yay...im so happy i finished this coz it tokk me FOREVER. ARGGGGGH
but now i have finished it...so it is OK everybody. OK.
enjoy
ps if you thought Mrs Cullen/Weitz was me...it wasn't. It was my friend Melanie who doesn't no when to SHUT UP. And thinks Pete Weitz is sexy, even though he's 30
Me and my friend Yves make fun of this fact.
Chapter 1: The School Fate
I closed my eyes and thought back to a simpler time, a time where I knew right from wrong, a time where I knew light from dark, a time wear I could distinguish reality from fiction, love from lust.
A time when I couldn't dream.
One day in late spring the local high school held a school fate. My best-friend Alice loves faits and made me go with her, pulling me around the grounds all day, looking at all the jewellery stands, selling strings of semi-precious stones and homemade rings, carnival games stalls and pin-up walls filled with paintings from local artists. The colours of the stalls against the green, clean-cut grass was getting to me, with the amount of people smiling and having fun adding to the day's pleasure. Just as we were about to leave, our arms full of artwork and a giant teddy bear that Alice had helped me win – I'm not very good at all these games – Alice spotted a fortune tellers tent hidden in shadow and started to walk over to it, dragging me along with her. By the amount of people that stood clear of the tent, something wasn't quite right about this gypsy. Not that this stopped Alice.
I didn't like fortune tellers much; I felt people waste money with the amount of 'hocus-pocus' rubbish they say is your future: straight out of 'The Idiot's Guide to Fortune Telling'. Alice, on the other hand, adores them. She finds all their methods of reading fabulously intriguing, with the tents they live in and the cloth they wear fascinating her to no end. Normally, I don't see what she could see in the details in a gypsy's life, but this fortune teller was different. Her tent, striped green, red, blue and orange, was intractably embroidered hand, the stitches detailing what looked like a gypsy fable. Scatterings of rusted pots and wooden chairs that were losing their paint hang around her yard, and a faint yellow glow was coming from the tent. The tent gave a very peculiar feel to the passersby, but, Alice being Alice was oblivious to these vibes. She strode right in with me still in tow. Once we were inside the tent, she looked at where we were for the first time and gasped loudly instantly letting go of my wrist.
The tent was lit by black candles and by the small light these provided we could see the inside of the tent. The sides of the tent were lined with stacks of magic books and old pots, and in the middle of the tent was a table with a black and purple embroided cloth lying on the top. Sitting in one of the two chairs at the table was a relatively young lady, sipping a cup of coffee, looking into the crystal ball in the middle of the table. Her hair was dark black in colour and curly to the extreme, pushed out of her face with a black and red headband. She was wearing completely black; a fitted black top; a flowing black skirt; black stockings and shoes, except for the large red sarong she wore around her waist. Her wrists were weighed down with what looked like ten pounds of gold jewellery, and around her neck she had one necklace, with oval stones stitched onto it, sparkling with every colour of the rainbow.
She looked at us with pearly green eyes and spoke with a voice that rung with authority.
'I have been waiting for you,' she said, and I instantly got goose bumps, and not the ones you get when you're cold. How did she know us? And what was she waiting for?
Alice suddenly saw what a bad idea this was and started to back away, but she hadn't gotten half a step when the fortune teller spoke again.
'Do not leave. I mean you no harm. I am Madame Sibylla and I see the future. You have been the subject of my visions for a long time,' I was about to ask how she knew what I was thinking, but she interrupted my question with one of her own.
'Would you like me to read your future, dear Bella?' She questioned in a polite tone, her eyes hinting at something more; something below the surface. Before I had time to refuse and leave the tent all together, Madame Sibylla looked directly into my eyes.
Looking into her eyes, a rush of emotion came over me: anger, fear, lust, pain, loss and curiosity, compelling me into the chair directly opposite Madame Sibylla. Alice crouched next to me.
Madame Sibylla placed her hands on the crystal ball on the table in-front of her, closed her eyes, and started humming a disjointed tune. The room suddenly went cold and all the noise from outside, people pushing past each other in a rush, friends loudly chatting and cheering each other on, ride tunes blaring, all seemed to go down a notch in volume. All I could hear was Madame Sibylla and I looked down to the crystal ball to see what she would see. I gasped as an image of a beautiful young man came into view. He looked around seventeen, about a year older than I was, with bronze hair that was styled in an untidy matter, a hard, chiselled jaw line, pale skin and a breathtaking smile set on his face. Although all his features were absolutely stunning, what caught me were his eyes, a dark topaz, so deep I felt like I was swimming in them. I was awestruck. What did this handsome stranger have to do with my future? As I was asking myself this, the image on the crystal ball, perched on what looked like an intricate dragon's claw, shifted and all the colours leaked until it was all black.
Suddenly Madame Sibylla's eyes snapped open, her pupils dilated so large they matched her outfit – they were almost completely black.
'No! No, no, no, no, no!' She whispered while stroking her crystal ball and gazing at me in a spaced-out way. All of a sudden she grabbed my hand, took one look at it, dropped it and screamed. She held her hands like she had just received a painful burn or something of the like, and while she was muttering to herself, got up to a pile of books to the left of the entrance of the tent and looked frantically for a particular book. When she had successfully found it she grabbed it out and put it on the table, flicking through the pages like her life depended on it. The book itself looked like it was two feet thick. It was all black and the cover had a picture of a lady holding a crystal ball under a title of 'The Fortune Telling Book'. I turned to look at Alice and found she was staring at me with an expression of extreme shock. We had been staring at each other for a wealthy length of time, when I heard a cough. Apparently she had found the right page because Madame Sibylla looked me straight in the eye and said, in a hushed tone that gave me chills, the words that ultimately changed my life.
'My dear, you're future's outlook is grim, your imagination will cloud your senses and make you choose the wrong decisions.' With that, she scuttled off to pick up a large deck of cards and placed it on the table. She then shuffled the cards and asked me to pick a card. I knew from experience that this was tarot, the art of seeing the future with illustrated cards; Alice had forced this torture on me countless times, but never with cards this ornate. The cards where a dark purple in colour with the phases of the moon printed around the edges and detailed illustrations cluttering any leftover space available. . .
For the most I was thinking about the beauty of the cards, however in some small, insignificant part of my mind, I was starting to wonder if Madame Sibylla really was a carnival attraction, or something more.
Because I have a thing with the number four, I picked the forth card from the top of the pile. As Madame Sibylla flipped the card over, a part of my mind was fascinated by the picture on the card, but a larger and a more important part of my mind asked what it meant.
The card had a picture of a girl, no older than sixteen, curled up on a bed of all white, situated in a room of all black. Her brown curls were fanned around her face and her eyebrow was puckered, as if she was in deep thought. Her skin was very pale and she was wearing a red tank top and red sweats. As the truth dawned on me, I couldn't help but stare at the card. Even though the girl in the card's eyes was closed, I knew that her eyes were a deep, consuming brown. Why, I hear you ask?
Because that girl looked exactly like me.
yay....REVIEWING TIME
lots of love
Dawn. Chappers Dawn.