A to Z Challenge · Blogging · Fiction · French

S comme Scarlett – A to Z Challenge

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Le vent soufflait depuis plusieurs jours déjà, secouant les fenêtres du manoir, sans relâche. La tempête rageait furieusement. Mais la vrai tourmente prenait place entre les murs de l’antique demeure.

Dans son boudoir, assise devant le miroir de plein pied, elle brossait sa longue chevelure en silence. Même par ces soirs, où elle n’espérait pas la moindre visite, elle tenait à être à son avantage. Au milieu de la pièce toute tendue de sombres draperies, elle brillait comme une flamme. Sa toilette écarlatte parfaitement agencée au rouge de ses lèvres attirait la douce lumière des chandelles éclairant sa retraite.

Les courbes parfaites de sa silhouette en avait attiré plus d’un, et elle avait soupiré dans les bras de bien des hommes… Mais elle se réservait maintenant, et même si les déclarations sulfureuses s’empilaient sur sa table de nuit, elle n’avait donné suite à aucune d’entre elles.

Elle avait bien décacheté chaque enveloppe à la hâte, glissant la lame tranchante de son coupe papier. Elle souriait toujours au souvenir d’avoir vu le même poignard guider un amant décevant, à son dernier souffle. Drôle de façon de l’éconduire, peut-être. Mais on n’apprivoisait pas l’intensité de Miss Scarlett.

Lui avait su, mais elle l’avait amèrement regretté.

A chaque enveloppe entre-ouverte, elle allait droit à la signature. Chaque missive signée d’un autre nom que le sien, était lancée sur la pile, recevant une fin de non-recevoir sans  retour. Les aveux de désirs brûlants, qu’elle avait longtemps collectionnés, abandonnés dans la plus grande indifférence.

 -Toujours rien, Miss Scarlett?

Scarlett n’avait pas entendu la bonne entrer, perdue dans ses pensées…

-Blanche, je vous ai demandé mille fois de m’appeler Joséphine.

La diversion à peine subtile voulait tout dire. Il ne lui avait pas écrit encore, et elle ne désirait pas s’étendre sur le sujet. Pour cacher un larme née, par mégarde au coin de son oeil, elle se pencha pour glisser ses mains effilées dans le pan de sa jupe, feignant de replacer son bas résille, aussi noir que l’iris de ses yeux.

Peut-être demain, Mademoiselle?

L’effort était louable, mais absolument vain.

Scarlett récupéra son élégant fume-cigarette, sur la maquilleuse, et se pencha sur la flamme d’une chandelle pour tirer une première bouffée qu’elle souffla dans ce qui ne pouvait être qu’un long soupir. Ses doigts jouant habilement du long bâtonnet, elle chassa Blanche de ses pensées.

Depuis son départ, elle avait développé ce curieux don. Sans crier gâre, elle s’évadait bien au delà de la réalité décevante où elle errait habituellement.

Presqu’en transe, elle sentait sa présence se préciser. D’abord cette odeur mâle et musquée qu’elle avait cueillie si souvent à même sa peau tanée. Puis elle pouvait le voir à nouveau. Sa silhouette d’abord, dans un coin de la pièce. Sa haute et large carrure se détachait lentement des tapisseries sombres, et rapidement, elle pouvait le distinguer aussi clairement que s’il s’était tenu en chair et en os devant elle.

Prise d’un soudain débordement d’émotion, ses lèvres s’échapèrent…

-Colonel, vous….

Réprimant son premier élan, elle se refusa de courir à lui, pour se coller à son torse comme une désespérée. Au lieu de cela, elle roula des hanches, offrant son meilleur profil dans la pénombre, et ne le regardant pas directement, remarqua le fusil de chasse qu’il tenait toujours à la main. Les doigts noueux du Colonel effleuraient la crosse, rappelant à Scarlett la douceur de ses caresses…

Avançant à pas feutrés vers lui, elle espérait secrètement qu’il l’accueille entre ses bras, se penche à son oreille pour lui sussurer de pâles excuses qu’elle accepterait comme une gamine avant de le laisser l’entraîner dans la chambre attenante pour reprendre leur histoire là où ils l’avaient laissée… Mais rien n’était si simple avec le très célèbre Colonel Moutarde.

Son regard d’acier n’avait pourtant pas perdu un seul des mouvements de la mystérieuse Miss Scarlett, et elle se méprit presqu’à croire qu’il avait de la tendresse dans les yeux. Maintenant à un souffle de lui, elle jeta la tête en arrière, ses boucles dansant sur ses épaules, ses lèvres pourpres offertes comme une rose à peine éclose.

Juste comme le Colonel pliait sous la beauté de sa douce retrouvée, et au moment même où il commençait à se pencher sur son visage d’ivoire, Scarlett se ressaisit.

Empoignant le fusil des mains distraites du Colonel Moutarde, elle recula d’un pas et brandit le mousquet sous son nez. Avec une agileté qui le saisit, elle révisa le tir, et posa la pointe du canon sur sa gorge.

