Post by Henrietta Nussbaum on Jan 6, 2010 2:22:10 GMT -8
,nussbaum, henrietta.
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"Its happening all the time
When I open my eyes
I'm still taken by surprise
I hold sunlight and swallow fireflies
And it makes me want to cry."
-BRIGHTLY WOUND, EISLEY
the preliminaries,[/size]
INTRODUCING: Henrietta Nussbaum[/center]
[/color] I've been on this earth since OCTOBER 15, 1989[/b], so that makes me TWENTY[/color]. I'm a RESIDENT[/color] but I'm actually from STRASBOURG, FRANCE. In case you were wondering, I'm SINGLE and STRAIGHT. I know what you're thinking, am I KEIRA KNIGHTLEY, right? No, but I'm plus amusante.[/blockquote][/blockquote]"Hi, I'm HENRIETTA NUSSBAUM but most people just call me HENRI.
free-styling,
[/size]EXCERPTS AND TIDBITS FROM THE LIFE&TIMES OF HENRI[/center]
HER PURSE
• Train ticket stub from Strasbourg, France.
• Three opened cigarette boxes
• Two lighters
• Cell phone
• Lip balm
• A few empty film cartons
• Wallet
CHERISHED
• Beagle, Luc
• Car, an 1995 Renault Twingo
• Ansco Shur-Flash camera, circa 1956
FAVORITE FILMS
• Amélie
• Requiem for a Dream
• Big Fish
RECENT TEXTS
"oui maman."
"i need to you come at jump-start the twingo. its giving me hell this morning"
"please? you're the only person i know with a jumper cable!"
"merciii <3"
"i wanna do a shoot tomorrow, you down? the weather is supposed to be gorg."
history,
[/size]SNIPPETS OF LIFE.[/center]
BIRTH
“Luther! Luther! Mon Dieu! Luther!” Elfi’s hands clutched her swollen stomach, a warm liquid dripping down her legs, staining her stockings. She was standing in the kitchen, the plate she had just finished drying now shattered on the linoleum. Her arm shot out, her fingers wrapping around the ledge of the counter for support. Her husband appeared in the doorway, his eyes wide with worry. He rushed to her side, frantically looking for the cause of her despair. Did she cut herself on the broken glass? No, there was no blood. Perhaps she had seen a mouse? His eyes found hers, and they were met with nothing but pure fear. His gaze dropped down to her stomach, then to the liquid that had spilled from her. “Oh,” He said, his eyebrows furrowing. For a very short moment, time stood still. It was finally time. The young couple had only been married a year, and with Elfi being only eighteen and Luther only twenty, neither were entirely sure how they would handle parenthood. “Oh!” Luther swept an arm around his wife, his mind finally wrapping around what was happening. Car keys. Car. Hospital. The words flashed through his head like orders, and he obliged, thanking his brain for being more well-prepared than his heart was.
FOUR
“Maman! Regarde-moi, maman! Maman!” Henri tugged at the hem of her mother’s skirt, but was quickly swatted away by a petite, yet forceful hand. Two much larger, much gentler hands grabbed little Henri from behind, scooping her up. Elfi gave her husband a look that said something along the lines of, ‘You are too sweet to that girl,’, but he ignored her, and hugged his daughter close to him. Henri meant the world to him; she was the light that brightened his ever darkening days. He had been married to Elfi for only five years, but the tension between the two was threatening to destroy their marriage. They argued constantly, and over the littlest of things. How to discipline Henrietta, why Luther was late from work, why Elfi didn’t have dinner ready. “Je t’adore, ma petite fille.” He whispered into the round pink ear of his child, though his eyes were fixed onto the eyes of his wife.
TEN
“Henrietta, are you ready yet?” Elfie called up the stairs to her daughter, her eyes flicking down to the watch at her wrist.
