Francesca Wolseithcrafte
February 11, 2013 8:39 AM
It's a mystery... by Francesca Wolseithcrafte
Francesca sat on one of the many benches strewn throughout the gardens. She perched sideways, her feet flat on the stone seat and knees hunched up with a book propped on them. This had the joint benefits of being a comfortable position in which to read and obscuring the title from any nosy passers by. Whilst not disreputable in any way, it was scarcely an improving book. It was one in a popular series of murder mysteries, set in the 1900s. The plucky female heroine went against the grain of society – she was outspoken, intelligent (goodness only knew what appealed to Francesca about such a character) and had a terribly habit of investigating crimes, in spite of being unallied with the law enforcement agencies in any way. Her current mystery was one which appeared to be a straightforward vampire homicide – puncture wounds to the neck and exsanguination. The police were quite content with such an explanation and had written it off as such but Alexia Honeycutt would not be so easily persuaded. The question then arose of who would wish to frame a vampire and, unfortunately, it was not so very short a shortlist...Francesca felt she had earnt some quiet time. Theory work came easily enough to her and she had readily and easily grasped all of the academic side of her work. The practical was another matter though. She had practised her Charms until lunch time. They had got easier rather than harder the longer she had worked and thus she clearly was not exhausting herself – it was more a case that she still lacked some element of the required co-ordination or will. She was still getting to grips with actually handling her magic. She had no doubt that she would get there.
She glanced up every now and then from her reading. The book was diverting and absorbing in the sense that, once drawn in, it was very easy to keep reading. However, it was not absorbing in terms of requiring full concentration. Each little crunch of leaves, distant voice or sensation of being watched – often imagined – caused Francesca to peer up from her book, in order to ascertain whether or not she was being interrupted.
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Francesca Wolseithcrafte
It's a mystery...
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