Hey everyone !
Aquila here again.
I really hope you liked the previous chapter, especially after the grueling wait I put all of you through. I'll try my best to not abandon my stories (especially this one !) at critical parts of the plot. The only reason why I decided to come back and drag my unwilling self to the computer to draft out another chapter was because of all of you folk – my faithful readers - who kept on sending me messages and mail as to why I left. Thank you all a tonne !
Hope you like this chapter and let me know. I'm pretty fed up of thinking in Apple's mindset, it's pretty annoying. But don't worry – there will be lots of chapters in Apple's perspective. There will be some in other characters too. Please read and review ! ;)
Oh, and don't forget to answer my question at the end !
Chapter 7
Meteorology was a funny thing.
You could never trust it.
Cedar stared out at the horizon.
But oh, what inspiration it gave !
The sky was grey and fuming with rain. It wasn't the nice kind of rain that rinses you clean, but the sort of rain that she thought they must have in Brazil. It flew straight down from the sky in drops the size of coffee saucers. * The precipitation fell all at once, in a great deluge. It was like a hole had ruptured in the sky, and whatever liquid that lay beyond decided to flow down and wreak havoc on poor, unsuspecting denizens.
The thunder rolled and rumbled, rebounding and reverberating between the densely packed cumulo nimbus clouds. The clouds themselves were towering, horrific shapes – blotting out the inky blue sky behind them. They were all kinds of colours – ranging from a tinny grey to liquid mercury to shining silver.
But the part that Cedar loved best, the most exhilarating part – was yet to come.
And then, it did.
A dazzlingly bright white bolt of lightning forked across the landscape, splitting the sky in half. It descended, a heavenly thing, lighting up the world for a moment – a world which was now sunk in a sea of perpetual darkness.
Then, Cedar saw something rather unusual. Decidedly out of place.
A person with buttery yellow locks, now hanging limp as fish, and a blue dress was running wildly, rampant, not even noticing where she was going. She was like an ox, hurtling deep into the woods in a blind rage.
Following her was another girl, this one in a sodden black jacket and with raspberry pink hair. She was screaming something unintelligible. Something like –
"WAIT ! STOP !"
Cedar looked at them with open curiosity. They seemed to have taken leave of their senses, running into a torrential thunderstorm like that. Especially at this time of night...
...wait a minute, what was the time?
She glanced at her alarm clock.
08:15 ? !
How ?
Cedar wrenched her eyes from the window, pausing just a second to appreciate the soothing feel of the cool raindrops on her skin. Was it skin really? Or was it wood shavings?
With a groan, she fastened the glass panes, and drew the heavy brocade curtains. She had missed dinner...again. It wasn't the first time. Ever since she had got to work on her...ahem, super secret project, she had been frequently missing meals, daydreaming in classes and had been borderline introverted towards her friends – especially Raven, who she avoided like the plague. She was so scared that she'd give it all away – and then all the careful preparations Briar had gone through would go to hell. Sometimes, her genetic ability to never speak an untruth definitely presented its demerits.
Cedar looked at herself in the mirror.
She wasn't a drop dead gorgeous girl, she never had been. She wasn't particularly cute or adorable either. She didn't think herself ugly per se, more like she looked...well... plain.
The ill amount of sleep she was getting, the deficient amounts of proper food and the continuous work showed its effect. She had deep purplish bags under her eyes which looked more like unhealed bruises. Her hair was lank, and she had grown a bit thin and haggard. She had a constant ache in her back after bending over an easel all the time, and she had all sorts of knots and kinks in her neck after falling asleep in all kinds of positions over her paintbrushes.
Cedar gave a crooked grin. It was all worth it.
After all, Raven was one of her best friends, and she shipped Queen Charming as though her life depended on it.
