I'm not sure about this chapter, so if you hate it, you may not be the only
one! :P Anyway, I'm just going to spin out some excuses for myself,
starting with the fact that I'm still trying to get into it, and it'll
probably show in the writing. Thank you to SunGold16. My first review! I
wasn't sure if I'd get any, so thanks a lot! :)
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The first thing that Brigette registered as she drifted back to a state of comprehension was something which – rather bizarrely – sounded like birds. In fact, if she hadn't known for sure that she was in the storage room of a bookstore, she could have absolutely sworn that she was flat on her back in the outdoors. Rather than the sharp edges of ancient books digging into her spine, she instead now seemed to be cushioned on what felt curiously like grass. All of which was, of course, impossible.
She was feeling rather relaxed and mellow and, pretending that it really was the sun that shone red behind her eyelids, she was strangely reluctant to open her eyes and destroy this wonderful, serene illusion. Although, to be frank, she was also feeling a little confused.
She must have fallen asleep, she decided firmly. She vaguely remembered some kind of dream where she'd falling and flying and turning. A brief impression of colours – vivid, intense colours – and the lingering remnants of unfamiliar laughter playfully teased at the edge of her mind. What had she been doing?
Unpacking boxes of books...trapped in Barnes because of Stanley's minute brain and inflated ego...Michael...Camille...Michael...Irene...Michael. She smiled to herself, thinking of dimples and eyes of such a deep brown that she felt she could see into his most inner thoughts...fairy tales! The thought broke in without welcome, disturbing her and snapping her out of her fantastical musings. She frowned suddenly. Fairy tales...
What was it about those two words that bothered her so much? She loved fairy tales. She'd always loved fairy tales. Even when she'd attended the performance of Cinderella given by her grandmother and various other members of the 'Belly Dancing for the Young at Heart' troupe, she'd still loved the story. Rubbing the frown away from her brow, she tried to remember.
"I like fairy tales," she mused aloud, "I like fairy tales...I love fairy tales...but...I don't know. Why do fairy tales suddenly bug me?"
"I have no idea," countered an unfamiliar voice chirpily, "But if that's true, you're really not going to like this situation."
Brigette rocketed upward.
"Oh my...what? Oh my G-...what!?...I don't...huh? Shit!" she finally finished, stuttering.
The girl seated cross-legged before her nodded. "Coherent," she said, grinning.
Brigette opened her mouth and found that this time her voice had fled completely. Probably from the embarrassment of its last attempt at speech. She gave up on the vocal skills, and instead focused her wide gaze on the rather unusual – to say the least – scene before her.
It seemed that her first impressions were correct. It was definitely grass that she now plucked fitfully at with nervous fingers. It was in fact the sun that warmed her face and arms with a gentleness completely at odds with the turbulence of her thoughts. And she could still hear what appeared to be birds coming from a woodland area to her left. And there ended any sense of normalcy or familiarity.
It was as if the outdoors had been erased and then repainted by a Disney artist. Putting aside the fact that she had no idea how she had come to be outside or why outside looked nothing like Bailey's Crossing – questions which, were they to be dwelled upon, would no doubt result in her running in circles all over this nice green grass and drowning out the pretty bird songs with hysterical screaming – she had never known outdoors anywhere to look quite like this.
Colour. Colour everywhere. Used to the dullness of overclouded days and the thin veneer of smog that usually hung for endless horizons, Brigette's eyes were actually watering from the sight which greeted her. The sky was blue, yes – but startlingly, mesmerisingly, perfectly blue. There were no clouds, no smog...and no toy airplanes droning along, looking to crash into the back of innocent people's heads. The grass was finely cut and richly green. The sun's rays skated along the clear flat lake and golden path to her right.
Not so far in the distance – or maybe it was further than it looked, because everyone looked strangely...small – throngs of people clustered around a group of equally small looking buildings and pushed tiny carts and munched on miniscule apples.
"Hey!" the same voice interrupted her jumbled thoughts. The girl peered at her streaming eyes anxiously. "I know that this must be a real shock to you and all, but you don't have to cry about it."
"Wh-...oh," Brigette swiped at her eyes with both hands. She turned her gaze onto her mysterious companion.
Long red hair falling about her waist and over her thighs, the girl met Brigette's rude stare with huge calm green eyes. She was pretty, in the same surreal way as everything else in this bizarre dream – which it must be, because there was no way that Brigette was actually looking at someone who was hovering at least two inches above the ground.
Just when it seemed that this experience – be it sleeping or waking – could not get any stranger, she was startled to hear her own voice return clearly and steadily.
"My grandmother would kill to be able to do that," she informed the levitating stranger.
They both blinked.
Then the girl laughed. It was a deep, throaty guffaw – quite unlike the delicate silvery peal that Brigette might have expected had it occurred to her to do so.
"I'm Ariel," she said, extending a hand towards Brigette.
Brigette clasped it without thinking. As she touched the other girl's warm skin, she realized with stunning clarity that this wasn't a dream; that she really was sitting here, holding the hand of redhead with an aversion to gravity. In this curiously perfect place that could be in another country or world or dimension for all she knew. And as she heard Ariel introduce herself, the reason why she was suddenly so bothered by the thought of fairy tales came back to her. Crashingly. The book – the blank book of fairy tales. Opening it, and then...
