Taken by Angeline Fortin (ebook reader with android os TXT) 📕

a commencement address at Vanderbilt University when she graduated there this spring, magna cum laude with a degree in English literature. I thought I might take advantage of her recent practice and asked her say a few words today.  She graciously accepted…so, please welcome, if you will, Scarlett Thomas.”

Applause swept through the crowd as Scarlett stood once more, swinging her cross-body tote forward and fishing inside for her speech.  At the podium, she adjusted the microphone height.

“Thank you, Mr. Coleridge.  Your request for a few words is far kinder than what my professors required of me during my recent finals and for that I thank you.”  She nodded to the director and focused on the crowd before her, ignoring the mocking eyes boring into her back.  “Many of you gathered here today know this place only as the living representation of Aubroch Castle, a piece of The Puppet War come to life, but Dunskirk Castle has its own story to tell, one far more profound than fiction.  I’m very glad to be back here today as we celebrate its place in the history of the Scottish Borderlands.”

“I am no historian as my professors can attest.”  Scarlett paused as light laughter sprinkled through the crowd, ignoring Grayson’s scoff behind her.  “No, it’s true.  Deep down I’m just a fangirl like many of you.  Before I first came to Dunskirk, the only castle I ever dreamed of visiting was Hogwarts.  Now, knowing each nook and cranny of this dear old thing as I do, I know that Dunskirk will stand a far greater test of time than any book could.  Than any movie might dare.  I hope you will all keep that in mind as you walk through these halls today.”

With a few more short sentences, Scarlett finished and smiled as the crowds applauded. Turning, she shook Coleridge’s hand once more and accepted his thanks but before she could return to her seat, Grayson sneered.  “Always a nerd, Scarlett.”

Irritation roiled through her.  “Bite me, Grayson.”

“Always.”

Unable to sit next to him a moment longer, Scarlett slipped discreetly down the steps and headed for the castle entrance as Coleridge introduced the next speaker.

“Scarlett,” Tyrone whispered urgently, rushing to her side.  “Come on, the fans love it, the two of you.”

Shaking off his hand before he could grasp her arm, Scarlett kept walking.  “But I don’t.  You know I don’t.”

She didn’t have to ask why Tyrone was in favor of promoting a match – even a fabricated one – between her and Grayson.  She already knew.  Tyrone was close friends with Grayson’s agent, close enough to take a favor and give one when necessary.  Though Grayson Lukas was known around the world for his part in The Puppet War, new roles had been slow in coming and Grayson’s Hollywood tastes couldn’t survive without either an opportune casting or more opportune publicity.

“I don’t know why I haven’t fired you yet.”

“Because your mother hired me.”

“Because you slept with her.”

Tyrone just grimaced.  “Come back out here.  Smile and wave.  I’ll make it up to you.”

“How about you go away and hope I don’t shoot either you or Grayson with this stupid pistol you make me carry around?”  Scarlett patted the small lump weighing down the bottom of her tote.  She’d made her agent angry but couldn’t find it in herself to care.  The changes she planned on making in the days and weeks to come would no doubt be far more upsetting than her refusal to sit next to her former co-star. Though she’d already told him, he would understand the seriousness of her intentions soon. “I’m going inside.  Go say whatever you want, but I’m not coming back out until he’s gone.”

“Scarlett!  Damn it, come back here!”

Scarlett kept walking.  She’d lived at the whims of others too long to heed his call.  To be at her parent’s beck and call another moment.  This was her time and she meant to seize it.

 

2

 

Once inside the castle doors, the noise of the crowd faded into a mausoleum-like oppression.  The thick walls had that effect but the dank, darkness she remembered from the years she’d spent filming in the castle was washed away by the museum quality lighting and dehumidifiers that had been brought in.  Today the stone walls were awash with soft light, the great hall now a cordoned-off maze of red velvet ropes leading to a modern desk of light birch standing below a large sign bearing prices for admission.

“Miss Thomas!”  A man of later years standing behind the desk straightened as she approached.  Despite his neat white shirt and dark slacks, he had an unkempt appearance and rather looked like the house-elf, Dobby, from the Harry Potter movies without the elfish ears.  This man’s were big enough still, and he had layers of wrinkles folded deeply into his skin.  He seemed almost as old as the fortress itself but there was merriment in his twinkling blue eyes and vibrancy in his demeanor that would probably carry him a few centuries more, she thought whimsically.

“Good afternoon,” she greeted him as she approached the desk, skirting around the barriers.

“We werenae expecting ye inside yet, but welcome to Dunskirk, lass.  Er, welcome back, I should say.  Would ye care to take a turn through the exhibits?” he added in a thick brogue, gesturing to the far end of the hall where a sign reading ‘Enter Here’ was posted.  “I imagine ye could use a bit of time fer yerself.  Away from all the fuss.”

It was like he was reading her mind.  Scarlett wanted nothing more than to escape the people waiting for her outside.  No, that wasn’t exactly right.  Really she wanted nothing more than to escape her life in general.  The life that wasn’t her own.  A life overpopulated with unwanted attention and hateful humans.

“I ken what ye mean, I’d wager ye’ve a hard go of it.”

“Huh?  What?”  Had she said that out loud?  Scarlett groaned.  It wasn’t like her to make a slip like that in public