Beauty Cont'd

This is also one I started a while ago that I've picked back up (and again, it's fairy tale themed, although this one's quite recognizable. It's been kind of done to death, but I'm doing it anyway). I'm reposting what I've already posted, for the sake of ease, and I've added a bit onto the end and I plan to continue with it when I have more time.

- Yelena

I never even really wanted the stupid flower. And it’s not worth the price I have to pay.

My father asked each of us what we would like from his trip to the city and my stepsisters’ eyes lit up with the glow that they only get when gifts are mentioned. Stella wanted jewels, of course. She requested rubies and garnets to match her new red silk dress. And sapphires to match her eyes. Diana wanted dresses, yards of silk and velvet. She wanted lace petticoats and all fabrics in the brightest colors. She requested the most expensive ones, naturally. And then he turned to me, expecting me to demand something equally inane and ridiculous.

I asked him for the most beautiful flower he could find.

I wanted him to see that I was different, that I wasn’t like them. Maybe I just wanted to him to look at me and really see me for once. He hadn’t really met my eyes since mother died. I didn’t really want a flower. I wanted my father back.

It was October then. The flowers were starting to die. Maybe I just wanted to hold on to a little piece of beauty in this season of darkness, to prove to myself that life really does go on. And once I had said it, I couldn’t take it back.

He wrote it down on his list with the other requests, one more item to check off. He didn’t look at me. He just muttered a gruff good-bye and shouldered his bag. I tried to keep the tears from my eyes as he walked out to the waiting carriage and left without a backward glance.

I knew Stella and Diana would mock me mercilessly if I cried.

Daddy’s little girl, they called me, knowing he had barely spoken to me since Mother died.

“Does the little baby miss her daddy?” Diana crooned in her saccharine voice.

I walked up the stairs to the garret, knowing they wouldn’t follow me. They hate mice.

******

He came back on the first of December, looking much older than his forty years. I barely recognized him and the sorrow in his face was painful to look at. We all rushed out to meet him.

Diana and Stella yelled at the servants to help with the trunks; they wanted to get a look at the gifts he’d brought. They wanted to see if the jewels were big enough and if the silks were rich enough. They’d find something to complain about.

The coachman gingerly helped Father down from his seat in the carriage. As soon as his feet were on the ground, he stumbled over to me. Tears were in his eyes. Before I had the chance to say anything, he’d wrapped me up in his arms. He held me tightly and for the first time since Mother died, I knew how much he really loved me.

He pulled back for a moment and looked into my eyes. I smiled at him and he could hold back no more.

“I’m sorry,” he told me, right before he burst into tears.

******

The servants helped him inside as he wept and I watched, unable to move.

Finally, when all the things had been packed away, all of the fine things properly admired by my stepsisters, who couldn’t care less about father’s condition, we all sat in the parlor.

Stella and Diana draped themselves across the couches and the servants had placed father in the easy chair. Stepmother was away on a visit, so I wouldn’t have to suffer her haunting presence while Father told his story.

The rose lay on the coffee table. Even in the dim firelight, it gave off an otherworldly glow, its scarlet petals becoming embers in our eyes.

I sat down at his knees and looked up at him, waiting for him to begin. He took my hand and held it between his own thin white ones.

“All was well while I was in the city,” he began quietly. “I was able to trade our goods for a fair value. Swiftly, I found as many beautiful gems as any young lady could want and found enough yards of expensive silks to clothe an army of princesses.”

He nodded at my stepsisters and I smirked, knowing that there would never be enough jewels or expensive clothes to satisfy them. He took a deep breath and continued.

“But I could not find any flowers. There were none beautiful enough for my little girl. I visited every florist and merchant in the city. I looked at Dutch tulips and English primroses. I sought every flower imaginable, but in the dark of winter, they were all beginning to wilt and I could not disgrace myself by bringing home a wilted flower. None of the silk flowers were lovely enough. Finally, I resigned myself to coming home empty-handed.”

He looked down at me.

