Here's a new one for you guys. ^.^
Please enjoy. You know the drill, guys. R&R. Flames, praises, constructive criticism..all are welcome.
8
Tap tap tap tap
Who knew really? Who knew that running would be such a dire task?
The 'tap tap tapping' of her boots were prominent against the unseen floor. There were no walls, no restrictions, but even so the sound echoed so vividly as if it was actually bouncing off a surface. Never has it seemed like the most horrible sound one could imagine. There was only that and nothing else. Tap tap tap. It did not pierce the silence, the way a falling pin within a silent room would, it wasn't that kind of sound for the right kind of atmosphere. It was the kind that engulfed the whole silence with its chronic note, completely eating it away. It was deadly and hateful and crushing.
That and the nothingness. The nothingness enveloped her as well. It suffocated her; though it was the largest piece of space she's ever had the opportunity to stand-run-in. She had no idea what it actually was. It wasn't darkness. No, in darkness, the flame of a candle would shine its brightest. Not here. Here nothing would shine, not even twinkle.
And there was the most basic question to address. She couldn't figure out, for the life, love and world of her, why she was running in the first place. The way she saw it, she wasn't even moving at all. Yes she was gasping for air; yes, she felt her lungs about to burst; yes, she felt the painful stitches at her side, but it's seemed as if she's done nothing else in her life but run. She felt all those and more; actually, there didn't seem to be a point to this running. But she ran on, anyway.
Well there was one reason. Deep inside her, she knew that it was the only reason she kept going forward, but she was not prepared to acknowledge it yet.
It was hope.
But she had turned her back on hope, relying only on faith and trust. Hope equaled disappointment in many aspects. Many have always contradicted her that faith was the same, but she didn't think so, because faith meant putting everything on the line for a person. A person worth having faith in is a person worth forgiving, not being disappointed over. Hope and faith, more or less, contradicted each other in essence.
But now all she had was that deep concept she's stood against through all these years. She couldn't exactly have faith in herself; it was much too self-serving if not complicated. So yes, she knew there was nothing else but hope, but that didn't mean she would acknowledge it.
So she did the only thing she could do. She continued on.
She blinked once...Twice, and was met with the most unexpected though most predictable sight of all.
The ceiling.
Of course it was unavoidable to look at it. She had been lying flat on her back when she fell asleep, even when she awoke in the middle of the night last night, and, not being a shifty sleeper, expected to be in the same position when awakened. It wasn't like she could control the first thing her eyes meet anyway.
It was made from rosewood, she vividly remembered the carpenter telling her. The ceiling was fairly old, worn out from the endless mites that couldn't dare to stop bothering it. Lines of aging surfaced more vividly against the dark earth color, rivers of endless history brought out for the world to observe. And it wasn't just that. There was an antiquity to it. You just knew, somehow, that something belonged in the past because of the air it carried around it. It wasn't the dust motes, it wasn't the fragility. It was just there.
Elizabeth sighed, feeling slightly ridiculous. She was never one to observe the trivialities of life such as ceilings. Certainly not ceilings. Amongst others, she loved looking at the sky, the ceiling of the world. She doubted heavily that that counted. But this morning, it seemed such a good enough distraction. It had color and light bounced off its wooden surface; it had the memories of others and would give light if lightened aflame. Unlike the darkness.
She remembered the darkness quite well, along with the fatigue and aimlessness. It was a curious sort of dream, now that she dwelled more on it, but at the time, it was all too real and all too menacing. It was a nightmare, no more than that, so obviously she shouldn't let it distract that much. She allowed herself to spare a few seconds to think about it but nothing more. …
Even so she didn't feel like running today.
Her hand grazed across soft skin as she made a move to get out of bed. Involuntarily, a smile graced her lips as she looked to her left and saw whose lovely skin she had touched.
