Part 3
*In deep voice* Previously, in the story:
Everything was dark. Amber pulled out a match and lit her candle. She suppressed a gasp. She was there; the South Wing.
*Theme music plays, intro credits…ok. Here’s the next episode:*
Amber found two large eyes were staring down at her. Her heart nearly stopped as she raised her candle. She let out her pent up breath. It was only a mounted boar’s head. She held the candle higher and peered into the briefly illuminated room she was in. It was another hallway with many different doors leading to many different rooms. There was no light at all except her candle, though she could see there were torches set in the walls. She wondered what it had been like to wander down these horrifying halls when they were all lit, 200 years ago. Would they be less frightening and more wonderful? She couldn’t see very much at all, for the candle only lit what was directly in front of her.
Amber opened the first door she came too and closed it behind her. It led to another hall. She frowned. This was odd. She started walking down the hall very slowly, her heart beating rapidly. Out of the corners of her eyes she saw something move. She cast the light on the floor behind her. Nothing was there. She was so sure something had moved. Her heart began racing now and her breath came faster. She continued to go down the dark hall. Cobwebs hung from the unused torches and a thick layer of dust covered the furniture. She brushed off a cobweb. There! She saw something move again, this time to her right. The only thing there was an old chair. Her candle began to flicker now. It had never been very big, only casting its light on what was directly in front of her. She silently begged it not to go out, not daring to speak for fear of waking some terrible beast from the past. Its flame grew smaller. She began to move faster, hoping to get to the end of the hall and find some kind of light switch.
As Amber ran she happened to move her candle to shine on the walls. She suppressed a scream and dropped her candle. There was a person in the room with her! The candle was out and she was submerged in darkness. She ran even faster, trying not to stumble, and as she ran shapes rose up from all around her. They moved with her, running beside her, in front of her, behind her. She couldn’t see their faces, only shapes, and they all moved at the exact same time. She felt them closing in around her ~ they were everywhere. She tripped over the rug and fell. She didn’t get up; she just closed her eyes and cried because she was so afraid. She was afraid that the second she opened her eyes they would get her, take her, do something to her, and she didn’t want to know what. If she just sat there, hiding her face in her arms, she felt nothing bad could happen. Nothing could happen if she just kept her eyes closed. Silence. Darkness. That was all she knew or felt. A long time passed. She didn’t know how long she sat there, waiting for the cold fingers to seize her, in that terrifying darkness. After a while she gained control of herself and stopped crying. Why was nothing happening? She opened her eyes. It was so dark it was like she still had her eyes closed. She looked around her. Where were the figures?
Amber lit one of the matches from her pocket. Trying to breathe normally, she cautiously stood up. Movement! They too began rising all around her! She dropped back down. She frowned. They had dropped with her. They seemed to be coming from the walls… She rose again, going very slowly. She was surrounded, but this time she moved toward one of the walls of the hall. She looked at it closely and then felt a wave of emotions flow over her. It was a mirror! The walls were all mirrors! She held her match up high to see what she had forgotten the first time. She had been looking at the floor the whole time! If only she had noticed the walls and how her image had been multiplied in them! She felt silly, angry, a bit disappointed, and a small part of her wanted to laugh, if only out of nervousness. So this was the main room in the South Wing. A hall of mirrors. She groped around for the candle she had dropped. She found it and lit it, grateful it was still long enough to be lit. After exploring a few more rooms, she tried to find her way back and out of the Wing. She knew there was still more to explore but she was unnerved and reluctant to and she wanted to go back to electrically lighted halls.
