I'm really excited for this story because it is a plot line that I've pretty much been fixing and working on for two years now. And when I mean fix, I mean the story line has been beaten and butchered to a pulp to get to where it is today. :)
Summary...
Bella and Alice, sisters, have an unknown secret about themselves. A secret that can help save themselves and their country. A secret that the Rebels can use. But who are these Rebels, can they be trusted and what is their secret that not even the girls know about? Should the girls risk everything and run away from the lifestyle that was all they knew? To save their country? For freedom?
...
Twilight and all of its characters are not mine, they belong to Stephenie Meyer. I just find them extremely fun to use.
I wake in a sweat, flinging my covers like they are on fire.
Slowly reality sets in and I am calm, in my bed and cold. A thin stream of light comes in through the small window, a thin beam of comfort in the darkness of the early morning. With a groggy effort I sit up, shaking off the nightmare.
"You're up," my sisters voice chimes from across the room. A small lamp illuminates her corner of the room, showing her tiny figure struggling with the thick knots in her short hair.
"Hmpf," I mumble, staring blankly up at the high window, watching as it slowly becomes brighter with the coming morning. Too soon.
"It is simply impossible," my sister speaks up after a short silence, undisturbed in the least by the dark stillness. "I cut my hair and it still gets knots. They're relentless!" She continues to run the comb through, yanking until there is no hair left. She huffs, "I think I'll go bald." Continuing to fight her hair I hear her mumble, "Stupid rebel hair—"
"What?" I ask urgently.
She seems shocked I spoke but gets over it quickly. "I said I think I'll go bald."
"No, you said something about a rebel?" I feel stupid asking about it, hearing the ridiculousness of it. It is only a nightmare. "Never mind." I say quickly and she thankfully lets it go.
I yawn and release a large stretch. You're always tired when your night consists of horror. Shaking my head, I continue to stare blankly through the darkness, confused with the turn of events in this nightmare. I try not to mull over it too much. It's pointless, nothing ever helps.
The silence persists and I can tell Alice is stealing glances my way. Unable to take it any longer, she speaks up: "You had it again didn't you?"
I don't answer right away. Part of me doesn't care too, but I know I should; locking it up only shows that I'm afraid of it, that I believe it. Besides, silence for too long was never good for me. It's one of those things where if you stay silent for too long, speaking again feels foreign to the tongue, like a large headache. "Not really, it was different."
She seems shocked by this and places her comb back on the table. "Did you live?"
I stare at her for a moment, lost in thought before answering. "There was a pleasant little tea party." I grinned and Alice rolls her eyes. She never likes to joke about my nightmares. What she doesn't understand it's the only way to reassure me that they are just that, nightmares; just another form of a dream, not reality. It's my way of getting through the day without having to worry about them coming true.
Alice came over to sit next to me. Her small frame sinks and the hinges of the bed make a loud creak, disrupting the quiet. "Bella I'm worried," she takes hold of my cold hands, "you've been having them far too consistently. Maybe we should—"
"Maybe we should do what?" I ask a little too abrupt. But I am tired of this conversation. "Tell someone? Who would we tell? Who would care? If we tell any of the staff, you know they'd just put me back on the streets thinking I were some crazy lunatic. Then where would I be? Where would you be? All alone in this," I look around the small confines of our room, "dungeon?"
"We could tell Angela," she whispers. I know she is scared. I am scared too. But, they are just nightmares. They're not a disease and if anything, they're just a blatant sign that I am going insane. It's already bad enough that Alice has to feel the burden of them too; I won't drag anyone else I care about into it.
"No, we won't burden her anymore then she already is," I say firmly.
Her eyebrows knit together, "You don't see them like I do. It's like a daemon takes over your body, and you, you…" Her eyes that have been resting on the floor rose to meet mine. "I'm scared."
I squeeze her hand. "They're just dreams."
We get ready quickly, not wanting to be late for our responsibilities. Up the cold stone steps, we go and out into the servants' corridor.
Our first stop is the kitchen.
The castle is a silent Lion; quiet but lethal. The walls seem to breathe a whisper of warning and the windows never seem to clear their murky luminance. If ghosts were real, they would be walking right beside us in this place, haunting the evil that resides here.
Everyone knows it, everyone who works here feels it. That is why a person spends as little time as they can walking through the corridors. I always try to walk fast but Alice never seems to feel the ominous cloud hanging over our heads. She goes at a lazy dance. The only time I can get her to walk fast is when she's skipping. Yet, today she walks in a mute silence, staring directly ahead in a stiff march.
If you were blind, walking through the castle, you would know how to find the Kitchen. Just keep walking aimlessly about until you start to hear the clanging pans and shouting people. We open the heavy doors and an onslaught of life ripples over us. This seems to awaken Alice because she smiles and looks at me before skipping in. Long marble counters circled the whole room and two individual, long island counters are set in the middle of the room as people circle and dance around them. To survive the hustle, you must learn the ways of the dance.
Right away we spot the plump body of Ms. Angela's twirling around the room shouting orders. "Not in that pot you blubbering bafoon! You injure your brain this morning? Hey you! Get to work, I don't allow slackers in my kitchen!"
