Monday, October 14, 2013

Numero Un - Chapter 1

Hello everyone. This is a fictional story I am writing. It deals with the test of friendship and how far one is willing to go in order to reach a desire. Please comment below your reviews, comments, etc!!! :-) Enjoy.


Where I live, Saumur is as French as you can get. It is a tiny little spec of a town buried in the west of France, often overlooked much like its people. I understand why though; the monotonous buildings incline towards the grey sky in a dreary sort of way. Saumur is no match against the swank and elegant movements of Paris. Despite gloomy townspeople peddling around milk cartons, history thrives through our very stone walls. At one point, this cheerless town acted as a backdrop for the French Revolution with a grand military background. If we are known for something it is our patriotism.

My name is Agate Accault, daughter of the town drunk - Augustin. My father has been drinking ever since my mother died days after birthing me; a burden that haunts me every day. She used to work as a laundrywomen in the charity hospital near us. When I turned 11 last month, I took her place. My father reminds me every day of the life I have bestowed upon him and the rest of our family; the timid and scruffy beings moving through our stone house. Never have I ever heard papa yell at me for his loss, but drinking out the depression alone is a subtle yet loud hint. My older siblings are the people I admire very much. 
If you are wondering, I have 2 brothers Elliot and Perou, 4 years older than me, along with Margette and Suze; twins and both 17. "All of us were born to protect each other" Suze told me frequently when I couldn't fall asleep. I would lay in her arms during windswept nights and be reminded of how blessed I am. How blessed I am for having such strong-willed, passionate, and loving siblings. Despite the hardships that block our lives from normality, these children maintain a statue like composure, showing no fear towards others.

Albeit being raised by a single father I have always felt close to Madame Devolle. Madame Devolle, or as she prefers-Mama Jeanne is always a second, if not, actual mother to me. She fills the maternal gap that a brusque and headstrong father cannot reach. Jeanne worked alongside my own mother, Elise, as a laundrywoman herself. I continuously hear stories of how my mother expected great things for me. These are the things people long to hear for: hope and faith. That hope isn't given directly from my mother’s chapped lips but instead passed on through Jeanne Devolle’s warm hazel eyes. She too has a daughter, the same age as I. They call her Gabrielle. Gabby is a free spirited beam of light, that is for sure. I love her as much as I love Suze, or Margette. We are two roughed up girls from the wrong side of town looking for a way out. Well, at least, that is what she always tells me. 

She prefers coco, says it makes her feel glamorous. Simple, and elegant, coco.

“Listen to me Aggie, and listen to me well” Coco hollers over her back as we tread our way to the local schoolhouse. 

“Oui ma cherie!” I hurry to follow her, when Gabby hummed the words ‘listen well’ I expect an intervention on my outfit or a life lesson on how black is the leading color in the world of “Kooture"

She turns to face me and gives me a grin, wide enough to bring life into the now wilted rose bushes surrounding our trail. “I have a great feeling about something”

“About what? Today’s grammar test?? Well I mean I-“

“NO! Forget grammar, forget school, I had a dream”

“About what?”

“I had a dream I was dressed in Chinese silk, the kind you get at the really expensive boutiques, the kind you would adorn with pearls! It was amazing! Yes, and people were looking at me. There was something in their eyes- they KNEW me. They ADMIRED me. They saw that I had worth in this world! It was so beautiful. And you know what?”

“What? I say, this time I'm listening. 

“I have a great feeling that wasn’t just a dream. I have a feeling it was God tapping me on the head telling me to wait for the near future. I will end up with that dress around my ankles, I will be kissed by ever king that rules the seven seas.”

It takes me a long time to form some sort of response. All I can do is nod because frankly, I'm of breath. It could have been the hilltop we ran down, or Coco’s seemingly unreal daze she suggests is “God’s message.” Somehow though, she picks up on my expression. 

“Agate Accault daughter of Augustin, what happened to the happy expression we arrived with? You do believe me, don’t you?”