Her son laid perfectly asleep, as heavy a sleeper as she once was. She could see in her mind's eye his eyes rolling beneath eyelids as he took in the fickle dreams one should have as a baby. Her hand never left his cheek as she began carelessly running it across the rest of his face, careful not to wake him. Her wistful smile could only grow wider with each second that passed just looking at him. William Turner III; it was such a fitting name. Even at just four years old, he already showed his father's spirit. They shared the same face, too; same nose, shape of face, strong jaw. The shade of hair, she was unsure of, being a mix of honey brown or dark chocolate but in the right angle of sunlight, a dark gold like hers. But Elizabeth was secretly proud she and her son shared the same eyes.
After a few minutes of Elizabeth aimlessly stroking her son's face, she reluctantly got up and got dressed, leaving her Will to sleep some more.
She made a direct beeline for the kitchen, careful to avoid the steps that creaked. She thought of breakfast, seeing the sun still young in the sky. But this turned to be a dud, as she opened the cupboards and found them nearly empty of anything useful for a good meal. Some parsley remained, and a whole square of cheese given to her from a kindly milkmaid. The last bottle of milk had been drowned greedily by her son the previous evening. The essentials such as salt and onions, where sitting soundly on a nearby shelf.
Elizabeth mulled over this for awhile, with her hand hovering on the cupboard handle. If she were to shop very, very quickly perhaps? And risk leaving her son alone…where they lived very near a cliff…
She could wait until he wakes up, and then take him with her to the village. But knowing his appetite, the chances of him not throwing a tantrum at being peckish was next to impossible.
She looked back to the staircase, shifted from there to the bedroom door. Her upper teeth moved to bite her lower lip. Obviously, she was torn. After one look at the cabinets (and an audible stomach growl), she took her money purse from the tabletop and briskly walked out the door.
A feint breeze met her as she walked out. Despite herself, a smile touched her lips at the sight of the world outside her house. A beautiful blue graced the skies, reflected by the ocean, as equally ethereal. Flecks of gold still flitted in between the ivory clouds, the remnants of what could only be the sunrise. There was a very minute regret within her at missing the sun's glorious rise. But it was, as said, minute.
She allowed herself a look at the deep throbbing of the ocean, how it seemed to sway…mockingly so. But she dismissed whatever notions she thought she had conjured, as quickly as she acquired them.
Elizabeth looked one last time at the open surroundings before making sure to lock the door, and also checking if the key was in her pocket. She confirmed its presence when the door key tinkered clearly against it. She trudged downhill to the village. It wasn't a long walk. Reach the slope base, follow the path. Simple enough directions, really. It wasn't so far that it would be an arduous journey, nor was it too near. The latter she was thankful for; she needed the exercise.
As she passed below the stone arch depicting the name (We welcome you. Sandford Village), a flurry of familiar waves, smiles and greetings came over her.
"Why good morning, deary," Edna, an elderly florist greeted. She was tending to her flowerbeds with surprisingly strong fingers, strong for a woman of her age.
"Good morning, Edna," Elizabeth greeted back.
The old woman furrowed her eyebrows as she realized the sight before her. She squinted a little, increasing the crow's feet that, more or less, sagged beside her eyes, just to make sure she wasn't imagining things. "Where's little Will?" She asked, then added laughingly. "Why, you always have him with you I'd thought he was actually glued to your hip." She burst into hysterics.
Elizabeth joined her in laughter, just a little. …
What was so funny?
She walked away, waving one last time. Her journey to the grocery was laden with the same smiles and inquiries as to why her son wasn't with her. She should have expected this. Everyone must have been so used to seeing them together that the sight of them separated surely must've been unusual, if not unnatural. But putting all those aside, her walk to the small village grocery was undisturbed.
Located within the town square, the building was as quaint as the village it resided in. It kept with the rest of its surrounding's rustic aesthetic; wooden, old and decorated with simple yet lush flowers. The store owner was already outside, watering them for the day. He was an Indian, from the southern lands of Asia. Supposedly, he was a slave that stowed away on a merchant ship, only to land himself here in Sandford just the same as Elizabeth did nearly five years ago. Of course, he didn't reveal his true name to anyone.
