Fic: Letters from Ophelia

[FemaleOfTheSpecies]

So here goes..............

Title: Letters from Ophelia
Part: 1
Author: Female Of The Species
Feedback: Yes please, I'm happy to hear ALL feedback since I'm very very very new to this! But I'm a sensitive soul so please be gentle with your harshness!
Rating: Hmm - I don't understand US ratings but if it was the UK then I would say definitely ADULT 18+
Disclaimer: Any resemblance between these characters and any person, alive or dead, fact or fiction, is entirely co-incidental.
Distribution: Can't imagine why anyone would want to, but not without my permission
Setting: England
Summary: Ophelia - 30-something English witch on a journey of self-discovery.
Warning: Contains scenes of a sexual nature and descriptions of witchcraft rituals.



Mid July.

I’m awoken with a jolt, the ringing of the phone intruding the depths of my slumber. I prise my lazy eyes open, my sleep-slack limbs tangle in the cool sheets and I realise with early-morning languidity that I’d never make it in time even if I wanted to. The answer machine clicks into life, my voice echoing around the downstairs hall, telling the caller that ‘Ophelia can’t get to the phone right now, so please leave a message’. I shake my head to rouse myself a little as I listen for the caller to identify themselves. Momentary panic, it might be him….but no, no, it’s Mel – what’s she doing calling at this time? What time is it anyway?

I scrabble for the watch on my bedside table as Mel’s voice drifts gaily up the stairs.

‘Come on ‘lia I know you’re there – stop avoiding this damn phone!’ She pauses expectantly but we both know that I won’t pick the phone up. I never do. ‘Okay then doll, just wanted to make sure you were coming down later, it’s about time you got out a bit more and you did promise! Call me when you can, yes?’

The phone clicks off, machine whirring as the tape rewinds ready to fulfil it’s one duty in life and replay me something I already heard. I screw up my face, peer at my watch. 9.30am. Goodness, it’s been a long time since I slept so late. It’s been a long time since I slept properly at all in fact. Inevitable, really, that when my body finally decided to submit to physical need it did so properly.

Stretching, forcing life into my body, I kick off the sheets and bathe for a moment in the rays of sun pushing their way between the gap in my curtains. It’s warm already, we’re clearly heading for another perfect summer day. I slip my naked body from the bed, retrieve a vest top and shorts from the floor and pull them on before heading downstairs.

‘I know, I know, I know’ I mutter sulkily as I try to ignore the blinking light on the answer machine. The hall floor is cold against my feet and I tiptoe across quickly.

The kitchen is warm, basking in sunlight. The lock on the back door sticks as I fiddle with the key, finally managing to unlock it and pulling the door open to let in some fresh air. Rustling around the compact kitchen I swiftly gather together several items, placing them in a wicker basket, pour some water into a small glass bowl and move outside to the garden, breathing a sigh almost of relief as I feel the grass beneath my feet. This feels better. Much better.

Working silently I carefully lay out a white velvet cloth on the grass, then set down the other items precisely. Water and salt in glass dishes four small tealight candles set to the four quarters. One large fresh taper candle in a wooden holder. A pewter oil burner. From the basket I take three small brown glass bottles, each one no larger than my thumb. One at a time I unscrew the tiny lids and allow three amber drops from each bottle to fall into the glass dish of the oil burner. Oils of neroli, orange and geranium. A little water now from the bowl, and a candle placed underneath. I’m almost there, just an offering now – flowers I think. Glancing around the garden my eyes rest upon the white rose bush in the corner, just starting to fade from glory. I collect four flowers and place them upon the makeshift altar.

Everything is ready now, and calmness descends upon me as I light the candles, shift my body into a lotus position, close my eyes and begin my morning ritual. Not for the first time, I’m thankful I have no neighbours within earshot, the nearest house being 200 yards up the quiet lane.

‘Isis, Astarte, Diane, Hecate, Demeter, Kali, Innana….’ My voice is low and soft, chanting myself into meditation, allowing threads of gossamer to pull me away from everyday reality and into a higher place.