“I hoped you would forgive me,” he said. “We left the city at noon, two days ago, hoping to ride through the night and arrive by morning. I was a fool. We should’ve waited until the next morning but I was eager to be home again, after so many weeks spent away. I didn’t want to wait. So, like a spoiled child, I commanded the servants to load up the carriage. We left just as the sun began to sink.”

“The forest at midnight was not the one we had known during the day. The paths turned and betrayed us. The familiar landmarks hid themselves and the canopy of black branches crowded out the starlight. Soon we were lost, with nothing but a single lantern to light the way. We had almost given up hope. We decided to stop where we were and spend the night in the carriage. Daylight would show us the way home, we hoped, but then the lantern showed us the garden.”

“It was the most beautiful garden I have ever seen in my life. It was filled with every flower I’ve ever known and plenty that I could not name. The colors blended together, brilliant reds and blues and greens and purples. It looked like an exotic painting. And surrounded by snow, in the dead of winter, these flowers bloomed as though it was May. I saw the roses almost immediately. They sat at the heart of the garden and they glowed as though the sun itself lay inside them. ”

“The garden stood at the foot of a great castle. We hadn’t noticed it before. The entire structure sat in darkness, with not a single window lit. I thought, surely its owners must have abandoned it for warmer climes. And I thought that they wouldn’t begrudge me one little rose. They probably wouldn’t even notice one missing, I thought, not after they had been gone for so long.”

“I climbed out of the carriage and made my way to the center of the garden, careful not to trample any flowers. I removed the pen-knife from my belt and gingerly clipped a red rose. I was looking at the flower in my hands when a roar knocked me off my feet.”

“My hands sprang to cover my ears from the painful noise and the rose fell to the ground as I met the gaze of a fearsome beast. He must’ve been over nine feet tall, covered in a shaggy brown fur. One of his claws wrapped itself around my throat as he lifted me off my feet. His grip began to choke the life from me and I couldn’t breathe. A deep gurgling voice, accompanied by a foul stench, came from his snout.

‘What are you doing here? You thought you could steal MY roses and get away with it?’

I couldn’t reply, couldn’t find the air, but somehow, I must’ve coughed out the words ‘my daughter,’ because I swiftly found myself hurled down on the snowy turf.

His eyes narrowed and he growled at me as I struggled to scoot away. I could see sharp white teeth, each as long as my finger. I dreaded what he would do to me next.

‘What about your daughter?’

I explained to him your request and how I couldn’t return home without a gift for you. I explained,” he tripped over his words here, and fresh tears fell from his eyes. “I explained how much I love you.”

“He told me that a price must be paid. He said… he said that I would take the flower but only in return for a life. That I must return there, to his castle, a week from that day, or that I must send you in my place.”

He stopped talking and broke down weeping.

I knew then what I must do and I hated it. I knew I could not let him go back into that forest. I could not let him face that creature.

I only asked for that silly flower because I wanted my father to notice me. And now, thanks to one foolish choice, I’ll never see him again.

******

I lay on an old sofa in the garret. My eyes stared into the dark, but the night was moonless and black. The house around me was silent and if I concentrated, I could almost feel the heat of sleeping bodies in the rooms beneath me.

“Get up,” I told myself, forcing my arms to push me up off of the dusty old sofa. My feet flumped onto the floor quietly.

I wanted to stay up there, to lie in the quiet and the warmth of that dusty old attic forever. I didn’t want to leave. And I really didn’t want to imagine what was waiting for me out in that forest. But I had to.

I pulled myself up and picked up the bag that I had packed. I slung it over my shoulder as I headed down the stairs. It wasn’t heavy. I decided not to take very much with me. I took some bread and dried sausage from the kitchen, along with a brick of hard cheese. And I took whatever warm clothes would fit, a few pairs of woolen leggings and some warm sweaters.

The stairs creaked as I made my way down to the second floor, but I wasn’t worried about waking anyone up. My stepmother and stepsisters were sound sleepers. My father was a light sleeper, but I knew that he’d taken a calming draught before he went to sleep and nothing would rouse him any time soon.

I could hear my stepsisters’ snoring through their bedroom doors and for once I was grateful. It made the night less hazy, less like a dream. And it made what I was about to do seem a little less real.

