A Twisted Love Story for the Damsel in Distress

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic

Once upon a time, a young woman was in need of rescue. Then a prince came and created a love story for her. Well, it pretty much sums it up (Author's Note: I suck at making blurbs, I know)

Chapter 1 (v.1) - A Twisted Love Story for the Damsel in Distress

Submitted: June 30, 2015

Reads: 260

A A A | A A A

Submitted: June 30, 2015



Part 1: Marion

“What the hell is that?” said my mom, dropping her spoon in the bucket of ice cream, as she saw me passing by the living room. Her face was covered with a home-made avocado mask, making her look like the sister of Mr. Grinch, perfect to go along with her sour expression. Wiping both hands on her bath robe, she stood up and rushed towards me. The way she glanced at me was so annoying. It was as if I was dressed in a clown costume or something, which of course I was not.

“Is there anything wrong?” I challenged her. She shook her head, giving me a look that stated I looked pathetic

“There is obviously something wrong. Oh, honey. Don’t tell me you’re going to go to a date in that; worn-out jeans and a pale colored turtleneck? Seriously! And are those penny loafers? I mean come on. Who would wear that nowadays? Gosh!”

I frowned, feeling humiliated. I thought my appearance was fairly well. The bootleg jeans were not worn-out at all. In fact, I had just bought them in a thrift shop two days ago. And it matched nicely with my favorite soft pink turtleneck. And the loafers? Well, I only had two pairs of footwear, the other ones are sneakers, which I was sure didn’t fit for this kind of event.

“Go change your clothes!” she commanded me firmly.

“Mom, I have no time. See? You said we were going to meet at four, and according to my watch I only have fifteen minutes to get to the mall on time,” I said, showing her the black leather watch circling around my wrist. I then realized my mistake because it just added to her shock.

“Is...is that the watch your grandfather gave you a hundred years ago?” she asked in an accusing tone. Oh God.

“Let me correct that. Ten years ago, mom, not a hundred. And it is still functioning perfectly. So why not? Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to catch the bus ASAP,” I concluded smirking, and immediately dashed off. My mom tried to chase me, but after I stepped my foot outside, she did not follow. I knew she would not risk herself being seen by the neighbors with that creepy mask. For a woman who ran a lavish boutique that sold expensive gowns, having a daughter like me must be a real shame. No, I was not ugly. I actually had long blond hair, blue eyes and what people called an angelic face. Even though I was a fashion disaster, I still had inherited mom’s beauty.

Beauty. Gah…what crap. I did not give a damn about that, not anymore. Not after that terrible accident back in high school. However, it was not the time to talk about that. Not now.

My life was pretty good before I moved back to New York a month ago. Previously, I had studied in the University of Vermont. I lived in a dorm and had my own room. Although it was small and nothing compared to a president suite, I had privacy there and could be myself. Nobody would protest if I wore big nerdy glasses and an oversized shirt. Now that I had graduated from college and was currently unemployed, I had no other choice but staying with my parents. When I arrived though, my mom did only two things. The first thing was take me to an optical store to get a box of contact lenses. The second: finding me a boyfriend or whatever it was called.

It started one night when she sneaked into my bedroom and interrogated me about my campus life. I got what she meant and told her I had never had a boyfriend and never would. She stared at me like I was insane. The next day, she handed me over a list of names of people who could end up as my future husband. Today was going to be the third blind date I would have, not that the prior dates were successful. It was mainly because of my turning-off style. I hoped this one was going to be more horrible than the other two, so that my mom would stop forcing me into this shit. Didn’t she understand that I hated guys? Wait, I forgot… of course she didn’t! She had no idea and I would not bother myself to tell her a damn thing.

Standing alone next to a fountain in the middle of the mall, I looked around frantically for the man I was supposed to meet. The big clock above showed that I was ten minutes late, so if he was a punctual kind of guy, he must have already been here.

I rummaged through my hand bag and took out a piece of paper that had the personal information of my blind date. 

Name: Damien Grant.

Wait, Damien like the one in The Omen? Gosh, I hoped he was not evil. Hmmm, let me see.

Height: 6’3’’,

Dark brown hair, athletic figure,

Occupation: photographer.

All of a sudden, there was a camera flash on my left. Someone had taken my photo. When I turned my head, there was a guy who matched the descriptions I was given. He put the camera down and stretched out his hand towards me.

“Hi, I’m Damien Grant. You’re Marion, right? No offense, but you look rather different than the picture your mom emailed me,” he admitted, grinning.

I rolled my eyes. Mom must have given him a photo of me when I was sixteen years of age like she did to the previous guys as well. Well, Damien. Let me tell you: the wonderful date you had imagined ain’t going to happen.


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