[PRO] ["SING A SONG GOLDEN GIRL"]
[4filter] the rain. [4filter] this. [4filter] him. Amy Merced watched the drizzle of rain from inside the car. Each drop that fell on the window stained her view. One after another they stuck to the glass, distorting the world outside. Making sure she was locked inside.
If you've ever moved to a new city, you may know the feeling. It can be quite fascinating to intake new surroundings as they unfold. Perhaps the first view of your new home was from a car window - where the world outside passed by in flashes. Or maybe you were shown around in detail via new friends, enthusiastically hoping to give you the grand tour.
On the contrary, it's possible that instead of curiosity, moving could've left you rather nervous. Those nerves don't make the city seem all bright and cheerful, but rather dark and mysterious. Which, despite what you may have thought as you experienced it, isn't the worst possible scenario. Those nerves could be the catalyst to push you into experiences that veer off the game of life an onto something new. Perhaps you were met with a storm of questions: would the class like you? Would you like your new home? Would you meet the love of your life here? Each of these comes with an answer full adventure.
If either of these scenarios matches your experience, then zip-id-y-do-lucky-[4filter]-you. There's nothing that stands up to the feeling of seeing life from a new, unsure perspective.
Unfortunately, this wasn't the case from Amy Merced. Her move had been quite dull and gloomy. Out of all the words Amy shuffled through to describe her entrance into Domino City, gloom seemed far more accurate than fresh or frightening. As she looked out the car window, her image reflected the frown back at her. There were no secrets that Amy needed to unravel, no mysteries as to what the life ahead of her looked like.
Just a whole lot of rain.
And a robotic Ken Doll in the driver's seat.
The car's driver was an average sized man, unlike his co-workers who were all bulking brutes, with wide suit shoulders and a straight back. All of which was impressive considering he was old enough to have a full head of grey hair.
Aside from the fact that the man was wearing sunglasses on a grey and rainy day, he was a particularly good driver, coming to a gentle stop as the light turned red. Regardless, Amy Merced dropped another [4filter] under her breath for good measure. The red of the stoplight reflected in the driver's sunglasses.
"Likely another ten minutes until we arrive, Miss Amy," he said dryly.
As soon as a raindrop fell on the window, it would disappear. "You can drop the 'Miss,' Croquet. We both know you don't care for it. News flash: neither do I."
Croquet's silence was all the justification he was going give her.
Amy straightened in her seat, free to wiggle around without the constraints of her seat belt. "Why are you here Croquet? Why the [4filter] am I riding in this car, listening to you croak out directions, humming the theme song to freaking Golden Girls," she hissed.
The light turned green, and the man pressed against the gas, bring the car back to life with a smooth caw. "I was instructed to escort you to your next destination."
"You flew with me all the way to Domino just to drive a car. I bet you're thrilled about that. Admit it Croquet; you think your boss is a much as a [4filter] as the rest of us do." She turned to the side, throwing her feet up onto the other seats. Underneath his sunglasses, there was a glinting pair of scheming eyes. Amy didn't need to see his face to know that. From one schemer to another.
The meat of Amy's braid pressed against the glass, making it uncomfortable to sit up. So she slid down, now looking at the roof of the car through her shaggy, overgrown bangs. This view was no better than the last.
Her body rocked as the car stopped for another set of lights. "I'd advise you to fasten your seatbelt, Miss Amy," Croquet said, no more excited than the last time. Typically, any inkling of respect would have made Amy grin. Her petite measurements and wide eyes had gotten her called a lot of things. 'Kid,' 'Runt,' 'Ankle-biter,' the whole bracket of small teenage nicknames. Although, to be fair, 'Ankle-biter' may not have come from her size. Being called "Miss" should have been a refreshing change. If only it weren't being used as a sarcastic quip.
"Cau dy geg."