I walked softly down the hall, past my stepsisters’ room and slowly turned the knob to enter my father’s bedroom. My stepmother lay on the opposite side of the bed, facing the window and I was grateful I wouldn’t have to see her hateful face again.

He was facing me, snoring softly, nothing like the grunts and snorts coming out of my stepmother. His face was drawn and thin. There was much more white in his hair now. The moonlight cast a bluish glow across his face, making him look ghostly in the half-darkness. I hope he would get better, even if I wasn’t there to see it.

The rose lay on the cherry-wood table by his bed, glowing softly in the moonlight. I knelt over him and planted a last kiss on his cheek. He stayed fast asleep. I felt the tears building behind my eyes, so I grabbed the rose and left the room quickly. The kiss didn’t wake him but crying most definitely would. I calmed myself as I walked down the last flight of stairs and into the main hall.

I pulled on my boots and put on my warmest coat. I opened the door and blue moonlight flooded the room, casting everything in grey. I took a deep breath and looked around the house, seeing it for the last time before I shut the door behind me and walked out into the night.

The Monster in My Closet

I imagine this one as more of a picture book. I know I'll have to simplify some of the language for it to be a picture book and probably I'll have to shorten it, but hopefully it's enjoyable as it is for now.

- Yelena

I always known it was there, hiding from me. I’ve heard the rustlings at night.

Mom tucks me in. She gives me a kiss and turns off the light. She leaves the room and that’s when I hear it. The strange noises come from the closet, scratching and rumblings.

I know there’s a monster in there. I don’t know what he looks like. Sometimes I imagine he’s covered in slimy green scales and has strange yellow eyes. Or maybe he’s covered in fur and has huge claws, like a bear. Maybe, I think, he’s like an octopus, with lots of legs and poisonous suckers.

I make these pictures in my head and I always fall asleep waiting for him to come out. I’m scared of the night when he’ll finally come out of my closet, but I don’t want him to catch me while I’m sleeping, so I’ve promised myself that tonight I’m going to stay up as long as it takes.

My mother gives me a kiss and tucks me in. She turns off the lights and shuts the door. And the noises start.

I sit in my bed with the blankets pulled up to my chin and I wait. I know that there’s a good chance I’ll be eaten tonight. It’s really too bad, I think, because my stinky little brother will get all of my toys.

I wait and I wait. The night gets darker and darker until it looks like my room is made of shadows. It’s so dark that I can barely see the large shadow that comes out of the closet and creeps into the room. When it gets closer, I can see that none of my ideas even came close.

He’s huge. He has to be at least nine feet tall and has horns on his head like a bull. They look sharp, even in the darkness and I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of those horns. His teeth are sharp and they look like the pictures of Tyrannosaurus Rex teeth from the books at school. He’s covered in green fur and once he gets closer, I can see he glows in the dark. His eyes are a poisonous, burning green and I’m trembling as he comes closer to the bed.

I watch as he gets closer and closer. And I’m scared, because I’m sure getting eaten by a big, green monster is going to hurt.

But he passes my bed and I watch as he goes to the corner of the room. Slowly, he opens my toy box.

“Oooh, Barbies!”

It’s so quiet that I hear the words clearly. His voice is low and gravelly, but I’m sure that’s what he said. It’s enough to make me crawl forward to the foot of my bed.

“Hello?” I say.

He jumps and his fur waves like grass.

“Oh, you’re awake?” he asks, in his deep voice, as he comes closer to the bed with a Barbie doll in each hand.

“Yes, I’m awake,” I tell him. Now I’m starting to get impatient. I’m not sure if I’m going to get eaten, but if I am, I’d rather get it over with. “I knew that there was a monster in my closet. And I wanted to see you for myself.”

“So, you knew I was there the whole time?” he asked.

“Well,” I answer slowly. “You weren’t being very quiet.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and I think for a moment that he actually looks sad, if enormous green monsters are capable of looking sad.

I don’t know what to say now and we’re both quiet for a few moments. He’s looking at me and I’m looking back at him.

“So…” I ask. “Are you going to eat my toes now?”

This instantly gets a reaction. He scoots away from the bed.

