Saturday, February 28, 2009
Finally, Edward- you have found your true soulmate
Oh, dear Midge and Edward. My heart fills with joy when I think about their good news. Dear Edward, after I broke his heart so many times, he's finally found his true soulmate. I remeber how he tried to kill himself by putting his head in the oven, just because Midge seemed hesitant about the relationship. That poor dear really needs someone like Midge to love him. I hope he takes good care of little Midge Hardcastle, or now Midge Angkatell. He'd better keep h
er happy in Ainswick, which I recall to be the place of little Midge's dreams. Tomorrow I shall write them a letter offering my heartiest congratulations. I find the two of them a beautiful couple. So artistically put together. My mind now races back to sculpting. Oh, I can imagine the beauty of their joy, etched forever on clay. I simply must sculpt them. Hopefully, they will accept my request for them to be my next models.
You Drew The Heart At
6:29 AM
The loss of my love still burns a deep hole within my heart
It seems such a long time ago that I lost precious John Christow: he was so very caring to all his patients, especially old Mrs. Crabtree. But he was not as innocent as he appeared. Poor Gerda, having to know all along that there were other women in John's life and keep quiet about it. But to murder him, another thing altogether. Jealousy, pure jealousy was behind it all. But I loved her, I loved Gerda, and I would have protected her whether or not John had asked me to with his last word. But then along came M.Poirot wit h his amazing moustache, so 
artistic, who witnessed part of the crime. It was torture, having to keep a step ahead of him for so long, almost impossible I should say. But I did it, I removed all evidence of Gerda's crime. Then I was reminded by absentminded Lucy about the holster. I tried to get to Gerda to warn her, but M. Poirot beat me to it. He was there to witness Gerda's attempt to murder me by poisoning my tea. Fortunately, the little Belgian foiled her plan by persuading me to drink of the other cup, resulting in Gerda's death. I still can't believe the mousy little thing would try to poison me. I should have sold her out from the start to M. Poirot. But I loved her, and John loved her. Oh, John, I'll do anything for you. And oh, Edward, I am so sorry. I love you, but not like I love John.
You Drew The Heart At
6:27 AM
The world whizzes by me. Shouldn't there be a speed limit?
What is going on? So sudden, so traumatic. Will someone stop and explain what's happening. Everything is going so fast. And I am the one expected to hold and console Gerda. Oh dear, perhaps I should start from the beginning. I wonder, where is the beginning? There seems to be none. I shall therefore start from John. John Christow, the love of my life, the only thing I live for apart from my sculpting. He was my married lover. Definitely morally incorrect, but in his profession, he was the greatest doctor ever. He had almost found the cure for Ridgeway's Disease. ( He was using dear Mrs. Crabtree for his experimentation.) I used to read medical books just to fathom what he spoke about. Then, the other day, I went for a walk. I returned to the poolside via a small path. There I saw sweet, innocent Gerda, standing above John, holding a revolver, as John lay dying at her feet, blood seeping into the pool. "Henrietta," he said. It was his last word. Instantly comprehending, I walked up to Gerda and took the revolver and dropped it into the pool a few moments after M. Poirot had arrived and was watching. I saw it in his eyes. His first thought was that we were trying to put on a little 'fake murder' for him as a welcome. Then I saw the comprehension in his eyes as he told me I shouldn't have taken the revolver from Gerda.
You Drew The Heart At
6:25 AM
My first post, dedicated to my first ever sculpture, for without failure, there is no success
Why is it I feel so confused whenever I look at that one particular sculpture. I sculpted a gorgeous model, added my own touches, but yet, somehow, it's just not right. It's beautiful, perfectly made. Where did I go wrong? Those were my previous thoughts. I understand now. The gorgeous model was blabbing away about her personal life. (which to be honest I had no interest in whatsoever) Somehow, her thoughts, her feelings, they just... the must have... seeped into my thoughts to my fingers as I sculpted. And the masterpiece? It was no longer a masterpiece. It was not mine. It was the model, through and through. Her attitude, looks, thoughts, behaviour, vanity, everything. It just wasn't anything but her. And so I have no choice but simply to destroy what I put so much effort into creating. It breaks my heart, certainly, but it isn't... how shall I put it? It just isn't... suitable, it's simply not substansial. I feel unfulfilled looking at it. Well that's all. I shall now return to my art studio for further staring at the sculpture. Oh, someone help me. I need strength to destroy this creation.
You Drew The Heart At
6:24 AM
The Person who is Me
Name: Henrietta Savernake
Occupation: Sculptor, and its my life
Loves: John Christow- do I love him more than myself?
Personal Note: This will probably sound egoistical, but I always know the right thing to say at any time.
I comfort the sorrowing and timid, and everyone likes me for my ability to love without harsh judgement.
Voices
1) If you think all I write is simply a big joke, that I cannot feel love to the deceased, leave now.
2) I do not believe in the use of harsh language or vulgarities. I hope you know what to do. 3)I offer my sincerest apologies for the lack of a place where you can leave comments and tell me your opinions, but I prefer to not receive any such comments due to personal reasons. Thank you.
Wishing For..
*John and Gerda back to life
*Edward and Midge to have a happy and perfect married life at Ainswick
*All my sculptures to have and keep the essence of life within them
*Remembrance that happiness is gained through suffering.
