Chapter One:
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I think things whether they're good or bad happen for a reason, and for every action there is a reaction.
But- what if you never knew what the reaction was, or how it even happened?
Does it change how you look at things, how they work and how you used to work around them, previous the aforementioned reaction?
Sometimes, I guess I wonder what it would be like to go back in time, to see things as they were and as they actually happened. It would make you want to stop time, as well as yourself from doing the things you knew you did wrong, to try and make up for the mistakes you have done, but sometimes you don't because most of the time, it's the way things are supposed to be, and then you realize things go the way they do for a reason.
But what if you still don't know the reason, or what the reaction was, if any?
I guess I'll have to elaborate somehow so my words would make more sense, huh?
Well, not much to say, really. I remember waking up some time very late at night, with blackness shrouding my sight and nothing but a small sparking light a distance away. It was the sky, I realized it after a while, because I noted how clear it was after my sight stopped dancing like a mirage. The stars sparkled beautifully and a bit of the moon showed from the edge of the hole.
That is when it took me a moment to realize I was down a hole, a really deep one.
With a low grunt, I tried to move my arms but they felt heavy like lead, heavy and aching, sore all over and pinned by invisible weights to the floor, as if I had been compressed into the soil and flattened to the floor, nearly literally.
Ironically, it appears that it was actually the case, because when I tried to turn my head, I realized my head was pinned as well as it was half shoved into the dirt, almost as if I had fallen so hard against the floor, I was plastered into it and my body dug up the ground to fit me.
After a bit of struggle, mostly because my body refused to comply and only twitched when I tried to move, I finally managed to pluck my arms from the soil and though I didn't have the strength to sit up at the moment, I did manage to push out of the dug out spot in the ground, and then roll over to lay flat on my chest. I breathed heavily and felt my heart pound in my head, a throbbing headache began and my vision blurred again.
Just as I had expected when I glanced at the spot where I was previously, I noticed dug out shape of my body in the floor. I blinked to clear my dizzied vision, before I noted the buried ground was at least three inches deep.
Wow! It must've been one nasty fall, I'm surprised I'm not dead… or maybe I already am dead? No, my body hurts too much to be dead; I mean, doesn't being dead mean you grow numb, cold and hard? I don't feel cold, numb or hard, so I'm really very much alive.
It's kind of hard to tell, especially with my head hitting the floor everything going black again.
I think I fainted…
I do remember I lied down for a long time, though; I was too content with the cool breeze against my skin to bother moving. Maybe I was dying, because I started feeling cold and unable to move.
After a while, the chill disappeared and I felt warmth on my shoulder, before it started to spread across my aching frame. It was comforting, a soothing salve to the pain. It didn't take me long to wake up and feel more alive. I blinked tiredly, wondering where the cool dirt and cold air had gone, replaced with a warm cushy mattress and a thick heavy blanket over me.
The blackness was now illuminated with soft lit candles; the orange-red colored flamed danced lazily as another soft breeze blew around. The small boxed room was snug and smelled of- incense, I think. The smell was familiar, soothing, calming and I liked it very much. I lay there for the longest moment, staring idly at the candle light that lazily danced a short distance away from me.
It reminded me of something, something really important in the back of my mind, but for the life of me I didn't know what it was.
"I see you are awake." a feminine voice with an accent spoke softly, and I strained my stiff neck to turn my heavy head a bit to look around the room, thinking she was elsewhere when she actually stood just beyond the candle. I blinked slowly, watching her in a daze and a strange sense of comfort with her presence, "Can you move?" she said softly, a motherly and concerned look in her dark eyes.
I frowned confusedly, before I mustered up the strength to lift an arm, slipping it slowly from under the heavy blanket and placing it above the thick cover. I let go of a small exhausted breath; moving my arm alone was enough to tire me out, and the blanket's thickness and weight weren't helping. It almost felt as if the cover was made of concrete, not thick strands of- wool, was it? Nevertheless, it was weighty.
I tried to pull myself up, to move my legs, but though I could move and feel them just fine, I was much too tired to keep trying, so I soon gave up, slumped in bed I gave an exhausted groan.
She stepped closer and I heard the soft jingling of something in the air. I glanced at her, and then noticed all the beads and necklaces, laces and bracelets she wore, aside the smaller pieces that dangled from her shawl and headscarf. It was mostly painted and fake jewelry, save for the golden chocker she wore on her neck, a hunch told me it was the real deal.
I didn't like the fact it looked like a glorified dog collar, though.
She sat besides me on the bed with a small bowl in her hands, she reached with a hand to help me lift my head; she offered me a drink and said it would help me get better.
The bowl had something like water in it, sweet and sticky in a way, so I knew it was probably mixed with something, but I just didn't have the heart to ask, I was thirsty and the stuff smelled pretty good. I just reached with my heavy arms to support the bowl, a poor attempt because they gave up on me half way. She helped me till I finished the last drop.
