FGS2014 San Antonio

Presenting: Nostalgia! (Part 2) #FGS2014


Friday evening, I had to work late. I normally work day shifts on Fridays (so not to miss #genchat), but some unforeseen situations created a viable solution that only I could provide … hence a closing shift.

It was after ten o’clock when I walked through the door. Hungry, tired and sopping wet.

As I prepared to announce my arrival, after shucking my soggy boots, I noticed one body too many in my living room.

MiLady and Paige were talking to unknown female that I could only see from the back.

I quickly reasoned that this young woman was another Gothic friend of Paige’s due to her dark, yet alluring, appearance. She was tall like Morticia Adams with straight black hair that reached almost to the floor! And this young woman’s apparel was equally eye-opening. She wore a dark crimson corset tied with bright-red ribbon. At her waist, a skirt in matching fabric stopped just above her knees. Strangely, there was not a hemmed seam to her dress; what should have been pleats clung like ivy trails to her lithe form.

A fine black lace draped over this unique garment, also to her knees, and covered her bare arms.

Calf-high boots completed her stunning appearance and were laced with matching red ribbon tied at the back and —

[Are those eight-inch stiletto heels?!? I asked myself as I tilted my head sideways to better judge the spike length she was balancing upon.].

MiLady saw my strange head movement and nodded curtly. My eyes widened in silent reply, quickly followed by a shake of my head. I had to apologize for all my staring.

“Sorry, Paige,” I called out sincerely, “I didn’t know one of your friends was visiting.”

“That’s okay,” Paige replied with a big smile.

Paige’s mystery friend giggled.

“Good evening, Dearie,” I announced to the young lady as she slowly turned around. “I’m Paige’s step-father, but you can call me …”

“RABBIT!” an all-too-familiar voice screeched with out-stretched arms, charging forward.

Wide-eyed and caught off-guard, her arms collected and drew me into her chest. I couldn’t breathe!

FGS2014

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When I finally regained consciousness, the Dark Lady was bouncing in front of me, beaming proudly.

“Do you really like it, Rabbit?” she asked like a giddy school girl, as she twirled in slow circles to give me her total look.

The red corset quickly drew one’s attention to her fashion model measurements. The fine black lace that draped over her shoulders, left her neck bare to showcase a large red oval stone upon a thick, black silky ribbon.

Black eyeshadow and eyeliner accented her already dark eyes. Those same eyes that could pierce sharply through you like knives were capable of so much more — they now looked like they could burn!

Her lipstick was shiny, slick, and red … VERY red!

“Rabbit? Rabbit!” she called, waving a hand up and down before my frozen face.

“He’s speechless, Gia,” MiLady countered as my blank expression was still evident of a massive shock.

“Oh,” the strange apparition, that sounded so much like my Dear Olde Banshee, whimpered. “Is that bad?”

“You’ve just surprised him,” Paige chimed in. “It’s like you are a whole new person, he’s just met, and that’s a big adjustment.”

“Ohh,” she repeated slowly, then she paused. “No, that’s good!”

My mind fog finally cleared about twenty minutes after the black apparition had rushed upstairs.

“Column.”

“What is it, Dear’st?” my favourite girl asked, having been sitting at my side the entire time since my attack.

“Column!”

MiLady grabbed the cordless phone, turned it on and placed it in my hand.

“You need to call your Mom?” she asked.

“No.” I answered, shutting off the phone and locking eyes with her. “Call. Them.”

“Oh,” my girl said after a moment. “Do you have their numbers?”

I shook my head.

“Text them, Dear’st,” MiLady urged. “Warn them THAT way! You might not reach them all, but …”

“It will be another Alamo,” I whimpered as my girl looked at me wide-eyed.

All my fears were realized: Nostalgia was finally ready for her genealogical trip to Texas

And no one will survive her. (Not even “her Thomas.”).

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