Look, I don't even know what this story is about. I still look at it as a whole sometimes and wonder, Cale, what the heck were you high on, child?
Nonetheless, it was written more out of my compulsion than for your pleasure of reading all though I do sincerely hope you enjoy this story, if you don't, that's okay too. I totally understand.
Tbh, I was here for a good time and a beer but after this story, I'm not so sure anymore.
This story isn't for the faint of heart, honestly, if ya'all wanted fluff and cute stuff, this really ain't it mate.
Anyway, Hiro Mashima is the creator of Fairytail, I don't own any characters except the random bystander or teachers who are OC's.
Normalcy is a state of mind. It's often one's reaction to it that determines the course of their life.
|Lucy Heartfilia|
Chapter one
-0-
Normalcy was good.
For Lucy Heartfilia at least it was.
People thought normalcy was boring for innumerable reasons. Firstly, it did not have to fulfil the zest of life. Secondly, there was something about normalcy which was predictable therefore made it more mundane. Thirdly, it made life more of a mechanised process than an appeasing experience.
At least these were the reasons Lucy Heartfilia thought could be responsible for why people did not want normalcy.
As for her, she was content with being typical, happy with the way her life wrapped itself around the convenience of being an ordinary teenager.
Her life was about as predictable as water. A middle-class family that had been original residents of Lecastle for a long time, she was born and bred the same way her parents and them before, nothing changed. Yet, while Lecastle seemed like an old, boring town where nothing creative ever transpired, it had all changed that one summer. It was a big affair, had been all hushed up by the elders and the Sheriff.
Almost as if everyone was keen on forgetting those incidents had ever occurred.
And since everyone was trying to forget, who was Lucy to question the process?
"Lucy!" A sharp voice broke her trance as she turned to her right, facing her best friend, Rufus Lore. Who was currently waving vigorously his hand in front of her to gain what would seem as her undivided attention.
"Careful there, Lucy," Rufus said steadily pulling her, silently reminding her that they were climbing down a staircase of her school and one miscalculated step would result in one nasty hell of a fall.
"Thanks," she sheepishly said as he rolled his eyes.
"So now you're listening to me?"
"Of course, I was," Lucy said, hoping he hadn't asked a question.
"Really? You were?" He asked, with a brow raised in inquisition as he crossed his arms.
"Umm yeah, you were talking about your crush on the football-mmph-" A hand clamped itself over her mouth tightly.
"-Jesus effin' Christ, Lucy! You might as well announce it on a mic. Dear Lord, you're loud."
"One of my assets, really." Lucy kidded with a giggle as the blond beside her shook his head.
"Uhuh. Yeah right. Besides, you were wrong, for once I was not talkin' 'bout Eve Tearm, just shows how much you were really listening." He narrowed his green eyes at her as they walked through the corridor to their lockers, smuggling their way through the crowded corridor.
"Gee, I'm sorry. I was just-"
"-daydreaming?"
"Yeah, that." She sheepishly nodded. "But what were you talking about, anyway?"
"We can't meet up for lunch is what I was saying." He repeated as they reached their lockers and took their scheduled books out.
"Why the hell not?" Lucy questioned, densely unaware of the stare Rufus had been directing to her until he literally put both his hands on her shoulder and gently made her turn to what her back was previously facing towards.
A bright red banner put up at the end of the corridor with eighteen pictures of different people were etched upon and at the end of the floor-length banner were placed on one and other numerous bouquets of white lilies, baskets of pink and red carnations with a few gladioluses scattered here and there.
"It's the anniversary of Summerhouse murders," Rufus said quietly to Lucy as she stiffened at the mere sight and then dropped his tone to a whisper, "honestly, I thought you'd remember with the ominous feeling in the air and the flowery scent."
To establish this, he gave an evident sniff to his surrounding.
"Really, it smells like a florist shop here."
Which indeed begged the question,
How could she have forgotten?
Summerhouse murders was a nasty series of murders which had occurred a year ago, the victims were first assaulted and then stabbed, the killer was never caught and the only credible evidence they found of the killer was a slip of paper on which would be drawn a phase of the moon.
That's right people.
The killer, nicknamed Rhealz for reasons that she wondered very often about, would always leave a drawing of a phase of the moon in the perfect and precise order of the lunar cycle. The most alarming fact about it was that the victims were all from Summerville Academy which drew everyone inclusive of herself had fear engraved in their very minds during those times.
Lucy narrowed her eyes, she did not understand, how could people kill so mercilessly? It was such an abstract concept to her. Dirty politicians and mafia bosses were one thing but the outright slaughter was something her moral disposition failed to wrap its head around.