Amber managed to find her way back to the door she had entered. As she placed a hand on the handle she felt something behind her. She turned slowly, in case it was another mirror. Holding her candle to her side she noted the walls were normal. No mirrors here. Her brows came together. Her hand slid off the door knob and she peered into the gloomy black hall. She was about to turn and open the door when she saw something shadow-like in the corner of the ceiling. It flew from one side of the room to another then disappeared, as if it was smoke. Her heart began racing again but she determined to not be afraid. Embarrassment from her last exploration still clung to her memory. Then she saw the quick, rapid movement around a chair. It was like a vapor, for it shifted and then disappeared. She tried to regulate her breathing and not panic. She held up her shaking candle. Nothing was there. Nothing’s there. “Nothing’s there,” she repeated to herself, as if those words could erase that sight from her brain. She let out her breath in a long sigh, breathed, and turned around, completely calm. She screamed. A face was indeed staring back at her ~ a human face that was not her own. Then it was gone, like a puff of smoke! It was all so fast she hardly remembered it a second later, but she quickly opened the door to the library without looking back and blinked against the blinding light. Those eyes! She could not get rid of those eyes! In the middle of a black, smoky vapor there had been two great yellow eyes staring at her.
That day she got lost again in the rest of the house, but she couldn’t stop thinking about the eyes she had seen. Amber looked for her aunt but she was seemingly not in the house. She ventured outside into the spacious land surrounding the mansion. The grass was green and there were many trees and ponds in the yard. Her aunt owned a lot of land. There was an orchard on one side of the house with large apple trees, and a big pond that seemed to go on for as far as the eye could see on the other side. She looked around and approached the orchard. Her aunt was sitting in a big tree, swinging her legs from a high branch. She had carried a basket up with her that was hanging on a nearby branch. She held a pen in her hand and was tapping in thoughtfully on her chin as she stared at a notebook in her lap.
“Aunt Cindy?” Amber called to her.
She didn’t move. Amber walked closer and called again. Her aunt looked up from her paper.
“Amber?” she asked lightly. Amber started talking at once, but her words came out jumbled and mismatched. Her aunt patted a limb beside her. Amber climbed up. Aunt Cindy reached into her basket and pulled out a chocolate bar. She handed it to her neice and urged her to take deep breaths. “What is it? What’s happened?”
“The South Wing. Eyes. Darkness. My candle … it went out. I saw a face and then it disappeared!” she stammered. She took another bite of chocolate and watched her aunt’s face. Her aunt leaned back and closed her eyes. She said nothing for a while.
She murmured something to herself and it seemed to Amber that she said, “Perhaps a candle wasn’t the best idea for a first time down there.” Then louder, “What was this face like?” she asked, her eyes still closed.
“Only eyes. The rest was like smoke,” Amber replied. Her aunt’s eyes flashed open and she began packing up her things into the basket, which she swung under her arm.
“That’s no reason to fear. They cannot hurt you now. However, if a mouth develops, be sure to tell me,” she said as she dropped lightly out of the tree. Amber’s mouth opened wide and she jumped down beside her.
“You mean…this doesn’t surprise you at all?” she asked.
“Amber,” she said, walking toward the house with Amber in tow, “I’m a writer. As a fantasy writer, I strive to write compelling, adventurous stories that will baffle and engage the reader so they want to continue reading and having adventures of their own.” Her voice changed. Amber had noticed in the past few days that her aunt’s voice was very unique in how it seemed to be threatening, mysterious, and sometimes musical whenever she wanted it to be.
“People like stories with ogres and goblins, dragons and faeries, elves and monsters because they think it’s all make believe, that it’s only a story, made of words on a page. But what if all they fear and dream about is in existence, in flesh and blood?” Her voice changed again, still lower as she said mysteriously, “What if the very stories they read about…are happening all around them?”
Showing posts with label Amber. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Amber. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 2, 2008
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
My Story Part 2 {Exploring}
Ok...um...I've been kind of busy with some other stuff...*cough, cough* Pirate story *cough, cough* Anybody got a RIIICOLA ? Sooo... here's the promised part two...sorry it took so long. I've been without inspiration for quite a while. Hm...*sips Dr. Pepper, tapping finger on chin* Ok. I got it.
Amber spent most of the week exploring the house. It was old and large and had 68 rooms, not including bathrooms and closets. It had dark corridors and winding staircases, grand parlors and extravagant bedrooms. It had several different wings and portions, and she imagined it could have been a castle if one had not seen the house from the outside. She wondered if this was the type of old, haunted house most horror stories originated from, with ghosts and secret passageways. Since her aunt wrote short stories for newspapers and best-selling novels, she gave Amber the liberty of roaming through the house as long as she didn't disturb her while she was writing.
