Satis?

A developed description of Pip's first experience of Satis House, inspired by Charles Dickens' novel; Great Expectations.

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2. Estella

Suddenly, a slight, pale faced girl emerged from the doorway. Her pencil-thin eyebrows eased gently down to her long, black eyelashes, and her golden-brown hair rolled long past her wafer-thin shoulders, and flowed with the shape and walk of her figure. She had a hour-glass shaped waist and a complexion that held an impeccable hue. As she walked I imagined the fun we should have together, the hours we would spend playing cards, and enjoying one another's company.

“What name?” Her sharp voice pierced the silence that had ensued us ever since we'd arrived.

“This” Mr. Pumblechook announced tumultuously “Is Pip”

"This is Pip, is it?" returned the young lady; "come in, Pip."

 

The shock of her immodest abruptness left me speechless, and dumb as she continued to walk up to the door, heels going “Clip Clop” at regular intervals. My sister had never had the money to buy such superfluous items, but she would stare at them as we walked past the cobblers, and frequently comment on how ridiculous it was women should actually buy “such unnecessary items of footwear, when a pair or two of substantial boots would do” She had an air of finality as she promenaded back to the door, which, by now, I was already beginning to wish had never opened. 

 

The house was dark; the only light coming from the open door, and a candle she held in her dainty hand. The spiral staircase winded it's way around windows covered with grime and dirt, where even the slightest bit of sunshine struggled to penetrate the darkness in any more than thin thread rays. The musty odour hung throughout the house, and the off-centred picture frames had been long broken, and lay shattered on the floor. What seemed to be generations of intricate webbing detail hung from every beam in the ceiling, and the intermittent creaks and moans of the stairs increased as we neared the first floor. We walked in silence, her glare covered by the darkness, although I could feel it through the damp air. When I was behind, she would shout “Boy!” at me until I increased my pace, and caught up with her. 

 

When we reached the room, three flights of stairs later, I gestured for her to enter first, only to be snapped back at, with “No silly, I'm not going in there!” And with a flick of her hair, she turned and the light she held slowly dimmed into nothing as she walked away; down the long corridor from which we'd previously come. I stood and looked up at the door. The mahogany slab had clearly been cared for so well, all polished and shiny; in stark contrast to the drab house it was housed in. I knocked. First once, then twice. I pushed the door a little, not to reveal much light, but enough to make out a few key features in the room- a dressing table and mirror, a bed, a few chairs and a lot of candles. I thought how much it would've cost to keep all those candles burning for as long as it looked like they had been, and why the windows and shutters had not been opened to reveal the glorious autumnal sunshine that made the dew drops sparkle and the birds sing in harmony with one another. 

 

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