“Eeeewww.” His face scrunches up the way my brother’s does when someone offers him liver. “Why would I do that? Do you know how gross feet taste?”

“I know how gross they smell,” I tell him. “They probably taste about the same.”

“Worse,” he says and I believe him.

“So….. would you rather start with an arm?” I ask, holding out my left arm to him.

“Blech,” he says. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Aren’t you going to eat me?” I ask.

“No way,” he tells me, looking disgusted at the suggestion. “I’m a strict vegetarian. But I am a little hungry, if you’ve got any carrots or broccoli sitting around.”

Now it’s my turn to look disgusted. Ewww. Broccoli.

“Don’t you eat people?” I ask. “Isn’t that what you monsters do?”

“Nope.” He shakes his head so that his fur waves like grass again. “A few of us do like chicken, but that’s about it.”

“If you’re not here to eat me, what are you doing in my room?”

Now he looks embarrassed and glances down at the Barbie Dolls he’s holding in his hands. He looks back at me before he speaks again.

“You have the best toys,” he tells me.

“Is that why you came?”

“Yup.”

He nods so hard his horns almost stick into the mattress.

“You just want to play?” I ask.

A big smile breaks across his face. He has a lovely smile, for a big green monster.

I take one of the dolls from his hand.

“I’ll be Skipper,” I tell him. “If you’ll be Barbie.”

When he answers, it’s in a Barbie-doll voice and I know it’s going to be a fun night.

We start out playing Barbies’ and when that gets dull we break out my toy blocks and build a castle. He helps me with the tall parts and I’ve never built a better one.

We play all night, until the sun starts to come up. He has to go back into the closet and I crawl back into bed, yawning.

I’m still tired when my Mom comes to wake me up in the morning, but it’s ok. Because I’ve met the monster in my closet. And he’s my new best friend.

Jorinda & Joringel

Hey,

I actually started working on this one a while ago, but it always felt kind of stiff and not-right, so I've decided to rewrite in the first person. It feels better now and seems to flow better. It is, once again, fairy-tale-based, although of course, I'm not following strictly. I've read the Brothers' Grimm version and I think there might be a Perrault version also available. Anyway, hope you like what I've got so far.

- Yelena

My arms felt like they were going to fall off. Were these buckets this heavy yesterday?

“Come on, Rinda,” she called. I watched my sister’s long, blond hair bounce against her back as she walked ahead of me.

“I’m coming. It’s just that my stubby little legs can’t keep up,” I joked.

Tia sometimes forgets that she’s taller.

“It’s three inches, not a mile,” she teased back.

She turned around, resting one of the water buckets against her hip and tapping her foot against the packed dirt as she waited for me to catch up.

I finally caught up to her and let out a heavy breath, which steamed in the September air. The days were still warm, but the sun had barely risen and the morning was chilly. I looked up to see an amused look on her face.

“Looks like we’ve got company,” she told me.

She turned and walked onward before I could ask what she meant, but I heard footsteps a split second later. It could only be one person.

“Good morning, Jorie.” I spoke without even turning around and I knew the words didn’t come out as kindly as they should.

“Good morning, Jorinda.” I could feel him smiling at me. “Good morning, Tiana.”

We walked along in a few moments of companionable silence and he kept up easily, despite Tia’s apparent rush.

“Can I help you with those buckets?” he asked, automatically reaching for one. “I mean, they look heavy and you’ve still got a while to walk.”

My bangs had fallen into my eyes and I tossed my head, flipping them back out again before I spoke.

“No, thank you,” I told him. “I have been hauling buckets from the well to the house since I was old enough to walk and I’ve never needed your help before.”

“I know you can do it on your own,” he said quietly. “I just thought that maybe you’d like a little company.”

“No,” I said. “I’m fine on my own.”

Some water sloshed out of the buckets as I said this, but he was nice enough to ignore it.

“Maybe I could see you later, then?” he asked.

I stopped to look at him for a moment. He ran his fingers through his long unruly brown hair and looked at me hopefully. I couldn’t look at those dark, hopeful eyes and tell him no.

“Yes,” I finally told him. “Later, maybe.”