She started in the North wing of the house where her aunt had redecorated. This was where her room was as well as Amber's. She walked through the living room where they had coffee the other day and she went through the door connecting it to the kitchen. This kitchen was large and the pantry alone was larger than any kitchen she had ever seen. She continued to walk through the rooms, noticing each one had a different color scheme and furniture arrangement. She came across a parlor that held a beautiful grand piano that was covered in dust from not being used. She ran a hand over its smooth surface...remembering when her father had taught her to play... She hastily walked out the door and avoided that room from that day on. She continued looking at all the bright rooms in the North wing, her thin shoes making hardly any noise on the wood floor.
Next Amber walked up the staircases to the West wing. The West wing held fewer rooms, and the focal point of this floor was the ballroom. It was like nothing she had ever seen before; something that seemed out of place in this century. With its tall ceiling, marble columns, decorative statues, and two great stone staircases it looked like something from The Beauty and the Beast. She looked at the ceiling, so distant and tall. It was decorated with pictures of clouds and angels and hints of gold reflected throughout the room were mirrored there. Several chandeliers hanging from the ceiling lighted the whole room up. She imagined what it must have been like, two hundred years ago, to dance here. She could almost see the beautiful girls in their puffy dresses and the men with their white wigs. She sighed. After noting a few more rooms {not that she would remember them or where they were; she had already gotten lost twice}, she somehow ended up in the East wing.
The East wing was not used often at all and Aunt Cindy hardly ever went there. Amber noticed that the rooms here were very different. Their walls were a deep brown, different from the golden rooms of the West wing and the colorful rooms of the North. The halls were lined with old suits of armor. Old oil lamps and even candles were the only lights. The walls held no tapestries like the other parts of the house, and even the creepy pictures were gone. She was thankful for that because these halls were scary enough without them. There were lots of bedroom, one parlor, and a few bathrooms, but the main room here was a gigantic library. This room was obviously used very often. It had electric lights, millions of books, and a few scattered couches in between the maze of bookcases. She walked down the rows of books, got lost, turned around, and found herself looking at a large chair behind a desk. Her aunt sat in the chair.
Aunt Cindy had been writing furiously, her pen scratching on the paper and her light hair slighly falling out of the bun she wore it in. She looked up and peered at Amber through her dazzlingly blue eyes. Amber tried to say something but she found she could only clasp her hands behind her back and not say anything.
"Amber?" Aunt Cindy asked. "Do you need something?"
"Er...no...I accidently got lost. I was exploring. This is the only wing I have left before the South, and--" Her Aunt leaned back in her chair and Amber stopped what she was saying.
"Do you want some lunch?" she asked. Amber nodded. Her aunt got up. She was thin yet she was not bony. She moved gracefully, and that grace suggested she had once been a dancer. Amber made note of that. She took a candle from the desk, lighted it, and led Amber through the library and into the dim halls. Amber tried to make note of the passageway there but she knew she wouldn't rember it.
"Aunt Cindy, why do you use a candle?" she asked. "I'm sure a flashlight would work just fine."
Her Aunt didn't look at her; she just looked at the walls and the ceiling as she replied, "Amber, do you like to read?"
"Yes," she replied.
"Candles..." continued her Aunt, in her musical voice, "Add an air of mystery...Look at the walls, Amber." Amber did. "In the flickering light of a candle, one can always see more than one expected to find. Everything seems...different...in candle light." Amber looked again at the walls. They were passing by the portraits. She looked at a picture of a girl and her mother. As she turned her head away she did a double take. Did the eyes of the girl blink?...And was the mother's head turned toward her now? She skipped a step and walked beside her Aunt. Her Aunt smiled. It took a few minutes for them to get to the North Wing. They stepped into the parlor. Her Aunt set the candle down and quickly made two sandwichs in the kitchen. Her Aunt blew the candle out. They ate silently at first. Amber looked around the room and spotted a book on the table. She reached out and picked it up. It was a hardback fantasy. She read the cover out loud.
