Modeled after Giovanni Boccaccio's classic from the 14th Century, this collection similarly brought 100+ short stories to Wattpad readers. The original's premise was simple: ten individuals entertained themselves over a span of ten days by telling a...
Too mesmerized by the tale, no one noticed the last woman come in and sit outside the group. She wore an oversized hoodie which covered much of her face. When she hugged her knees, which were hidden under the big hoodie, it was the gesture of a delicate snail retreating from a too-rough world.
At The Projectionists insistence, she stood and pulled back her hood, revealing a mass of windblown red hair.
"I'm no story teller. I'm here because I've lost my roommate." Her voice was low and the others leaned in to hear. "My best friend is a journalist who went missing right before the end... Since communication is so hard now, I go from place to place, looking for her. She never left a note or a new address."
Maaja raked a hand through her hair. "She wrote an online advice column. The last words I have from her were in that column." She stopped and bowed her head for a moment before she went on.
"She loved to advise others about love but could never find a guy herself. Then suddenly she meets someone and never speaks to me again. Am I missing something?"
ADVICE TO THE LOVE TORN
by Maaja Wentz
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Dear Ms. Fay,
I address myself to you because of your great renown in questions of courtship. Witness the hundreds of grateful testimonies written by warm bloods who found in your wisdom a solution to their Romantic problems. Perhaps you can advise me in a delicate matter.
I dance like a gentleman, possess excellent hair, and have been told by many ladies that my smouldering eyes have a certain animal magnetism. Although not averse to entertaining matrons, I am inevitably drawn to sweet young things. Alas, once I get them alone, I experience unspeakable urges.
The pinnacle of my suffering is inspired by a wan, raven-haired beauty from the State of Washington. Let us call her Ella. Of late, I feel compelled to stand in her bedroom and watch her sleep, but it's not enough. Her body glows in the moonlight and when she wakes, she looks up at me with eyes like limpid pools... What is to be done?
Sincerely,
Blood Aristocrat
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