She twisted around on her stool, and surveyed the mess – no, organized chaos – on her part of the bedroom floor. It was covered in a medley of paint brushes in all sorts of sizes (some with the dried paint still unwashed), paint tubes, paint pots, filthy blotched rags, messy paint palettes in wood and plastic, jars of opened turpentine, charcoal sticks, a jumbled variety of lead pencils and a wooden jointed model figurine with one of its limbs wrenched off.
She scrutinised it.
Now where did that tube of viridian green go ?
Blondie ran.
She ran with the urgency of someone who was running for their life.
What was she running way from exactly ?
She had no clue.
Was it the disgusting castleteria food ? Or was it Dexter (A.K.A the boy she loathed and hated and so many more other words that were the synonym of 'hate') and Cupid (A.K.A the girl she loved) kissing the living daylights out of each other ?
She hoped and prayed that it was the former.
Her heart stung.
Nope. Decidedly the latter. DECIDEDLY the latter. Definitely.
Taking in quick breaths while she was running felt like swallowing knives. Her chest was rising and heaving and aching horribly. Her heart hurt the worst.
Her soaked, bedraggled, baby blue petticoats kept on dragging her down and making her slower. They clung uncomfortably to her skin like some kind of sick tattoo. Her damp yellow ringlets hung forlornly like a gold banner behind her. Her white stockings got dirtier by the minute as her shoes pounded into the dirt path filled with muddy puddles before her.
The scene of Dexter and Cupid French snogging, (more like sucking the faces off, if you asked her) was burnt into her retinas, and her brain refused to make her forget, at least temporarily, the sick image. The fancy expensive Italian dinner setting with all of its cut glass and romantic candles straight out of a fairytale (how ironic !) didn't help either.
Hadn't she suffered enough?
All of those one sided, unreciprocated feelings...
All of those heart wrenching moments when she realised that she had fallen miserably in love...
All of those lingering, persistent doubts about herself and her sexuality...
The moment she heard that Dexter actually loved Cupid, and not Raven as she had thought...
The moment that she heard Cupid say "Oh Dex, you have no idea how long I've waited for you say that!"...
The poignant reminders that Cupid was Dexter's now...
The fact that she couldn't do anything about it...
The love addled dreams and fantasies that haunted her living being as well as her sleeping one...
All of that painful talking with Cupid she had gone through where she had gushed about how wonderful Dexter was...
At the same time cherishing those moments with her, because she knew she could never get those back again...
All of those lovesick moments between the couple that she had endured - all of the goo goo eyes, the swift pecks, the bear hugs, the love poems pinned on lockers...
That grueling supposedly 'special' interview she had done with the couple for her mirror blog...
All those times where she had to physically restrain herself from tearing Dexter away from Cupid and replacing him with herself...
All of those horrid breakdowns she had experienced when she simply couldn't take it anymore...
The feeling of utter loneliness...
The guilt and the utter shame when she had succumbed to staring at Cupid long after she had drifted off to sleep...
The self reproach she had felt when she 'accidentally' sneaked out one of Cupid's skirts and slept with it stuffed under her pillow...
The salty bitter tears she had shed in the woods when she had turned in to an overemotional wreck...
The excruciating arduous pain she had felt when she sobbed out the sorry pathetic story of her life to Apple...
The broken soul she had concealed behind the fake smiles that she had carefully pasted on her face...
The slow feeling as though she were being tortured when she had seen Dexter and Cupid French kissing and moaning, a new level in their relationship...
Wasn't that more than enough for one individual ? Were the spirits of fate really that cruel ?
Apparently, they were.
Because just that second, a lightning bolt came out of nowhere and set the tall oak tree that stood just a few metres from her ablaze.
Well, did you like it ? Please let me know ! ;)
Oh and please answer this:
Which character's narrative do you want in future chapters ?
It could be any EAH character. I'll definitely consider all of your choices. In fact, I'll wait until You tell me what character you want. Then, I'll go ahead with future chapters. It's just a small thing I wanted to ask all of you. Thanks a tonne !
*another line for 'The bell jar'. I freakin' love that novel !
