A Whim and a Wish Pheonix2311 7/6/10

Alyss POV

I stepped out into the loud, bustling New York Street. Such a difference from the small cafe I had just immersed myself in for heaven knows how long. See this is the problem I have, once I start reading a book I get hooked. Nothing can ever tear me away from it. Everyone at school always sees me as "The Bookworm" or just in general, quirky.

The sky was cloudy and dreary. I could just imagine what a terrible day those clouds must have had if they were so persistent to drop even more rain on us. It seemed impossible that there was even the tiniest drop of precipitation left in them. After all, the poor clouds had been crying on us for over four days nonstop!

I buttoned up my raincoat so that in no way would any of the wet raindrops touch my ever so sensitive skin. I squinted up at the sky, yes, it was definitely raining.

"Just what I needed to top this day off," I mumbled to myself happily as I pulled out my umbrella. I made sure that my book was carefully tucked away in my bag. It was true. On other occasions I would be depressed that it was cold and dreary. But on that particular day, I was happy. For some reason it matched my mood.

Perhaps it was just the fact that today was the annual "Alyss Kings mourning day". Or possibly it was just one of those days. Whichever it was, it was sure getting my goat. The mourning day is actually annual. Today is the day that I mourn the loss of my mother. She died ten years ago, when I was only eleven, still a little girl. Here I am now at the full twenty-one.

My sister, Paige is now twenty-eight. She doesn't really keep very much contact with me however. Perchance it is because she is ashamed of me and my wild ideas. There are only so many words to describe Paige, care-free is not on the list. She is always uptight about everything. Spoiled is on the list. We are both adult women and my father still spoils her. Oh how it drives me crazy.

I walked along the sidewalk, avoiding eye contact and maneuvering pedestrians. My golden hair was falling out of it's neat little bun I had arranged earlier this morning. I was unaware of the time but judging by the number of people on the street I could only guess that it was around five or six. That meant that I needed to hurry along to home to make dinner for my father.

Yes, yes I know what you're thinking. Wasn't I just complaining about how I thought my father didn't care much about me? Well I was but that doesn't deprive me of the fact that I still had to care for him. He was frail, and old. Okay I lied he was everything but that, but he was too lazy to make himself something to eat. And so he had me do it.

He had me do just about everything, from dusting to dishes. I did his laundry and cleaned the entire house just because he didn't want to spend the money to hire a maid when he had a healthy young woman who could do it for free. I was busy almost 24/7. The only time I was free from chores was when I had to go to classes. That wasn't very often because my father made sure that I was home most of the time.

Of course, I'm pretty sure I can blame my quirkiness, and slight insanity on this. What else am I supposed to do while cleaning besides making up stories to pass the time? I have an iPod but that doesn't mean I get to use it. The TV's on but that doesn't mean I get to watch it. So I'm sentenced to my thoughts all day long, because we have a big house and it does take some time to clean all of it.

I knew if my mother had still been alive things would've been different. My mother was a kind and considerate person, unlike my father who only thought of himself, oh and my sister. I sometimes believe that he appreciates her more just because she looks like my mother did. She has the same brown hair and green eyes while me on the other hand, look like my grandmother, who ironically enough was named Alice, just like me except different spelling. I have the same gold wavy locks that are apparently supposed to make all the boys' hearts go "pitter patter". Note, those are my grandmother's words, not mine.

My grandmother was as kooky as I am. She too passed away a few years back. I missed her greatly. She and I were alike not just in looks, but even in spirit. As I said before she was crazy. She many times told me the story of how she had once had a dream that a white rabbit came and took her away to a magical world. Her story was elaborate and had many different colors, or as how I imagined it. I even believed her a little bit, but do not tell anyone I ever said that.

I must keep it to myself because once I admitted that I had believed her, strange things have been happening. First there was a white rose dripping with red paint in the front yard. I blamed that on the teenagers of this insane city. Then my father had made me clean up a deck of cards that only had the suit of hearts. I couldn't even explain that one. Then things just kept getting weirder. Everywhere I went I saw a man with wild out-of-wack hair with a large top hat just about everywhere I went. I was certain that this was because I had a stalker. Then what really made me think I had lost it, and seriously consider taking medication, was when I saw a purple cat with pink stripes smiling at me.

This is too weird, I had said to myself. I had stopped where I was and just shook my head and closed my eyes. When I opened them again the cat was nowhere to be seen!

Then as I was walking home in the rain that day thinking about all of these things I saw it, the one thing that I had been both worried and hoping to see, it just hopped out of nowhere, literally. So naturally I did what any other normal person would do and I followed it.