Lady Miranda Grayson

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As soon as Miranda left the ball she thought that she had finally escaped from all those feigned smiles and ambitious courtiers who had only just one thing in their mind: Marriage! How she hated this word and how relieved she felt when her mother’s attention shifted towards her younger sister! After the fatal break of her engagement with the Duke of Ferrara, she lost any interest in men. Her heart was broken into million pieces when the news of his tragic end arrived. Her family was more than supportive on her grief, but since she was still a flower of extraordinary beauty they tried to find other suitable suitors. However, their efforts went in vain, for Miranda rejected them all. She had given her heart to the charming Alfonso and she wasn’t willing to take it back.

She walked towards the family carriage steadily, thinking that her salvation was only a few steps away. She would return to her room, get rid of that suffocating dress and dream of her beloved once again. The coachman opened the door and helped Miranda to step in. She felt somehow strange that moment, as if… No, It couldn’t be! The darkened carriage became one with the darkness of the night and got lost in the woods.

Suddenly, she heard a whispering from a familiar voice that made her face to pale and her blood to freeze. She examined the seats with her gloved hands, but touched no human body. Trying to calm herself, she heard another whispering more intense than before. She was terrified. She started calling the coachman to stop. Covered with his black coat he kept leading the carriage deeply into the dead night. Miranda tried to open the door, but it was locked. Frightened to death, she was hitting the carriage with both hands and screaming for help.

After a while, the carriage stopped abruptly and the door opened. The coachman proposed his hand to help Miranda descend, but she didn’t move. Then, he took off his hat and looked her straight in the eyes. Under the moonlight, Miranda’s scared eyes were able to see his face. He bowed and said: “My duchess…”

Living In Between

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Hard to understand, bad tempered and moody, she was often left alone. In those lonely hours she fought against her own demons. Sometimes she was celebrating the triumph of hope and love over the defeated misery and rejection. Sometimes she was mourning bitterly over the corpse of her fallen dreams. The resolution she was looking for was miles – maybe years – away. Until then she lived her life in between: not yet a woman, not just a girl.

Captured in the tower of doubts and uncertainty, she couldn’t long for a happy ending. No prince was able to save her, no spell could reach her, for she was already cursed to live in between: not yet a bird free, not just in cage. Why, although the door of freedom was wide open, her wings were yet too small to fly away.

So, she stayed in safety. Shown well how to move along the chess board, she achieved some great victories. However, she found no thrill in playing by the book, because she somehow felt that the praises did not totally belong to her. Once again, she was living in between: not yet a leader, not just a follower. She wanted to lead her moves towards success, but she was often following the way to mediocrity.

Eventually, she took refuge in poetry to protect her thought from the malicious passage of time. She could finally speak her mind with no constraints and give her soul to her new born creations. She could fashion them the way she wanted or let them be of free nature, she could feed them with praises or scorn them. Actually, she could do whatever she liked, living still though in between: not yet a poet, not just an amateur. Her unacknowledged efforts did not prevent her from bearing new ideas.

And now, here she is: lost somewhere in between the waves of imagination, hooked around a broken pen, floating on a piece of paper. Where to go? What to expect? She cannot say with certainty, because she lived her whole life being in between: not still a girl, not just a woman.

To Sonnet 18

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Shall I compare thee to a winter’s day?
Thou art much colder and more colorless:
Rough winds thy lips than songs to me do play,
And winter’s lease hath proof to be endless;
Sometime too cold the sleeping beauties art,
And often art their corse of frozen leaves;
And every bit appeareth in their heart,
By chance or nature’s changing course not lives.
But thy internal winter shall not end,
Nor lose possession of that freeze thou ow’st;
Nor shall sun his bright shines in thee once send,
When in death’s shade art thou hence still and grow’st:
So long as I can breathe or I can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

Visiting Eliza

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“Mrs Ferdison? Mr Stewart Gayles would like to see you”

Eliza cleared her glasses and nodded indifferently to let him in. She kept staring at the paper pile that waited for her signature with despair, as if she was unconsciously asking herself “when am I going to finish up with all these?” Preoccupied with her inner thoughts, she hardly noticed that a man had entered the room.

“Oh my Gosh! Liz! It is you!” Stewart was very happily surprised to meet her again. However, Eliza felt somehow annoyed by his unreasonable intimacy.

“Excuse me? I’m Mrs Ferdison to you, Mr…” She couldn’t even remember his name.

“Yeah, right. Whatever. Oh, Liz you haven’t changed at all!” said he contently.

“Haven’t I? That’s interesting.” she replied abstracted, still trying to remember his name.

“Of course you haven’t. Gee, I was told that you were teaching here, but this? I mean, look at you! “Mrs Nerdison”, the principal of Green Valley’s High School! Wow!”

“What? I’m sorry, but are we supposed to know each other?”

“Come on! You can’t be serious. You are kidding me, right?”

“Mr Gayles” she finally remembered it “do I look to you funny?”

“Why, no…”

“Or maybe you think that I have no other business to do than fooling around.”

“Of course, not. But…”

“Well, instead of insulting me or playing childish games, please come directly to the point of your visit.”

“I see. You are still mad at me. I just thought that after all these years… I mean, we are grown ups now.”

“Mr Gayles, I’m out of patience and time. I’m afraid you have to go. I would gladly escort you to the door, but you see I have this tiny problem with my legs. They don’t obey me, since that accident…”

“Oh my Gosh! Liz, you are sitting on a wheel-chair!”

“Good point, Mr Gayles. Are you always so observant?”

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. It was the desk. I couldn’t see. I’m so sorry…”

“No, Mr Gayles. I am sorry. I’m totally run out of time and you have to leave.”

“Oh, ok. Maybe I’ll pass by tomorrow.”

“Or never.” she murmured “Goodbye Mr Gayles.”

“Goodbye Liz.”

Stewart left puzzled and sad. He certainly didn’t see that coming. “Liz is on a wheel-chair” he kept telling to himself all along the school corridor.

Eliza approached the window. There he was, slowly walking towards the yard exit. “What an annoying man!” she uttered in relief.

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