I swallowed the liquid, savoring the rich sweet nourishment and content with the feel of it sliding down my throat. Once the bowl was empty, I gasped in satisfaction with my thirst quenched and she eased my head down, now I lay more comfortably on the cushy bedding. I thanked her and closed my eyes for a moment, licked my lips and gulped the aftertaste that still latched onto my taste buds.
I mused how good the stuff tasted and wondered what she put in it, because I really wouldn't mind another.
I was a bit startled and pulled out of my thoughts, when she traced her fingers on the side of my head and then over my cheek and fingered my chin, before she retrieved her hand and placed it along with the other on the now empty bowl. We stared at each other, a sense of calmness lingered between us and I believed that though I've never seen her in my entire life, I could trust her.
Her motherly smile was so radiant with compassion, and it reminded me of something I yet again couldn't pinpoint.
She glanced at the bowl for a moment and her thumb brushed the soft surface, before she looked at me again with a timid little smile, "If you do not mind me asking," she said in that strange accent again, and then hesitated for a second before she cocked her head, smiling strangely, bemusedly, and her brows met in a cute sort of confused expression, "what- exactly are you?"
I stared at her for a moment longer and wondered what kind of question she was asking, when the question came to mind: Am I not human? So to answer and clarify my own question, I raised a hand and looked at it for myself.
Imagine my start when I spied the green toned skin and three fingers, it sure didn't look human.
I raised my other hand and compared them, blankly staring from one to the others, before I mustered up enough strength to push myself sitting up; she helped me of course, because my body was still too stiff to move on its own.
I tried to sit more upright but I was too dizzied to stay like that, that's when she put the bowl on the floor, as I realized the bed wasn't all that high, and she helped me settle more comfortably on the mattress.
A soft breeze blew about again, the candlelight's tiny flames flickered in panic, fearing they would be taken out by the harsh chilling air, but didn't for they straightened up and settled back on their candlewicks as if nothing happened.
That's when I noticed the smell of vanilla and tea, green tea; and then the stack of pillows behind me, keeping me upright a bit more than before. The woman smiled and asked if I was comfortable, so I nodded with a weak smile and thanked her again. But soon after that, we settled in the quiet room and simply said nothing, previous question seemingly forgotten.
I decided to get a better look of my surroundings.
The room was rather small with no words or windows, and I mean no doors and windows as a room where they're missing from where they belong. Instead, there were pieces of cloth hung on the wall, with nails and plates of wood nailed to the walls to keep them from falling off. The room looked like that of an abandoned building where a homeless would move in and claim it as their own.
Clearly, she was that apparent homeless. The poorly modified room looked like it got some pretty tacky work put into it, but it was homey enough. Although it could barely keep out the chill in winter or the heat in summer, or even the cats, dogs or bugs from coming in for that matter, it did have an air or serenity and safety within its confined walls.
The windows were sealed with another plank at the bottom, keeping the cloth from flying off and letting the wind in, while the door had a rather large blanket hung over it, it reached down to the floor, huge rocks were placed at the tail end to keep it from flying off as well. The floor was bare or any mats and the concrete were chipped and dirty. The walls looked like they were ready to be torn down, or maybe the flaky paint made it look that way. The only pieces of furniture around were a small coffee table with two wooden and mismatched chairs.
The wind blew again harsher than before, curving the cloth that blocked the window, but the gust of air was strong enough to slip between the ripped slits and into the small room. Although the candles went out quickly and engulfed the room into pitch blackness, they quickly flickered back on. At first I thought that it was weird, but then figured the flame nearly went out but didn't, or they were a prank candle, the type that doesn't actually go out.
"Do you live here?" I asked her nervously.
I could make up her heart shaped face in the dimly lit room, and saw her as she smiled sadly, "Only when I need to hide, child. Do not worry," she amended, gently she brushed my head as if brushing away stray strands of hair, and then for some strange reason, gently pecked my forehead and then pushed off the mattress, "Get some sleep, I will be here when you wake up," she cooed softly.
I wondered if she was cold because I was the one with the blanket, and her clothes looked rather light, barely enough to keep her warm. I wanted to offer her the bed and move elsewhere, but apparently she knew what I was thinking and shushed me, before insisting I go to sleep.
I don't know why I listened to her, but I did as told and eased back into the bed, turned to my side and then snuggled into the warmth of the bedding, pulled the blanket closer and sighed in contentment, the warmth was amazingly lulling. The blanket was really soft and warm, probably the under layer was the soft side for a more comfortable sleep, cause I soon drifted off before I even realized it.
The warmth of the blanket and the chill of the night were enough, to make me bury myself into the bedding even deeper.
As restful as my slumber was, something in the back of my mind nagged at me.
I feel like I'm forgetting something, but for the life of it I have no idea what it is, or was.
Either way I slept like a rock, or at least that's what Marcella said after I woke up the next morning. Marcella was the woman who found me last night, she's a Latin Gypsy of sorts, claimed she was a Roma and she came from Spain.
Although she's around thirty five years old, she looked much younger than that. She works as a fortune teller to make a living, and said that her last fortune telling wasn't so fortunate, and whoever she read the fortune to wasn't too thrilled about it. He claimed she was lying to get more money out of him and tried to kill her, so she had to hide, which explains why we're here.
