Central Park Party

I took a late afternoon nap later that day. Mistress Snow said I was excused from attending to her in the garden when she saw how dizzy I had become becauseof the heat.

She also retired inside because she was afraid that she might get freckles. I ignored her comment, as I had a fine spattering of freckles across the bridge of my nose and across my cheekbones.

I hate them, naturally. It's not beautiful to have freckles. The perfect, doll like girls in their huge frocks and with their handsome chaperones on their way to yet another lavish party all had immaculate porceline skin.

Having the late afternoon nap turned out to be a bad idea, as it resulted in a dream.

This dream was not vivid, or obvious. It was confusing, swirls of colours and sounds and faces.

James, Gabe, Mary, their faces whirled in and out of my fevered mind as I tossed in bed. The note, mysterious and also a little ominous at the same time.

A Central Park Party had sounded grand, very exciting. Perhaps there would be rich people there, Mary had said eagerly when I told her.

Perhaps not, I thought now. What if it was just a trick, a game. A nasty game at that.

A game on the maid girl. Oh, what a laugh.

Central Park Party.

What a joke.

The End

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