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Old 7th Jan 2009, 9:06 PM DefaultLucille #1
craziidaisii
Original Poster

Lab Assistant

Join Date: Mar 2008
Posts: 72


This is the beginning of a story my friend wrote. We were just wondering about feedback. Any changes or criticism is greatly appreciated!

Lucille
By: Laura (Not me)


Preface

"Class. I never really knew the meaning of my name. Broadway always seemed to sparkle it though. The bright luminescent bulbs shone over the city saying "Lucille Class as Lady Night" Ha. Now it seems only like yesterday. I was an actress, a singer, and a dancer. I was known for being a star. I had men, money, and a whole lot a fame. I could be a tramp and a bit of a slut, but I was known for being the one star on Broadway who was, in fact, the best. I had a sparkle in my eyes and a kick ass smile. I gave autographs and had diamonds on every finger. I sang every song there ever was to sing, and other performers would be ashamed to be in my presence. I was everything the world wanted. I was sexy, scandalous and sour. I always was that way and no one ever mentioned it. I was never poor and had a hell of a career. I drank, partied and cursed at the press. Sure I was a show-off but, that's who I was. Wasn't it? "Lucille Class: The mod girl for generations" I thought my fame would never go away. I was seventeen and had the world in my palm, what more could I need? According to my standards though, a whole lot more."





Chapter 1. The Music of Broadway



Skanky dresses, overdone makeup, the lights, the noise, the music. Broadway. I live to hear its heart beat. Every show the room becomes alive and I am not an actress any more. I dissolve into the "clicks" and the "clacks" of heels stomping madly on the stage. Then at the end of the performance, you can even hear the audience rise. Thousands of people shouting your name and applauding till midnight as you bow with professionalism with not a care in the world. This is what I live for. Broadway.

Lucille's dress flew violently around her ankles, twisting and turning at every knee bend with the beat of the music. “Bend, Clap, Snip, Snap, Clap, Clack, Band, Tip, Tap, Toe, Snip, Snap.” The lights blur your vision and all you can see is yourself performing on the stage. Alone. Then, once you are alone no one can stop you. The spotlight pours down on you like hail. Your skin tingles. The room vibrates. Your heart pounds so loud, you swear the whole city can hear it. I've never known anyone who had experienced the feeling I had. It struck you like a lightning blot in the middle of the street, and no one, no one, could take that away from you. Lucille danced on all through the night. She was dripping sweat, dehydrated, and radiant. Her long curly red locks danced around her shoulders, continuing to marvel the invisible audience. The heels on Lucille's shoes were worn down and torn, and were wearing down with every step she took. The layers of sequined fabric sparkled with color as her ankles spun and stopped without frequency. Some once told me that Broadway was just a stupid fantasy. The music. The lights. It captured you and held you in her arms. She sang to you and danced for you, just to make you smile. Then, slowly but surely, she faded away, and then everything well,…it meant nothing. “Why waste time in a useless fantasy, when there is actually reality?!” someone once told Lucille, but she spat in their face. There was something that was in Broadway. Something that was more than a passion, more than a career. Then Lucille stopped. It was the first time in hours that she had breathed. The silence was unbearable. Then someone screamed and she collapsed.

“Her pulse is racing, she needs a doctor,…fast! Move people!” Lucille awoke to clashing and dreaded she could hear anything at all. There were lights flickering and she had a slight feeling of nausea. The room was spinning and people from a hospital were shining lights in her eyes saying “Lucille, what year is this?" or "Lucille, how old are you?" But they were fading. The nurse was shouting "We're losing her!” she slapped Lucille's face “She's crashing! She needs help! Lucille! Lucille!” Then Lucille drifted into unconsciousness"

*Snap! Click! Snap!* When I first woke up there were dozens of shots being taken of me lying in a partly translucent hospital gown and laying in a bed controlled by a remote. Obviously these people were reckless paparazzi who were trying to earn their minute of fame. “Come on Princess! Give a smile Sweetheart!" the yelled mocking her. Lucille flashed a killer grin and cursed them. Then there was a knock on the door and a pair of dark red stilettos emerged from behind the flashing doorway. Then a familiar face hidden behind thick locks of red hair held up by three small pins. Ice cold hazel eyes. Thin pink lips with a crooked smirk across them. Her mother. “Ha! You've really outdone yourself this time, Lucille! All this fake crap of collapsing at one o'clock in the morning! Although, nobody knows you like I do.” She pulled out a lighter and lit a cigarette. “I came up here from New Hampshire to see you sitting in a hospital bed earning your way to total fame? Yes, of course that's it! Little Miss Class needs her daily shot in the paper. They say a picture is worth a thousand words, with your luck you'll have twenty. So what finally made ya decide this trick? Or did my little precious angel really have a wittle bit of a scare?” Cynthia. Cynthia Class. Her curse. Her nightmare.

