Nimphel's Narrative
Posted: Thu Jan 09, 2020 1:17 pm
"Happiness is just a few coins oray!" The pimp's call ringgs false one last time as I leave the cesspool that is Sencliff. Cor blimey! For over forty-five years I slaved for these 'cink collectors', but no more. They finally cast me out, damaged goods, no longer an asset ter ffeir trade. As if I 'ad ever been anyfink else; I'm an outcast for life. Squeezed out by me muvver and left in the gutter. Weened and nursed by the bloody harridans of Sencliff's lowlifes, right, only ter be sold into service. No care for me person, no tears for me plight, right, only the bloody cold, hard shine of cink.
So, I grew up in an 'ouse of ill repute or peraps dubious lustre, dependin' on yor council, right? I slaved in the kitchen and in the seedy, wee rooms. I were kicked and beaten, until the day that I -despite evryfink- blossomed into a rare and delicate fin' of beauty. A real fair-roe-buck, me skin an unblemished wite, my 'air a smoky brown and me eyes a strange, right, flecked grey, right, I were considered ter have potential. I were still yung and needed ter be trained in the arts of 'entertainment'. Oh sure, they taught me a few uvver fings as well, like frowin' knifes, right, jugglin', right, dancin' and acrobatics. They also taught me ter behave and speak well, alffough I don't like it, right, and ter serve and please, wich I like even less. All useful in the 'career' they 'ad envisioned for me. And I were a quick study too, eager ter get oray from the bleedin' dirty jordans and kitchen hash.
Then, still a kinchin mort, it were me grand openin' night. They showed me off; me beauty and me skills, my perfection and me 'innocence'. Then, right, a bid were 'eld. All 'ush-hush, o'course. Only on a need-to-know basis, right, yer know, then, mate? Still, news of me particular 'talents' 'ad travelled far and certainly among a certain circle of the bleedin' rich. I fetched a fair price for me first 'night'. More than fair.
The bloomin' first years after, right, I spent in luxury. Cor blimey, would I lie to you? 'Whistle and fluteors' came and went. I were an unparalleled success, evry businessman's dream. I shared a certain measure of this wealff. I enjoyed not so bad kit, good food, right, occasionally some nice company, once real luv, even. Then, wen the novelty wore off, right, my 'business' dwindled. They put me on sale and customers came cheap. A long and blurred period of me past, right, this, wich I cain't to remember.
And then, last year, it 'appened. One day I were not so bad, and the bloody next I were not. Dark spots 'ad appeared on me once 'revered' hide. Just a few at first, wich went oray after a wile. Then more and more, right, in 'arder ter conceal places. Before long I could no longer 'ide this orful truff; I were blemished and in a most unattractive fashion too, init? The chuffin' spots came and went, apparently at random. Some fought I were possessed or of demonic stock, but wen one day the bloomin' spots stayed, I were considered poxed. And so, wiv a kick ter my cracker, right, I were frown hammer and tack in the gutter from wence I 'ad come.
So, right, once I were Pearl, spotless wite delicacy of Sencliff’s nightlife and the talk of the bloomin' tahn, if yer knew where ter listen. Now, right, I were nuffink. A sick cur, right, a fin' ter be shunned. I 'id meself from view, survivin' on scraps. I expected ter die at any mument. Right. I shivered and 'ungered, I feared and I wept, yet I kept on livin'. Me quarron grew fin and me mind emptied. All 'orrors and ills of the bloody past just wivvered oray. I grew still inside. And then, one day as I 'ave a looked upon meself, right, the spots 'ad gone. It felt strange, a lightness come upon me, a feelin' of bein' cut loose from all the world. Cor blimey! I fink I smiled, briefly.
So, wot were I ter do, then? Go hammer and tack on me tracks, then, luv? I 'ad a good laugh at that. No, right, maybe I could fashion a new life for meself. No longer at the centre of attention, right, but more at the bloomin' fringe of fings. Be modest, skim the surface, right, hug the shadows. Puttin' me few uvver talents at work, right, I found that I could and make an easy livin'.
After a wile the dark spots came back, and... went again. Over time, I 'ave learned that me moods control them. If I'm on the chuffin' brink of lettin' meself cop too close ter ordinary life, right, wiv its ties and attachments, right, they appear, right, only ter disappear if I let go again of the warmff of uvvers. I know not woss their cause and I no longer care, right, for they keep me true. As true as the new name if chose for meself: Nimphel.
