CrawfordB1213

It dripped down the alabaster smoothness of her arm, the dark crimson appearing to be like red paint spilled on the snow. She bit her tongue to hold back a whimper as the man above her laughed down. She held her breath and he hit her again, telling her how much he loved her and how beautiful she was. Tears spilled down her porcelain cheeks. Just that last month had her family told her that she looked like a doll. the man she used to love so much leaned down and whispered in his voice that was laced with murder. With sabotage, depression, anarchy, and death dared to whisper in her ear as she held back screams, "**My beautiful little Girl**."

=(A lonely girl named Ethel) wants (to be loved) because (she's lonely and hurt and scared), but (the man she loves might not be the prince charming she had thought.)=

Ms. Draper’s Jams By Bethanie Crawford  Ethel sat quietly in her great aunt Cecil’s summer home in rural yet mountainous Pennsylvania. She sat at an ancient window seat in the Victorian styled home, re-reading The Picture of Dorian Gray. Her parents had shipped her off the month before for being a reckless anarchist. Of course she thought this was a preposterous accusation because of all things she was at least an ingenious anarchist. Ethel, to be frank, felt robbed of a better title. When they confronted her on the fact she smeared on blue eye shadow (in her defense it is a classic look) and red lipstick and roused the school to a rally supporting gay rights and freedom of religion, and to free today’s society of the fascist patterns of what we would call a democratic republic. All in all, her bible thumbing parents disagreed with her “outlandish” views and he was sent to stay with her Grandmother’s sister, Cecil. So there Ethel sat, as lonely and angry as a person could be, staring out a stupid window overlooking stupid Pennsylvania, watching as stupid rain fell, stupidly. All in all Ethel’s mood was rather sour. She flopped her book down with a thud, after properly book marking of course. She stood, pulled up her knee socks, tightened her hair ribbon, and brushed off her dress. She skipped down the prehistoric stairs and straight out into the rain, ignoring her Aunt Cecil’s protests that she would catch a cold. Ethel was a ruthless warrior; she didn’t concern herself with colds. She dashed through the yard and over to the town square, which essentially consisted of a tavern, a library, an antique shop, a candy store, and thrift store. She skipped her sixteen year old self into the thrift store. Her quarters jingled in her pocket as she entered the door, her hair dripping as the bell chimed. The town of Kittanning, Pennsylvania was an old mining town. So naturally, there were lots of miners. Ethel made her way across the thrift store to the back, where she could find Ms. Draper’s famous jam. She was feeling like some blackberry but was considering strawberry. Ethel loved jam, but she loves the painted jars they came in more. Ms. Draper loved to paint, so she hand painted every jar. Ethel already had bought five jars within the past two weeks. She shuffled through the aisles; her Mary Jane’s slipping a bit on the smooth tile. She reached up to the top to investigate a new flavor of orange marmalade, stretching up on her tip toes she clambered about a few moments, in desperate attempt of fetching the beautiful stained glass of the exotic jam. A miner to her left chuckled at her and she stuck out her tongue and continued her attempts. “Don’t hurt yourself now,” he said, his deep voice echoing off the jar’s a bit. It was almost unsettling how smooth it sounded yet also rough from the coal inhalation. Ethel shook her dark curls and continued her pursuit, reaching and stretching up farther and farther. Finally her fingers graced the colorful jar and she released a triumphant “Ha!” She then kept prodding the jam, trying to get a firm grasp on it. Her eyes widened as it fell down the three shelves above her head, the stained green of the glass toppling a tad as it hit her head with a victorious thud. “Okay pretty pretty, time to wake up now,” The man from before whispered to Ethel, brushing her hair back gently. Ethel sat straight up and slapped the man square across the face. “What the hell was that for?” He asked angrily, gripping his cheek with his soot covered hand. “You startled me,” Ethel replied sweetly, “Where are we?” Ethel asked even though she knew the answer and why she was there. “Outside the store,” He said across from her on the bench to the left of the front door to the store. Ethel surveyed the scene, using her adventurous techniques. It was still raining and they were outside the store. She was a natural Sherlock Holmes. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">“I’m Michael, sorry,” he stretched out a hand, which Ethel shook gently. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Ethel,” said Ethel. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">She was suddenly startled by how attractive this miner actually was, from his sparkling brown eyes to his white teeth that were a startling contrast against the black coal dust on his face. His jaw line was sharp and his hair was a dark curly mess. Ethel blushed almost immediately. