VJM
Marianne.
Historical Fiction / Drama
Taking place in 1893, Eastern Canada
It was impossible to hide who you were to Marianne. Her observant eyes could read straight through your soul and reveal who you really were — no secrets uncovered. It would be unsettling, but Marianne never shared any of her finds. Instead she would paint a landscape — a vision — of her small town, one only she could see.
She had a personal rule of never intervening or talking about her finds, and she never really desired to. But her entire world changed on that faithful day, the one she noticed the English girl, acting in such a peculiar way.
Features
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4.3k words (2 chapters)
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This story can be read on its own, but features two characters from Lily of the Valley (Marianne and Primrose Nightingale)
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This story is part of the official Canon
Sample
It’s a small Acadian town, with only about one hundred people. Walking across it only takes about 30 minutes. You would think a town like this one would get dull or boring, but a thousand stories take place all at once here, if you are willing to pay attention.
— and Marianne always paid attention.
To her, attending school was hardly a challenge, nothing exceptional. Surrounding her were children of all ages. They were her favourite subject to study; a mix of 22 children and teens… well, 23 now that the English girl joined.
This girl's parents made a generous donation last year, and the school never looked better. Freshly painted walls, new desks, paper, pens, ink, but it was still just a classroom.
And this English girl — what an odd girl — she always dressed like it’s a special occasion.
Her impeccably coiffed hair, stiff mannerisms, and her disgustingly perfectly sweet scent of lavender were so annoying. Ever since she arrived, it’s all everyone ever talks about.
But she’s too good to talk to any of them. Marianne waved to her the other day, and she didn’t even see her. Maybe the gossip is right for once. She must be a snob. Why even join a French class if she’s going to be like that?
Before she arrived, Marianne was the subject of all the attention. Of course she was. She had the longest brown hair in the class, was tall with an elegant figure… at least that’s what everyone said.
“What did the English girl have?” Marianne thought. “Well… other than her porcelain skin. Her soulful eyes… and…” The entire time, her eyes were fixated on Primrose Nightingale. It was jealousy, envy, an obsession, surely. The English girl… she was so odd.
“What is she doing?” Marianne mouthed silently.
Look at her, she’s doing it again!
(...)