Hello Maxie, and welcome home, I mean back. I'd like to congratulate on your very deserving nominations. I love your chapter you posted, and this:
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The houses rose against the skyline like expensive toys, magnificent but flawless - devastatingly plastic - in each detail. It was, yet and no doubt, a picturesque sight, one Ginny had only seen before in pictures, and she knew she was fortunate to have been provided a chance to see, up close, the realization of sights that had for long, been a faraway dream.
makes me think of several things. When I was small I remember seeing beautiful elequent doll houses that rich people bought for their little girls. Grand ones and could only imagine playing with. I figured if ever I had a chance to play with one, I would rather just stare at it's beauty. The other thing it reminded me of was the story, "Little Women" by Louisa May Alcott. I wonder if Ginny might have felt some of the same as Jo felt when she visited her Great Aunt Marge. It's been ages ago since I read that, but that is what popped into my head.
This line I adore!
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for they were clearly men and women of high repute, none of whom seemed to have landed here by a stroke of luck – and, of course, the persistence of a mother who was a little plump, loved her children dearly, and had once thrown a shoe at a gnome and ended up thwacking her husband on the head, instead.
I think Ginny with her trepidation is there only by the insistance of of her mother, for she knew it would be the only way she would ever have a chance to play a Princess in Prince Charmings castle, but if only for a short lived time frame.
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Ginny realized, with a very sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, that she had not only not given him the present that was her token of gratitude, but also failed to remove it from the interiors of the carriage.
Oh no!!!! I was afraid of that!
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Her heart fluttering like a tiny thing with disappointed, little wings, she sought quietude at once. It came in the form of a large tree that stood, a little way off from where the heart of the party-crowd was concentrated and underneath the very moon -- its leaves moonlit, its branches alight with fairy dust and congregations of fireflies.
Glad for the refuge, she came to a silent stand beneath it and, from a distance, any onlooker would have been breathless, had they looked at her, right then -- for the moonlight washed down on her, filtered into quiet silver by the splendid canopy of moonlit leaves overhead, and it brought out the glow of her dress, the brown of her eyes, the precise yet gentle cut of her face -- danced across the red of her hair in a way that made one unable to look for her faults - which there definitely were, though the scene then had little, if any, place for them -- in a way that made one want to touch her to see if she was real, or a doll or a dream.
Such a breathtaking image you gave us! Thank you.
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It was the moment Lord Rostov saw her.
BESTILL MY HEART!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Great post Maxie! I'll be watching for your next! Much love to you!