Leather babydoll
A short dark comedy (1k words, 3-4 minute read)
It’s time for a short horror story - this one in epistolary form (i.e. written as if it were a letter). I think this was my first time using this form, but it was enormously fun, and the story was first published in Elegant Literature magazine, issue 19.
Next week, I’ll dig into the creative decisions made while writing this story, covering topics such as conveying voice, foreshadowing, and whatever else takes my fancy.
If you enjoy this story, please share it with others!
Let’s begin!
Leather babydoll
Dear Editor,
Please find attached the pattern for a babydoll dress which I sincerely hope you will consider publishing in Sewing Universe.
Kind regards,
Mrs Dorothy Chatsworth
***
Dear Editor, (Veronica)
My previous letter was insufficient, so I have borrowed some paper to write this longer explanation. With this letter and gift, I hope you come to recognise our kinship in the world of dressmaking.
Is it acceptable for me to address you as Veronica? We are like sisters in our dedication to the art and craft of sewing, myself through my humble contributions to your wonderful Sewing Universe magazine, and you through your skilled leadership of such a magnificent publication. I will not bore you with the terribly dark times that I have lived through, suffice to say that your esteemed journal was often the only contact I had with the refined and civilised world beyond my boorish family.
I would not presume to understand the demands of an editor’s hectic schedule, your life must be fraught with grievous deadlines and responsibilities that I can hardly imagine, and yet I must express my disappointment regarding that you have not, to date, published even a single one of the sewing pattern submissions I have sent you. Believe me, I thought hard about the reasons for this, triple checking the specifications and notations on the adjustment lines, optimising the layplans, and so on. I do not wish to crow too much about my achievement, but the patterns are flawless—I dare say better than the occasional drops in standards that have been in your magazine, no doubt approved by a weary hack on your staff without your knowledge—and so I could only assume my earlier missives were mislaid by our careless postal service. For this reason, I have placed this letter directly in your kitchen, where I can be assured you will safely receive it.
It is to my regret that, while entering your property from the rear, disguised among the deep shadows of your beautiful and fragrant garden, that a generously built man, presumably your husband, endeavoured to attack me. It was beholden on me to defend myself and, finely equipped as I am with experience of both conflict and anatomy, the darkness may have worked to my advantage and I overpowered him easily.
Given that my plan for a swift entry and exit had gone awry, I—and I feel anxious sharing this, but ‘in for a penny in for a pound’—felt brave enough to sneak a peek at your own hallowed sewing room. Can you imagine my surprise when I found your house appears to possess no such room? I checked very thoroughly. I assure you I have scoured every closet, cupboard, and even the bookshelves of your property. Such was my surprise that I even checked inside every drawer, assuming perhaps you had a hidden lever or some other triggering device that would reveal a secret atelier, suitable for such a revered editor in the sewing publication world. Alas, I could not find it, but I would expect no less secrecy from one so talented as yourself. What fashion mysteries and future trends that dark and sheltered room must conceal!
While searching, rifling through your finely tailored clothes, undergarments, and sundries, it struck me that there could be another reason that you had not published my work. It seems so silly to have overlooked it, in retrospect. You have such a delightful eye for style, such exquisite taste, that you must be a visual thinker. You need to see something brought to life, to touch and feel it, for it to truly grasp your imagination! We are so alike, you and I, my dear Veronica! It is fortunate that I never leave home without my sewing kit. You simply never know when it will come in handy.
Maybe it is redundant to write the above. I can only assume you have already found the babydoll dress that I carefully arranged beside this missive. Perhaps, I delight in thinking, you were so enamoured with it, you tried it on immediately! Oh! You must look marvellous!
I can imagine you are experiencing a thrill of fear in this moment, and I wish to lay your worries to rest immediately. Without locating the sewing room in your house, and therefore also with no fabric to use, I could still whip together the babydoll dress you are holding, so surely your precious garments must have been butchered to achieve this? No, this is not the case. I would never harm such manifestations of the dressmaker’s art as you have in your collection. Just to reiterate: your precious clothing is entirely safe and untouched, so you can breathe easily and enjoy the dress with no concerns.
Have you ever noticed how alike humans are to fine tailoring? With only a few tiny slices of a knife, the whole creation can unravel, it just peels apart. However, unlike clothing, humans are rather noisier during this process, haha! But with a few little cut chords and a sewing kit, this too can be remedied.
You may now understand that the leather of the babydoll dress comes from your husband. I was a little hurried, so I apologise if it is somewhat sticky; however, there is no need for concern, because I left enough of his skin so that you will be able to recreate the dress at your own leisure. I feel certain you will be impressed by how easy my pattern is to follow.
I do hope it was not too forward of me to borrow your paper to write this letter. The concise note I brought with me on this little escapade, as you saw above, seemed inadequate beside the gift. I look forward to seeing my leather babydoll creation in the next edition of Sewing Universe and, rest assured, I will visit again with new patterns in the near future.
Warmest regards,
Mrs Dorothy Chatsworth
The end
Hope you enjoyed that, and if you fancy a bit more comedy-horror (that’s rather less grisly) you might also enjoy Fresh Salmon for McTavish.
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Until next time, be excellent to each other,
Mata xxx
Holy crap, this is an amazing story!
Great work!