"Trapped in Time by Lucinda Trendal..." Amber looked at her Aunt. "That's you. You wrote this?" she asked, turning it over to read the back. Her Aunt nodded. "What's it about?" she asked.
Her aunt smiled. "Why don't you read it and find out?" Amber said nothing. She flipped through the pages and smelled the book. She had inherited that trait from her mother.
"I expect you want to explore the South Wing next?" asked her Aunt. Amber put the book down and nodded. "I haven't been there in years. That's the only part of this mansion I haven't re-done. I left it just like it was in the 1800s. I seem to remember that I spent a lot of time there some years ago," her eyes grew distant with memory, "And I hope you find you love it as much as I do. I hope you...find what you're looking for there..." Amber looked at her Aunt, wondering what she meant.
"If you love it so much, why don't you go there anymore? And why don't you remodel?" she asked.
Her Aunt sighed, still distant, and said, "I don't want to ruin the adventure. If I went there everyday its significance would wear off, and like soil, it needs time to replinish. I left it as it is because it's so...mysterious and old, the perfect setting for some of my stories." She snapped back to the present, her eyes grew bright instead of glossy. "I'm sorry," she said, rising to her feet and picking up their plates. She disappeared into the kitchen then reappeared in the parlor. Amber almost questioned her sanity, but she soon forgot about that ~ after all, she was a writer. Most writers were eccentric and old, so she thought. Amber stood too, straightening her thin jacket. Her Aunt looked at her for a moment. Then she looked around herself and picked up the candle again. "I'm sorry," she said, "You just look so much like your mother..." Amber looked down. "Candle?" asked her aunt. Amber nodded. Her aunt handed her a box of matches which she slipped into her pocket.
"Thanks," said Amber.
"Any time," replied her aunt. "And if you ever want to talk, I'm here...or if you have any thoughts about writing or questions about my books, I'll be glad to answer them." She left before Amber could ask for directions. She sighed and walked through the hallways, hoping she would recognize something. She managed to find the library again. She found a door and somehow ended up in front of another door. It was thick. She opened it. Everything was dark. She pulled out her match and lit her candle. She suppressed a gasp. She was there; the South Wing.
~ Captain Bonnie Spinner
Part 3 coming...eventually....!
Amber spent most of the week exploring the house. It was old and large and had 68 rooms, not including bathrooms and closets. It had dark corridors and winding staircases, grand parlors and extravagant bedrooms. It had several different wings and portions, and she imagined it could have been a castle if one had not seen the house from the outside. She wondered if this was the type of old, haunted house most horror stories originated from, with ghosts and secret passageways. Since her aunt wrote short stories for newspapers and best-selling novels, she gave Amber the liberty of roaming through the house as long as she didn't disturb her while she was writing.
She started in the North wing of the house where her aunt had redecorated. This was where her room was as well as Amber's. She walked through the living room where they had coffee the other day and she went through the door connecting it to the kitchen. This kitchen was large and the pantry alone was larger than any kitchen she had ever seen. She continued to walk through the rooms, noticing each one had a different color scheme and furniture arrangement. She came across a parlor that held a beautiful grand piano that was covered in dust from not being used. She ran a hand over its smooth surface...remembering when her father had taught her to play... She hastily walked out the door and avoided that room from that day on. She continued looking at all the bright rooms in the North wing, her thin shoes making hardly any noise on the wood floor.
Next Amber walked up the staircases to the West wing. The West wing held fewer rooms, and the focal point of this floor was the ballroom. It was like nothing she had ever seen before; something that seemed out of place in this century. With its tall ceiling, marble columns, decorative statues, and two great stone staircases it looked like something from The Beauty and the Beast. She looked at the ceiling, so distant and tall. It was decorated with pictures of clouds and angels and hints of gold reflected throughout the room were mirrored there. Several chandeliers hanging from the ceiling lighted the whole room up. She imagined what it must have been like, two hundred years ago, to dance here. She could almost see the beautiful girls in their puffy dresses and the men with their white wigs. She sighed. After noting a few more rooms {not that she would remember them or where they were; she had already gotten lost twice}, she somehow ended up in the East wing.
