Econ was yawn-inducing, English was the Handmaid's Tale test--not too hard--and then free time, freep I'll talk about in a moment, and in band we didn't have to do anything for the first half, and then we played patriotic music. And then there was a Homecoming assembly and the band played, and the entire school fits on ONE site of the gymnasium, though only the band really had breathing room. HA! -pokes you menacingly with a flute-
During freep today, I wrote 1683 words. Yes. I did! They were all (okay... mostly) about Gateaux de Lacet, the first scene where Umeko is at her uncle's funeral.
It's for NaNoWriMo practice. As such, it has padding and nonsense included. You get to see it in its unedited form! Perhaps later I shall edit it.
~
Under a gray sky like wrinkled silk, a sea of black rested, quivering with tears. [NAME Inoue], quite possibly the second greatest Shakespearean actor Japan had ever known, had died last month in a tragic accident of falling scenery, and his friends, relatives, and admirers were here to mourn.
Well, mostly his relatives and admirers; for an actor, Inoue had been quite reclusive and unwilling to deal with strangers any more than necessary. He had few lasting relationships in the acting world (though his acquaintances in the drinking world were, by his own estimate, plentiful) and the only people he would readily speak to outside of work were his family. They sat in the front row of his funeral—his mother and father, both in funeral kimonos, provided such things exist, his stoic-faced father clutching his mother’s shoulders tightly as the woman held a handkerchief to her mouth and sobbed. No don’t stop keep writing His brother, [NAME2] Inoue, sat with his own wife and daughter. [NAME2] was dressed in a simple suite, I mean suit of course, and his wife in a plain black dress.
His daughter, Umeko Inoue, was another matter all together.
Umeko was into the Lolita street fashion—very into it. At the moment, she was clad in an Elegant Gothic Aristocrat dress, made of pure black whatever material Elegant Gothic Aristocrat outfits are made of. Silver grommets, laced with shiny black ribbon decorated the front for a corseted effect. Her collar rose around her neck with scalloped, ruffled edges. Similarly, the ends of her sleeves were ruffled, and where the sleeves joined the dress, they puffed neatly. Her skirt was long and black, and it reached her feet, almost but not quite concealing her elegant, patent leather platform boots, also black. She had done her hair in a bun with ringlets hanging in front of her ears, and clipped into her hair was a flower barrette with a lacy black veil half-obscuring her face. She wore lacy black gloves and clutched a petite handbag. Her face was solemn, as befitting Elegant Gothic Aristocrats.
Behind the family sat the admirers. He had quite a few, and the number who had managed to make it to the funeral was not small. He had been an exceptionally talented theatre actor; he was best known for his role of Hamlet, though in his lifetime (tragically ended as it was), he had performed all of Shakespeare’s best well-known male characters, and, in a few more traditional performances, several of his female characters as well. His range of emotional expression was incredible; in a single moment, he could change from lamentably lachrymose to exuberantly ecstatic, portraying both emotions and even the abrupt switch between them flawlessly and with breathtaking conviction.
He had, though, as stated, almost no friends.
The person he was closest to in life was, to many people’s surprise, Umeko. For several reasons, they had gotten along very well. Perhaps it was because neither of them was an exceedingly traditional Japanese person; in fact, both harbored intense love for England, especially some of its historic eras. Inoue, naturally, adored Renaissance and Tudor England, which fueled his love of Shakespeare. He despised modern adaptation, much preferring period costuming and set effects. (Ironic that a primitive set then killed him.) Umeko, on the other hand, had a deep fascination with Victorian England, especially the clothes. It is on Victorian dolls that Lolita styles are based, and in fact, Elegant Gothic Aristocrat is based on Victorian Funerary wear, so it made perfect sense for Umeko to wear Elegant Gothic Aristocrat to her uncle’s funeral.
There was another bond that they shared, and it laid in food. Inoue loved sweet baked goods like cakes, pastries, Danishes, brownies, and funnel cakes, but he was an absolutely abysmal cook. He could not bake a brownie to save his life and occasionally managed to even burn Rice Krispie treats, provided they have Rice Krispie treats in Japan. Umeko, on the other hand, adored baking. She had recently graduated from one of Japan’s most prestigious cooking academies with full honors, and the treats she baked were heavenly and delicious. She had won several cooking contests when she was younger, though more recently a young man named Naoki whatever had entered the cooking scene and was beating the pants off of even the most experienced bakers, often while singing a little nonsense song in English: “Milk in the batter, milk in the batter! We make cake, and nothing’s the matter!” So, whenever Inoue got a chance to take a break from his illustrious acting career and visit Umeko, she would make him a plate of delicious Snickerdoodle cookies or a whole strawberry cheesecake. This, too, brought them much closer together.
