mournfully into the dim streetlights. She knew who she was. There was no mistaking it. But for one night a week she would be who she wanted to be. “So, what’s your name then?” asked the taxi driver. “Fred” she replied, “but you can call me Josephine.” The taxi swerved, narrowly missing another car and drove off into the night.
~fin
So I wrote than when I was uhhh, 16 I think. SO I handed it in but mysteriously wasnt there for the next class, after the teacher had read it (I wanted to be but I couldnt for some reason) um..so apparently theyd talked about it. She wrote this after it was marked "Strange topic for a story Brendan. Don’t know if it would be to everybody’s taste, particularly the examiner". Apparently she said it suggested something about my lifestyle. lol. um. Some people who read it said it was reminiscent of 1984. She also (supposedly) rolled her eyes and said I obviously got it from a book or film. NO! The idea sprang out of my evil little mind.