A PICTURE IN THE ATTIC
A fierce wind howled down Park Road, rustling fallen dead leaves and flinging debris at Number Eleven's windows. The people who lived there didn't think this strange, seeing as is it was the middle of autumn.
All the way up in Number Eleven's attic, Stella Bone found herself amongst cardboard boxes and dusty-looking relics. She fought her way through cobwebs and dead spiders (Thor would have cringed). She was looking for – no, scratch that. She wasn't sure what she was looking for. All she knew was that one minute she had been sitting in her room memorizing French verbs for her quiz tomorrow, when all of a sudden she had a strange desire to go up into the attic.
Not so strange actually. For weeks, Stella had been curious to find what was in the attic. It had been the one room out of the whole house that she hadn't explored. It had also been the one ruled off-limits by her aunt. Since then Stella's curiosity had been peaked, now she sought to quench it. One could say that Stella's curiosity, or habit to perpetually stick her nose into business that it did not belong in, often times got her in trouble. One would be right.
However, now, amongst dead spiders and dust, she found nothing worth keeping the room off limits. Only yellowed moth eaten boxes, covered in what Stella suspected to be spider's dung. She considered going back to her room and calling the whole thing a waste, when she saw it.
She didn't really see it, but more like feel it. Felt it calling to her like a magnet, dragging her feet toward it without her consent. It was nothing of noticeable importance: flat, rectangular, and covered in brown paper. The package was propped up against the wall, next to a dresser with peeled paint. Nothing flashy, so Stella could see why she hadn't immediately noticed it. Yet, she felt its presence: a light tug in the pit of her stomach pulling her forward. The package seemed to whistle beneath the brown paper, an invisible wind blew through the room.
Without really thinking, Stella reached out to touch it, making the paper rustle and creak. The parcel gave the impression of being alive, even though Stella knew that was a ridiculous notion. She hesitated, but then began to tear at the wrapping paper. Finding it loose as if someone had opened it before and had sloppily reapplied the wrapping. She pulled the paper down and stared.
It was a painting with a sinister depiction. Tall, dark, towers loomed before an ash-colored sky rushing with angry purple clouds. Snowcapped mountains were hurled in the distance surrounding a dry and arid desert. Stella shuttered as reptilian-scaled creatures glared up at her, squinting with glowing cruel eyes.
As much as the painting repulsed her, she couldn't look away. Instead, Stella found her eyes glued to it. The scene seemed to be shifting; the figures in the painting moving, and Stella knew that if she didn't turn away now, she would fall through the painting.
Suddenly, there was a flutter of white at the other end of the attic, and a moth flew forward, flapping its silver tipped wings against the portrait dismally. "Claerwen!" breathed Stella, as the moth landed on one of her dark curls. Almost immediately, whatever compulsion Stella had felt from the portrait failed, and the figures ceased moving.
How strange, thought Stella, that had never happened to her before.
It had been at least three years since Stella had found out about her endowment. At the time, her father had informed her of what had been happening. Which was just as well because she had been seriously freaked. She was a picture traveler, like him. Descended from the Red King and gifted with a part of his magical ability. A freak within a long family of freaks.
Stella hadn't minded much. If her father had it, she felt comfortable. He would help her if anything went wrong. He would explain everything. That is, until he disappeared two years previously.
Now Stella avoided looking at pictures all together. The portrait had been the first in a long time, and even then, Stella was sure that it had not behaved in the way a normal picture traveling experience should have. Or as normal as one could get with such a weird talent.
Stella glared warily at the portrait again, squinting at the strange creature with glowing eyes.
"Stella!" a grandmotherly voice interrupted. "The Torsson boy is at the door!" Aunt Alice's voice rang, loud and clear even from below two floors.
"Coming, Auntie!" Stella shook her head, glared at the picture one last time, and threw the brown paper covering over it. She quickly crawled through the attic trap opening and ran down the stairs to the front door.
She stumbled before an elderly woman with a white lily in her snow-white hair. Alice Angel wasn't really Stella's aunt, but when they had first met, Alice had insisted on being called Aunt rather than her official term as godmother.
Now she stood with her back to Stella, talking avidly with a tall visitor at the door and offering him to stay over for tea.
"Thanks Miss Angel, but I'm actually in a bit of a rush." Thorn Torsson stood on the front step. His pale blond hair was in a messy array and grey blue eyes were wide in excitement. He winked at Stella. "It's really important that I talk to Stella."
"Oh." said Alice. She glanced between the two of them. "Am I to understand it that the lot of you are all having one of your special meetings?" They both smiled sheepishly. "Well then, don't let an old coot like me stand in your way. Off you go."
"Thanks Aunt Alice, I'll be back for dinner." Stella grabbed her coat from the hanger on the wall.
"Nonsense. I expect Mrs. Yewbeam will feed you all well. Just remember to stay out of those ruins!" she called as both Stella and Thorn ran down the street.
"Finally!" exclaimed Thorn as he bounded up Park Road. He leaped into the air and brought both feet together with a loud smack!