Her mother. Lucille bit her tongue and prayed her temper was gone, yet after a night with needles being stuck in her skin for observation, she thought, “I deserve to have a little fun.” She grinned and said “Why mother, I never knew you cared. Was is finally that you got fed up with New Hampshire? Or did you want to come here to wreck my career and drink? Hmm? That's what I though. After all, last time you came to visit me you ended up drinking to many shots and nearly shooting me. Yet, I suppose we both know each other better than anybody.”

Cynthia took a deep breath in then let a trail of smoke escape from her mouth. She leaned in close to Lucille and whispered

"I advise you to be careful Lucille. Venturing into deep waters is often hard to find a way out, some even end up drowning."

Then it was quiet and all you could hear was the sound of stiletto's clacking on the floor, vanishing from the concealed hospital room. Then the intercom above the scanner beeped.

*Beep!* "Lucille, Dr. Capshaw will be with you in five minutes."

But Lucille didn't want to wait for five minutes, is a matter of fact she couldn't wait at all. The paparazzi was still crowding the room and yelling rude comments. Lucille wouldn't wait any longer. She pulled the needle out of her arm and pulled back the cover on her bed. Her bare feet were so completely and utterly shocked by the coldness of the floor, she jumped. Then strutted towards the bathroom in her room. "Looking glamorous of course." she thought. The she closed the bathroom door and said, "This is it."

Then Lucille screamed. The lights turned off and the door's latch locked.

There was a quick sharp breathing sailing down her hospital gown. The hairs under her thick hair stood up. A hand gently stoked her cheek. Lucille sucked in too much air and nearly choked.

"I know what you did and I know who you are."

"You don't know anything."

"Then what was with the sudden collapse the night before? Why were you the only one there? Who was it who called 911? Surely not the night janitor, he'd locked up hours ago. That mask will be revealed soon, princess, and there's no where you can hide."

Lucille punched the man hard in the gut and screamed "Help! Help! Please! Anyone! Can't anyone hear me? Help!!!"

Then she heard the trigger of a gun click.

Lucille felt a wisp of wind clash into her. She screamed. Her hand trailed down to find bright red blood racing down her hips and her legs. Her knees locked and her legs grew numb. Lucille pounded on the door one last time. Then slid down the doorway and drifted into unconsciousness.
Old 23rd Jan 2009, 4:34 AM #2
craziidaisii
Original Poster

Lab Assistant

Join Date: Mar 2008
Posts: 72


Chapter 2. Collapse.

"The mask will soon be revealed princess, and there's nowhere you can hide."

Lucille mouth opened and gasped. She could hardly breathe and was struggling for air. Her hands were sweaty and were slipping fast on the cold tile floor. The room was completely dark and Lucille's hand was moist and red from holding her blood covered nightgown. The bullet was embedded inside her skin and Lucille winced. No windows. No light. Lucille suspected she would die. She found no comfort in sitting by herself in a dark, lifeless, enclosed area, bleeding to death, but found it amusing thinking of the title the New York Times would put on their front page if she were to die.

"Lucille's Death! Oh My!" or perhaps something a little more serious…

"Lucille, the Broadway girl,…Shot."

Yes, that would surely make the public happy. Lucille shouted, "I'm dying and I won't even be able to figure out if I was even pregnant! What the hell did I ever do to deserve this? Isn't getting pregnant punishment enough? No? Well how about getting shot? I'm practically laying in my death bed and I can't even find out if I have a child!" Lucille shrieked. She yelled at the top of her lungs and cried. She pounded the floor. "Nothing! Nothing! I have never had anything but Broadway and now I don't even deserve my life? Why?" Lucille gasped. "Why?"

Her knees wobbled and knocked together. Lucille pulled madly at her hair and let loads of tears escape from her eyes. They rushed down her pale and sweaty face letting her mascara leave dark and deep stains painted across her cheeks. Lucille was outraged and torn by the bullet suffocated in her skin and perhaps the loss of a child. She slipped quietly towards the floor and wrapped herself in her arms. Lucille didn't want to die. She wanted to sing, and dance and act. Her wails were useless, for they were lost in the walls that almost seemed to cave into her as the time grew.

