An Artistic Impression
I do not own any of these characters that have been imprinted into all of us from our childhood. 'Hey Arnold' is the product of Nickelodeon and the creation of Craig Bartlett.
This is my first FanFiction and I do hope it has some redeeming features to it. I've been a secret stalker of the 'Hey Arnold' fiction's and thought it was high time I contributed. So please if there is anything in this story worth fixing/improving I'd like the reviews. =]
So shall we . . .
Prologue
Over the years the P.S. 118 gang had moved through the changes of life. Of being a childish fourth grader in Elementary School, were life was easy going and had adventure. At that age you couldn't wait for summer vacation to come. To entering the world of tween-hood, when you were faced with strange bodily changes in Middle School. Coming to the conclusion any off day from school was a chance to sleep in and summer vacation was freedom.
Then you hit the springboard to adulthood, the teen years. Awe welcome to High School! This is when you are discovering the person you will be later on in life. Everything matters on your appearance and social standing. Where you can't wait to grow up and live your own life, to be independent. Skip summer vacation, College life can't come soon enough.
Chapter 1: Art Block
The warm morning sun shone through thin white curtains, that danced as the breeze drifted into the room. This particular room had been a witness to the growth of a strong yet fragile life. If the walls could only speak, they'd tell you the story of its owner. Pink was once its favored color, but now that was considered too childish and reflected a past ready to be overlooked. Maroon, Brown and a cool Blue were now the colors of choice. This once familiar room began to reveal a new person.
The sound of the busy city street outside greeted the next sound to be heard, an alarm clock. A heavy, lazy hand crept out from under a floral patterned comforter. It moved about aimlessly to find that confound contraption, made by someone who thought waking up to a continual buzzing sound, was a pure joy. A groan escaped from under the mound of comforter. Soon a stiff body rouse up from its nest of bed sheets. Then 'wham!' old Betsy smashed down on the snooze button of the black alarm clock. Good morning Helga G. Pataki.
Helga sluggishly made her way out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom. She took a glance at herself in the mirror, "Bed-head is your best look my dear." she moaned. Pulling open the mirrored cabinet, she reached for her tooth brush and tooth paste. She oozed the paste onto the dry brush, wet it down and shoved it into her cotton dry mouth. Scrubbing away at the enameled pearly whites, she gazed at her reflection, 'Glad you wake up alone. Who'd want to see this?' she told herself in thought.
As minutes passed by she was washed, dressed and ready to face the day. Along the road of change Helga had developed a woman's figure and carried it evenly, but that was expected of a 21 year old. She had height, thanks to the long legs her mother gave her. Helga no longer had her signature unibrow, Olga was kind enough to teach her baby sister how to tweeze, when she was visiting for a summer. She ditched the pink and came to like the earth tones. No more pink dresses, the artsy Indie like fashions were now her style. It had its feminine appeal, but still carried strength in its stitching. One thing was certain this fashion complemented her new pixie haircut. No more school girl pigtails and sadly no more bow. She wore said bow as a headband now, on occasion she tied it to her book bag. Didn't mean she was ready to give up the one thing that connected her to the one person in her life that acknowledged her being.
Helga made her way down stairs, skipping the last two steps with ease. The house was quite, and had no life to it anymore, that was normal these days. It was her first year in Middle School, not the best time of her life. Bob and Miriam finally said their "I can't's" instead of enduring a marriage they built off of their "I do's". Death wasn't going to part these two, ones desire for another woman and ones love of alcohol is what did the trick. Helga had to face the separation of her parents on her own. Olga wasn't there to be a shoulder to cry on, she was an assistant teacher in another country at the time.
Bob moved out with his love affair, leaving the house and Helga in the care of Miriam. Honestly not the best parent to rise a blossoming 10 year old. After the divorce Miriam fell into a deeper depression, her liquor her only comfort, ignorance was bliss.
No one gave Helga a second thought; she detached herself from those around her, including Phoebe. Her reputation of being a bully scared off even the older kids. She was scrapping by in Middle School, a rebel without a cause. But that was then and this is now.
