Warning: I don’t really feel like doing this.
Create a character with personality traits of someone you love, but the physical characteristics of someone you don’t care for.
I didn’t think this would be too tough – I like coming up with characters. But usually characters just pop into my head and tell me about themselves. Mixing DNA on my own is a little tricky and forced.
Maybe blogging this 12-day challenge wasn’t such a great idea.
Too late for wimps. Here goes…
She drew stares as she rounded the garden gate. Her rectangular Ray-Bans and angular haircut were visible a full foot above the gray and graying heads of her fellow tea party mates. A glance at her feet explained the incredible height, sporting red leather wedges with a full six inches of platform between the soles of her feet and the shimmering slate.
Mrs. Persson, the diminutive hostess of the afternoon, extended her hand. “So lovely to have you, Amanda dear. What a striking um-” gesturing to the striped and variegated swaddling of cobalt blue and persimmon that perhaps could best be described as a dress, “Delightful. Please, won’t you help yourself to a sandwich?
Following Mrs. Persson’s lead, Amanda approached the dainty table of snacks and reached a gloved hand for a plate. She glanced at the two ladies in blue and grey, who pretended to be studying the edibles intently. Mrs. Persson addressed them.
“Mrs. Porter, Miss Snow, allow me to introduce Mrs. Blake. She’s in London only for today, so it’s really wonderful that she could spare the time to join us. Oh! I see I have another guest arriving- I trust I may leave her to your care?”
Not pausing to discover whether her trust was well-placed or not, Mrs. Persson was off to welcome the newcomer. “How do you do,” said Amanda with a sweet smile.
“Charmed,” breathed Mrs. Porter through a pinched nose – or was it Miss Snow? “I never miss the Annual Garden Party In The Garden. Such a perfect day for it, too.”
The other one clucked and nodded with an emphatic mm-hmm. “Last year it rained all night and into the morning. Should’ve seen the grass after – it looked like a rugby field. Why, you would have sunk in to your knees!” Gesturing to Amanda’s stilt-like footwear.
She glanced down. “Oh, yes I daresay my shoes would never have done. They are a bit of a trick to wear, especially on these stones. But you know I do so love being high up.”
“Where do you come from, Mrs.- is it Blake? Mrs. Persson mentioned your leaving town soon.”
Amanda fidgeted and glanced round. “I’m from here actually – but I’m traveling just now on tour with a new show, Nature’s Nanny.”
One of the Porter/Snow gasped. “Of course, Amanda Blake! Well then you’re the one who is to perform this afternoon!”
Amanda smiled and edged out of the way of a black-clad teenager pushing a dour old woman to the refreshment table. Porter/Snow was going on:
“I loved – no, adored your performance at the Hall. I went there last Friday with my husband,” (this one must be Mrs. Porter after all… Porter=blue, Snow=grey, got it. “When you raised up at the end and sang so brilliantly about your life’s dedication to the children, just before- before-” here a hand went to her eyes. “Oh, it was thrilling,” she finished at last.
Amanda smiled and murmured her thanks, but the Porter speech attracted other ears. In minutes the crowd of tea ladies were assembled around their heroine in disguise. Even the joyless widow in her wheelchair pulled Amanda down to whisper in her ear.
“I don’t care what the press says. You sing like an angel. Even if you look like a heathen.”
After tea, Amanda was convinced to sing something. As she stood before the crowd of expectant faces, she felt a little shy. Then she picked a note and started to sing, and all other thoughts left her. She was at once lost in the simple joy of performance.