Stella laughed, having to run to keep up with Thorn's long-legged strides. "Where are we going?" she asked breathlessly.
"Ingledew's."
"Why?"
"It's Chrysta." Thorn's face took on a grim expression. "She's had one of her episodes again."
"Oh no." Stella gasped. "Is she okay?"
"Yeah..well, y'know. Chrysta and all..."
Stella frowned. This was not good. She knew first hand how scary Chrysta's episodes could be. "She's in Ingledew's, then?"
"With James and Mrs. Yewbeam. They're both keeping a watch over her. They phoned me to come get you. Reckon you could do something with that moth of yours."
As if called upon, Stella felt Claerwen's wings on the crown of her head. "I'll try."
They both stopped in front of Number Three Cathedral Close. It was an old building and above the door, a sign hung. In olde worlde script it read INGLEDEW'S. The books displayed in the window were aged and dusty looking. Some were bound in leather, their leaves edged in gold.
"Come in!" a voice sounded, after Thorn had knocked on the door. Being a Sunday the shop was closed to potential buyers.
A bell tinkled as they stepped down into the shop, and a woman appeared through a curtained space behind the counter. Mrs. Yewbeam was a motherly woman with strands of silver adorning thick chestnut hair piled up on her head, and kind brown eyes behind thick spectacles.
"Oh you're here. Thank goodness!" she exclaimed once she had taken a good look at them. "She's in the back room. Poor thing. I haven't been able to communicate with her at all."
"What happened?" asked Stella.
But at that moment a figure stepped through the curtained space. Before anyone could react, there was pop and a flash and the single bulb that had been lit popped into tiny pieces of broken glass.
"Oh bother!" exclaimed the figure.
"James!" Mrs. Yewbeam picked pieces of glass from her hair and James went over to help. "Honestly, you'd think that after all this time I'd learn to just keep candles. Every light bulb-popped! Why, you're father-" Mrs. Yewbeam stopped suddenly, her hand on her heart and instead of finishing she grabbed a dustpan from behind the counter.
"Here, let me clean." said James, leaping forward.
"Nonsense. Really, it was my fault, dear. Show Stella and Thorn to Chrysta, will you?"
James nodded and led them both through the curtain.
"Any word from your father?" asked Stella, picking pieces of glass from her own hair.
"No." James lips were set in a tight line. "Bartholomew and the others, they've been looking but to no avail. I'm almost certain that he's...y'know? But mum - well you saw her. She hasn't given up hope."
"You'll find him." reassured Thorn. "Mr. Yewbeam's strong. He'll be okay."
James nodded but looked doubtful.
Stella changed the topic. "How is she?"
"She was fine when she came into the shop earlier today. But then she had one of her 'spells.' And well...look."
He pointed to a girl sitting on the couch chair. The girl sat, still like a rock, and stared straight ahead. Her droopy brown eyes so vacant and void of life that she appeared like a statute but, Stella knew better.
Claerwen moved towards the girl and landed on her floppy dark hair. The white moth fluttered about, silver tipped wings turning into a blur.
"Can you do anything?" James asked his voice full of concern.
"I can try." sighed Stella. She sat next to the girl, not knowing what to say until Claerwen landed on her hand. "Deffro." The welsh came to her effortlessly, though she did not how.
The girl's eyes fluttered briefly and then she fell. Before she could fall, Stella caught her.
"What happened?" mumbled Chrysta, rubbing her eyes blearily. She stared at her surroundings, comprehension dawning on her.
"Are you okay?" asked Stella peering into her face. "You were out for a while."
"Oh!" Chrysta gasped. "I remember." She blinked her eyes several times as if doing so could help her forget the grisly images in her mind.
"What did you see?" asked Thorn, sitting next to Stella.
James shuffled his feet uncomfortably. "I'll get the tea." and he walked out to the kitchen.
For a moment, Chrysta was silent, and then she spoke, her voice a low murmur. "It was like a shadow. And in my mind it called to me. It was terrible. The shadow was pure evil, but I couldn't help but listen. I was mesmerized. It showed me things, things I can never forget. I got the feeling that it was as old as time itself. It was hungry. That's the only word I can find to describe it. He wanted, he wants power. At least that's what I understood." Chrysta shook her head like a dog shaking off fleas. "It was unlike any visions I've ever had before."
"That sounds dreadful." gasped Stella. Thorn nodded in agreement.
"Yeah, but that's not all. The images are all blurry in my mind. But I do remember seeing this picture—mainly because it was so awful. There was a great tower and a dry desert, and these creatures." Chrysta shuddered.
By this point, James entered the room, a tray in hand ladled with tea and ham sandwiches. Chrysta took a cup of tea and drank some to calm her nerves.
"Thanks James." said Thorn, grabbing a ham sandwich.
"Wait." A strange feeling bubbled up in Stella. It couldn't be? "This portrait, did it seem like...it wanted to suck you in?"
"Yeah. It was so strange. Everything started moving and the portrait wanted to trap me. But then I woke up. I'm guessing that was Claerwen's doing." Chrysta glanced up at the moth and smiled gratefully.
