Again, you could skip Rafflesia's part and go directly to Artemis' journal, which is in italics and is headed by a date.
2
two
"We have new information on your case, Rafflesia. That's why I came earlier than my scheduled visit." Dr. Canter said, his mustache vibrating with his voice.
The young elf frowned, vaguely registering what the doctor had said; everyone calls her Raffles. Nobody calls her Rafflesia except the doctor, despite her pestering. Her mind reluctantly let go of the journal hidden under the rug upstairs and focused on the centaur.
Ever since she turned thirty four years ago, the doctor deemed the elf mature enough to "handle the truth" and addresses Raffles during consultations. She was absolutely sure it was Mum who put Dr. Canter up to it. She knew they were both concerned on her lack of interest on her sickness. The truth was she want as little to do with her illness as possible.
"Yipee." Raffles said, her voice expressionless. "So tell me doctor, what's new with my cancer!"
She watched gleefully as Dr. Canter's tail swished in annoyance. He hated it when she calls her sickness cancer. No fairies get cancer. Cancer is a human disease. Fairy cells just don't reproduce as abnormal like that. Heck, they reproduce so slowly that all fairies are around three feet tall. The centaur finds it insulting that people mistake his specialization in something so human.
"Your affliction, Rafflesia, is not c-cancer. Your cells just so happen to-"
"-reproduce so fast due to rapid mitotic division." Raffles recited faithfully. She had already memorized that sentence. The doctor stated it every time she mentions cancer.
"Well, yes." Dr. Canter said, professionally oblivious to Raffles' whining tone. "I think you ought to know, that it is caused-"
"-by my weirdo genes. Because my ma's chromosomes and my da's chromosomes failed to bind during meiosis when I was conceived." Mum gripped Raffles' hand, warning her to keep her manners. She just hated Dr. Canter and his horsy mustache so much. What was she supposed to call her disease then? The doctor said she was the first fairy in medical history afflicted with such malfunction in cell growth. In other words, she was a freak who's 10 inches taller than the average elfin height.
"Well, yes." Dr. Canter said again, blinking. "The new development, Rafflesia, is that your scan results came out yesterday."
"You could've just e-mailed the results, doctor, and saved us the–" Raffles said bitterly.
"Nonsense, dear." Mum smiled nauseatingly at the indifferent centaur."I'm sorry, Dr. Canter. Raffles and I are very thankful you took the effort to come all the way here."
"Why, Ms. Poppy, it was your son that told me to go here. He thought his sister might want to hear the developments personally." Dr. Canter stated, while getting the v-cube holding the scan results. Not that he needed it anyways. On the three-hour trip here, the centaur read and reread to memorization the sad data on the envelope. He had taken care of the frail elf since her infancy, watching the girl stay aloof from her body's limitations throughout all those years. She had lived far longer than any human cancer patient there was. He had hoped…
"Raffles." He said, addressing her as such for the first time in thirty-four years. "The data from the scan…the rate the cells are reproducing in your lungs…by my calculations…based on the various, reliable studies…very much reliable…"
Dr. Canter's uncharacteristic stuttering held Raffles' attention. For the first time today, she totally forgot the human boy and his Coin that Changed Everything.
"I'm afraid you only have a month to live, maximum."
Leaving her oxygen tank, Raffles was out of the living room before her mother could muster a sob.
xxxxxx
May 30, 2008
I remember the first time I saw Holly Short as if it was yesterday.
Struggling to pump air in her lungs, Rafflesia locked the door to her room and connected her nose tubes to a spare tank under her bed. The rough cover of the journal in her hand gave her more comfort than the air pumped into her lungs. She needed to forget that last statement of the doctor. Forget the deadline. All that exists is Artemis Fowl, his peculiar comments about time tunnels and his amusing cluelessness towards Holly Short.
It was during the gloomiest period of my dark childhood. My father is missing, presumed dead, in the cold waters of Russia. My mother is driven insane with grief, not even recognizing her own son. The Fowl Empire is crumbling, and I barely have time to look at its ruins. It was worse compared to what I had endured in the previous years as a child of a ruthless Fowl. I, a mere ten-year-old boy, was pushed to the limits of my capabilities. As my dear mother Angeline waste away in the attic, I struggled keep the family business afloat. I needed money to fund the search for my father – or for my father's corpse.
The night I saw her for the first time was the night after my first profit.
I had sold the last lemur of its species to a cult twice as derange as my mother. It had produced enough profit to fund a Russia expedition for years. I remember thinking then that even though I felt no tugging conscience or even an inkling of guilt for exterminating an animal totally, the endeavor must have rocked my subconscious to the core because that night, I dreamt. Surely, only a powerful emotion such as guilt can trigger such unearthly pictures from my subconscious.
Despite this explanation, the dream fascinated me. It was surreal yet so real. It was important; I felt it to my soul.
Looking back, I know now what truly transpired in that dream. But then, I remember waking up totally content. I had struggled to recall my already fading dream, desperately hanging on to the details. The red sparks in my vision were not helping. I only managed to hold on to snatches: a flash of dye vats, the screeching of animals, a tunnel-like void. As the day progressed, I had slowly forgotten the few flimsy pieces of the dream that I had managed to commit to my memory; my mind was already focused on a new conquest.
By the end of the day, I only remembered a face. I remembered her face, almost ethereal. I was absolutely sure that her features were part of the clairvoyant dream. I never forgot the caramel skin, scarred by untold battles; her determined lips, perfect as the moon; the dash of auburn framing her features. Of course, there were Holly's eyes, one a Fowl blue and one the softest hazel. They were mesmerizing, enchanting.
For the following months, I had dwelled in that face. But her eyes were a different story. The gentle hazel and piercing blue haunted me for the whole of my ten-year-old life. It haunts me until now, eight years later even if the same eyes now stare back at me from the mirror.
That is what Holly Short is: a vivid dream too beautiful to be real. Sometimes I can't help wondering if she really is a dream. If that is the case, I never want to wake up.
How she wished this was a dream, too. Her life is one horrible nightmare. All her life she had tried to avoid the truth of her sickness and that tactless doctor shoved it into her face along with a deadline. Even as she tried her might to focus on Holly the Dream, her one month keeps on coming back.
It was obvious that Artemis Fowl loved Holly Short, even if he doesn't know it yet. As the loud rush of oxygen lulled her to a sleep, Raffles can't help but wonder if love was really real and if she had time in her one month to prove its existence.
xxxxxx
A/N: Please do pardon the sudden change of title. I suck at titles and had come up with the original title just seconds before uploading. After thinking about it long and hard, the new title, Beyond Words, will be the title of this fic forever. It's pretty self explanatory, and more appropriate for the fic rather than The Lie of Self Prophecies, which won't be explained until several chapters. What do you think?
Review for me, please? I want the story revolving around Artemis' journal and I try to avoid focusing on Raffles' character. And I am fervently working on her Mary Sue-ness. Is she one? Heaven knows, AF fanfic readers abhor OCs. And AF readers are notoriously famous for being lazy reviewers. The lack of response from the first chapter is as usual, discouraging. Prove them wrong! I like this chapter's diary entry. The first moment he saw her. Pardon the hopeless romantic writing this story.
A big hello to Francesco's Girl, who I remember from Mourning's reviews. Thank you for always being there for me *tear* I think I love you, lol.
Reviewwww!