Half an hour later I open my eyes, blinking to adjust to the brightness of the day. Pinching out the candles with my fingertips I reflect for a moment on the day ahead of me. I know I can cope with it, I know I should. It’s been six months now, time for me to move forwards. I’m ready. My thoughts turn to Mel – my oldest and dearest friend. We’ve known each other since we were babies. If for no other reason I should make the effort today for her. Besides, it might just be fun, I might surprise myself.

My mind decided I get up, quickly clear up the grass and carefully put everything away ready for tomorrow. With a spring in my step I head back upstairs for a shower.

[justin]

Wow, that's really good.

I like all the detail you've added to the story. It really helps to bring the setting to life.

Also what you've written so far has definitely piqued my interest about the characters. Ophelia & Mel mainly but also the him that she mentions. I'm also curious about their back stories, such as why Ophelia was so paniced when she thought the caller was "him". I'm guessing he's either her ex boyfriend or husband but there are plenty of other possibilities.

The ritual was interesting to read about.

I'll look forward to seeing the next part

[cantbefredless]

Very good... i would so but in a libary and to tired!! but very good

~Invisble GIrl

[FemaleOfTheSpecies]

Title: Letters from Ophelia
Part: 2
Author: Female Of The Species
Feedback: Yes please, I'm happy to hear ALL feedback since I'm very very very new to this! But I'm a sensitive soul so please be gentle with your harshness!
Rating: Hmm - I don't understand US ratings but if it was the UK then I would say definitely ADULT 18+ (or at least it will be when it gets going. part 2 isn't 18+ by any stretch of the imagination)
Disclaimer: Any resemblance between these characters and any person, alive or dead, fact or fiction, is entirely co-incidental.
Distribution: Can't imagine why anyone would want to, but not without my permission
Setting: England
Summary: Damn I'm rubbish at summaries!
Warning: Will at some stage contain scenes of a sexual nature and descriptions of witchcraft rituals.



It’s just past noon when I arrive at Mel’s. The sun is high in the sky, blazing down from a faultless palate of cornflower blue. Heat haze shimmers from the tarmac and the air is rich with the scent of freshly mown grass. I swing my little car into the driveway, behind a large silver Mercedes with a personalised plate. I recognise it as belonging to Adam, Mel’s boyfriend of many years now. Flicking off the music and hopping out, I open the boot and pull out a large bag, heaving it onto my shoulder before walking towards the door, gravel crunching beneath my feet.

I know there’s no need for me to knock here – Mel’s home is as good as my home and in fact it was – for pretty much all of January she let me hide away from the world, licking my wounds. I push those thoughts from my mind as I ease the door open and call out into the cool hallway

‘Mel? Adam? It’s only me….’

‘Lia!’ Mel bounds from the kitchen towards me, looking as ever, exquisitely glamorous – even with the smudges of flour on her face and gloopy hands. She holds her hands away from my body as she pulls me into a warm half-hug. ‘Doll, I’m so glad you came – I wasn’t sure if you were still hiding out over there. Come and give me a hand with this damn bread, I haven’t got the knack with it that you have….oh and what the hell do you have in that bag – it’s huge? Leave it there, Adam will move it in a minute, it’s far too heavy for little old you…’

Mel keeps up a constant stream of chatter as she drags me into her kitchen. Designer isn’t the word – it’s a high-tech gadget filled expanse of space, a far cry from my tiny, cosy chaotic kitchen. I spot the pile of dough on the worksurface and immediately take over – Mel and I have a great understanding and I know that as hard as she tries (and she does try!) cooking is just not her strong point. I laugh as she rinses her hands under the tap.

‘Ah Lia, I knew you’d sort me out’

Only Mel can get away with calling me Lia – she’s called me that since she first learned to say my name. I watch her bustling about the kitchen as I knead the pliant dough into shape. Mel is tiny, blonde and perfect. Bubbly natural curls match her personality – today they’re piled up on her head, fastened with a tortoiseshell clip. She’s unwrapping packets of every kind of nibble going, putting them out on plates and laying them on a table already groaning with food.

‘Mel, how many people are coming exactly?’

‘Oh not many doll – but you know I don’t like to be caught out where food is concerned’

I laugh – Mel’s appetite belies her tiny frame, she can eat more than most men and frequently does.