"Good morning, Ronald," she said cheerily.
"Good morning, madam," he replied with a tip of his hat, his tone rich with his heritage's accent. "What may I do you for this fine morning?"
She didn't wait to be let in, walked in herself. Ronald politely followed suit then made his way to the counter to dutifully wait on his customer.
Elizabeth took a quick look around. She'd only get the immediate necessary things then be off. The other goods can be taken later when Will's awake. After a quick scan she decided to make bacon and fried eggs for breakfast. Will was a big fan of eggs. Onto the counter went strips of pork, four fresh eggs, a full bottle of olive oil and two bottles of milk. Ronald raised an eyebrow at the few number of items, opposing the usually many Elizabeth got when shopping, but respectfully asked nothing.
He put them all in a canvas bag, checked the prices. He was careful with his arrangement, frustratingly so. Elizabeth was in a hurry and didn't need for him to be that careful. She knew he was only doing his duty, but even so.
He finished the usual time, but it was increasingly endless for her. She smiled gratefully at him and got the bag. "Thank you, Ronald."
"No, thank you, madam," he replied, the trademark hat tip. "And you'd best be careful."
"Why is that?" She withdrew from her steps, about to turn to the door. Her interest piqued up at the ominous tone he used.
He leaned closer to her. She did the same. He whispered into her ear. "There's been a report of murders, higher than anything before. A lot have gone missing, but the bodies that were found were..ah, what's the word?...Mutilated."
"That's dreadful," she breathed, true concern chiseled on her face. Concern, of course, for others, not for her. She knew she was very capable of fending for herself.
Ronald grimly nodded in agreement. "Even if we do live here in ol' Sandford, well..you never know."
Elizabeth nodded back. "Will that be all?" She said loudly, deviating from their whispered exchange.
"Yes, madam." Both finally withdrew from the counter. Elizabeth smiled politely again, before walking out the door in a hurry. The bag was heavy on her hand but it was nothing she couldn't handle.
Less formalities passed her, already being done. She only had to smile here and there as she jogged. Questions about Will being gone were completely diminished. Except, of course, when she reached Edna.
"Will still ain't with you?" She laughed.
"No, I'm afraid not."
"Well you'd better take him outside." Edna looked all around her with a wistful expression. "Beautiful day. My husband used to say something on a time like this."
"And what would that be?"
" 'Cerulean morning and ocean azure' ", she said, fairly declaring, her eyes closed as she went back in time to visit good memories.
"I think it's beautiful." Elizabeth truly did.
"It is, isn't it?"
"Well I really must get going," she uttered hastily. She didn't wait for Edna to make any replies and half-jogged, half-ran to her house. But in her mind the phrase stuck, imprinted in her heart. It was beautiful and was so consistent with the beauty surrounding her now.
"Cerulean morning and ocean azure."
"Beautiful morning, eh Gibbs?"
Jack was standing at the crow's nest, witnessing the horizon that lay alive and true before him. Colors of the sunrise blossomed from the sun, touching the clouds with pink and gold. This time of the day, the magnificent instance wherein the night is pushed back and the dawn takes over; it was his favorite time. It was the proof of his freedom..
But he knew, with some displeasure, that all the beauty, splendor, glory or whatever it was he was observing, would be inevitably and annoyingly, shattered.
8
Done. ^.^
In all honesty, I was supposed to upload this sooner, but it's one of those instances where you typed something really long, all your creativity is poured into it..and then it disappears. Long-story-short, my file unfathomably became "unopenable", didn't have a backup (yeah, smart) so I had to start a new one for this chapter. TT3TT
Ah well, I think this is, in some ways, better than the original one, except the latter part of Elizabeth, I think it feels rushed.