His favorite treat had always been double-layer strawberry and chocolate cheesecake, so for his funeral, Umeko had made one, pouring her heart and soul into it, as well as a few tears that had slipped in. She really had been very fond of her uncle.
As the funerary service finished, Umeko took a small embroidered handkerchief out of her petite clutch purse and wiped her eyes. Yikes um not focused. Then she and her parents stood and went to speak to some of the other guests. Her father slowly went to speak to his parents. Her mother graciously went to speak to some of the admirers, most of whom were bawling much harder than even poor Inoue’s mother. Umeko decided that she, too, had better do her part, and she wandered over to the refreshment table. There was her double-layer strawberry and chocolate cheesecake, just as her uncle would have loved. She sniffed, and then she was surprised to hear a cough from her left, roughly at the height of her elbow.
“Ms. Umeko Inoue, isn’t that right?” said an old man’s voice (speaking with such Japanese-old-manisms like “ja” and all that stuff the Kino characters use), and Umeko turned to look at the speaker. The old man was wringing his hands and looking up at her, because he was quite short, really only about as tall as to reach up to her elbow.
“Yes, I’m Umeko Inoue,” Umeko Inoue answered politely. “May I ask your name?”
“I am [NAME NAME], your uncle’s financial advisor.”
Umeko nodded understandingly. Her uncle had been as awful with finances as he had been with cooking. In fact, the man had had no practical skills whatsoever—but what an actor he had been!
“I’m deeply sorry for your loss,” the wizened financial advisor sympathized. “I like to think that perhaps your uncle considered me a friend as well, but the love he expressed for you was greater than any other he ever talked about.”
He squinted at her, and Umeko wasn’t sure whether this was because he was having trouble seeing, or because he was holding back tears, or because he was scrutinizing her. In any case, he nodded inexplicably, and continued, “Yes, your uncle was quite fond of you—I don’t mean that in a strange way, of course, but in the sweetest way possible. He loved you and he loved acting, and perhaps nothing else in the world, so all the love that he had was concentrated in those two things. He loved the cakes and cookies you’d make for him—he shared pieces of your cake with me sometimes, you know. It was delicious. Your love for him was like a tangible ingredient in it.”
Umeko bit her lip with the effort of holding back tears.
“Oh, I’m sorry, my dear Ms. Umeko,” the old financial advisor exclaimed, seeing her distress. “I realize that this must be so painful for you. It is never easy to lose a family member, or anyone who is precious to you, but to lose your uncle… Tragic, yes, how tragic… I just wanted to make sure you understood how deeply your uncle felt about you.” He gave a slow nod. “Of course, it will be clear soon. Very soon. You’ll see, when it is read…”
“When what is read, Mr. NAME?” Umeko questioned the old man.
“You’ll see,” the old man said again. “You’ll see. It is quite remarkable… incredible… completely unbelievable. I never would have believed it. Quite irregular, but he never was a regular man, was he?”
Umeko was flummoxed; she was bewildered. She had no idea what the old financial advisor could possibly be talking about. However, she knew that it is best to always be polite, so she simply answered the part of the old financial advisor’s statements that she had understood. “No, he wasn’t a regular man. He despised being normal, in fact, and he encouraged me to be as abnormal as possible. An unusual sentiment in a Japanese man, but actors are known for being strange. I suspect he was delighted when I adopted the Lolita style of dress.”
“Yes, yes,” the wizened Mr. NAME said again. “And by the way, you do look quite beautiful, Ms. Inoue. Old-fashioned and… kurashii, in a way. Classy. I like it.”
“Thank you,” Umeko said with a smile. Now she was back on solid ground; gracefully receiving compliments on her style of dress was something that she was quite used to doing. “It is from Moi Dix Mois. In fact, it’s one of Moi Dix Mois’s newest styles. When I heard about my poor uncle, I decided to buy it.”
The old man smiled and nodded, though Umeko doubted that he’d ever heard of the company Moi Dix Mois. But he, like she, and like any other Japanese person, was trained in the art of pleasing the other person.
“Well, I shall see you later, Ms. Umeko Inoue,” said Mr. [NAME]. “It was a pleasure to meet you at long last. Very interesting. I can see why your uncle loved you so much; you are rather similar to him. I’m beginning to understand why he did what he did.”
And without explaining what he meant by “why he did what he did,” the old financial advisor gave a little bow and walked away.
~
I made these comments to myself after finishing:
9/28. First attempt. Count: 1683 words. Padding utilized: babbling when the next sentence wouldn’t come to mind. Some over-explanation. Character who repeats himself. Phrases like “provided that exists.” Quality of writing: inconsistent; poorer than normal. Time: efficient.
Interesting ideas that came out of it: Love concentrated in one or two things. Strange and a little romantic in a weird way.
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