The East wing was not used often at all and Aunt Cindy hardly ever went there. Amber noticed that the rooms here were very different. Their walls were a deep brown, different from the golden rooms of the West wing and the colorful rooms of the North. The halls were lined with old suits of armor. Old oil lamps and even candles were the only lights. The walls held no tapestries like the other parts of the house, and even the creepy pictures were gone. She was thankful for that because these halls were scary enough without them. There were lots of bedroom, one parlor, and a few bathrooms, but the main room here was a gigantic library. This room was obviously used very often. It had electric lights, millions of books, and a few scattered couches in between the maze of bookcases. She walked down the rows of books, got lost, turned around, and found herself looking at a large chair behind a desk. Her aunt sat in the chair.
Aunt Cindy had been writing furiously, her pen scratching on the paper and her light hair slighly falling out of the bun she wore it in. She looked up and peered at Amber through her dazzlingly blue eyes. Amber tried to say something but she found she could only clasp her hands behind her back and not say anything.
"Amber?" Aunt Cindy asked. "Do you need something?"
"Er...no...I accidently got lost. I was exploring. This is the only wing I have left before the South, and--" Her Aunt leaned back in her chair and Amber stopped what she was saying.
"Do you want some lunch?" she asked. Amber nodded. Her aunt got up. She was thin yet she was not bony. She moved gracefully, and that grace suggested she had once been a dancer. Amber made note of that. She took a candle from the desk, lighted it, and led Amber through the library and into the dim halls. Amber tried to make note of the passageway there but she knew she wouldn't rember it.
"Aunt Cindy, why do you use a candle?" she asked. "I'm sure a flashlight would work just fine."
Her Aunt didn't look at her; she just looked at the walls and the ceiling as she replied, "Amber, do you like to read?"
"Yes," she replied.
"Candles..." continued her Aunt, in her musical voice, "Add an air of mystery...Look at the walls, Amber." Amber did. "In the flickering light of a candle, one can always see more than one expected to find. Everything seems...different...in candle light." Amber looked again at the walls. They were passing by the portraits. She looked at a picture of a girl and her mother. As she turned her head away she did a double take. Did the eyes of the girl blink?...And was the mother's head turned toward her now? She skipped a step and walked beside her Aunt. Her Aunt smiled. It took a few minutes for them to get to the North Wing. They stepped into the parlor. Her Aunt set the candle down and quickly made two sandwichs in the kitchen. Her Aunt blew the candle out. They ate silently at first. Amber looked around the room and spotted a book on the table. She reached out and picked it up. It was a hardback fantasy. She read the cover out loud.
"Trapped in Time by Lucinda Trendal..." Amber looked at her Aunt. "That's you. You wrote this?" she asked, turning it over to read the back. Her Aunt nodded. "What's it about?" she asked.
Her aunt smiled. "Why don't you read it and find out?" Amber said nothing. She flipped through the pages and smelled the book. She had inherited that trait from her mother.
"I expect you want to explore the South Wing next?" asked her Aunt. Amber put the book down and nodded. "I haven't been there in years. That's the only part of this mansion I haven't re-done. I left it just like it was in the 1800s. I seem to remember that I spent a lot of time there some years ago," her eyes grew distant with memory, "And I hope you find you love it as much as I do. I hope you...find what you're looking for there..." Amber looked at her Aunt, wondering what she meant.
"If you love it so much, why don't you go there anymore? And why don't you remodel?" she asked.
Her Aunt sighed, still distant, and said, "I don't want to ruin the adventure. If I went there everyday its significance would wear off, and like soil, it needs time to replinish. I left it as it is because it's so...mysterious and old, the perfect setting for some of my stories." She snapped back to the present, her eyes grew bright instead of glossy. "I'm sorry," she said, rising to her feet and picking up their plates. She disappeared into the kitchen then reappeared in the parlor. Amber almost questioned her sanity, but she soon forgot about that ~ after all, she was a writer. Most writers were eccentric and old, so she thought. Amber stood too, straightening her thin jacket. Her Aunt looked at her for a moment. Then she looked around herself and picked up the candle again. "I'm sorry," she said, "You just look so much like your mother..." Amber looked down. "Candle?" asked her aunt. Amber nodded. Her aunt handed her a box of matches which she slipped into her pocket.
