FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #7

She's a local. A Mississippi girl. Born Melinda Mary Wilcox, the daughter of the revered plantation owner Nigel Kay Wilcox and his equally famous wife Eris Wilcox (née Melantha). Her parents were also as much feared as they were known. The Wilcox family tree included many high powered officials, all corrupt in nature, and in the past people had "disappeared" for undisclosed reasons. Still the citizens all knew everyone who "disappeared" had been not on good terms with the Wilcox family.

Melinda despised her parents. Since the age of eight Melinda had been shielded from the outside world. Not for her own protection, but because her parents were less than trusting of her due to an incident when one day she left the plantation with documents varying from illegal agenda such as mere tax evasion to more serious crime such as murder, theft, and abduction. Since then she'd been under constant supervision of her parents most loyal slave Orla. Despite that she'd occasionally manage to slip away in the dead of night for some fun.

Eventually the Wilcox power and money started to dry up as the Wilcox politicians were taken out of office because they had been found soliciting tax payers money from the public, so naturally the Wilcox name would from then on be spat upon. On top of that the Civil War had been ongoing for a while now, and with Union president Lincoln's Emancipation Proclamation their livelihood was split in half for nearly sixty of the family's one hundred and eighty slaves had ran off in the cover of darkness thus leaving them with less crop picked for the market.

"An entire legacy of power and fortune," Nigel sighed heavily one day after he received the first of many bankruptcy notices, which he knew would eventually lead to foreclosure notices, "practically decimated in the course of a single year!" He continued begrudgingly smoking his tobacco pipe. He was an obese man barely reaching over five feet tall.

"Quiet down swine!" Eris, his tall rather displeased wife, glowered at him from her separate bed. Husband and wife was more disarray of strangers who shared a child, "All is not lost yet!" She got up and went near her estranged husband casting such a menacing shadow over him.

Nigel was a trifle confused, "How so?"

"Melinda is how old?" Eris cooed while putting her bony long fingers around his lumpy shoulders.

Nigel looked off into the dismal blackness outside, "If I remember correctly you gave birth after my cousin Thaddeus was trampled by that drove of wild horses, so seventeen?"

"Sixteen," she replied coldly, "and she's of age for marriage." Eris sneered darkly and her grip on Nigel's meaty shoulders tightened. After a moment of thought Nigel glared at her with unpredictability in his eyes, but then he began to laugh sinisterly as his wife joined in just as vicious.

Melinda was sitting by her vanity drawer readying herself for bed when a faint tapping came from her window lattice. She opened it wondering what person in their right mind would be calling upon her at this time of night. Her heart soared into the skies when she saw him, Mr. Nathaniel Cunningham, the son of the local tea shop owner Everard Cunningham jr., and to be more specific he was her current gentleman caller.

"Many Suns couldn't radiate the intense glow dazzling your beautiful face," He was a poet and he would always come up with lyrical openings for their late night rendezvous. Slightly swooning she returned to her chambers and changed into her new black gown with matching shawl and parasol. She pulled her hair into a tight bun. He promised he'd take her to the Hemmingway's Masquerade Ball. She didn't know how to dance, so this would be quite an experience for the two of them. Before leaving her quarters she took a mask she had asked Orla to make before she fled. It was a simple black mask that covered her eyes and cheeks, respectively; she didn't want to be recognized. Once on her balcony again she tossed the parasol and shawl to Nathaniel. Down the aged weathervane she slowly came avoiding thorns which would produce a rip in the expensive gown. She'd only wore it once to her grandfather’s funeral, but that was when she was thirteen. It still fit splendidly.

The Ball had been in full swing when they arrived. A smooth waltz being played by the grand orchestra was wrapping up nicely with couples bowing to one another. Nathaniel and Melinda approached the ballroom floor with nervousness realizing an accordion player was taking centerfold of the ensemble. The maestro was now conducting a rhythm that half the floor was not familiar with. It was Argentine Tango. Melinda had only heard of it. According to everyone it was the latest dance trend with the British, so naturally, she assumed as Americans we had to be a copycat.

"So I see this is how it is..." Nathaniel chattered to himself. Melinda couldn't help, but issue a mirthless laugh out of sheer nervousness. It was after the fact she was dipped then had his leg caress hers that she finally realized that he knew what he was doing, "Now just swiftly hook your left leg around my right," he seductively whispered in her ear making her moan slightly due to the level of intimacy and the fact it tickled.

Melinda did as she was told. She was now under his control, and to say she didn't like it was a flat out lie. Several hooks, sweeps, and caresses later Nathaniel unleashed an extreme action, which made everyone gasp. He spun her into a dip; pulled her up again then -without warning- he tore about ten inches off the bottom of her dress revealing her light crimson stockings. She blushed hard trying to cover up her legs, but with no effect. Nathaniel was still swerveing his right leg, singularly, in a small circle when he bellowed out, "It's how it's done in Europe!" An awkward silence followed causing the couple to gulp in a fashion commonly asccoiated with southerners, the long "He-yulp" noise from the throat. After that Mr. Winston Cunningham and his wife the beautiful foreigner wife Nadya steped foward at which point no one spoke

 

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