Hey everyone, recently I wrote a ghost story especially for you, my blogging community. It’s about haunted wedding dresses – that sounds strange, doesn’t it?
I think you will really enjoy it – I pictured you while I was writing it! It’s a bit longer than usual for me, so I’m going to post it in sections. Would love to hear any thoughts you have on the tale! Do you ever find yourself writing a blog post for some particular members of your community?
Here is a preview (first paragraph+):
Leila worked among the wedding dresses. Not in the front where the ecstatic anticipation of soon-to-be brides slopped into the fitting room and flew about the brightly shimmery racks of pearled and satined garments. Not in the musky design studio rooms where new creations were born of pencil and vellum, of draping lace and taffeta. Leila worked in the back.
Leila did all the bridal alterations. It should have been a job of glamour. She held the fluffy pleats and stiff gay bodices in her calloused and needle-lined hands, placing them tautly on the dressmaker forms drawn from an army of forms lined up at the back of the workroom like so many soldiers in the service of love. She worked diligently with the dress at hand, before her on her lap, intimate as a lover’s embrace or the happiness of a child. But this was not a task of glamour and glitz. This was a work of duty. Duty to the orders, to the designers, to the brides who had chosen and purchased their dresses for the day of their dreams.
For Leila it was work she dreaded. She dreaded it with all her being.
It was the dresses. It was the way they behaved. Or – misbehaved.
(to be continued!)