She looked up at Ariel.
"How did I get here?" she asked, inwardly wondering why on earth she wasn't freaking out.
"Through the Book," Ariel told her cheerfully, confirming what her mind was still reluctant to grasp at.
Brigette nodded.
"Right. Good. Ok, if you don't mind, I may freak out now."
She opened her mouth to give a piercing scream, only to have Ariel slap a hand over it quickly.
"Sorry," she said, shrugging, "But you'll scare the shit out of the gnomes if you do that."
Brigette wasn't sure which point she was more surprised by: the fact that she was apparently inside a book of fairy tales, the mention of gnomes or that a fairy tale creature was using profanity in such an easy, practiced way.
And she was pretty sure that this was a completely inappropriate time to be wondering if Mr. Hopkins would pay her extra for what could probably be classified as overtime.
"Shit?" she asked, vaguely, deciding to follow up on the point that apparently fairy tales weren't as G-rated as she'd been led to believe.
"Ew! Where?" Ariel asked, peering underneath her and around the grass. "Probably Snow White's damn dog again."
"No, I meant...Snow White?...never mind," Brigette subsided into silence.
"You know," Ariel said, patting her companionably on the shoulder, "You're really taking this awfully well. Far better than most of the others."
Others? Oh my God! The final sleepy part of Brigette's brain kicked into action, and she then kicked herself in fury. What was the matter with her?
"My friends? Are they here too? Are they alright? Have you seen them? Where are they? Is Michael still hot?" she paused, wondering if she'd actually said that last part aloud. "Ummm..."
Ariel giggled in delight.
"I can say a very enthusiastic yes to the last part, and they're all fine, I promise. I'll take you to them soon."
Brigette nodded, and then blurted without thinking, "Isn't Ariel the name of the Little Mermaid?"
Ariel literally came down to earth with a thud, and scowled.
Sighing, she groaned, "I have GOT to change my name one of these days. Don't even get me started on that mermaid crap. I could kill that little twerp, I really could. I mean, come on! I had a skin condition! I was a teenager. It was flipping ECZEMA, not scales!"
Brigette blinked. "I...you...what?"
"Artistic license, my ass!"
Brigette leaned slightly away from Ariel.
"I mean, really!"
Brigette looked around, and tried to tactfully give Ariel privacy to continue ranting.
"MERMAID, for fudge's sake!"
Brigette ducked Ariel's flailing arm and glanced over at the woodland area. A person moved out from the shadows of the trees, and edged towards them, warily eyeing an increasingly cross Ariel.
Brigette's mouth dropped open.
"Mr. Hopkins?!"
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The first thing that Brigette registered as she drifted back to a state of comprehension was something which – rather bizarrely – sounded like birds. In fact, if she hadn't known for sure that she was in the storage room of a bookstore, she could have absolutely sworn that she was flat on her back in the outdoors. Rather than the sharp edges of ancient books digging into her spine, she instead now seemed to be cushioned on what felt curiously like grass. All of which was, of course, impossible.
She was feeling rather relaxed and mellow and, pretending that it really was the sun that shone red behind her eyelids, she was strangely reluctant to open her eyes and destroy this wonderful, serene illusion. Although, to be frank, she was also feeling a little confused.
She must have fallen asleep, she decided firmly. She vaguely remembered some kind of dream where she'd falling and flying and turning. A brief impression of colours – vivid, intense colours – and the lingering remnants of unfamiliar laughter playfully teased at the edge of her mind. What had she been doing?
Unpacking boxes of books...trapped in Barnes because of Stanley's minute brain and inflated ego...Michael...Camille...Michael...Irene...Michael. She smiled to herself, thinking of dimples and eyes of such a deep brown that she felt she could see into his most inner thoughts...fairy tales! The thought broke in without welcome, disturbing her and snapping her out of her fantastical musings. She frowned suddenly. Fairy tales...
What was it about those two words that bothered her so much? She loved fairy tales. She'd always loved fairy tales. Even when she'd attended the performance of Cinderella given by her grandmother and various other members of the 'Belly Dancing for the Young at Heart' troupe, she'd still loved the story. Rubbing the frown away from her brow, she tried to remember.
"I like fairy tales," she mused aloud, "I like fairy tales...I love fairy tales...but...I don't know. Why do fairy tales suddenly bug me?"
"I have no idea," countered an unfamiliar voice chirpily, "But if that's true, you're really not going to like this situation."
Brigette rocketed upward.
"Oh my...what? Oh my G-...what!?...I don't...huh? Shit!" she finally finished, stuttering.
The girl seated cross-legged before her nodded. "Coherent," she said, grinning.
Brigette opened her mouth and found that this time her voice had fled completely. Probably from the embarrassment of its last attempt at speech. She gave up on the vocal skills, and instead focused her wide gaze on the rather unusual – to say the least – scene before her.
It seemed that her first impressions were correct. It was definitely grass that she now plucked fitfully at with nervous fingers. It was in fact the sun that warmed her face and arms with a gentleness completely at odds with the turbulence of her thoughts. And she could still hear what appeared to be birds coming from a woodland area to her left. And there ended any sense of normalcy or familiarity.