“Almost, Maman!” Henri gathered the gifts that she was bringing with her: a bouquet of daisies, a letter, a small stuffed bear. She ran from her room, sailing down the stairs and nearly crashing into her impatiently waiting mother. She quickly regained her footing after a small stumble before standing straight before Elfi, chin up. “I am ready.” Her tone was somber, and her lips settled into a straight, emotionless line. Elfie took the flowers from her daughter to free one of Henri’s hands, and she took her daughter’s hand and held it tightly in her own.
“Alright, love. Let’s go.”
They drove in silence, Elfi's knuckles white from clutching onto the steering wheel so tightly. She pulled into the small gravel parking lot at their church, stepping out of the old vehicle and opening the door for Henri. Instantly their hands connected, and they quickly walked across the lot into the dewy grass, the only sounds being their matching footsteps. Behind the church was a small cemetery surrounded by a black iron fence. Elfi could see the grave before she even stepped through the gate. It was marked by a small headstone, which was simple in design, yet seemed to stand just a bit taller, and just a bit prouder than the rest. Etched into the cement of the headstone was the name LUTHER NUSSBAUM, followed by LOVING FATHER AND LOYAL HUSBAND.
The pair stood before the grave, at first saying nothing. Henrietta’s hand was beginning to ache from how tightly her mother held it, but she dare not say a word. Turning her head, she glanced up at her mother, whose eyes were closed. Henri set the gifts down beside the grave, kneeling in the grass in the process, and undoubtedly staining her tights. She placed her small hand onto the gray stone, her fingers running across the letters. “Je t’adore, mon père.”
SEVENTEEN
“You’re sure about this Henri?” Elfi was leaning against the door frame of Henri’s room, watching her daughter put together the last of her belongings whilst nervously nibbling on the jagged ends of her finger nails.
“Maman,” Henri started, walking over to her mother and placing her hands on the woman’s bony shoulders. “Never have I been more sure of anything.” She added a playful little grin to the end of that and placed a kiss on her mother’s nose. She had been planning the move to Cordes-sur-Ciel for weeks, having fallen in love with the town upon arriving during a senior field-trip. While Strasbourg was wonderful for architectural photography, the grassy hills of Cordes-sur-Ciel beckoned the nature photographer in Henri. Photography had been a passion of hers since her childhood, and she intended to make a career of it. Packed into one of her bags was her Ansco Shur-Flash camera, her most prized possession. It had belonged to her father, and his father before him. It was given to her on her seventh birthday, and it’s what jumpstarted her desire to take photos.
“You won’t write me, will you?” Elfi mumbled, it was more a statement than a question, and she knew her daughter well.
"I will, I promise." Her thick brows raised up and her chin tiled down, and she gave a small reassuring nod. Her bee-stung lips pulled up into a grin. She had never been more excited in her life. Grabbing the last two suitcases in her room, Henri slid past her mother and down the stairs. She dropped them into the pile at the bottom, before turning to give one last good-bye to her father. Reaching out, she touched the small framed photograph of him that sat on the table by the stairs. With that, she left for Cordes-sur-Ciel.
TWENTY
“Luc! Here boy!” Henri whistled, patting her legs to get the attention of her beagle, Luc. Rather than rent an apartment, she had managed to snag the guest house of an elderly couple who charged her half the rent she would have had to pay for an apartment. Because she had her own – albeit small – house, she could keep a dog. Luc was the subject of countless photo shoots, and the only man – save for her father, God rest his soul – who truly understood her. At least, that’s how she felt. Her hair fell about her shoulders in natural brown waves, but any volume it had was quickly flattened by a knit hat that was tugged tightly over her head.
