Post by ladygiry on Jul 26, 2006 7:54:25 GMT 9.5
I know this isn't Miranda related, but I've started this fan fiction on Meryl Streep's character in The Devil Wears Prada and I just wanted to get everyone's opinion on it, seeing as I trust the judgement of everone on this forum. So, here it goes:
Prologue
Stratford, Connecticut; May 12th, 1961
Thunder roared and lightening flashed as the rain fell in torrents, pounding against the glass of the windows of the hospital. Amelia Priestly moaned and writhed in agony as the physicians bustled around her in an efficient manner. She was in labor with her second child.
It was not nearly as easy as the first birth had been. Little Henry (now 2) had been delivered without complication and with relative ease two weeks late. This time, however, Amelia had gone into labor a month early and not even an epidural would ease the pain that wracked her entire body.
Her husband, Edward, waited outside, having been told by the doctors that his presence would only serve to stress his wife more at this point. He paced about nervously, running his fingers through his short blonde hair and took a drag on his cigarette before stamping it out in the ashtray.
It was midnight when the loud, lustful wails of a newborn baby could be heard and Amelia collapsed back in exhaustion, her chest rising and falling heavily. “What is it?” She managed to ask, needing to know.
The doctor smiled at her, “A girl, a beautiful baby girl. Healthy and strong.” A nurse gently handed the now bundled baby over to her mother and Amelia could only smile weakly at her daughter.
“What would you like to name her, ma’am?”
“Miranda. Miranda Louise Priestly.”
Prologue
Stratford, Connecticut; May 12th, 1961
Thunder roared and lightening flashed as the rain fell in torrents, pounding against the glass of the windows of the hospital. Amelia Priestly moaned and writhed in agony as the physicians bustled around her in an efficient manner. She was in labor with her second child.
It was not nearly as easy as the first birth had been. Little Henry (now 2) had been delivered without complication and with relative ease two weeks late. This time, however, Amelia had gone into labor a month early and not even an epidural would ease the pain that wracked her entire body.
Her husband, Edward, waited outside, having been told by the doctors that his presence would only serve to stress his wife more at this point. He paced about nervously, running his fingers through his short blonde hair and took a drag on his cigarette before stamping it out in the ashtray.
It was midnight when the loud, lustful wails of a newborn baby could be heard and Amelia collapsed back in exhaustion, her chest rising and falling heavily. “What is it?” She managed to ask, needing to know.
The doctor smiled at her, “A girl, a beautiful baby girl. Healthy and strong.” A nurse gently handed the now bundled baby over to her mother and Amelia could only smile weakly at her daughter.
“What would you like to name her, ma’am?”
“Miranda. Miranda Louise Priestly.”
Yes, you did. 