"Thanks," said Amber.
"Any time," replied her aunt. "And if you ever want to talk, I'm here...or if you have any thoughts about writing or questions about my books, I'll be glad to answer them." She left before Amber could ask for directions. She sighed and walked through the hallways, hoping she would recognize something. She managed to find the library again. She found a door and somehow ended up in front of another door. It was thick. She opened it. Everything was dark. She pulled out her match and lit her candle. She suppressed a gasp. She was there; the South Wing.
~ Captain Bonnie Spinner
Part 3 coming...eventually....!
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Story Part 1 {Meet Amber}
Ok, so recently I have been inclinded to write {ever since I took those pirate quizes}, and so I'm going to write a little story or whatever every week. *Silence* Yes, I'm serious! *Silence, skeptical looks* Stop! Ok, fine, I'm going to promise you. And I'm going to promise you in AWESOME scrolly letters. Cuz I got skillz....called html. :)
Here we go...
Amber sat in the backseat of a blue minivan. Her brown eyes surveyed the passing landscape. The trees here were tall, the grass was green, and the sky was a bright blue. She sighed and leaned against the window, her hand fiddling in her dark red locks. It seemed like whole world was bright and happy while she was angry and sad. The driver, a tall young woman, glanced into the mirror.
"You ok?" she asked. Amber nodded, not saying anything. She looked at her reflection in the glass. "You know," continued the woman, "It's only for a year. Next year, once I get a real house, we can live together and be a family again."
"Not all of us," Amber replied, her voice soft. Her mother heard.
"Amber, stop bringing up your father. It's a good thing he's behind bars! The world is safer this way."
"Mom, how can you say that? He's always been there for me, especially when you weren't!" she retorted, anger rising in her.
"Amber, you know I can't always be there! I have a job that requires me to travel!"
"Then why don't you take me with you?" Amber exclaimed.
"You think I don't want to? Do you actually think I want to be seperated? I have to do what it takes to provide for this family. I have to do what your father never will!" Her mother's voice was raised to an alarming level.
"You keep saying this family. How can you call us a family when you won't even speak to, much less look at dad?"
"Amber, your father is dangerous! He's a criminal, and you know it! I'm not going to say I'm glad the police finally caught him, but you have to understand; it's better this way!" Amber was mad, but she chose to silently fume instead of renting out loud. The moments passed in silence. The scenery that had seemed so bright and cheerful before now seemed gray and dull. She closed her eyes. Her mother kept her eyes on the road, even though they were now leaking tears which she hastily wiped away.
A while later the car drove up to a large iron gate behind which was a large, old victorian mansion. The grassy plot surrounding it had many flower gardens and ponds. The house itself seemed to look like it had come from a movie or a book. The windows were large and there were many of them. The multiple doors were made of a dark wood garnished with brass knockers and doorknobs. The roof was pointed and had a perfect little dark purple chimney on top. It must have a hundred rooms, Amber thought. It seemed like several minutes before they arrived in the circular driveway around the entrance. The closer she got, the more it seemed like a castle, and soon upon her arrival she found out it was one that had been remodeled.
"Now remember," her mother started, "It's only for a year and your Aunt Cindy is being incredibley kind to do this for us. I grew up in this house, and I hope you'll grow to like it. I made a lot of memories there. This house has lots of land for you to run around on, not to mention there's a good high school conveniently located a few minutes away." Her mother turned around to look at her. "Please, Amber, try to make it work." Amber looked at her, her lips pressed together.
They got out of the car. The front door opened and a middle-aged lady with light hair and bright blue eyes rushed out. She was short yet kind of thin. She embraced Amber's mother, immediately talking to her and setting the plans. She turned to Amber.