"Hold up." said Thorn, glancing up from his third sandwich. (It was like he inhaled them.) "How do you know about this picture, Stel?"
All eyes were on her. "Well, I was in the attic today. And I saw it. It's just like Chrysta said. The picture seemed to want to trap me."
"Wait. So this thing actually exists?" asked James. He glanced at Chrysta worriedly. "I don't like the sound of this. It seems to me like trouble."
Thorn nodded in agreement. "It's like no matter how hard we try, trouble always finds us. I really hope this doesn't turn into a repeat of last year."
Everyone shuddered, remembering the horrible ordeal they had all gone through last year. Of which Mr. Yewbeam's disappearance was testament.
"You know I wonder about this, about us." Stella said thoughtfully. "I wonder if this is what our parents had to go through. Constantly having to battle some evil. And whether we're just following in their footsteps."
James grunted. "I hope not. Look at what happened to them." The mood in the room had taken an unexpected chilly turn.
Thorn tried changing the subject. "Speaking of parents." he said. "Elektra and I found something we thought could be interesting for all of us."
Chrysta and Stella looked up. "What?"
"It's a picture." At this, he glanced at Stella. "We were hoping that you could help, Stel. There may be something about your parents too."
"Of course she'll help." Chrysta's mood lightened and she became unnaturally cheery. "Have you told the others?"
Thorn nodded. "They've agreed to meet us tonight. At the usual spot. I thought it would be important if we could all see it before Monday." He turned to Stella. "What say you Stel?"
"Well..." she glanced up at Chrysta's and Thorn's hopeful expressions. "If it is for our parents. I guess it'd be okay."
Chrysta cheered and Thorn broke into a grin. "Awesome, Stel."
"Well it sounds to me like you're all up at it again." said James as he got up. "Really it shouldn't surprise me. I'm just glad you're okay Chrys. I don't normally deal with these things. That's usually you guys. But I never knew that you could go into such fits. It was quite scary. For a second, I thought you were hypnotized."
There was a moment of silence as the full meaning of James's words reached him. "Oh no, no. I mean - Viv would never."
"I don't see why not. She is a Bloor." Thorn scorned.
"If you don't remember clearly Violet just so happened to save your life last term." said Stella, her voice unnaturally cold.
Thorn paled. "Uh, yeah...well."
Stella sniffed and marched out to the front room were the broken glass had been swept. "Going already?" asked Mrs. Yewbeam.
"Yeah. Chrysta will be fine."
"Thank goodness. You can work wonders with that wand of yours Stella. Just like your father."
Stella blushed. "Thanks Mrs. Yewbeam."
James and Thorn came out from the backroom, Chrysta trailing behind them. Immediately Mrs. Yewbeam embraced Chrysta in a hug. "I'm so glad, you're okay dear. Gave me and James an honest fright."
"It's okay Mrs. Yewbeam. I'm fine now, thanks to Stella."
Mrs. Yewbeam nodded. "It's surprising how similar you all are to you're parents. It never seizes to surprise me."
Everyone shuffled their feet uncomfortably.
"Well." said Thorn, clearing his throat. "We must get going. Chilly weather and all."
"Where are you all going?" asked Mrs. Yewbeam concernedly.
"To see the others. Thorn reckons that he's found something important." Chrysta grabbed her coat from the hanger.
"It's okay, mum." said James. "They'll be fine."
Mrs. Yewbeam nodded with some reluctance but seemed to resign herself. Their antics reminded her so much of their parents. "Well, be careful all of you. Bundle up and stay warm. And remember to stay out of those ruins."
"Yeah, and if you see Pike tell him to pass on the date of our next meeting to Bartholomew." said James.
"Will do." The three of them trailed out the door, wrapping their coats around them tight as a wind rushed in down the street.
As they reached the corner, Thorn stopped. "We'll have to board a bus if we wanna get there on time."
Stella nodded stiffly, but didn't say anything else.
"Hey look, Stella," sighed Thorn. "I didn't really mean it, about Viv. I know Bloor or not she would never do such a thing."
Stella sighed. "Yeah I know. It's just...I'm worried about her. Living with those evil people, she calls relatives. It must be hard for her."
Thorn shuddered. "Tell me about it."
Chrysta remained silent through this exchange, her head wrapped up in her own thoughts.
The three of them waited for the bus, while a wind howled, traveling along the way to Bloor's Academy.
Word count: 2,814
And so I have conquered! All marshmallow based life forms must bow to me! Ah-hem. I mean to say : REVIEW!
In the meantime I'll read but since I don't have a computer I won't be able to reply back to your reviews. I'll just answer those in future chapters, m'kay?
Second, this story was actually published under a different title but I decided to rename it. Nothing to worry about, seeing as the only thing up at the time was the first chapter.
Anywho's I think this chapter was pretty radical. Or whatever those hip young folk say.
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Alright I'll stop with the cheesy show one-liner's.
I bet if you click me, all of your life's wishes shall come true.
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