It was quiet outside. "They must have finally gotten rid of those stupid paparazzi," Lucille thought. Nothing was right though. "Why hasn't anyone come to look for me?!" she yelled. Then Lucille locked up to find that the locked door she had starred helplessly at before was unhinged. Lucille choked back tears and stood up embracing the excruciating pain and let nothing stop her from finding help. The door squeaked and swerved open, the dead cold room stood before her. Nothing moved. The room was in shrieking silence. "Hello?" Lucille called frantically "Please! I need a doctor! Please!" she wailed "It hurts like hell and nobody is going to help me?" Lucille shrieked. "HELP!" She ventured into the hallways with blood racing between her legs and sliding down to the tips of her toes like rain drops. The small and narrow hospital hall were empty. It was almost as if they were mocking her. Then it was as if it was happening all over again. The lights flickered and dimmed down slowly into pure darkness. Over a intercom Lucille heard "I wanted you dead Lucy. Wasn't that bullet enough pain? You should have died in that fire princess."

Lucille spoke clearly with slight sound of fear in her voice and some in the back of her head scared for her life "What the hell are you talking about? I don't know anything about a fire. You are one messed up psycho."
Old 23rd Jan 2009, 5:31 AM #3
alliemarie2323
Field Researcher

Join Date: Jul 2008
Posts: 364


This is really good! I love the word usage and the writing style. Sadly, I have no constructive criticism. I think it was perfect just the way it was. Tell your friend to keep writing, because he/she is awesome.

Just Call Me Allie :)
Old 4th Feb 2009, 1:45 AM
craziidaisii
This message has been deleted by craziidaisii.
Old 4th Feb 2009, 8:35 PM DefaultContinued #4
craziidaisii
Original Poster

Lab Assistant

Join Date: Mar 2008
Posts: 72


"Oh please Lucille! Stop faking you spoiled rich brat! I guess you really are useless. You don't even remember the fire!" The man's voice trailed and left the intercom. Lucille heard the sounds of heavy boots relieving themselves from anxiety of standing in pain. A slight shadow was making its way across the cold stainless tiles of the hospital floor. The boots echoed as he trampled on towards her. Lucille's chest pumped up with air as she inhaled and exhaled with raindrops of sweat trickling down her warm, lavished face. "I heard a gun trigger snap down and flinched, he wasn't going to just kill me, he was going to make me suffer." The vague light shining through a open door was pursuing Lucille to run. Then a second thought crossed her mind. This killer, whoever he may be, wanted her to run. He wanted to chase her. He wanted to make her scared to death and leave no room for escape. An old record from the seventies or eighties was playing a romantic death scene in the background. The melody was just loud enough so that he could hear if she made any instant noise. Then he stopped walking towards her. Lucille's knees locked. Her heart stilled. And then she ran.
Old 17th Feb 2009, 12:48 PM DefaultContinued #5
craziidaisii
Original Poster

Lab Assistant

Join Date: Mar 2008
Posts: 72


Echoing sounds of his gun shooting at her, seconds behind, reminded Lucille that this man was not playing a game. He was psychotic. Which made Lucille run even faster with rage and fright all combined inside her gut. She was running in the dark. Just her. Just him. He wanted to kill her, but Lucille knew once he caught or shot her, whichever way was easier so capture her, he would make sure that she was alive just long enough for him to torture her until she was just barely dead, and then he might decide to kill her, or leave her there to die. Either one was a pleasant ending for him. The bullet in her side was bleeding heavily down her legs now. It soaked through her hospital gown until it was bathed in red. Lucille felt faint and weak, struggling to run. Then she heard something. Something that at points could be louder than anything. Silence. Dead silence. She stopped running. Her feet left vague imprints of footprints that had bled on the floor. Lucille's heart was pounding and in need of water. She was dehydrated and losing strength. She longed for sunlight. Then a cold hard fist, a fist that was chapped, scarred, and ring wearied, struck Lucille hard in the stomach. She collapsed and yelped. Lucille looked up hesitantly, right into the killer's eyes. They were a dark, dark blue. Ice cold with fury. Then a bat rose in his hands. "He's going to beat me to death." Lucille thought. She let a single tear slide down her pale, sweated cheek. He raised the bat. Lucille shouted with every ounce that was in her. "NO! Please No! Don't kill me! No!" Then the bat swung furiously down onto her head, and Lucille let herself frantically disappear into the dark unconsciousness that had become so very familiar.
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