June 27th 2018 Creative Writing Prompt

(Creative Writing Ink page link: https://www.creativewritingink.co.uk/resources/writing-prompts/)

Photo from: Creative Writing Ink (2018). Castle. [image] Available at: https://www.creativewritingink.co.uk/resources/writing-prompts/ [Accessed 3 Jul. 2018].

Midst by Buddy Summer

Red high-heeled stilettos clunk up the cobbled path to the castle. The 6 o'clock sunset gleams off of the black faux-leather skinny jeans and works its way up to the accompanying, slightly open, leather jacket, enhanced with silver fastenings. Perfectly applied Cherry pink matte-lipstick adorn her lips and invite the glances from men- that and the face of flawless makeup she wears removing her from her childhood. Her hair, a dark brown, falls behind her in lightweight curls; the curls sit behind the shoulders as to reveal her neck; the once loud with colour bruises are now faint of a few days and are waiting to be re-born. Eyes, an alluring brown that turn a golden orange in the sunlight. She is beautiful.

She has 'Daddy issues', so they say. Abandoned by her father as a child and countless failed attempts at "relationships", she is lonely. The castle is her safe-haven, but not in the way you may think: she comes here for both solace and rendezvous. Maybe solace in her unbeknown strongest moments? Maybe rendezvous in her times of need?

Meeting the door at the end of the path she knocks with a closed fist three times. Instantly she lifts her gaze up to the sky, simultaneously huffing like a fed-up teenager whilst her shoulders drop. Her posture is down until footsteps can be heard from the other side of the wooden creaker. Bolt upright, heels clink and the sultry smile is on show to dazzle the decrepit male; 2 feet smaller in height than the high-heeled beauty. In return he opens the door and gestures entry, not making eye contact with anything other than her hair: the easiest thing to look at without implying anything other than friendliness. She, on the other hand, remains eye contact, keeps up the smile and slowly sweeps by, exaggerating the hip movement.
Now on the other side of the door, she is separated from the outside world. But she must keep the stride and alluring gaze until well into the castle.

Inside the castle; an overwhelming mass of historical bricks that practically sing the tales of 100 years ago. Her smooth as silk hand glosses over the jagged walls in the blind spot of gathered parties of men. Only when she turns the corner does her long red nails close back into a fist and then clasp the zipper of her open jacket, pulling it slightly across the parallel attachment.
A smile is offered from one of the many familiar faces in the hall of men and she is quick to return it. And so as her eyes: the glint appears and gives the man the confirmation he was hoping for. A small grin, he turns back to his companions now with his hands making their way shyly into his side trouser pockets; like a man in the very early stages of manfulness. She slowly walks on by, too with a small grin, with one heel in front of the other and makes her way up to the scaffolding on the very high level of the castle. 
Once at the scaffolding she climbs onto the wooden planks whilst tightly gripping onto each metal pole, working her way to the very edge. Here, she sits and stares out into the misty green hills. This is where she can rest.

If you look very closely her eyes have lost the artificial spark and you can see the loneliness; the loneliness, the trodden on memories and plain old sadness holding the substance of her childhood. Here she attempts to blow the cobwebs away. 

Chink, a sound is made behind her- a ring against a metal pole. Her face is prepared before she turns and greets him with the familiar parted lips and alluring golden eyes.