Bum-bum-buum! I'm really failing at picking out chapter titles, so I just searched the chapter for title-sounding words. xDThis will probably be my last update for a while… maybe. School's going to be starting up soon, so unless I have an extreme writing-mood, updates will be further between. Also, super-extra bonus points to anyone who can guess the famous quote the first bit of the chappie was (kind of) based on.
Chapter Eleven: The Desperate Sort
...
Her fingers twitched, then closed, and the blatant nothing around which they closed roused the girl from her sleep.
But what did she expect to hold? It was silly and foolish and a complete waste of time to ponder the question. What struck her instead was just how loud the wind was against the rooftop, and the harshness of the rain being pelted against her window. And just how dark it had become.
In the back of her mind, she felt reverted back to her childhood self. She wasn't more confident, stronger, happier, so on and so forth. She was tiny and it was storming outside and she had missed dinner (though a glance to her dresser would reveal a sandwich left by a concerned parent). Of course, the storm was so much more important than the lure of that sandwich, pastrami as it very well may have been. Stormy nights were important for her, and, of course, they were the best time to battle the monsters in the closet.
Yes, there were monsters there, of course there were, monsters with vivid green eyes and watermelon heads and bright smiles and—NO! What was she thinking? Monsters don't smile, they grin, and their eyes may be green, but not that kind of green, not the green that's warm and good, but rather a cold-light green.
If she were to just open the door, she'd see those eyes, whatever green they may be.
o-X-o
Arnold breathed deeply as the hardwood floors were replaced by the mossy ground of the San Lorenzo Peninsula. The air was thick and fragrant, and aside from the humming of insects, perfectly quiet. Of course, what should he expect? The capitol city was at the edge of the mainland, and the Green-Eyeds' village was a safe distance away (not to mention being a different subject in terms of distance entirely).
He took an uneasy step forward, staring at the shadows that spider-webbed across the forest floor. There was thunder in the distance. Perhaps the storm in Hillwood was racing after him.
What now? This whole thing was supposed to be easy. And no, it wasn't selfish, not in the least. Helga hadn't wanted to live in Hillwood, had she? No—a plain, simple, curt, and definite no. What's "right" is sometimes a layered dish and… it had honestly felt right. Some things are meant to be, even if it's necessary to blow up a few road blocks along the way.
His own transition had been nearly seamless. There had been dreams and general weirdness until Eduardo simply appeared, right on cue. But he hadn't taken transference, not really; his Eyes had been born-in, when his then-pregnant mother gazed upon La Corazon. But that shouldn't make any difference. There was no reason for Helga to be taking the effects to badly.
And those effects, they seemed so familiar. They brought to mind memories bright lights shining through closed medical tent.
o-X-o
Helga got to her feet and rubbed at the back of her neck. She didn't feel sick, but she didn't feel quite right either. The closet door called out to her with a low insectile hum.
That wasn't normal, was it, to feel such a need to be close to a certain area?
Because being close to that area means being close to Arnold.
…which made even less sense.
And closets don't make noises. They don't hoot or screech, hum or buzz. They hold clothes (and memories of shrines), but little else.
But it was still strange—the sounds, the feelings, and the dreams. They had all started so conveniently after Arnold's return to the city. But he couldn't be held responsible for some absurd coincidence, could he?
She listened to the thrashing of rain against the window and rooftop, and to the unnatural sounds which came from the closet. They were very jungly sounds.
Another coincidence?
Sure. Fine. Whatever.
Her boyfriend (Boyfriend… Boy-friend… Arnold? When'd that happen? Five lifetimes ago, at least) was suspicious and conniving, sweet and perfect. He came unannounced from some part of the world with miles of unexplored jungle, mysteries, and other very hush-hush things.
He went to school for a few days, and everything was supposed to be normal again. Or, perhaps, better than normal—like a dream.
o-X-o
He had to be the strong one, because he was always the strong one, and things like that can't just go and change. He had seen plenty, done plenty, and lived a life worthy of an animated television show.
But in the quickly darkening forest, he became chillingly aware of just how little he knew. Despite having spent the past few years in this life, and despite the deep involvement of his parents in the lives of the Green Eyed people, he was still shielded from so much.
Oh, he had to be the strong one, most certainly. He had to run blindly through the trees until fate would decide to throw some twist into his path and make everything alright again. Yes, he had to brave quicksand and snakes, and everything else the jungle hid.
o-X-o
But it wasn't a dream. She had barely seen her Arnold, barely spent any time with him. It was a desperate sort of insanity, to place so much gravity on a relationship that had barely started, even if it was one that had been fantasized and built up in childhood daydreams since her preschool years.
She reached for the door, ready to face whatever horrors awaited her just on the other side.
But she couldn't do it. It was frightening and somehow, a breach of trust.
Helga stepped back, defeated. Instead, she turned to her dresser drawers, sifting through them.
"Arnold," she muttered. "I don't know what's happening here, and I don't know why everything's just so… wrong, but you promised that you wouldn't leave me again, and that things would work out. And I believe you. I really do… Really. Maybe you understand, maybe you don't, but maybe I can fix this myself. I mean… Ugh, I can't even think straight! Maybe if I could just… think…"
o-X-o
Arnold walked down a non-path, through a tangle of monstrous roots, wishing for a guiding light, for anything that would give him direction.
The storm seemed to be headed for a different region. At least that was something to inspire to spark of hope.
A sound, high-pitched and frantic, called out above. And suddenly, Arnold found himself dive-bombed by something fuzzy, the size of a small dog. It clung to his shirt with claw-tipped, leathery wings.
"Ghale," he gasped laughingly, looking down. Despite the situation, he was glad for the familiarity of the bat. "How did you…." His voice faded away once he glanced up again.
A figure had appeared in front of him, streaked with those crazy shadows that the jungle so loved to throw.
And Arnold found himself frozen before those bright green eyes.
...
Dun-dun-duun. This chap. was a shorty, but hopefully decent. Next time, we've got some more stuff to reveal, and still further Helga freak-outs.