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">“Well how about we get some food in us, Ethel, I'm starved,” He rose and helped Ethel to her feet as they walked to the tavern, discussing books and politics and anarchist type things. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">The two found that they had rather much in common with the other, from favourite sodas to favourite aspects of the Hindu god Brahman (Ganesh). After they ate a hearty lunch of cream sodas and grilled cheeses, they skipped over to the rushing creek, where they bathed. Michael was even more beautiful without all of the coal dust. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">When the day was finally over Michael walked Ethel home; promising to meet her the same time the next day, at the same place. Aunt Cecil was rather suspicious of where the wild adventurer had gone all day but believed the small lie of exploring. Michael didn't want to complicate things by telling people about their secret days together. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">On the third day Michael said that he loved Ethel and on the forty seventh day he proposed; and for some crazed and anarchist reason, Ethel believed him. Ethel used the same sorry excuse every morning and every evening. She was helping Ms. Draper paint her jam jars. So Great Aunt Cecil, though saying nothing of her suspicions, allowed her great niece to frolic off to meet what Ethel had envisioned was the man of her dreams. Cecil, however, was a very smart old woman, and she began to investigate a tad on her own. From the Thrift Store clerk she learned of the man Ethel thought she loved, from the librarian where they held their secret meetings, and from the oldest coal miner of them all, Carlson Delaware, who this young man really was. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">It had been just over two months of their secretly, mysteriously, fabulously romantic relationship had begun, that Ethel was invited to Michael’s home. Ethel was more excited than a young anarchist who had found love could have been, she made sure her curls were properly placed, the make shift engagement ring from the antique shop was properly polished, and that she was wearing her favourite dress; black with an old fashioned rounded white collar. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">She snuck out that night at exactly nine o’clock, unable to watch the clock mock her any longer. She believed she had been very sly and secretive about it but Great Aunt Cecil was watching from the ancient French doors of her bedroom. Ethel gleefully skipped through the damp grass of the lawn, onto the main dirt road of the town, all the way to the bench in front of the thrift store, where her attractive savior waited. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Ethel jumped straight into his arms, strong from mining. She giggled as he told her how beautiful she was and how much he loved her. They kissed deeply and Ethel ended it with a smile and peck, jumping down and grasping his hand. Michael led her to his old truck, covered from bumper to bumper with coal dust. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">He opened the door for her, and she delicately stepped in, her excitement showing in her quick and frantic motions. Michael stepped into the driver’s side and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and leaned in for a kiss, which Ethel happily gave. They exchanged “I love you”’s and Ethel told him how happy she was. How she was so excited to marry him and escape everything. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Michael smiled; a smile that would send the fear of God into the core of your bones. Ethel retracted immediately, backing into the passenger door and huddling there, asking him what was wrong. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">“My beautiful little girl,” Michael said as he grabbed her neck and jerked it towards him, stuffing a foul smelling and damp rag into her mouth. Ethel saw two of him as tears fell out of her eyes before she only saw the veil of black that he had intended for her all along, since the moment he had seen her skipping to the back of the store. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Ethel awoke tied to a bed and her sides ached. Michael was standing beside her. She begged him to let her go that she wouldn’t tell anyone, that everything would be fine, that she wanted this, it was all her fault, just let her go. Michael smiled and shook his head sadly. He kissed Ethel on her forehead and raised the gun. <span style="background-color: #ffffff; color: #222222; font-family: 'Times New Roman',serif; font-size: 12pt;">Ethel’s shell of a body wasn’t found until the following week, when her Great Aunt Cecil and the sheriff from the neighboring town found the blood outside of the coal miner’s lounge, a hundred and ten feet underground, where no one could hear her scream.