The three word response seemed to be enough for him, because he slowed his pace and dropped back to the village center. Our house was the last in the village, so we walked in silence for a good fifteen minutes before we got home. I’ve always hated the trek between the well in the village square and our house, sitting on the outskirts, but it felt even longer today, as I followed Tia’s slate-grey skirts down the dirt path. I watched the skirts swish and wondered how long her silence would last.

She waited until we were out of the village proper. We were crossing the field that led to our little farmhouse when she finally piped up.

“You don’t have to be so mean to him,” she said. I could hear from the sound of her voice that her lips were pursed in a thin little line, the way they always are when she gets mad at me.

“I wasn’t mean to him,” I told her quietly. “Not really.”

I ran ahead, hoping to avoid the argument, cutting through the soft grass ahead of my sister and reaching the kitchen door first. I let the door stand open and set down my buckets of water. I could hear her footsteps outside coming closer and took a deep breath.

She stayed silent as she stomped into the kitchen. I was stunned for a moment, but then I just followed her as she began to work. I pulled apples from the larder as she sliced cheese and bread. I poured the well-water into a pitcher and set cups on the table as she set out the plates.

We were done by the time Father came downstairs for breakfast. No matter what else was wrong between us, seeing Father always made us smile.

His hair had turned gray early in life, but that was the only thing that betrayed his age. His steel-blue eyes were as focused and sharp as they ever had been and his arms and legs were well-muscled from working on the farm all his life. He smiled back at us as he plopped down into his chair.

My Medusa

She hides out within her lair,

spewing poison through the air.

A forked tongue and hissing words,

Always quiet, but always heard.

The monster creeps on fat, white paws,

bearing evil in her jaws.

See the wicked, gleaming eyes.

Hear her spreading vicious lies.

Tell the children to beware.

Not to fall into her snare.

Her joy lies in causing pain.

Always your loss will be her gain.

Always sneaking, creeping, lying.

She glories as your soul is dying.

Beware, child, of her lies.

And never look into her eyes.

It never bends

but often breaks.

It doesn't hurt

but often aches.

It's the ending

and the start

It's the most

important part

Sometimes beating,

sometimes still.

Take it, hold it

if you will.

What's yours to break

is mine to mend.

It's yours to steal.

Mine to defend.

Can you chase

my ghosts away?

Burn the shadows,

bring the day?

What's your to steal

is mine to give.

And you're the one

who made it live.

You took my fears

and made it shine.

What's mine is yours.

And yours is mine.

The Rain Part 3

She swung her legs out of bed, shivering a little as her heels smacked the cold wooden floor. Quickly and quietly, she pulled on a warm woolen dress and a sweater over that. Warm wool socks covered her feet and her leather boots were snug as she laced them up. Her slicker topped everything off. It was little protection against the chill, but it was the only waterproof thing she owned.

Opening the door of her bedroom, she saw only darkness. After all, there was no point to staying up late with nothing to get done, so her parents were already asleep in their room. She could her father’s snoring hammering through the wall. She closed the bedroom door behind her, walking down the hall as softly as she could in the heavy leather boots. Luckily, her parents were both heavy sleepers. She paused in the main room, looking out one of the windows. The rain was still pouring down. She could see the blurry form of the mountain through the small drops that rolled down the pane.

For a moment, she stood there, holding her breath, wondering if she really had the courage to go through with this, before she could force her feet to move forward, one step at a time, toward the door. She knew that this was no ordinary rain and she thought that whatever lay at the top of that mountain was the solution. And if it wasn’t the answer, it was better to know than to spend one more day trapped inside, looking out at the downpour.

And she had to do something to get those horrible images out of her head. Visions of her parents losing the farm, of starving animals and starving children played behind her eyes, and it was this that finally made her push open the front door and step out into the torrent.

The rain was cold and it sent shivers through her bones as she made her way to the path and slowly started to climb. The road wasn’t very popular. A few rare merchants used it, but mostly her village traded with other villages in the valley, so little road up the mountain didn’t receive many visitors. Under this rain it had turned into a river of mud and her boots squelched with each step. She could feel it sucking her feet downward and fought for every step forward. She wished she had never started this journey, but her feet continued to take her forward and she didn’t look back.

