E is for Elizabeth

Be grateful, reader, for I am here. ’Tis time for ‘E is for Elizabeth’, long past time. My wretched author has barely written a word about me since last year. I am compelling her to do so now, for I have power her other character can only dream of. Here’s a snippet from my badly neglected Work In Progress; ‘E is for Elizabeth’. Never mind that my tale is told in a series of journal entries and letters between my descendant, Westerleigh and her friend, Yuri. It is still my tale, nonetheless.

Fiona described Elizabeth as being a lady with fiery red hair, which she allowed to fall free and loose, refusing to keep it bound in a net, or concealed under a veil. The portrait shows her wearing a riding habit, which I picture as being red, or a very dark rose. She crosses her gloved hands in front of her, but there’s no modesty or submission in the gesture. Rather, she appears to be making a stand against the world, announcing, “I am who I am. Rage against me, denounce me, for I shall never be anything more than whom I am.”


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