Felice and the Lilac
by, Gavroche T.

So, you’ve come back again have you? Well I do say it’s nice to see you again. Here, have a seat by the fire and warm yourself. The food will be ready soon. I assure you, it’s warm food for this cold night.

While we are waiting for dinner, I’ll tell you a story. I hope you don’t mind such a story. It has everything for a bitterly cold winter night. It has love, hope, dreams, sex, pain, despair, and money. Quite a story, eh?

Well, sit back and relax while I tell you about Félice and the lilac.

It was a bitterly cold winter night in Paris when the snow started to fall. The skies were gray and unfriendly like they always were in Paris. Once those skies were inviting and happy, but on that year of 1820 the mood of Paris had changed. This was the mood that Félice now lived in.

On that night she leaned up against a rot iron lamppost. The light that cast off of it shone like curtains in the heavy falling snow. It was a heavy snow for Paris and a good packing snow too. Félice loved snow, she really did. But, it affected her business. She needed money for rent. And men were not going to pay for a freezing whore. The men would have rather just harassed the poor girl with the freezing snow.

She brushed the snow off of her shawl and wrapped up in it. It was a woolen shawl that she bought when she first got to Paris several years before. The snow was comming to a small stop and the clouds parted above her head. Those stars between the clouds where bright and beautiful that night. Félice lifted her head and saw those familiar stars, and began to remember all those happy years gone by. No matter where she was those stars always looked the same. Maybe that’s why she remembered her Italian home when she looked up into those stars.

Her family had moved to Paris when she was 12 because of legal reasons. Apparently her father had killed two people, as Félice later learned in her life. Never the less her family was well off thanks to her dad.

The image of her father and her mother came streaming into her mind. They were strange parents to say the least. Her father was a wood worker and was always good with his hands. He was a short fat little man that had a large temper. The man was sexist and always treated Félice and her younger sister lower then their brothers. And her two older brothers picked up the same attitude.

Mario was the oldest and rudest of the whole litter of children. He was tall and deathly thin. He was certainly not a guy any gal would like to run into in a dark alleyway.

Antonio was the youngest son. He was plump little thing that only wanted attention, and he was a constant tag-a-long for Mario. Eventually those to sons became pickpockets, and they got arrested when they moved to Paris from Italy.

Her mother was a lanky woman. And her strength in herself was just as weak as her structure. The woman couldn’t lift a bucket of water, so she had Félice do it for her. Maybe her mother’s feeble strength in her self was the reason Félice’s father liked her mother. He could easily take advantage of her.

Paulette was the smallest of them all. She was a very young beautiful girl. Her hair was a deep red with specks of gold. Her cheeks were rosy and her teeth white. But she was the youngest, and most ill-treated of them all. Even Félice treated the girl badly, but now she detested having treated Paulette in such a way. It was too bad the little girl died of pneumonia only a few days after her birthday.

Félice sighed at that memory; Paulette didn’t even get a proper burial. Félice herself was a beautiful lady. She had blond hair that was nearly golden. Her eyes were a deep azure blue with long beautiful eyelashes. She also had an hourglass figure to top it all off. She spoke beautifully with a slight Italian accent in her voice. She would have made a great opera singer. But she had an independent attitude about things, maybe too much of one. When her dad got arrested for treason they were left out on the streets with nothing. Her brothers got arrested later that week for robbery. And Félice decided to put things into her own hands; she fell in love. That man to whom she loved was one of those types that always had an idea that would make millions. He was addicted to her, but she could not stand him and his outrageous ideas. After a few months Félice left the man for the streets. To keep herself alive, she became a prostitute.

The years use to be grand for her. But now bills were pilling on her. She owed the baker and the landlady (whom she detested). And the business she was getting tonight wasn’t helping one bit. All she needed was a little bit more, and she could keep her small one room apartment. Suddenly, she could smell alcohol. Sure enough when she turned around there was a drunk. "At least this one is good looking." Félice thought to herself as she un-wrapped the shawl revealing her very low-cut dress. The man lit up like a light bulb and commented on how well the dress revealed her bossum. Félice just played along smiling and making sure to please him the best she could as they walked off down the street, carefully making sure to wring every sou out of his wallet.

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