"Oh my..." she exclaimed, as she looked over Amber's sharp features. "My, my, Amber, you've certainly grown up. The last time I saw you, you were only this high," she said, holding her hand at her waist. Amber gave a small smile, though she hardly felt like it. "Come in, come in," said Aunt Cindy, ushering them inside. Opening the wide doors, Amber found herself inside a large hallway with two sets of stairs leading off in two directions. The hall walls were covered in old tapestries and antique pictures. There were many side tables covered with rich cloth, and old vases sitting on top of them, even though most of the flowers had long since died.
Aunt Cindy led them into a furnished living room and served Amber's mother some coffee. They talked for a while and Amber only half-listened. She looked around the room, thinking about everything that had happened. Her dad had stolen, cheated, and gambled. But he was always at home whenever her mother was traveling for her journalist job. Amber was very close to her dad. They had many inside jokes and special moments. Amber mentally tried to remember every single one of those moments.
"Amber?" her Aunt called. She was showing her mother to the door. Her mother hugged her. Amber said nothing, choosing only to glare at her. "Stay safe, ok?" Amber nodded and watched her leave. As she drived off in her minivan, Amber turned and closed the door. She looked at her Aunt again. She was thin and frail, not old but not as young as her mother either. Her bright blue eyes held wisdom and mirth, tinged with a flash of pain. As soon as she saw that flash, it disappeared and her eyes were happy again.
"Do you want to see your room?" she asked. Her voice was soft yet strong. Amber nodded. She followed her up a flight of stairs and through a labrynth of passages and halls. She looked at the many portraits and pictures on the walls, guessing the eyes staring down at her were from long-dead relatives. They finally arrived at a white door with a simple door knob at the end of a hall.
"This is it," said her Aunt Cindy, "Your mom's room." And before Amber could say anything, her Aunt was moving down the hallway, leaving her alone in front of the door.
She looked at it with a strange face, her eyebrows coming close together. "My mom's room?" she repeated as she opened the door and stepped inside. The room was large, she could tell, but she had trouble seeing in the dark. She groped for a light switch. Once her fingers found the switch, she flipped it on and stepped back. The room was much larger than she had first thought. The walls were a rich red color. The bed in the center of the room was very big and covered in a silk canopy. Side tables draped in red cloth held beaded lamps. A decorative rug on the floor covered the tan carpet. Bookcases lined one wall and the other was covered with still more tapestries.
"Wow," she said, taking another step back and dropping her bag on the floor. She aproached the white dresser with gold embellishing then sighed and walked over to the bed. She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a purple jacket. She felt out of place in this old victorian mansion. She felt out of place everywhere. Her whole life seemed out of place. Then she burried her head into the pillow and cried.
Part 2 coming soon!
Here we go...
Amber sat in the backseat of a blue minivan. Her brown eyes surveyed the passing landscape. The trees here were tall, the grass was green, and the sky was a bright blue. She sighed and leaned against the window, her hand fiddling in her dark red locks. It seemed like whole world was bright and happy while she was angry and sad. The driver, a tall young woman, glanced into the mirror.
"You ok?" she asked. Amber nodded, not saying anything. She looked at her reflection in the glass. "You know," continued the woman, "It's only for a year. Next year, once I get a real house, we can live together and be a family again."
"Not all of us," Amber replied, her voice soft. Her mother heard.
"Amber, stop bringing up your father. It's a good thing he's behind bars! The world is safer this way."
"Mom, how can you say that? He's always been there for me, especially when you weren't!" she retorted, anger rising in her.
"Amber, you know I can't always be there! I have a job that requires me to travel!"
"Then why don't you take me with you?" Amber exclaimed.
"You think I don't want to? Do you actually think I want to be seperated? I have to do what it takes to provide for this family. I have to do what your father never will!" Her mother's voice was raised to an alarming level.
"You keep saying this family. How can you call us a family when you won't even speak to, much less look at dad?"
"Amber, your father is dangerous! He's a criminal, and you know it! I'm not going to say I'm glad the police finally caught him, but you have to understand; it's better this way!" Amber was mad, but she chose to silently fume instead of renting out loud. The moments passed in silence. The scenery that had seemed so bright and cheerful before now seemed gray and dull. She closed her eyes. Her mother kept her eyes on the road, even though they were now leaking tears which she hastily wiped away.
