PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook
Ninny, they called her.
Sold flowers under the gas lamp, corner of Great Earl Street and Queen Street, Seven Dials. Old enough to be your Nana, though not yet old enough to be mine. Hair dyed black as a coal hole, always a pheasant feather or a silk rose tucked in her crumbling straw hat. Face like a patch of dried chamois leather. Shared a room with some other biddies – a boot lace seller, a sheet music peddlar and one who peddled herself, if you know what I mean.
Nah, don’t know where she went. People just vanish, lad.
Written for Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers. See the pic and write a tale and visit the site here to read the other stories.
Notes
Seven Dials is part of the St Giles area of London, not far from Covent Garden. It long had a reputation for being disreputable and was part of the St Giles ‘rookery’ or slum. To read more about the area’s history, see here.
Really like this. The chop of the sentences is effective. Nicely done.
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Thanks so much Josh. I really appreciate it.
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Great Earl Street and Queen Street, Seven Dials, St Giles area, Covent Garden… all of these sound magical to me. I don’t know anything about these neighborhoods, I just have (admittedly inaccurate) images of London in my head that spring to mind when I hear these and other names. It’s a weird blend of things Dickensian, Tolkien-esque, Monty Pythonish, Sherlock Holmes-enfogged that I’m sure have no correlation to the reality of them. But this is probably true of all of us to a degree. We only know where we are and where we’ve been. We form an image in our mind of where we are not. But I even like the word London, the way it kind of rolls off the tongue!
Agreed about the choppiness, kind of underscores the ending. 🙂
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dear mt walker – I loved your comment and could not make all the connections to authors and location – but I loved reading your reply and it added much to my takeaway of Lynn’s fiction….
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Than you, Walt. I must admit, I’m the same. Much my ‘feel’ of London is from reading Dickens and other 19th century writers, watching endless Holmes adaptations, reading around the Ripper crimes. You can still feel the history of the city in its streets, though. Despite the Blitz, there are still narrow alleys to wander down, strange nooks and crannys and old buildings. Seven Dials still exists, though it’s much more respectable now. Thank you for taking the time to read and leave such a thoughtful comment
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I absolutely love the names of the neighbourhoods/Tube stops around London, one of my favourite things about visiting there…bespeaks to much deeper history than known by us in the States. Like how this ended a lot “people just vanish.” True, that. Bye!
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Yes, and they still just vanish today, don’t they? Tragic but happens all the time. Thank you Bill. You’re right, London’s place names speak of sometimes obscure, long forgotten histories and happenings. It can be a confusing place to navigate with its warren of streets (so much harder than an American city,with their grid layouts), but I like the illogical jumble that many British cities have. It speaks of an organic growth, the past laid out in the roads. Thanks for reading
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Yes to illogical jumbles, here’s to that…from Colmar France, our apartment and Alsatian red.
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Dear Lynn,
I could hear the voices and see the ladies. Love the descriptions. Captured my interest. Would love to read more. Beautifully done.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Thank you so much Rochelle. A lovely comment, thank you
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This is a story that sticks.
and as noted – I read walt’s comment and wow – was that detailed – hm
anyhow, my two favorite parts here – of this dense story
were:
“though not yet old enough to be mine…”
gives us a little narrator tidbit
and
“crumbling straw hat”
not always a big deal to use adjectives – but that single adjective
crumbling
added much for me
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Thanks so much! Yes, the odd adjective can do no harm, just as long as we don’t over use them 🙂 Thank you so much for the thoughtful comment
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The rhythm of this piece is beautiful. I loved it.
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Thanks so much 🙂
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Beautifully done! Loved the imagery.
Susan A Eames at
Travel, Fiction and Photos
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Thank you Susan 🙂
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Lovely description of Ninny
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Thank you Neil 🙂
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Great character description. I fear we won’t see Ninny again.
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I fear you’re right. She may well be floating down the Thames as we speak
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What makes this story for me is the specificity of the descriptions. Not just a flower but a silk rose; not a leathery face but one like a patch of dried chamois leather. Excellent wordsmithing, Lynn!
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Thank you so much Penny. What a lovely comment 🙂
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I could smell greasy smoke from fireplaces, hear the clip-clop of horse hooves on stone and Ninny saying, “Need a flower for a special girl, Lovely?” You took me to the seedy side of the world of Dickens and Holmes and perhaps Jack-the-Ripper. Well done, my dear, well done.
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Ah, thanks so much Lish. You have to love the seedy side of the 19th century. There’s a wonderful book called The Crimson Petal and the White by Michel Faber. It’s set in 19th century London and its focus is a prostitute called Sugar and follows her rise to fame and fortune. For the feel of seedy Victorian London, I doubt there’s any can beat it. Thank you so much for your kind comment 🙂
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Oh, I’ve read that! It is such a good book. In fact, it’s right next to me here on the writing desk. I like the P.O.V. and the present tense. We rented the movie from the library. They took on an enormous project and did a pretty good job.
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Oh, I’m so glad you know it! Yes, both book and adaptation were terrific. I loved his use of language, that slow unwind at the opening of the book where we discover Sugar’s London through the POVs of others of that lowly status – just extraordinary. I think I leant my copy to someone and never got it back – regretting it now! 🙂
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Loved the 19th century feel to all that rich description, and what a great ending, to pull it back to the speaker, and what the answer implies. Well done!
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Thank you so much Joy 🙂
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Tjanks for writing about Ninny, dear Lynn. Such brilliant descriptions, I could almost see her sitting there at the corner. And selling flowers. You are a word-magician, Lynn, nothing less.