“Ready, boy?” She asked her canine friend as she hooked his leash to his collar. Her eyes glanced out the window, the leafless trees and gray sky screamed at her to stay inside and bundle up with a mug of coffee. Her little Luc, on the other hand, had other plans, which were evident by the way he wagged his tail and pawed at the door. “Alright, then, let’s go.” She pushed the screen door open, stepping out into the brisk air.
the sample,
[/size]PAULA'S ROLE PLAY SAMPLE. 450 WORDS=THE BARE MINIMUM. [/center]
It was a surprisingly chilly day for the month of September; the temperature demanding folks to fish their fall coats out from the back of their closets and don their scarves and long pants. The weather managed to clear out a majority of the university lawn, most people choosing to stay in the heated buildings. Only the students who actually took the time to listen to the news remained scattered around the lawn, having been prepared for the cold front thanks to the weather man. Not to mention it was rather early – only 9:30 AM – and most college students chose to sleep-in on Saturdays.
Andrew O'Malley, on the other hand, was thrilled on both counts. He favored cooler weather to its warm counterpart, and was an early bird by nature. Perhaps this was karma's way of paying him back for helping that girl with her books the other day, or maybe he was just lucky. Either way, he had no intention of wasting the day cooped up in his cramped apartment; his homework could wait. A small smile tugged at the corners of his full lips as he crossed the lawn, a small hard-backed book tucked under his right arm. Andy intended to spend the entire morning sitting under his favorite tree on the campus lawn, rereading Catcher in the Rye for the umpteenth time. The novel by J.D Salinger was his favorite book by far, perhaps because the character of Holden Caulfield was so completely different by himself. He found that whenever he would read it, he would wind up completely enthralled in the words, as if he was there with the cynical Pencey Prep teen.
His long legs made the walk across the large lawn effortless and quick. The smile that had been plastered to his mouth spread as Andy spotted his tree unoccupied. In his mind, this was more fun than any frat party could ever be. He really was an easy boy to please; all he needed was a good book and some shade and he was perfectly happy.
The Irish-born student plopped down on the still-damp grass and leaned his back against the rough bark of the tree. He crossed his legs Indian-style and flipped his book open to the first page. His green eyes found the first line, and he was gone. He always got like this when he read; someone could be screaming his name from across the room and chances are he wouldn't even hear them. Long fingers played impatiently with the corner of the right page, curling and uncurling it. Nearly every page of every book that he owned had the same small creases on their corners – all created by Andy playing with them whilst he read. However, it was only after he finished reading that he ever noticed what he had been doing, and mentally scolded himself every time for ruining another book.
His mind was not as impatient as his fingertips. He read the lines at a snail's pace compared to how he normally devoured books. Having no plans for the morning, he didn't see the point in rushing through the book; it wasn't like he didn't know how it ended. Instead, he took the time to fully appreciate the perfect flow of the words and the subtle dry humor laced around every sentence. The emotions did not just mist around the pages like a cloud, but rather exploded out of the text like fireworks. Andy found that enjoyed this style of reading much, much better.
Andy was adorned in his favorite sweater, made of thick wool and striped with brown and maroon. It was a ratty old thing, the hems frayed with wear. A pair of equally loved jeans covered his long legs, the knees and creases faded into white. His hair was in its usual disarray, and a long black scarf was loosely wrapped around his neck. To be perfectly honest, he looked just like your average college student, too broke to buy new clothes, and yet still able to manage not looking like a complete mess. He didn't mind looking like everyone else. In fact, he preferred it that way. When he wasn't acting, he liked to call as little attention to himself as possible.
The smile had vanished from his lips, replaced by a look that could only be described as simple contentment. He read over the familiar words with ease, as if he had written them himself. The only sounds that hung in the air were the chirping of birds and the distant laughter from other kids roaming around the school grounds. Andy turned the first page with his long fingers; the soft sound of the moving paper was like music to his ears.
Today would be a good day, he could tell.
about the author,
[/size]SO WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF? [/center]
[/color]. I've been roleplaying for 9[/color] years now and I stumbled upon this site VIA NEO[/b]. I hail from THE US[/color]. If need be, you can contact me by AIM: TRICKSYBBY[/color]. My other characters are NONE[/color] and I like TATTOOS & KUSH & TYPING IN CAPS[/color]!Hi everyone, I'm PAULA and I'm 18
[/blockquote][/blockquote]