“I..really don’t know. We aren’t meant for glamour, I mean look at us. We are working class, we come home to run down lodges. We eat cold soup. This is the life we are meant to live. I love you Coco, but you see you and I are stuck in this world. One day we will marry, maybe we might get lucky enough to marry a teacher. Other than that, I see no pearls."

Gabby looks shocked, repulsed even. I could see that she always recognized this isn’t the life she is meant to live. Albeit being 11, this vivacious girl imagines a realm of possibilities in luxury. Frankly, a part of me does too. I think back to when my mother thought I too, would end up a huge success. Maybe I could finish life with the accomplishment of a higher education. Writing Novels are what I want to do in life. I have so many stories to tell. Gabby, being the other half of my heart, and knowing my personal anatomy picked up on my self-doubt. I guess that is why we are best friends – we know each other too well.

Gabby sighed. “Have you ever heard of Louis Vuitton?” She starts to stride towards our destination once more. I have just recently noticed we stopped in the middle of a forest. I began to walk too. 

“No, should I?”

“Louis Vuitton was born to a farmer’s life. Now imagine that, what could be duller? Well he saw no opportunities in the fields of cotton and barley. So you know what he did? He ran away and never looked back. Louis decided it was time to express himself through the busy high life of Paris. Voila, from the provincial life to Paris! He found refuge in an apprenticeship for a box-maker. Monsieur Vuitton worked and worked and worked, never stopping to get where he wanted to be…”
“And where was that?” I asked frustrated because frankly, I didn’t understand the point of this story.

“To the Royal Court of course! Now he makes boxes for the EMPRESS herself! All sorts of luggage in an assortment of designs, it is a dream come true. You know, he is an icon in fashion.”

How do I know you are not making this up?”

“Maybe I am, maybe I am not. Maybe Louis Vuitton is a figment of my imagination, or a big bellied drunk but who cares! The moral of the story is to chase after your dreams.” Gabby pauses with grace, looking around our surroundings. Recording every single bush and building as if it was her last time. “We are like Louis Vuitton; we were born into the wrong life. Scrubbing floors and having children for pensions is not what we should intend on accomplishing, that is not what stars do. That is NOT what we do. You will become a famed novelist, and that is final.”

Gabby always talked with a sense of calmness and assurance that made you believe everything she said, this time her tone dripped with the utmost confidence. I could tell, even without looking her eye to eye that she only spoke the truth. So I did what anyone else drunk with giddiness did, I believed her.

“You know what Gabrielle you can reign the throne of fashion, and I will be a famed novelist. We can visit each other over tea and gossip about the social season. When I have enough money I promise to buy ever hat and broach from your fashion house."

She yelps and flung her arms around me, “And I will never stop reading the stories you conjure from that amazing brain of yours."

Then, all of a sudden, she frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

“You know, I still haven’t figured out what I will call my future fashion company! Nothing comes to mind that really pops.”

“Really? How about La Gabrielle, or Chez Coco. Or your favorite colour, Le gris”

She giggled and made a jokingly grossed out face “Non, non, non!”

“Hmmm, how about..Chanel?”

She said it a few times to herself and that olive skinned face began to light up with joy again. “It’s simple yet elegant, so like me!”

I laugh. This time, I'm not laughing out of ignorance or at how foolish Coco’s brain can get. This time, I laugh at how happy one can be with the knowledge that life will be okay. That people like Coco, and maybe even a little bit of me are so determined to leave a mark on this world.

With that thought, we continued to school, the little Tuffeau chalet nested in dark pine trees. We passed through the town and that potential I so frequently see plastered on Coco's face seemingly transforms onto mine, as well.


  1. cant wait for the next chapter!

  2. Your writing is very good but the story is not that interesting yet.

  3. The story is so well and interestingly written, I can't wait for it to continue! You really have astonishing writing skills!

    xoxo Cathy