La poitrine de Joséphine se soulevait avec chaque inspiration, l’excitation d’avoir la vie de son vieil amant au bout de l’arme puissante. Leur histoire en avait toujours été une d’amour-haine paradoxale, balançant sans cesse entre une luxure dévorante et le besoin animal de s’entretuer.

-Avez vous réellement cru pouvoir m’abandonner ainsi sans en payer le prix, très cher Colonel?

Le fusil toujours braqué tout juste sous le menton, il sourit, un brin de fierté dans le regard.

-Ma douce, ma très chère amie… Vous n’oseriez pas.

Le doigt sur la gachette, elle hésitait.

Un bruit de tonnerre résonna dans la piece. Scarlett fut instantanément tirée de sa rêverie. La foudre avait frappé tout près du manoir, secouant les vitres du boudoir. Balayant du regard la pièce où elle se tenait seule à nouveau, elle remarqua la sihouette de Blanche, dans l’embrasure de la porte.

-Le dîner est servi, Mademoiselle Joséphine.

Scarlett éteignit sa cigarette, et lissa le velour de sa robe avant de se diriger vers la salle à manger…

 


 

I am aware that this might not be very popular… It is risky to write in French, but it is so much easier for me. I might translate it, but I won’t promise anything 😉

I would like to point out that this was inspired, and in some way a humble hommage to a series of posts published by Notthedane56 some time ago. Series that I absolutely loved. 

I also want to appologize for getting behind on replying to your comments today… I just really needed to create and write. I’m sure you can relate 😉

37 thoughts on “S comme Scarlett – A to Z Challenge

      1. Je fais ce que je peux. C’est comme faire du vélo, je suppose. bien sûr, je peux vous parler de concombres aliens avec des yeux de tir laser et des boutons de nombreuse exceptionnellement grands pour tout ce que je sais. Été un moment depuis que j’ai essayé mon français. 😃😃

        Liked by 1 person

      2. Oui, c’est comme le vélo, tout à fait! Et je vois que tu n’avais pas oublié. C’est normal de te sentir “rouillé” mais je t’assure que tu es très bon!

        P.S. The cucumber alien thing there…. LOOOOOL

        Liked by 1 person

      3. Eh bien, comme je l’ai dit, je dois toujours sortir le dictionnaire français / anglais de temps en temps. Il est intimidant d’essayer de parler avec quelqu’un qui est la langue maternelle que je suis en train de dépecer.

        P.S.S. That’s a prime example of my piss poor French skillz: that was supposed to be I could be telling you all about those aliens FOR ALL I KNOW. I knew I was screwing that one up, but I’m trying. 😃

        Liked by 1 person

      4. I know how intimidating it is… In Denmark I was sometimes mortified to try my poooooor Danish with Danes… I so wanted to honor their language!

        Curiously, with English, I can speak fluently only with English speakers. If I try to speak English with a Francophone, I sound like a perfect idiot! Go figure!!

        Liked by 1 person

      5. Oh, it was nerve wracking when I was in Paris. I tried so hard to do exactly that: honor the language. You know, when in Rome…, right? I so made myself look like the ugly American, I’m sure. But I tried. 😃

        Liked by 1 person

      6. And I am sure they appreciated the try… I know a lot of people switched to English when they heard my weird accent… but in general, Danes seemed happy a stranger tried to master their hellishly complicated language 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      7. I was about to add that here in Québec people would probably appreciate the effort more than in France… But I didn’t mean to give the impression that the French people were less nice, I do know a lot of lovely Frenchies 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      1. It is nice for me to write in French because there is a lot less thinking about grammar, and spelling… a lot less searching for the correct word for this and that… So a story I would take hours writing in English comes out in 45 minutes! Also, I am much better (I think) playing with French words and expression, so I usually feel like my writing is a little more… hmmm polished in French. But I have built an English readership over the months, and it was my decision to start blogging in English 😉

        Anyway, as I told you in another comment, I have started translating this story… It should be online in the English version within a couple of days 🙂 🙂 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      1. I fluently speak French and English, I learnt a little German in highschool (couldn’t really hold a conversation, I lost most of it) got some sign language classes in College, and I am currently learning Danish 🙂

        English is pretty important in our bilingual province… It helps getting better jobs and I learnt it young. I practiced it by reading English books and watching movies in English… And I must say that my two years of blogging have greatly helped to improve my vocabulary too! 😉

        Like

    1. Yeah, I knew a lot of readers wouldn’t understand, but French is my mother tongue. So, sometimes, I just have to back to my roots… As I said, I might translate it, but I won’t promise it, just yet…

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Hehehehe, I was in the process of translating it when I got your message 🙂 Thanks for your support, but I think I it will be a good thing to have the English version for the majority… 🙂 Plus, makes me work on my English, which is never a bad thing 😛

        Like

  1. There you go

    The wind had been blowing for several days already, shaking the windows of the mansion, relentlessly. The storm raged furiously. But the real turmoil took place between the walls of the ancient house.

