300 Days of Writing
Day 50 Fancy Dress:
No one told her fancy dress meant costume party, and so Karen stood, in a sleek black gown amongst Jack the Ripper knock offs and girls in wigs pretending to be Uma Thurman from Pulp Fiction.
“Have a drink,” Josh slurred, handing her a red cup.
“Thanks,” she said feeling grumpy and sober.
The drink was too sweet, cola and cheap rum. She set down the cup, gave a transparent excuse and left to look for better spirits.
The house was one of those places from old money and status. Upper class she thought to herself, this is what they were always on about. She tilted her head, admiring the ornately framed portraits of pale rich folks, wondering if these were relations or just there for status.
“They’re shite, aren’t they love?”
Karen turned and tried to hide her smirk when she was met with a Phantom of the Opera mask and cape. Someone fancied themselves a romantic.
“They’re alright,” she said turning back to the portraits, but then, one of them was gone.
Not the frame, but the painting itself. Where a fat blushing man once was had been replaced with heavy black oils. She could see the texture of the brush strokes throughout it.
“What the?” Karen turned to ask but the Phantom was gone, and she went looking for him.
She went up the stairs, looking through the dusty bedrooms that smelled of must and money. She pushed open a bedroom door that was full of taxidermied animals. Karen stepped into the room and the door shut behind her. The click of the lock was the last sound she heard.
Сайхан Бичээрэй!
H