During breakfast, I asked her how I got here, because all I remembered was being down a hole staring at a starlit sky.
She said I was at the bottom of a well of sorts and the rats were gathered around me, checking if I was dead so they could eat me. Gratefully, the bottom of the so called well had a tunnel running through it, and she passed by me when the continuous echo of the screeching rats drew her attention. She got there before they decided I was good as dead and got me out, even if I was awful heavy for her to carry. She managed to half carry, half drag me here to her little- borrow, as she called it, and took care of me for a whole day, before I finally woke up.
I guess I was really out of it, because I was still tired even after I woke up this morning.
The bed was too cushy, warm and comfortable; I didn't want to leave the amazing comfort it provided. When I did have to leave to relive myself, I'd do it quickly because the cold air and the eerie surroundings of the building got on my nerves. It almost felt as if there were eyes in the darkness watching me, stalking me, waiting for me to come closer so they'd pounce on me.
Right now I lay in bed again, staring idly at the ceiling over my head.
The paint was peeling and curling off the tiles, and soon it'll fall down on the bed.
I guess it explains the transparent net-like sheets set over the bed, to prevent the paint flakes from falling down on someone when they're sleeping, huh? Although I recall her saying it was also to keep the mosquitoes away, the side curtains were torn so she had to remove them, because they kept tickling her face when she slept and woke her up, thinking there was something invading her in her sleep.
I sighed softly, my hands over my abdomen over the warm covers, and Marcella besides me knitting a scarf with her balls of yarn. I glanced at her sleepily and just stared at her fingers while they expertly worked on stretching that scarf longer and longer.
Earlier this morning, when I couldn't go back to sleep, she decided to pick up a conversation and asked me who I was and where I'm from, but I couldn't remember anything at all. I realized it was probably a case of amnesia, because I know I'm in New York city and I'm a turtle, or a humanoid turtle, but my problem is I don't remember the who, not the what or where.
I yawned after a while and snuggled into the bedding again, lazily watching her work.
"If I may ask," she began gently, paused in her knitting and lowered her hand to look at me, "do you at least remember your name?"
I shook my head where it rested against the pillow, "Not really."
Earlier, we've recited the alphabet and tried to match up letters, Marcella hoped one of them would sound familiar to me, but nothing rang a bell. Although the L and O sort of tickled the back of my mind, as well as brought a strange shiver to the tip of my tongue, it didn't really mean anything special to me. I knew one of those letters must have carried my name, I just didn't know which one.
"What name do you think I've got?" I murmured sleepily.
She looked at me for a moment, that gentle mother smile caressed her lips before she nodded, "Well, you look like a Sameer to me." She smiled wider at my confused blink. "Sameer is taken from Samar, it means: He who likes to tell tales and stories at night." she amended, "You hadn't really said much, but I feel you are the type who likes to talk and tell stories."
I smiled a bit timidly, "You think so?" I smiled and she nodded once, confirming her choice. "Alright then, form now my name is Sameer." I grinned happily and she smiled back with a bemused quirked brow.
She adjusted the blanket over me and told me to go back to sleep if I'm tired, before she picked up her knitting sticks and went back to work. I nearly drifted off to sleep until I heard a soft mewing sound, so I woke up from my light dose and looked around. On the floor, a short distance away from the basket where Marcella put her balls of yarn, was a short haired, black as midnight cat with brilliant yellow green eyes.
It mewed softly and purred against the woman's feet, begging for attention, but Marcella only glanced at the cat before turning her attention back to her knitting. Undaunted, the cat flicked its ears at the basket when a ball of yarn jumped, as the woman tugged the thread. The cat, naturally, stalked closer to the basket and hit one of the balls, and when the ball bounced out of the basket, the cat wasted no time to jump at it.
"Mao, leave the yarn alone, mama is working." Marcella admonished the cat gently.
The feline either didn't care or didn't listen, it continued to batter the ball. The woman sighed softly and continued to work, pausing occasionally when the cat continued to attack the yarn and tug at the knitting sticks. After a while the cat launched at the ball and the threads were frizzed because of the claws, and Marcella had to stop because the silly feline got itself tangled up.
I chuckled and pushed a bit upright, not exactly sitting but in a more alert position than before. The Roma woman had to stop and untangle the naughty cat, and I noted it was a female. Once free of the yarn, the woman set the cat free and ushered her out of the room, but the feline refused. Instead of leaving, she sort of skipped towards me, hopped onto the bed and curled up into a ball, nestled on my lap she began to purr like- like a motorcycle.
A motorcycle… hmm, that sounds familiar…
Nevertheless, with no questions asked, I lay back again and busied myself with tenderly scratching the cat.
Her purring sort of vibrated across my chest, and the low rumbling felt so nice.
It didn't take me long to fall asleep again, and this time it was more comfortable and more restful than before.
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A/N: I have no idea how long this story will be, though I estimate ten to fifteen maximum; its not really supposed to be long, and I just felt the need to post something or value after so long a lull time…