Cassie

The bat circled the sky, making lazy loops. I watched it from my precarious perch on the roof. It was a small black speck against the larger darkness of the sky. I lay back, letting my legs dangle over the ledge of the rain gutters. The shingles were hard and a little scratchy against my back but the breeze was nice. I could breathe up here, where the air didn’t belong to them.

It was a small rebellion, sitting up here in the cool night air. I was grounded again. They didn’t know I was up here and in the long run, it didn’t matter, it just felt nice to be by myself for a few moments, to breathe air that wasn’t full of hostility.

Sandy fell down the stairs today.

She didn’t even get hurt badly, just bruised her arms and her legs a little. It’s not something anyone would’ve been too bothered about normally, not something that would’ve made waves in our family life. Except that yesterday I told my mother that Sandy was going to fall down the stairs.

My mom had been making pasta sauce. I remember that she had the big wooden stirring spoon in her hand. She waved it at me absent-mindedly, flicking specks of bright red sauce across the white kitchen counter as she told me to leave her alone. Go watch TV, she said, staring at the recipe, finger on the page sliding through the instructions. Your sister will be fine, she said, not even looking up.

And now, looking at Sandy’s bruises, they say I pushed her. It didn’t matter that I was in my room reading when she fell or that I had no reason to hurt her. My mother looks into Sandy’s teary blue eyes and then glares up into mine. And I know that arguing won’t do me any good, just as it won’t do Sandy any good.

It was two weeks this time. And since it’ll be two weeks of scrubbing floors, doing dishes and washing windows, I open my eyes to the deep, dark September sky and take a deep lungful of the only fresh air I’m going to get for a while.

My Squirrel Friend

I started composing this one as I was falling asleep and to be honest, I'm still not completely awake, so you'll excuse how strange it is. I still think it's cute, though. Also, let me know if anyone can suggest better squirrel-language, because I'm not too fluent in squirrel.

Out in the field by the old oak tree

Where the green grass waves like the deep blue sea

With a pile of acorns as high as can be

My squirrel friend waits for me

When I wake up in the bright, bright day

I’ll run to the park so that we can play

And he will cock his little head and say,

“Chip-chip-squeaker-chooperay!”

I know that his words meant hello

And when the night came, where did you go?

In the darkness, I missed you so

But now you’re here and we can play!

And we will start with hide and seek

(I always find him by his squeak)

Into the darkened woods we’ll sneak

To where the old trees sway and creak

He’ll show the best places to run

And where to hide from the sunny sun

We’ll laugh and play till the day is done

I’ve never ever had such fun

As with my squirrel friend.

The rain part 2

The rain was still pouring down when she went bed. She curled up, pulling the covers up over her ears, but could not block out the beating of the rain on the rickety roof, like a million fingers tapping out a rhythm against the metallic covering. She closed her eyes and tried to sleep, tried to focus on the sound of the breath in her chest, but then she heard it again. That strange thunder echoed in her skull. It didn’t sound like thunder at all, but like moaning. It sounded like a broken heart.

She knew she wouldn’t sleep. The rain had made sure of that for the past several nights. She would lie awake in bed, waiting for the storm to soothe itself, but it never did. And the wailing echoed in her ears until the drab grey light of morning broke through the drab blackness of the rainy night.

Earlier that night, she’d heard Father speaking to mother. They didn’t know she was listening and probably thought she couldn’t hear them over the noise of the rain. The crops won’t survive this rain, he said. He’d said that at this point, they might not have a harvest at all, that no one could buy corn that had rotted away in the ground.

She lay in bed, imagining the vegetables rotting inside the earth, the golden corn turning black and melting away. They weren’t just vegetables. No harvest meant nothing to sell. And that meant no money for food or clothes. No money to buy new seeds or fresh firewood. They had always been comfortable, with enough to eat and some to share with their neighbors, but no harvest meant an end to that. She imagined not having food on the table, empty cupboards and empty stomachs. She imagined seeing their cows and pigs half-starved.

A roll of strange moaning thunder broke through her thoughts and her eyes snapped open.

She knew she had to stop the rain.