‘Did you bring something for the pool, doll? I’ve got a couple of things you can try on if you forgot?’

‘No – I brought one – a bikini can you believe, and I brought something to change into later on too, they’re in the bag out there’ I jerk my head back over my shoulder towards the hall as I finish off kneading the dough, setting it into a tin and covering it with a cloth.

‘Oh good – well go get changed then doll, everyone will be here soon. I’ll get Adam to pour you a drink.

Adams voice floats through from outside ‘I put your bag in your old room upstairs Ophelia….will wine do for now?’

‘Yes thanks’, I call out as finish washing my dough-sticky hands, before wandering up the deeply carpeted stairs to find my old room.

Ten minutes later I’m stood looking at my reflection in the mirror. I’ve adjusted the black bikini at least 6 times already, re-tied the sequinned sarong around my waist and I’m still not sure. I’m just not used to wearing such revealing clothes but it’s hot and pool parties demand pool clothes. The bikini – that seemed such a good idea last week – suddenly seems to expose far too much flesh for my liking. I tug on the bottoms, sucking in my soft stomach as I glance critically in the full length mirror.

I hear the doorbell go downstairs – that means people are arriving already. I idly wonder who Mel’s invited, I’ll probably never meet any of them again, I’m sure they won’t be looking at me anyway.

Aw, hell, I’ll just have a couple of glasses of wine, that will help. Besides, I can always cover up with a towel if I feel uncomfortable. I pin my red hair up with a silver clip, pick up a bottle of suncream and head downstairs to join everyone.

Just as I walk through the hall the doorbell chimes again.

‘Lia, be a darling and get that for me’ Mel calls through from the kitchen, ‘It will probably be Erin, I think everyone else is here now’

Erin.

My heart stops in my chest, throat suddenly dry.

Erin. That puts a whole different slant on things.

My self-consciousness doubles – maybe even trebles – as I walk slowly to the door. If I’d known she was going to be here….

Pausing at the door I take a long, deep breath and let it out with a sigh. My hand rests on the handle, I fix my face into something resembling a welcome and open the door.

[justin]

Ooh this is getting even more interesting. Now as well as all the mystery about "him" we have to wonder what's the dealio with this Erin. Why did Ophelia's self consciousness treble?

If I’d known she was going to be here….

I'm curious about the rest of that sentence. Would Lia not have come if she'd known Erin was going to be there, or would she have just not worn a bikini?

Looking forward to reading more

[Thianne]

i've just found the time to read your story, Cat. and i have to tell ya, it's really intriguing. i like your descriptions, and Ophelia - red hair, a bit autobiographical (?) maybe?

and what's the deal with this Erin? also, i'd like to hear more about Ophelia, physically i mean. how's her body? why is she so self conscious? what color are her eyes? but the start's really good, so please continue

love

[Candleshoe]

I'm so bad I read this when you posted it, and then clean forgot to leave feedback. I'm sorry!

I am liking this - nice slow(ish) build up, with just hints at the backstory.

I'm eager for more...

[HOPE REIGNS]

Great start Cat.

I'm intrigued and can't wait for more.

Just who is "Him"??

Is Mel playing match maker with Erin, or is it an Ex that she's worried about seeing?

Look forward to more...

Anna

[FemaleOfTheSpecies]

Thank you for your feedback. It's a completely new experience for me to allow anyone to read my writing so do bear with me.

Justin - Questions, questions! I'm glad you are enjoying it though

Vale - There are some elements of Ophelia that may be just a little autobiographical. I'm not telling you which though, that would spoil all the fun! Some of the similarities are important, some are just co-incidental and are there purely because they make the story work.

Miss Shoe - I like slow build-ups, I hope you will be patient as I let this unfold

Anna - Intrigue is good

Time for part 3.....

