Creative Writing: Cruella De Vil

I used to be a star. Everyone I encountered feared, worshipped or despised me. And that’s exactly the way I liked it – until that sickening couple and their wretched Dalmatians ruined everything.

So here I am, freshly released from prison yet with none of my followers to welcome me with cautious, terrified arms. All I have left from that life is my beautiful spotted coat. No matter how adorable the puppy supposedly was, no-one can deny that I look utterly ravishing. To be able to once again run my fingers along the silky-smooth fur feels heavenly. 

“Miss De Vil? You’re on in three,” someone informs me. I raise my chin, take a deep breath and walk into the studio, my coat flowing behind me. This is my one chance to regain some sort of celebrity status, however small. Apparently the show claims to give you a “make-under” and transform you into a “natural” beauty. It sounds truly horrific. 

I am faced with a large rectangular mirror. My reflection stares back at me: fashionably dishevelled black-and-white hair; eyebrows waxed to within an inch of their life; liberal use of eyeliner; razor-sharp cheekbones. My lips curl upwards into the trademark sinister smile that I’ve mastered over the years. Perfection. 

“I’d wipe that smug smile off your face, if I were you,” a deep female voice comes from nowhere. Startled, my eyes dart around the studio in an attempt to figure out the source. 

“Over here, dah-ling,” the voice responds from behind the mirror. I feel a surge of anger. How dare she mimic my charming catchphrase? 

“Well, well. You are a special case indeed.” Defensively, I wrap my coat around myself.

“You do realise that you have a dead dog draped around your shoulders, don’t you?” she says scathingly.  

“This happens to be my favourite coat. Vintage Dalmatian, darling. I take great pride in it.” I fold my arms resolutely across my chest for emphasis. 

“You’re proud of that…thing?” the voice sneers. “And as for that hair – frankly, you resemble a skunk that’s just been electrocuted.” I gasp in disbelief, and have to resist the impulse to smooth my hair down. 

“Why do you even wear that?” the voice asks. “Don’t you have a heart? Or is it buried somewhere underneath the dead puppy?”

What is she, an animal rights activist?

“It happens to be the height of fashion actually, darling. Those whimpering little brats don’t know any different,” I retort, giving my coat a defiant swish. 

“You know they do,” the voice replies, steadily. “The reason they whimper is because of the atrocities you do to them in the name of fashion.” Unexpectedly, the stinging truth of her words send tears springing to my eyelids, and I bite my tongue fiercely to stop them falling. For some inexplicable reason, hearing someone else say what I already know has more of an effect than I anticipated.

Keep it together, Cruella. You’re stronger than this. Show the world just how much you don’t care. 

“It’s not my problem,” I say, though I’m acutely aware of the tremble in my voice. The cracks in my mask are beginning to show. I can’t let this happen.

“I’m going to have fun taking you apart,” the voice hisses.

“Do your worst,” I snarl. I’m taken to a room where I’m blindfolded, poked and prodded, and eventually the voice asks: “Are you ready for your close-up, Miss De Vil?” I nod tentatively, the blindfold is removed and I’m standing in front of the mirror again. But I don’t recognise the face staring back.

The woman in the mirror looks... Normal. Her hair is black all over, sleek, shiny. The coat is gone, revealing a remarkably decent figure. What surprises me most, however, is that I don’t hate it.

“Have we proved to you that you don’t need a dead animal on your arm to look good?” the voice asks.

I look directly into the mirror. Into the stranger’s eyes.

“It’s not horrendous,” I say, trying to hide the hint of a smile that threatens to play on my lips.

“Don’t go back to your old ways, now,” the voice warns. 

“I…I don’t think I will,” I reply slowly, and for a moment I honestly believe it.

Walking out of the studio, I spot a dog tied to a lamppost, obediently waiting for its owner. Such beautiful, honey-golden fur. And then I realise that my new image is missing a vital ingredient.

A nice new scarf.

Being a Mouse with a Lion’s Heart in a Dog-Eat-Dog World: The Power of Introverts

 

‘Some of our greatest ideas, art, and inventions – from the theory of evolution to Van Gogh's sunflowers to the personal computer – came from quiet and cerebral people who knew how to tune in to their inner worlds and the treasures to be found there. Without introverts, the world would be devoid of Newton's theory of gravity, Einstein's theory of relativity, WB Yeats's The Second Coming, Chopin's nocturnes, Proust's In Search of Lost Time, Peter Pan, Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four, The Cat in the Hat, Charlie Brown, the films of Steven Spielberg, Google (co-founded by introvert Larry Page) and Harry Potter.’ – Susan Cain

Recently I watched a brilliantly insightful and interesting TED presentation by Susan Cain on why the world needs quiet people. In the video, she passionately defends introverts, arguing that they bring amazing talents and abilities to the world, and so should be encouraged and celebrated (personally, I couldn’t agree more). I definitely recommend you watch it.

She also talks about how, sometimes, introverts suppress their own nature in order to conform to the ‘norm’ or Extrovert Ideal by deliberately pushing themselves out of their comfort zones and facing their fears. Now, while this is a fantastic way to experience all that life has to offer and increase your confidence, too much of this could cause you to lose sight of who you really are. And that can only lead to unhappiness. 

All this made me think about my own experiences. When I was small(er), I was quite shy and felt intimidated in group settings. I used to completely clam up when the teacher picked on me to answer a question. To this day, I instead relish one-on-one conversations with friends and love to listen to other people. Was there something wrong with me? No: that’s just who I was. 

Then, something magic happened. I discovered books, and writing, and music and films; the things that make you think, laugh, cry and feel inspired in equal measure. And it gave me this strange kind of inner confidence. I immersed myself in fictional worlds and sympathised with people who were merely a figment of someone’s imagination, which taught me empathy. I learned that I could express myself much more easily through words on a page than speaking out loud. I discovered the electrifying buzz, that tingling shiver-down-the-spine feeling that music can give you, and the sense of accomplishment that you can get when you teach yourself to play something that, miraculously, sounds decent. I started doing (pretty lousy) impressions of characters from films, which was how I fell in love with acting. It made me feel alive: stepping into someone else’s shoes meant that I could strip back the shyness that had been holding me back, and slip into something more confident and free. Before approaching someone, I would pretend that I was role-playing someone who was self-assured and unafraid. 

With the support of my amazing family and friends, I learned to internalise that feeling, and eventually I wasn’t acting anymore: I knew I had that confidence within me. The key was to be comfortable with just being myself. I mean, let’s face it, I’m never going to be the life and soul of the party, or a social butterfly – but to be honest with you, I’d rather have those few meaningful, authentic connections than a superficial mass of people who I can never get past small talk with.  

What I’m essentially trying to say is: if you identify yourself as an introvert, don’t try to change yourself just to fit in with society’s expectations of the Extrovert Ideal. As much as the world needs outgoing people, the world equally needs people like you. By all means challenge yourself, and be outwardly confident when the situation calls for it, but most importantly be happy with who you are; hell, be proud of who you are. Go on. I dare you.

The Brightest Flame Burns Quickest: A Tribute

You were the personification of optimism; I can't remember a time where you weren't smiling. You touched the lives of so many people with your amazing personality and sense of humour. While you were here, you embraced life and all that it had to offer. I can't believe you were taken from us so soon, it's so unfair. As a good friend said, often those who shine the brightest also shine for the shortest time. I feel immensely lucky to have had you as a friend and shared experiences with you, of which I wish there could be more. I learnt so much from you, and I will never forget you.

Joe with his sister Ellie