( This isn't finished yet. But I thought that I might as well get some feedback on this section. Hope you like it.)
Melanie
November 9th, 1934
The trumpets solo resounded in her ears. Her mind imagined the steps to the Jitter-bug. A light snow fell down in a slow waltz. The dark back drop of Greenwich Village was calm for once. Melanie peered over her shoulder. Her mother and father were hand in hand. Her mother’s head rested on her father’s shoulder. Mother was tired. She had been cleaning the house all day, but even with Melanie’s help, there was still a lot to do. The night had been perfect. They had gone to a concert to see Count Bassie; a rare luxury for the Green family. Ever since the start of the depression they had had to go without a few things. But they kept on smiling through.
They got to their apartment building just in time for the snow to really come down on them.
The Greens were a family who felt no need or had the intention of putting labels on things, whether people or items. During times like those, practically everyone was in a tight situation. Melanie led the way into the apartment. Dim lighting flooded the rooms allowing a certain warmth and comfort into the place, even though no one had been home for hours. The book, face up, resided on the coffee table in the parlor. Melanie had been reading, “Anne of Green Gables,” while her mother was applying her makeup and her father was straightening his tie. She was almost done.
Melanie grabbed the book. She made the short walk to her room and opened the wood door decorated in photos. She stopped and stared at the door. Pictures of her family, her cat, Pedigrue. Melanie’s friends, other places that she had always wanted to go to but never got the chance. Photos attached to letters and even drawings. She scanned her favorite one, a snapshot of Italy. She grasped the gold door handle and pushed.
Melanie sighed as the sweet aroma of vanilla came to her senses. There was a dim glow from the lamp in the far corner of her room. She walked in stocking feet to her high dresser. Melanie stared at herself in the small mirror as she pulled the pins out of her curly ebony hair. She put the six pins in a pile on the oak dresser top.
She removed each item of clothing slowly. The tweed jacket, the black blouse, the gray skirt, until she was only in her stockings and under shirt. Melanie took four small steps and reached her bathroom. She washed her face slowly and carefully, letting the warm water drip down from her face onto the towel. Melanie made sure that she had gotten the makeup that her mother had let her wear for the evening all the way off. The warmth of the water calmed her and made her sleepier then she already was. Melanie pulled out her white night gown from the top dresser and slipped into it. She pulled off the black stockings and wadded them up into a ball. Melanie grabbed the clothes and put them in her hamper that resided in the bathroom. She stared at the black and white diamond tile. She curled her toes to ward off the cold. She closed the bathroom door as she turned off the light.
The snow was coming down hard and fast when she had last looked out her window but now, there was at least an inch or two of snow that had piled on the rail. The snow as pure and white as the wedding dresses that Melanie saw in the windows of boutiques downtown. She opened the window and stared at the snow as it fell from the jet black sky. It made her feel as if she was falling. The snow waltzed as the flakes drifted down.
She opened the window pane and looked around. Melanie leaned over and had half of her body out the window. The coolness of the night air made Melanie shiver. She stared at the menagerie of stars.
Then there it was, a shooting star. Bright and big. She watched it race across the sky, twinkling as it did so. She closed her eyes and thought out loud. She was wishing.
Wishing for something she couldn’t have.
She scampered into bed and began arranging the blankets. The coldness of the light pink sheets shocked her.
Melanie curled herself up in the downy sheets and shivered. Her eyes were closed when her mother came into her room. She sat on the edge of Melanie’s bed, stroking her hair. Melanie opened her eyes.
“Hello, there.” Her mother said.
“Hi.” Melanie replied in a small voice.
“Good- night dear, sweet dreams.” Melanie said good-night as well.
The light was turned off as Melanie’s’ mother closed the door. She was completely surrounded by darkness.
The golden sliver that peaked through the slit in the door comforted her. Melanie thought of the shine of the trumpets and the steady beat of the base drums as she succumbed to the unconsciousness state of a dreamless sleep.
When her eyes fluttered open, a grey light was reaching its fingers in through the win-dow. She laid there for a while. Hearing the birds chirp cheered her up. She rubbed her eyes. They felt heavy. Outside the landscape was dark and dull. Storm clouds swallowed the city. The sounds of metal pans and spoons clipping and banging around in the kitchen made her want to get up. But the warmth of her bed swayed her to stay curled up a little bit longer.
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