    In her boudoir, sitting in front of the mirror, she was brushing her long hair silently. Even on those evenings, when she did not expect a visit, she wanted to be to her advantage. In the middle of the room, all tense with dark draperies, she shone like a flame. Her scarlet toilet perfectly arranged in the red of her lips attracted the soft light of the candles lighting her retreat.

    The perfect curves of her figure had attracted more than one, and she had sighed in the arms of many men … But she was reserving herself now, and even if the sulphurous statements piled up on her bedside table, she did not had followed up on none of them.

    She had unhooked each envelope hastily, slipping the sharp blade of her paper cutter. She was still smiling at the memory of seeing the same dagger guide a disappointing lover in his last breath. Funny way to drive him away, maybe. But we did not know the intensity of Miss Scarlett.

    He had known, but she had bitterly regretted it.

    At each envelope, she went straight to the signature. Each missive signed by a name other than his, was thrown on the pile, receiving an end of no return without return. The confessions of burning desires, which she had long collected, abandoned in the greatest indifference.

     “Still nothing, Miss Scarlett?

    Scarlett had not heard the maid come in, lost in thought …

    -Blanche, I asked you a thousand times to call me Josephine.

    The slightly subtle diversion meant everything. He had not written to her yet, and she did not wish to dwell on the subject. To hide a tear born, inadvertently at the corner of his eye, she leaned to slide his tapered hands into the pan of her skirt, pretending to replace her fishnet stockings, as black as the iris of her eyes.

    – Maybe tomorrow, Miss?

    The effort was commendable, but absolutely futile.

    Scarlett retrieved her elegant cigarette holder from the make-up artist and leaned over the flame of a candle to take a first puff, which she breathed into what could only be a long sigh. Her fingers skilfully playing the long stick, she chased Blanche out of his thoughts.

    Since her departure, she had developed this curious gift. Without screaming, she escaped well beyond the disappointing reality where she usually wandered.

    Almost in a trance, she felt his presence become clearer. At first this male and musky odor that she had picked so often from her skin. Then she could see him again. His silhouette first, in a corner of the room. Her tall, broad shoulders were slowly coming off the dark tapestries, and she could quickly distinguish him as clearly as if he had stood in the flesh in front of her.

    Taking a sudden outburst of emotion, his lips escaped …

    -Colonel, you ….

    Repressing his first impulse, she refused to run to him, to stick to his chest like a desperate. Instead, she rolled her hips, offering her best profile in the dim light, and not looking at him directly, noticed the shotgun he was still holding in her hand. The Colonel’s gnarled fingers brushed the butt, reminding Scarlett of the sweetness of his caresses …

    Slightly advancing towards him, she secretly hoped that he would welcome her into his arms, bend over her ear to make him a pale apology that she would accept as a girl before letting him drag her into the adjoining room to take back their story where they left off … But nothing was so simple with the famous Colonel Mustard.

    Her steel eyes, however, had not lost a single movement of the mysterious Miss Scarlett, and she almost misunderstood that he had tenderness in his eyes. Now at a breath of his, she threw her head back, her curls dancing on her shoulders, her purple lips offered like a rose barely hatched.

    Just as the Colonel was bending under the beauty of his newly-found soft, and just as he began to lean over his ivory face, Scarlett pulled himself together.

    Gripping the rifle from Colonel Mustard’s distracted hands, she took a step back and brandished the musket under her nose. With an agility that seized him, she revised the shot, and put the point of the barrel on her throat.

    Josephine’s chest heaved with every breath, the excitement of having the life of her old lover at the end of the powerful weapon. Their story had always been one of paradoxical love-hate, constantly swaying between devouring lust and the animal need to kill each other.

    “Have you really thought you could leave me without paying the price, dear Colonel?

    The rifle still pointed just under the chin, he smiled, a bit of pride in his eyes.

    -My sweet, my dear friend … You would not dare.

    Her finger on the trigger, she hesitated.

    A sound of thunder echoed in the room. Scarlett was instantly drawn from her reverie. The lightning had struck near the mansion, shaking the windows of the boudoir. Sweeping her room where she was standing alone again, she noticed Blanche’s sihouette in the doorway.

    -The dinner is served, Miss Josephine.

    Scarlett extinguished his cigarette, and smoothed the velvet of his dress before heading to the dining room …

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you, Colin 🙂 I’m taking care of a couple of touch ups, and I’ll publish it in a different post a little later. I’ll erase the comment, to make sure people read the final version, but don’t worry, I’ll give you the credit you deserve 🙂 xx

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you 🙂 Glad you enjoyed it… It had been in the back of my mind for a while now, I just didn’t have a proper ending for it… I guess that’s what happens with most stories, right? They come out when they are ready 😉

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Yup… writers are a little bit like pregnant women… Just not having the faintest idea how long the pregnancy will last, and giving birth being a lot less painful (Thank Gawwwd!!) and not getting weird cravings (well, actually, yes, but not being able to blame them on having a story in my head)…

        But otherwise… pretty much the same! LOL

        Like

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