So in 2014, I posted the original vignette “The Landlady”. And then this year I ended up revising it substantially, and I thought it turned out pretty well, so I’m going to post it here to end my 2-week blog streak. I will probably take the first version down at some point, just to streamline the bibliography page, but for now they’re both here.
(I enjoyed the microblogging, but every day seemed a bit too much. I think I may switch to once a week, maybe twice a week. It bears thinking about.)
And so …
This is a story (please note the “read more” button!) about the Teachout sisters, links to whose other adventures can be found in my full bibliography. I think this can stand alone, but it wouldn’t be a bad idea to go and read the others, as well. For reasons. (It’s cool. I’ll wait.)
by: Laura E. Price
“You seen Mrs. Warram lately?” Gwen asked Corwyn.
Corwyn had not, though her lack of memory might have had something to do with her envelopment within a sulfurous cloud of stench from the poultice the witch of Cobbler’s Hill had sold them to help heal up her ankle. She had said ankle elevated on the back of their sofa in a most unladylike fashion. “Oughtn’t we be happy the old harpy ain’t after us for rent four days early?” she asked.
“That’s why I think something ain’t right,” Gwen said grimly.
“Tell me you ain’t going down there to pound on her door because she’s not making you mad enough to spit, Gwen.”
“Dear god no,” Gwen said, startled. “It’s just odd, is all.”
The one thing Corwyn knew–clear as a bell in the storm of bruises and outrage and, though she refused to admit it, furious sadness that raged in her those first few weeks after she and her sister left the patronage of Mrs. Simcote–was that she did not want to live on the goddamned street again.