InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "I don't like you. I love you!"

Madison Tanner (metrogingham) wrote in bellumlogs,
@ 2010-01-15 08:18:00

Entry tags:

dorothy, plot: memories

Who: Madison Tanner
What: Memory post!
Where: Outside in the hall on the first floor.
When: Late afternoon after the landlord's post.
Warnings: None yet.
Notes: It's a really short post. The responses will be longer.

Madison, unlike most of the other tenants in building hadn't read the Landlord's post yet, though the police cars and tape didn't go unnoticed by her. Her aunt and uncle didn't care for it and even discussed the possibility of moving. Given their money issues, the topic didn't stay on the table for long. She wouldn't have wanted to leave anyway, there was something about this place she was drawn to, even if the landlord creeped her out immensely.

Returning home from school, she opened their apartment door to her dear sweet little Rex jumping up and down for her...then taking off like a shot away. "Rex!" she cried, racing after him.

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beaute_endormie
2010-01-17 11:25 pm UTC (link)

The apartment is silent. No one is here but you, and you don't make any noise. It's Saturday so no tutors will be here, just your piano instructor at three. You wander around for a while, bored out of your mind. You eat some strawberries to help counter the throbbing loneliness in the bottom of your stomach. You have a nanny that should be here, but her head always hurts on weekend mornings, so you've told her in that sweet, wide-eyed way of yours, that you won't say anything to Grand-mère if she doesn't want to come so early. You really don't want to be giving anybody headaches.

You walk into a bedroom. It's Maman's and it hasn't been used in a couple months, at least. The bed is made up, but there's no dust. You bury yourself in the covers, wrapping yourself in the faint scent of Chanel No. 5. When she's here, she takes you shopping, and for ice cream at Serendipity's, and lets you watch her get ready for grown-up soirees. But she isn't here very often. You take out a few of her magazines and flip through, looking mainly at the pictures even though you can read the French. You recognize a dress in an advertisement, so you slide off the bed and walk to Maman's closet. It's almost as big as your room. It takes a long time to find the dress, but when you do, you can instantly picture how your mother looked when she wore it, and she was so much prettier than the model in the magazine.

You spend the rest of the day playing dress up with the exquisite clothing, and although nothing fits, it's fun, and the fabrics are so soft on your skin, and the different cloths and patterns and colors and shapes feel almost like another language. Maman's language. You hang the clothes up and bring a stack of magazines back to your room, resolving to learn it.

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metrogingham
2010-01-21 12:56 am UTC (link)

She barely sat down before the next one. This one was much different than the first two. The pure happiness the girl felt was so strong, the undertone of loss and pain following. When the girl played dress up, Madison could feel the fabrics swishing around her, and it made her smile, but the tears beginning to form happened not long after.

It was only after listening to the Landlord's post that she realized what was happening.

Memories. Memories that were not hers. Some girl in the building, the poor thing, unwittingly shared her personal moment with a complete stranger. So did the others. She felt sorry and worried. If this girl's memory was being leeched and shared, then what about herself?

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