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Ah, thank you Moon! What a wonderful and kind comment. I’m glad she came to life for you. It’s hard not to think of characters as having a little life of their own sometimes and Ninny is one of these. Thank you for reading
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My pleasure, dear Lynn.🙂
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🙂
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The mystery begins…let’s call Sherlock.
Mine: https://kindredspirit23.wordpress.com/2017/12/14/lighting-the-way/
Scott
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Thanks for reading Scott
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Such powerfully descriptive imagery. Evocative. I could almost see Ninny standing there. Great stuff!
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Thanks so much! And thank you for reading
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You’ve painted a very vivid picture of Ninny and her life. Nice one!
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Thanks very much. And thank you for reading
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Great voice – cruelly unconcerned, and loved the ‘chamois leather’. I’ll never look at one the same way again.
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Thank you so much Sandra! I remember my dad having a chamois (always pronounced shammy as I recall) to clean his car windows. I remember it feeling like card when dry, but when wet is was very … fleshy.
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I know exactly what you mean. I would call it slimy.
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Yes! Hideous things. I do hope they’re not for sale anymore.
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Wonderfully descriptive. It was like listening to a Londoner of old – or a scene from East Enders!
Click to read my FriFic!
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I’ll take the first option if you don’t mind! Thank you Keith 🙂
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Those were definitely not the times to live in if you were poor. Loved your take Lynn
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Thank you Bryan! Yes, very true. How many lives were painful, miserable and short. Unimaginable. Thank you for reading
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You took me there–I could see the people. Well done.
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Thank you so much 🙂
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Beautifully written! I loved the short sentence structure. Captivating.
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Thank you so much! I think I may just write about Ninny again. You’re very kind.
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Very descriptive. The poor are invisible been while they’re alive.
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Very true, Christine – then, now and always. Thank you for reading. Read your post about blocks of text – couldn’t agree more! Nothing more off putting than a ‘wall of text’ as you so wonderfully describe it.
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I enjoyed the way you told this story as it allowed me to develope a wider plot,
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Thank you Michael. So glad it worked for you – I’ve been trying to think of Ninny’s back story, trying to work out who would miss her, who’s asking the questions about her. I’ll think on.
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Beautiful writing. You are so good when it comes such descriptive proses i have always loved your stories. They carry so much depth in them and are like the iceberg, revealing far more in one’s mind that the limited number of words in which they are stitched. Wonderful, Lynn. .
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Ah, thank you so much, Neel! What a truly lovely comment – you’ve made me blush with pleasure. Sorry it’s taken me so long to reply – I’ve been very busy at work.
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There are lot of people we encounter in our life that we remember but do not miss once they go away. That’s how life works eh? As the ‘Kansas’ song reminds us ‘All we are is dust in the wind.’
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‘Face like a patch of dried chamois leather’ love the descriptions in this Lynn – very original.
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Ah, thank you Louise. Very lovely of you 🙂
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My dear, this is perfection!
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Thank you so much, that’s really lovely of you 🙂
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I like the style of this – very effective.
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Thanks so much Claire 🙂
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Love all sketch of character… and the hints on the persons she shared he life with.
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Thanks so much, Bjorn 🙂
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Wonderful descriptions Lynn.
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Thanks so much 🙂
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Great stuff, Lynn. Loved the descriptions in this and the voice
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Thank you so much, Michael. You’re very kind 🙂
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Lovely story, Lynn. Great character descriptions. This character reminds me of the old lady feeding the birds in the Mary Poppins movie. Good writing.
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Ah, thank you, Suzanne. And thanks for the kind comparison, lovely of you
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Well done. Nice character.
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Thank you 🙂
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Beautifully written.
“People just vanish”… it got me thinking. Your story isn’t about the homeless, so it’s not relevant, yet I feel moved to say it. We often think that rough sleepers and suchlike have no-one to mourn their passing, but it’s rarely true. Although addiction may take the edge off pain, when one of that community dies, the rest of the community grieves the loss, and it brings home to them their own mortality. Also, many of them still have family who love them, and for them it is particularly heartbreaking to know that the lost sheep will never return.
Maybe I’m just trying to nudge you into writing stories I can’t commit to print, since happiness has taken away my creativity 🙂
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No, it’s not exactly about homelessness, though it is about street people, so I can see the similarities. the vulnerabilities they all survive under. A sense of community comes through shared hardships and both groups have that. Homelessness is an ever present subject these days – painfuly unavoidable – so I’m sure my brain will wander towards writing on the subject. x
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I noticed massive piles of sleeping bags and blankets in Bristol city centre. Do the homeless sleep in groups? It would make sense, both for warmth and safety – although lazy bladders might pose a problem in some cases.
In Barnstaple they sleep in ones and twos, with less to keep them warm, from what I can see.
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It seems to depend, you do see some folk gathering together, though one homeless guy we’ve got to know a bit (an ex serviceman I think) seems to want to avoid other homeless folk as he sees them as trouble. But then he’s on methadone, so maybe it’s easier for him to stay away from potential temptation on his own? And there are so many rough sleepers now, I guess they clump together in the better, more sheltered doorways.
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It’s hard on the streets for the addicts in recovery. If he’s also an ex serviceman, that makes it harder still. They can have trouble integrating with other rough sleepers, as they see themselves as being in a different class
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I think he’s better off than some. He speaks and swears to himself a lot, so scares some people, but when you get talking to him, he’s really very pleasant and polite and always grateful if you buy him a cup of tea or whatever. But, yes, I can see servicemen probably themselves apart from others.
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