The words "Cau dy geg" here roughly translates to "shut your mouth." In Amy's case, they had a bit more of a bitter, more profane subtext. What she probably meant to say was not "shut your mouth," but more like "I don't give a flying [4filter] about what you'd 'advise'".
With a lift of her arm, the view changed, from the gloomy car roof to a golden bracelet pressed against Amy's wrist.
Gold. The bracelet was gold like the sun. Even with the rain, it still somehow managed to catch the light and glow softly. The bracelet was made up of dozens of tiny gold beads woven tightly together. Only when she squinted could Amy see the line where one bead ended and the next began. Although for all their beauty, the tiny round orbs were imperfect, lumpy spheres. Even so, the gold thread still wove around nicely.
At the bottom edge of the beads were tiny charms. They looked to be cones… no, scratch that, spikes. Spikes that came to a lengthy point on one side. Unlike the beads, these spikes weren't constrained, so in the car, they rocked freely back and forth. Despite the spike's sharp edges, she wasn't bothered by them at all. Or the beads. At this point, it was as if the bracelet was molded in - was apart - of the very fabrics of her skin. Not itchy, not sweaty. Like her body was growing around it.
Then there was the eye. All those dozens and dozens of beads wove together around one centerpiece. An image of an unblinking eye. It was a solid slab of metal among the rest of the tiny, intricate pieces. Deep creases and strong lines in the sclera and pupils created shadows outlining the eye's iris. Although those figures, like the beads, were not smooth. Their edges were jagged. Chipped. Flawed.
It was mesmerizing, the way the small spike charms shifted back and forth, towards the eye, away from the eye, towards the eye. Almost as if it were counting the seconds until they arrived. One. Two. One. Two. Looking at it for hours, getting lost in the ticks and tocks, would have been so easy.
The charms gave one more wild swing before coming to a stop, almost as if it had a voice of its own talking back to her. Seconds later, the driver door clicked open, and Amy rolled back up onto her seat. She threw the backseat door open before Croquet could get anywhere near it, saying, "Don't bother. You're not my butler, Golden Girl. Your boss and I, we're not associated anymore - got it?" The man simply stood aside and let her open her umbrella.
She looked up at the building in front of them with a bitter smile. Someone once said "The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek", right? Campbell. Or Osbon. Someone. For Amy seemed as if she was looking up at the stairway to Heaven, where one could go up and up forever. Except that it wasn't bright and warm like a stairway to heaven outta` be. In fact, it had been a long time since Amy had seen something so colorless.
It was a particularly uptight looking school, perhaps a little too much so. Amy could smell the misery and stress leaking out of it. "High school," she muttered, "out of all the things I missed, this wasn't one of them."
She ran her hands through the tips of her wet hair, a sour scowl plastered on her face. The charms on her wrist swayed, this time with a vivid encouragement in its swing. 'Encouragement' that made Amy roll her eyes as she spoke up again. "Yeah, yeah. Easy for you to say."
Narrator's Note: I know, no one like a Prologue - but I'll tell you a secret. On the quietest, darkest, of nights, if you go outside and listen, you'll hear just how much I care.
I can hear it now, glorious rage from readers of the OG saying "We waited a year for... this?" ｡･ﾟヾ(✦థ ｪ థ)ﾉ｡ﾟ･｡
That's you. That text emoji is your face. Congrats on the face. Unless you're reading this on a device that cut up the emoji apart. Then congrats on the broken pieces of symbols that was once a text emoji. Your life is going places. ｡･ﾟヾ(✦థ ｪ థ)ﾉ｡ﾟ･｡
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And if you're a completely new reader...
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Congrats. You're in for a clearly masterful reading experience because if you can't tell by the use of text emojis, I'm obviously [not] a pro. Welcome. Take a seat in the corner and remember the donuts are for after the meeting. If you touch them I will be forced to publicly shame you.
For those of you here for the March 2018 release week, just a reminder that I'll be posting one chapter a day until I reach the first four chapters.