[FemaleOfTheSpecies]

Title: Letters from Ophelia
Part: 3
Author: Cat aka Female Of The Species
Feedback: Yes please, I'm happy to hear ALL feedback since I'm very very very new to this! But I'm a sensitive soul so please be gentle with your harshness!
Rating: Hmm - I don't understand US ratings but if it was the UK then I would say definitely ADULT 18+ (or at least it will be when it gets going. Part 3 isn't 18+ by any stretch of the imagination)
Disclaimer: Any resemblance between these characters and any person, alive or dead, fact or fiction, is entirely co-incidental.
Distribution: Can't imagine why anyone would want to, but not without my permission
Setting: England
Summary: Damn I'm rubbish at summaries! A dip in a chilly swimming pool and a moment of awkwardness.
Warning: This fiction will at some stage contain scenes of a sexual nature and descriptions of witchcraft rituals.


3

The block paving is warm beneath my feet as I step out of the patio doors, the air thick with heat. One hand cradles a glass of perfectly chilled white wine, condensation already beginning to bloom wetly on the outside of the glass.

My eyes shift almost too casually around the garden, there aren’t as many here as I expected, most of them I suspect from Adam’s work – there’s a plethora of designer sunglasses and overly-tanned bodies. Since our predictably unpredictable English summer only took a turn for the better earlier in the week I take an educated guess that most of the tans came courtesy of St Tropez – the bottle not the place. My pale skin stands out starkly in comparison. I wave nonchalantly across at the faces I recognise, flashing a suitably fake smile.

I’m off balance now the social veneer I had so carefully applied in preparation for a shallow, yet pleasurable afternoon, now shattered like eggshell. Erin’s appearance has unsettled me and I need just a little time and space to gather myself. It’s not that I dislike her, not at all, but she has this knack of making me feel like a gauche schoolgirl.

I hear Adam‘s deep voice, holding court over the his friends - raucous laughter from the men, simpering giggles from the girls. From what I can grasp, he’s relating some undoubtedly amusing anecdote - the attention of everyone there completely captured. He has a talent for that, the sort of man that can command attention with just a whisper. Charismatic, handsome and exceedingly rich - Adam Hampson is a self-made man. Yet he’s also unwaveringly loyal, generous almost to a fault and I love him as if he was a brother. He catches my eye as I walk across the garden, raising one eyebrow questioningly at me. I laugh silently, shake my head and a look of understanding passes between us. Like Mel, he knows just when to push and just when to back off.

Surprisingly, the pool is empty, it seems that for right now at least, everyone prefers Adam’s humour and the temptations of Mel’s food. I’m drawn magnetically towards the pool - wanting to lose myself in the water and at least temporarily forget everything else. Everyone else. I crouch down at the edge of the pool, placing the wine glass carefully at my side then slowly lowering my body into a sitting position and extending my legs out in front of me to apply sun cream. My skin is already beginning to prickle with the sun, I flip open the sun cream and squeeze a generous amount into my palm, inhaling the strong coconut scent as I rub it thoroughly over my skin. My toes dip into the chill water, shattering the glacier-like surface and sending tiny ripples across to the other side. I cast a glance back over my shoulder to make sure no-one is headed this way, stand up and fiddle yet again with my bikini. Damn thing.

Flexing my toes over the paved edge of the pool, I pause before springing off, easing my body into a graceful dive. Icy freshness hits me and I gasp sharply as I swim beneath the water, forcing myself to acclimatise to the chill and opposing my instincts which are instead yelling for me to head to the surface and the familiar warmth of the sun. It must be almost a full minute before I finally break back through, and roll effortlessly onto my back to take a deep lungful of much-needed air. I let my form float gently for a few seconds whilst I catch my breath. I squint, the sun fierce and high in the unblemished sky, hurting my eyes, causing me to screw up my face and roll back onto my stomach to avoid it’s glare. Breaking into a swim I pull myself through the water with a strong, sure stroke, enjoying the feel of the cool liquid rushing over every inch of my skin. My mind begins to empty, all thoughts forgotten as I become at one with the water. Eventually I stop, floating once more on my back, holding an arm out in front of me, inspecting the way the water runs in snake-like rivulets down my greasy sun-creamed limb. The clip in my hair irritates and so I reach around and pull it out, tossing it carelessly to the side of the pool and letting my long red hair fan out into the water. I lie like that for several minutes, eyes closed, sun beating down on my upturned face, until a subtle sound catches my attention and I turn sharply to it’s source.

