Chapter 2
Ok, here's chapter 2. Thank you to bubbly4roxy who pointed out I hadn't actually
said what was going on… yeah, sometimes I get a little caught up and it makes sense
in my mind, so I assume everyone else is on the same page… so, thanks!
Mo glanced up at his daughter – it was right for a 15 year old girl to be so… He couldn't
even explain it. Quiet perhaps? She never talked any more, that's for sure. Even there at
Eleanor's incredible library, fountains of books at her mercy, Meggie still withdrew
into herself – not reading, not moving. There hadn't been a certain point, or happening,
Mo decided, that had triggered her sadness. Or at least, not one that he knew. It was just a
gradual declination that, though Mo had noticed – unless it had been returning from the
Inkworld? But no, no-one could feel that attached to such a brutal world made from just
ink and paper – he had not confronted his daughter about. He brushed it off as teenage
hormones – perhaps missing that young fire boy he had read out of the book, so long ago.
But it had gotten worse, until even Eleanor and Darius noticed, and stared questioningly
at her, tentatively asking if she was ok. And for some reason, Mo felt strangely distanced
from his daughter, ever since they had returned from the Inkworld. He had insisted they
leave, and that no, she could not go gallivanting off with that boy to rescue Dustfinger
from the White Women.
Mo snorted. As if he would even consider such a possibility! After all that had
happened… How could he let he go again? Could she not see how that would affect Resa
and himself? But this silence was just as bad, if not worse – at least she would have been
happy in another world.
But here, she cast her deadened gaze upon everyone and everything, so that even the
books did not hold their usual charm and wonders. It was as if his daughter had brought a
dark cloud over them all, and did not care to blow it away.
And though everyone knew it, nobody would dare to say that, inevitably, this thing was
going to climax. With what and how, nobody dared to ask or even think.
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The iceberg swam spun slowly, like a corkscrew in treacle, pin wheeling like a lopsided
dandelion seed, straying far from the cheery yellow blossoms of home. It was sinking
slowly, but so gradually that no-one deigned to notice and indeed, if anyone had, what
was there to do, and why? It was the natural order of life for everything to rise and fall.
Who would care, and who would it affect if the iceberg disappeared completely into the
murky depths, back to where it was borne? Little did they know, underneath the bright,
fresh whites of the crystallized ice – frozen in time, all the memories, all the pain,
immobilized within – that the reality of the iceberg was suspended in a silent world,
drowning beneath with no-one to hear, no-one to help. No-one to save it.
No-one to save her.
Short I know, but I needed to get the point across. Reviews please!! Thanks.
~ kris ~