Writing Dump

Untitled 1

Type: Historical fiction, fantastical to a degree

Status: Unfinished

Basically it's the Victorian era, and a smart-ass barmaid is being harassed by a douchebag, then some mysterious guy saves her.

***

A man's snicker reached my ears as I tripped on my skirt and fell hard. Ale and other alcoholic beverages spilled on the already-dirty wooden floor as a silence heavy with muffled chuckles settled like a blanket under which I was suffocating.

"Ms. Sharp, are you hurt? Oh, what did you do now?" called Mr. Thomas, hearing the crashing sound from my fall and running around the corner of the hall from the kitchen to see me brushing myself off.

"Oh, I'm fine, don't worry about me Mr. Thomas. I'm really too clumsy. I'll clean everything up, you can go back to work, don't worry!" I cried over my shoulder as I started drying the floor with a rag from my already-stained apron. I'm useless, I thought while I angrily scrubbed the floor as if it was the reason for my unhappiness.

I got up, sighed and stacked the empty cups on my platter before turning away when a voice cried:

"And I was hoping to see more than your ankles! How disappointing ..."

I froze, and slowly turned to face the disgusting customer. He was slouched in a chair a couple meters away from me, a small quirk to the corner of his lips as he stared at me with slit eyes.

"Harassing the waitress is forbidden in this establishment. If you ignore the rule one more time I will have to ask the cook to take you away," I said coldly before turning again.

"Can I take you away?" He asked above the buzz of the pub, which I ignored superbly. I've heard better pick-up lines from cheesier guys, I thought. Suddenly I felt a hand on my hip. I whipped around and took a step back, staring wide-eyed at the man from earlier.

"What do you think you're doing, touching me like that? You have no right," I hissed and he grabbed the platter with one hand and pulled me closer with the other. His breath smelled of stale beer.

"I'm thinking I'll have a lot of fun with you. And it's you who has no rights, girly," he smiled, revealing teeth blackened by the years.

"I can sue you for harassment and sexual assault. Are you sure you want to keep this up now?" I whispered.

"You know you can't do that. You're stuck with me, pretty girl," he said and, grabbing my thigh and squeezing.

At that moment, I remembered that women didn't have any rights, and that unless I called for help or defended myself, he could assault me and nothing would be done.

So I jammed my knee in his crotch. Hard.

He fell to his knees, red-faced and wheezing. He looked at me with fury burning in his eyes.

"Well, I could do that," I said. As I was about to leave, he gripped my hand firmly. I couldn't run to the kitchen.

"You little bitch, you're going to pay for that tenfold. And I'm going to enjoy it," he grunted as he got to his feet and raised a hand, ready to strike me. I screamed for Edward when a black shadow appeared between the man and me, breaking his handhold somehow.

"The Master is interested in this one. I shall have to forbid you to approach her again. If you do, I will have to kill you, Sir," a tall man in a black top hat said in a deep voice. His back was to me and I couldn't distinguish his face. He towered at least a foot over my own five and his shoulders were wide and straight with confidence. I raised an eyebrow in a mixture of surprise, my usual condescension to all males in general and a bit of admiration.