It was after these set of killings which made Lucy profoundly disinclined to take up Law or even think of joining the police force.
"Lucy." A small voice shook or rather tried to shake her but Lucy was stuck in a long thought process.
Still, the psychology behind it all interested her a bit.
She was well-aware of how the psyche was inculcated in such a type of person but she was still a bit fuzzy on the why. Distinctly, she remembered a message given by the school principal in honour of the victims that-
'Good is within everyone, innate evil is within everyone, the moment it matters is when you have to choose.'
It was all he had ever regarded the matter with, insensitivity is what others called it but Lucy had a feeling that perhaps he mourned their deaths too but never did so openly. It was a brutal and heart-wrenching incident.
"Lucy. Honestly, I swear to whichever force watching me that I will personally throw a brick at you if you aren't paying attention."
That caught her attention. Effectively.
"Yeah?" She jerked up, snapping her neck so hard towards Rufus that it might have suffered a fracture.
"You're really out of your element today, aren't you?" Rufus reiterated as they continued to walk to their class.
"I suppose... I'm just..."
"..out of your element?" The blond helpfully inserted.
"Yes, that." She giggled, delightfully.
They both heard the first bell ring and looked at each other simultaneously.
"Whose class do we have again?"
"Ms Selene." Both of them realized together with a faint tone of what would seem a 'wake-up' call. The fierce English teacher was a force to reckoned with.
"Ahh shit." Rufus cussed profanely as Lucy sprinted sprightly and ran past him with a grin plastered on her face, "beat you till the door!" She stuck out her tongue, childishly.
"Lucy," Rufus whined like a child denied his treat, hot on her heels as they made it past the long, brown corridors into the class with the absence of Ms Selene, fortunately just before her arrival.
Small mercies those were really.
| • • • • • • • • |
It was quiet for many reasons really but perhaps that is how memorials are supposed to be, right? Lucy convinced herself that she felt sorrowful only because of the atmosphere because it was easier to ignore the pain that way.
But really, who the heck was she kidding?
The anniversary memorial service was in the school chapel, as Lucy walked in she noticed the centre of the altar had several easels stacked together that had canvasses which had a picture of each of the eighteen victims embedded upon it, they each had a candle placed in front of them with flowers arranged at the bottom of the easel.
Lucy took a deep, harrowingly calm breath before settling down in the corner of the benches as the speeches went on for what seemed like eternal damnation.
It had begun raining heavily the moment the memorial service began, she found amusing how the rains always knew precisely when to shower with exertion, their timing was specifically meant for the purpose. A chilly breeze drew her attention to the window beside her, the principal had a penchant for flowers and she found it in the course of no surprise when she saw a pair of white roses blossoming in the garden next to the church.
What enrapture her perception, even more, was when the harsh weather of the rains made a petal go astray from the pure, white rose to fall into a dark puddle of dirt, sinking deeper into the brown mud of the dirtied water until it was not even visible anymore, she closed her eyes and took another breath and faced a reality she had taken an entire year to overcome.
Those people.
Each of them she may or may not have spoken to, may or may not have met yet she knew all of them in the way a stranger does which merely made her heart clench in sync with the pain of her soul.
The time she had been in the washroom and had accidentally walked in Karen Lilica, the fifth victim silently staring at the mirror while she minded her own business and thought it was merely a glance.
She really should have asked her if she was doing okay that day and when Bacchus Groh, the thirteenth victim was celebrating his victory in the individual athlete championships, she should have congratulated him even though they were nothing but mere strangers.
And of course, she would not forget that moment when Sue, the third victim had finally come out of the closet as a homosexual, Lucy really wanted to tell her that she was proud of her because coming out as a lesbian when you're from a la orthodox Christian family was harder than one imagined.
She knew that regrets did not make you any less of a person but when Lucy was surrounded by the reminiscence of the very same people, she couldn't help but be flooded by waves of memories she had as a stranger in all of their lives.
Which aroused the question, would anything be different had she approached them that very moment? Would they still be alive? It was silly of her to think so, she would later admit but commonly the butterfly effect was a wild generic that she believed it.
It always forced her to believe in the chance incidents.
She winced.
Despising the circumstance that she had found herself in.
And like the white petal fallen on the water surface that drowned its way to the bottom to meet the dark floor bed, she was engulfed into thinking of the mere happenings of 'what-if's'.
Updates gonna be once a week.
Mostly on the weekends but I'm unpredictable that way so might be.