I 'ave become quite adept at 'collectin'' fings, right, keepin' meself well-maintained wiv some extra ter spare. And then, right, finally, I felt it were time ter leave Sencliff and 'ave a look for richer 'untin' grounds. Yer know, right, peraps 'appiness is just a few cinks oray...
So, I grew up in an 'ouse of ill repute or peraps dubious lustre, dependin' on yor council, right? I slaved in the kitchen and in the seedy, wee rooms. I were kicked and beaten, until the day that I -despite evryfink- blossomed into a rare and delicate fin' of beauty. A real fair-roe-buck, me skin an unblemished wite, my 'air a smoky brown and me eyes a strange, right, flecked grey, right, I were considered ter have potential. I were still yung and needed ter be trained in the arts of 'entertainment'. Oh sure, they taught me a few uvver fings as well, like frowin' knifes, right, jugglin', right, dancin' and acrobatics. They also taught me ter behave and speak well, alffough I don't like it, right, and ter serve and please, wich I like even less. All useful in the 'career' they 'ad envisioned for me. And I were a quick study too, eager ter get oray from the bleedin' dirty jordans and kitchen hash.
Then, still a kinchin mort, it were me grand openin' night. They showed me off; me beauty and me skills, my perfection and me 'innocence'. Then, right, a bid were 'eld. All 'ush-hush, o'course. Only on a need-to-know basis, right, yer know, then, mate? Still, news of me particular 'talents' 'ad travelled far and certainly among a certain circle of the bleedin' rich. I fetched a fair price for me first 'night'. More than fair.
The bloomin' first years after, right, I spent in luxury. Cor blimey, would I lie to you? 'Whistle and fluteors' came and went. I were an unparalleled success, evry businessman's dream. I shared a certain measure of this wealff. I enjoyed not so bad kit, good food, right, occasionally some nice company, once real luv, even. Then, wen the novelty wore off, right, my 'business' dwindled. They put me on sale and customers came cheap. A long and blurred period of me past, right, this, wich I cain't to remember.
And then, last year, it 'appened. One day I were not so bad, and the bloody next I were not. Dark spots 'ad appeared on me once 'revered' hide. Just a few at first, wich went oray after a wile. Then more and more, right, in 'arder ter conceal places. Before long I could no longer 'ide this orful truff; I were blemished and in a most unattractive fashion too, init? The chuffin' spots came and went, apparently at random. Some fought I were possessed or of demonic stock, but wen one day the bloomin' spots stayed, I were considered poxed. And so, wiv a kick ter my cracker, right, I were frown hammer and tack in the gutter from wence I 'ad come.
So, right, once I were Pearl, spotless wite delicacy of Sencliff’s nightlife and the talk of the bloomin' tahn, if yer knew where ter listen. Now, right, I were nuffink. A sick cur, right, a fin' ter be shunned. I 'id meself from view, survivin' on scraps. I expected ter die at any mument. Right. I shivered and 'ungered, I feared and I wept, yet I kept on livin'. Me quarron grew fin and me mind emptied. All 'orrors and ills of the bloody past just wivvered oray. I grew still inside. And then, one day as I 'ave a looked upon meself, right, the spots 'ad gone. It felt strange, a lightness come upon me, a feelin' of bein' cut loose from all the world. Cor blimey! I fink I smiled, briefly.
So, wot were I ter do, then? Go hammer and tack on me tracks, then, luv? I 'ad a good laugh at that. No, right, maybe I could fashion a new life for meself. No longer at the centre of attention, right, but more at the bloomin' fringe of fings. Be modest, skim the surface, right, hug the shadows. Puttin' me few uvver talents at work, right, I found that I could and make an easy livin'.
After a wile the dark spots came back, and... went again. Over time, I 'ave learned that me moods control them. If I'm on the chuffin' brink of lettin' meself cop too close ter ordinary life, right, wiv its ties and attachments, right, they appear, right, only ter disappear if I let go again of the warmff of uvvers. I know not woss their cause and I no longer care, right, for they keep me true. As true as the new name if chose for meself: Nimphel.
I 'ave become quite adept at 'collectin'' fings, right, keepin' meself well-maintained wiv some extra ter spare. And then, right, finally, I felt it were time ter leave Sencliff and 'ave a look for richer 'untin' grounds. Yer know, right, peraps 'appiness is just a few cinks oray...