Miss Marple

Meredith Marple was your typical, mousy grand-aunt. pearly grey curls tucked beneath a lace cap, woolen bed-slippers discarded only on market days, she fitted the bill perfectly. her face was egg-like. it wasn't just the fact that it was perfectly oval. and speckled with age spots. you simply felt that she would smash to smithereens if she fell. her meekness was further enhanced by her thin, almost skeletal frame and her quavery twitter.

yet beneath her timid, mousy demeanor, you couldn't help but feel there lurked something else. perhaps it was her eye. such eyes! bright, amber hawk's-eyes, albeit slightly rheumy with age. eyes, you felt, that would be quick to notice fingerprints on her newly polished silverware or cigarette ash on her floral carpet. eyes that bore through your very soul.

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i wrote this description of Miss Marple from the Agatha Christie series. its not cheating because i can't remember if Agatha Christie ever really described Miss Marple. she doesn't usually do that. either she says nothing at all about Miss Marple (even though she is the main character), or its too chim for me to understand properly. but this is really what i imagine her to be.