I’m startled to see Erin, sitting on the grass, knees pulled up close to her body. She’s hugging a glass with both hands and gazing out across the pool. Alarmed, I wonder just how long she’s been there, then wonder if I can possibly get out and away without needing to acknowledge her presence. Instead my inherent English politeness rears to the surface and I realise that to ignore her would be immensely rude, Despite the momentary temptation to just slip away I reluctantly swim across to the poolside near where she sits and smile pleasantly.

‘I didn’t realise you were….’ I begin, but she cuts me off mid-sentence

‘I’ve not been here long, just wanted to escape the madness over there’ She speaks softly as she nods, dismissively, back towards the group of friends. Her voice lilts with the soft, low drawl of her native South American state.

‘You’re a good swimmer’, she adds, ‘It’s not my strong point’

I notice her clothes for the first time. Jeans, fitted snugly against her legs and a simple white vest top. ‘No? You don’t look as if you dressed to go swimming.’

She shrugs ‘I only came because Mel begged me too, you know what she’s like. ’

Irrational jealousy grumbles in my ear. Mel is my friend, and of all people to share her with Erin Hamilton is right down at the bottom of the list. Oh bloody hell, Ophelia. I reprimand myself for my childishness. For Goddess’ sake, I’m a grown up, not some primary school girl. Mel has dozens of friends, so why her decision to take Erin under her wing niggles me quite this way is a mystery I don’t really want to pursue.

I lean my forearms on the poolside, hands crossed and chin resting on my wrists. A shiver breaks over me, a combination of icy water and inactivity. I want to get out now but once again am overly aware of my attire. Is it the bikini, or is it Erin? Why does she make me feel so damn self-conscious? That persistent inner voice rattles in my ear and I try to push it away. You’re self-conscious anyway Opehlia, don’t be so ridiculous. There’s not much that I’m not self-conscious about. Body, clothes, hair, personality, voice - you name it, I’ve had a crisis of confidence over it. So why does it feel so much worse now then?

I glance up at her as I push wet hair from my eyes, the gesture affording me the ability to let my gaze linger just a fraction longer than necessary. Shoulder length glossy dark hair falls over a lightly tanned face, the colour of weak tea. Eyes obscured by dark glasses, leaving me no way to even try to read into her thoughts. I shiver again, involuntarily.

‘You look chilly’ It’s a simple statement of fact, but my heart sinks into my stomach. Now I’ll have to get out.

‘Just a little, this water isn’t heated’.

She laughs unexpectedly, ‘That’s another reason for me to stay out of the pool then. Want me to pass you your towel?’

Oh damn. No towel. Ophelia, you are an idiot. As if getting out in front of her wasn’t bad enough now there’s nothing for me to hide behind.

‘Uh, it’s okay, I have to go and get one from inside’ Despite the cold, I feel a blush start to work it’s way up my face. Just do it, just get out quickly. At least I have a reason not to come back over here, I can join the rest of the party and stay out of her way. Oh and I can change out of this damn bikini while I’m at it.

‘I’ll get you one if you like - I’m just going to refill my drink anyway’ She holds her now-empty glass up and smiles as she stands and walks back towards the house, unaware of the resigned sigh that escapes me as I slip back under the surface of the water.

[Thianne]

DIBS! DIBS! OOOHHH, I'M THE FIRST!

beautiful! i love how you write, so detailed, but you're a tease! more soon please

[justin]

Great update.

I'm really enjoying your writing style. It's so evocative.

One hand cradles a glass of perfectly chilled white wine, condensation already beginning to bloom wetly on the outside of the glass.

I hear Adam‘s deep voice, holding court over the his friends - raucous laughter from the men, simpering giggles from the girls.

There's still a lot of mystery, such as why Ophelia feels so self concious around Erin. Which is a good thing

Looking forward to more

[db]

Cat -

I've just read this - sorry to be so late on the uptake.

I really love the way you string images together - it's like action photograpy!

I am intrigued and want to learn more about this 'Erin' - her friendship with Mel, the *reasons* behind the disquiet Ophelia feels in her presence...

Keep up the good work!

db