the colette diaries

01 | overture

"Colette, I'm home."

She turned her head to her door, opposite her desk, and looked towards it with excitement. Her father, Richard Velvet, who was surely calling out from house's main entrance. His voice echoed around the entire mansion. He's back. Colette ran down the stairs as fast as she could, noticing her father's hair looked a lot grayer than it had before he'd left. Even his under-eyes were purple. She felt a big pang in the chest, knowing very well they were both going through a lot of pain. The only difference was that he needed to keep working, no time to stop and process anything.

Richard had left Louisiana and traveled across a few neighboring states, looking to expand his newspaper further out. He hadn't been as successful as he'd hoped to be, sadly. It seemed as no one wanted to do business with New Orleans in general. Most reasons were from fear of being cursed to being rumored about, and not wanting to delve with what they called the "crazies". Outsiders never wanted to delve into things they considered obscure. Colette had never been able to understand that properly.

Colette had never spent a summer in that big three-story house by herself. Adele Papillon's absence had drifted the father and daughter apart, to the extent that they had stopped talking of important things altogether. Small talk, always; but when it came to deep topics, they would never be able to keep a conversation going. Thank God for Lila, Adele's best friend; without her, Colette would've never had a parental figure to talk about comfortably.

Colette had never traveled outside of Louisiana, and if she had, she couldn't remember it in its totality. Like when she went to stay with that cousin of hers that she'd never recalled meeting ever before. Even now, staring at the pictures playing and laughing with him felt eerie. Almost like having somebody trying to force memories into your brain.

It's not like Richard didn't invite her to travel—he always did—but Colette always politely declined. The idea of being cooped up in a hotel room for days on end, gifting fake smiles to people who were stupid enough to believe them seemed like the worst thing she could do. Not to mention, her father only ever talked about work–if he doesn't talk about work there's no other conversation he can have.

Although after spending two weeks in a three-story mansion all alone with the house workers, her own decision seemed just as stupid to her. Cantaloupes baloney, as she put it herself. She was lucky enough to have had Luna and her yellow pair of eyes to keep her company.

After the first month, she needed a human to talk to desperately. Furthermore, she started writing letters to her mother, a new habit she didn't think would stop anytime soon. It was therapeutic—like chocolate. While doing so, she came up with the idea of remaking her mother's infamous Halloween masquerade she always prepared to celebrate Colette's birthday every year. Since it was still August, she had quite a while to finalize the planning—which she'd already started in late-June. The real reason why she never truly left the house that summer—except for following the letters.

Colette was terribly missed by the people who constantly saw her out and about in the French Quarter. She had a habit of always smiling at everyone. A chipper and jumpy persona she was. Every woman and girl who saw her wanted to be just like her. There was no other girl that shone as she did, a lady who would have the courage to break dress codes and stand up for herself.

Her long dark brown hair was also something out of the ordinary. Everything about her caught everyone's attention, those who had the privilege to cross paths with her. Not to mention the French accent that was always rolling in the back of her throat, making every word coming out of her mouth to sound sweetly intoxicating and one of a kind. Her tone, as sweet as her personality, exceptionally sugar-coated.