Helga walked into the newly remodeled kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee. She stood with her backside leaned into the dark wood counter with its light gray granite top. She blew on the steaming cup of Joe in her hands before taking a sip. She eyed the new pantry that had appeared one winter night.
On a cold December evening, Miriam tossed a rum bottle to the kitchen wall out of frustration with herself. Shattering the glass bottle, she watched the red hue of liquid drip its way down the tattered floral blue wallpaper. In seeing this Miriam came to a conclusion, going to the garage she came back with a sludge hammer. With a few hefty swings, aggressive grunts, and tear stained cheeks. Miriam made a hole in the kitchen wall . . . she finally broke through her own mental wall. It had become evident over time she began to come into her own person. She went to AA meetings and did the 12 step plan. Not only was her health improving, but so was her personality. Miriam found work as an interior decorator of all things. She enjoyed the idea of taking something old, worn and no longer wanted and making it into something new, useful and needed. Guess it related to her life. There were times when Miriam was neglectful, but it was safe to say she was starting to take the mother role seriously. In which Helga desperately needed that mother figure in her young teen life.
Although her mother made great modifications in her person, which Helga respected. That didn't quite mean Helga made them too. Some things with Helga didn't change; her quick temper was one of them. When you've been raised in a house hold like she was, there was a reason you built a rough exterior. Or maybe it was the Pataki blood in her. Either way who'd want anyone beyond their relations to take advantage of their emotions? Helga hadn't broken through her own mental wall like Miriam had. This wall protects her from anything or anyone that could penetrate her feelings. But it is also the wall that makes it difficult for her to express her true feelings.
She pushed away from the counter and strolled over to the pantry. She opened the sliding door to reveal stocked shelves. A sigh of relief escaped past the brim of her coffee mug. This minuscule sight to most was like a fresh spring morning to Helga. Abundance of food in the house was a miracle; Miriam not off her rocker was a miracle! She was thankful that her mother found a meaning in life, because now Helga wouldn't go hungry. Grabbing a few snack items, she closed the pantry door, gulped down the last of her coffee and made her way to the front door. She slipped on a pair of sneakers and draped the strap of her book bag over her right shoulder. Without a glance behind, she locked the front door shut making her way to the bus stop. Today was bound to be as lame as the day before, but at least she started it with a smile.
The old faded blue city bus rolled up to its sixth stop since Helga boarded it. The air breaks released with a hiss and the body of the bus lurched forward some. Helga stood with a small crowd of other young adults and together they filed off the bus.
Helga didn't go off to a well known College like most of her old grade school chums. Big Bob was too stingy in his pocketbook for that sort of College and why would he favor a second rate? Her academics and grades never compared to Olga's. But to be honest Helga could care less, if anything, she learned to rely on herself and that's how it's always been. Although to be less of a burden on her father, she did find a part time job at a no name book store. There she earned enough to pay for her half of the tuition.
She was going to Hillwood's community College; here she was studying the Arts. Mainly the art of literature, no way in hell was she giving up her passion of poetry and Shakespeare. Along the way she did find a few new passions, painting and sculpting. The girl had creativity; this was evident in shrines she made to resemble a certain Football Head. That was a past life ready to be forgotten, the muse of said art pieces was no longer here.
Maybe that's why she was having such an art block lately? The anniversary of his leaving to Sen Lorenzo was just around the corner. She always felt stifled, pent up and lost when this time of year came about. The only way she coped with it, was by pretending he had died. She found it easier to accept, if she entertained the thought of him still living (which he was). God only knows what she'd be thinking about. Was he safe, healthy, happy he was with his parents, making life changing discoveries . . . was he in love with a sun kissed beauty? As the sound of the bus doors shut behind her she snapped back to reality. Shaking her head, and blinking out of her daze, Helga took in a deep breath looked forward and walked up to the old brick building, classes start in 30.
Authors Quips: This is an introduction to my version of Helga. I kind of see her as an artsy fartsy type of gal. Really ready to immerse herself into her passions. =]