It was as if the outdoors had been erased and then repainted by a Disney artist. Putting aside the fact that she had no idea how she had come to be outside or why outside looked nothing like Bailey's Crossing – questions which, were they to be dwelled upon, would no doubt result in her running in circles all over this nice green grass and drowning out the pretty bird songs with hysterical screaming – she had never known outdoors anywhere to look quite like this.
Colour. Colour everywhere. Used to the dullness of overclouded days and the thin veneer of smog that usually hung for endless horizons, Brigette's eyes were actually watering from the sight which greeted her. The sky was blue, yes – but startlingly, mesmerisingly, perfectly blue. There were no clouds, no smog...and no toy airplanes droning along, looking to crash into the back of innocent people's heads. The grass was finely cut and richly green. The sun's rays skated along the clear flat lake and golden path to her right.
Not so far in the distance – or maybe it was further than it looked, because everyone looked strangely...small – throngs of people clustered around a group of equally small looking buildings and pushed tiny carts and munched on miniscule apples.
"Hey!" the same voice interrupted her jumbled thoughts. The girl peered at her streaming eyes anxiously. "I know that this must be a real shock to you and all, but you don't have to cry about it."
"Wh-...oh," Brigette swiped at her eyes with both hands. She turned her gaze onto her mysterious companion.
Long red hair falling about her waist and over her thighs, the girl met Brigette's rude stare with huge calm green eyes. She was pretty, in the same surreal way as everything else in this bizarre dream – which it must be, because there was no way that Brigette was actually looking at someone who was hovering at least two inches above the ground.
Just when it seemed that this experience – be it sleeping or waking – could not get any stranger, she was startled to hear her own voice return clearly and steadily.
"My grandmother would kill to be able to do that," she informed the levitating stranger.
They both blinked.
Then the girl laughed. It was a deep, throaty guffaw – quite unlike the delicate silvery peal that Brigette might have expected had it occurred to her to do so.
"I'm Ariel," she said, extending a hand towards Brigette.
Brigette clasped it without thinking. As she touched the other girl's warm skin, she realized with stunning clarity that this wasn't a dream; that she really was sitting here, holding the hand of redhead with an aversion to gravity. In this curiously perfect place that could be in another country or world or dimension for all she knew. And as she heard Ariel introduce herself, the reason why she was suddenly so bothered by the thought of fairy tales came back to her. Crashingly. The book – the blank book of fairy tales. Opening it, and then...
She looked up at Ariel.
"How did I get here?" she asked, inwardly wondering why on earth she wasn't freaking out.
"Through the Book," Ariel told her cheerfully, confirming what her mind was still reluctant to grasp at.
Brigette nodded.
"Right. Good. Ok, if you don't mind, I may freak out now."
She opened her mouth to give a piercing scream, only to have Ariel slap a hand over it quickly.
"Sorry," she said, shrugging, "But you'll scare the shit out of the gnomes if you do that."
Brigette wasn't sure which point she was more surprised by: the fact that she was apparently inside a book of fairy tales, the mention of gnomes or that a fairy tale creature was using profanity in such an easy, practiced way.
And she was pretty sure that this was a completely inappropriate time to be wondering if Mr. Hopkins would pay her extra for what could probably be classified as overtime.
"Shit?" she asked, vaguely, deciding to follow up on the point that apparently fairy tales weren't as G-rated as she'd been led to believe.
"Ew! Where?" Ariel asked, peering underneath her and around the grass. "Probably Snow White's damn dog again."
"No, I meant...Snow White?...never mind," Brigette subsided into silence.
"You know," Ariel said, patting her companionably on the shoulder, "You're really taking this awfully well. Far better than most of the others."
Others? Oh my God! The final sleepy part of Brigette's brain kicked into action, and she then kicked herself in fury. What was the matter with her?
"My friends? Are they here too? Are they alright? Have you seen them? Where are they? Is Michael still hot?" she paused, wondering if she'd actually said that last part aloud. "Ummm..."
Ariel giggled in delight.
"I can say a very enthusiastic yes to the last part, and they're all fine, I promise. I'll take you to them soon."
Brigette nodded, and then blurted without thinking, "Isn't Ariel the name of the Little Mermaid?"
Ariel literally came down to earth with a thud, and scowled.
Sighing, she groaned, "I have GOT to change my name one of these days. Don't even get me started on that mermaid crap. I could kill that little twerp, I really could. I mean, come on! I had a skin condition! I was a teenager. It was flipping ECZEMA, not scales!"
Brigette blinked. "I...you...what?"
"Artistic license, my ass!"
Brigette leaned slightly away from Ariel.
"I mean, really!"
Brigette looked around, and tried to tactfully give Ariel privacy to continue ranting.
"MERMAID, for fudge's sake!"
Brigette ducked Ariel's flailing arm and glanced over at the woodland area. A person moved out from the shadows of the trees, and edged towards them, warily eyeing an increasingly cross Ariel.
Brigette's mouth dropped open.
"Mr. Hopkins?!"