The cook, Angela, has been Alice and my knight in shining armor after our parents died when Alice was six and I eight. The palace took us in to train us as ladies in waiting after we became orphaned. The Lady trainer, after hearing my disturbing nightmares and seeing Alice's numerous collapses into comatose state, deemed us unfit for ladies in waiting and made us helpers instead.
Angela became our life. There to cheer us up when the days work was too strenuous, there to fill our bellies in secret when the portions were too slim and there to teach us the difficulties of being a woman. She immediately scooped us up and petitioned us to be helpers in her Kitchen. It was the greatest blessing anyone could have given us at that point. The work was hard and strenuous, but not nearly as bad as it could be under another labor job. I have heard the stories.
The kitchen is always filled with life and good smells.
"There you are!" Angela booms in a cheerful voice, much more cheerful than earlier. "It's about time. You girls get later and later every day! I'm gonna have to start getting you myself. Then see how early you have to wake up."
Alice, ignoring Ms. Angela's rant, hops up on her toes and asks loud enough to be heard over the noise in the kitchen "Have any errands you need us to run outside today?"
Angela grins and pulls out of her pocket a list along with some coins. "I shouldn't give it to you seeing as you're so late all the time. But it needs to be done by someone and all these cracker heads aint got the eyes that you girls do?" She teases. "Now don't you girls go spend your whole day out there, I've still got a list of things that need getting done in here." She gives us a pointed look then huffs away.
It's always nice to escape the castle for a while. The cold morning air is like a frosty blanket of freedom that wraps around my skin. I breathe in deeply through my nose, the feeling of escape.
We walk at a brusque pace, getting to the market just as the shops begin to open. "What's on the list?" Alice grabs my shoulders and propels herself up playfully. I stumble forward and Alice only giggles.
Rolling my eyes I read off the list, containing mostly different assortments of herbs and meats.
"This sounds like a trip to Waldrons" I state, raising my eyebrows in her direction.
"Then Waldrons it is."
We always go to Waldrons, probably because it is the furthest from view of the castle and closest to the Tangled Forest. There was something about the Tangled Forest that drew Alice and me in. I felt a sense of curiosity mixed with uneasiness every time I neared it. Alice said she felt excitement.
We move past the busy villagers, heading for the back of the market.
Already we see old Waldron getting the front of his tent organized. I point him out and begin to walk over but Alice stops and grabs my arm.
"Do feel that?" Her eyes are staring intently past the market into the forest.
"Feel what?" I ask, only feeling the gentle breeze.
"Do you see that?" Her eyes widen. I look in the direction of her trance.
"Alice I don't see or feel anything." I place my hand on her shoulder and squeeze it gently to get her to look at me before she's too lost. Don't be another one of her 'states' I plead. Please let us just get through another normal day. She lifts her hand in front of her face and studies it for a second. I back off afraid if I touch her she'll lash back like before. Nothing good ever comes out of Alice's "feelings".
She looks beyond her hand and murmurs, "We have to go into the forest."
"What?"
"We have to go into the forest!" She yells and begins sprinting for the trees.
"Alice! No we can't!" I sprint after her. "Alice wait!" Time stood still, no more wind, no more market activity, only Alice and I sprinting for the Tangled Forest. My stomach drops and my heart beast like a hummingbirds wings. We can't go in. The Tangled Forrest is for thieves and mischief. The Tangled Forest is my worst nightmare. There is evil in here. I know. I just know. Wrong. It was all wrong. "Stop!" But she continues to run, tangling herself through the thick trunks and gnarled bushes. What is she doing? Where is she going? We are getting deeper in the forest and the feeling of dread in me gets stronger. It's all wrong. "Alice stop!" As soon as the words leave my mouth, she freezes, but not because of what I said, she is looking up. I run into her back to stop myself. "Alice what was that?" I asked out of breath as she stares blankly up at the sky. It is quiet in the depths of the forest.
I looked around. Something wasn't right. We shouldn't be here. My eyes darted around the twisted branches; the hanging limbs, and land on a strange red berry bush that snakes around a tree. I'd been here before. A cold dread fills my veins. I look down and scream.
How is this happening? This can't be!
"Alice, don't look down!" But it is too late; her trance is broken and she looks down and she sees it too. I am quick to cover her mouth to stop the scream. It's my nightmare. We are literally in my nightmare. How is this happening? I turn Alice away but I can't help but look back at the coldness. The stillness. The vacant dead eyes that stare up at nothing. The dead man lying on the ground beside the twisting red berry bush. It is my nightmare. The same man every time that haunts me in my sleep, lies no more then ten feet away, the same motionless body, the same red bush that he resides under every time.
My mind scrabbles for reason, finding none. This can't be. My nightmare isn't real!
Alice is still struggling in my grasp. The sight of a dead man too much. I keep my hand over her mouth to stop the screams.
Rule number one: We must not make a noise. She squirms under my grasp but I hold tight and pull her behind a tree, away from the site of the streams of blood.
Frozen, on edge, and about to throw up my insides, I can't think. It is my worst nightmare, coming true. If it really is, I know what happens next, and we can't stay here.
Rule number two: don't let them see you.
Dum Dum Dummmm