A while later the car drove up to a large iron gate behind which was a large, old victorian mansion. The grassy plot surrounding it had many flower gardens and ponds. The house itself seemed to look like it had come from a movie or a book. The windows were large and there were many of them. The multiple doors were made of a dark wood garnished with brass knockers and doorknobs. The roof was pointed and had a perfect little dark purple chimney on top. It must have a hundred rooms, Amber thought. It seemed like several minutes before they arrived in the circular driveway around the entrance. The closer she got, the more it seemed like a castle, and soon upon her arrival she found out it was one that had been remodeled.
"Now remember," her mother started, "It's only for a year and your Aunt Cindy is being incredibley kind to do this for us. I grew up in this house, and I hope you'll grow to like it. I made a lot of memories there. This house has lots of land for you to run around on, not to mention there's a good high school conveniently located a few minutes away." Her mother turned around to look at her. "Please, Amber, try to make it work." Amber looked at her, her lips pressed together.
They got out of the car. The front door opened and a middle-aged lady with light hair and bright blue eyes rushed out. She was short yet kind of thin. She embraced Amber's mother, immediately talking to her and setting the plans. She turned to Amber.
"Oh my..." she exclaimed, as she looked over Amber's sharp features. "My, my, Amber, you've certainly grown up. The last time I saw you, you were only this high," she said, holding her hand at her waist. Amber gave a small smile, though she hardly felt like it. "Come in, come in," said Aunt Cindy, ushering them inside. Opening the wide doors, Amber found herself inside a large hallway with two sets of stairs leading off in two directions. The hall walls were covered in old tapestries and antique pictures. There were many side tables covered with rich cloth, and old vases sitting on top of them, even though most of the flowers had long since died.
Aunt Cindy led them into a furnished living room and served Amber's mother some coffee. They talked for a while and Amber only half-listened. She looked around the room, thinking about everything that had happened. Her dad had stolen, cheated, and gambled. But he was always at home whenever her mother was traveling for her journalist job. Amber was very close to her dad. They had many inside jokes and special moments. Amber mentally tried to remember every single one of those moments.
"Amber?" her Aunt called. She was showing her mother to the door. Her mother hugged her. Amber said nothing, choosing only to glare at her. "Stay safe, ok?" Amber nodded and watched her leave. As she drived off in her minivan, Amber turned and closed the door. She looked at her Aunt again. She was thin and frail, not old but not as young as her mother either. Her bright blue eyes held wisdom and mirth, tinged with a flash of pain. As soon as she saw that flash, it disappeared and her eyes were happy again.
"Do you want to see your room?" she asked. Her voice was soft yet strong. Amber nodded. She followed her up a flight of stairs and through a labrynth of passages and halls. She looked at the many portraits and pictures on the walls, guessing the eyes staring down at her were from long-dead relatives. They finally arrived at a white door with a simple door knob at the end of a hall.
"This is it," said her Aunt Cindy, "Your mom's room." And before Amber could say anything, her Aunt was moving down the hallway, leaving her alone in front of the door.
She looked at it with a strange face, her eyebrows coming close together. "My mom's room?" she repeated as she opened the door and stepped inside. The room was large, she could tell, but she had trouble seeing in the dark. She groped for a light switch. Once her fingers found the switch, she flipped it on and stepped back. The room was much larger than she had first thought. The walls were a rich red color. The bed in the center of the room was very big and covered in a silk canopy. Side tables draped in red cloth held beaded lamps. A decorative rug on the floor covered the tan carpet. Bookcases lined one wall and the other was covered with still more tapestries.
"Wow," she said, taking another step back and dropping her bag on the floor. She aproached the white dresser with gold embellishing then sighed and walked over to the bed. She turned and looked at herself in the mirror. She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt with a purple jacket. She felt out of place in this old victorian mansion. She felt out of place everywhere. Her whole life seemed out of place. Then she burried her head into the pillow and cried.
Part 2 coming soon!
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