The wooden door swug open, bounced of the side of the cottage, and banged shut again.
Then it opened again, slightly slower, and not nearly as hard.
"Who dares-" began an ominous, low, scratchy voice. It almost hissed.
An old woman appeared in the door as the voice continued.
I flinched. I couldn't help it.
This "old woman" didn't look like a normal old woman. She looked like, years ago, she could have been the hag from Sleeping Beauty.
Her eligibility for the role in that movie had expired about 50 years ago. This "being" was more wrinkled. Filthier. She had less teeth. She was balding, with only three white hairs stuck to her bare scalp, a pitifule attempt to cover her shriveled skin.
She was doubled-over with age, and glaring at me spitefully.
The word 'spitefully' didn't seem to work in this description. It wasn't loathsome enough.
It was pure vindictive hatred emitting from her burning black eyes and searing my brain... or at least, attempting to sear it.
The old woman (for lack of a better word) noticed Mandy, who was smiling.
The hag's hatred vanished, and the old woman smiled a crooked, toothless smile in response before suddenly disappearing. In her place stood a beautiful woman who probably was only in her mid-twenties. She had flowing, gently waving black hair down to her waist. Her skin was perfect, absolutely acne-free. It was a beautiful chocolate-brown in color. Her deep brown eyes sparkled in excitement. She smiled radiantly.
I gasped in shock. Other than being transported, I'd never before seen any magical act, but there was no denying the magic in this transformation.
"Mandy!" the beautiful woman cried. Even her voice was beautiful. She ran up to and flung her arms around Mandy. She hopped from one foot to the other in jubilant exhileration.
"So nice to see you again!" she said after jumping back from the hug, "And what, may I ask, would the occation for such a visit be? I haven't seen you in... oh, at least fifty years! How have you been? What have you been up to? Where have you been?" she continued firing away question after question without waiting for an answer, "And who is this?" she stared at me and took a step forward, finally stopping the flow of inquiries to wait for an answer.
"That, Jemima, is precisely why I'm here. Sasha, this is Jemima, Jemima, I'm hereby presenting you with Sasha."
"Sasha, hmmm?" She asked, her tone taking on a speculative edge that didn't quite seem to belong to such a beautiful, musical voice.
"Yes. I know it's been a while and I hate to ask you favors... I'd do it myself, but - you remember Eleanor, right?"
"Yes..."
"Well her great-great-grandaughter died, leaving her great-great-great-grandaughter with an idiot father, a horrific stepmother, a dim-witted step sister, another nasty stepsister, and me. She needs me Jemima, surely you could understand that. And, to make matters worse for the girl, Lucinda made her obidient at birth."
Jemima's politely listening face turned sour. She scrunched her flawless nose and pinched her perfectly-shaped eyebrows as she scowled.
On a face so divine, the expression looked almost comical.
"Oh, so you use that old trick against me, do you? You knew that would bring me around!" she accused angrily.
"Jemima, Jemima, of course not. I just felt I should tell you more about this girl, so you could understand why I need to stay with her instead of doing this."
Doing this? Doing what exactly?
"Fine. Fine! You knew I would, after bringing up Lucinda..."
Mandy smiled and turned to me, "Well, then Sasha, I'll be seeing you - possibly."
She gave me hug.
"Wait! I don't get it. I don't know what's going on. You're just leaving me here?"
"Jemima will explain it all," Mandy said, her voice getting fainter.
A second later, she was gone.
I swiveled to stare at Jemima.
She stared right back at me, one eyebrow slightly lifted, her lips pursed as she examined me top to bottom.
"I'm always having to clean up after Lucinda..." she muttered, before abruptly turning away and going back into her cottage, tossing her hair as she disappeared through the doorway.
I wasn't sure what to do. Was I supposed to follow this eccentric, pulchritudinous woman? Why was I here, anyway? I didn't understand what connection this woman had to me, to Ella, to Mandy, or to Lucinda. I didn't understand what it was she was supposed to do with me. What had she agreed to, and why?
"Are you coming, or are you going to stay out there forever?" she called.
I wandered up to the slightly-opened door and took a hesitant step inside.
I felt my breath catch in my throat and my jaw drop.
The outside of this cottage looked boring and run-down, but the inside was magnificent. It was fifty times better then Dame Olga's had been.
It seemed so much bigger than it had from the outside. It was very, very open. All of the colors were light and bright.
There were barely anway divisionary objects, save for the outside walls, of course. In a normal home, different rooms would have been separated by doors and walls, whereas here, each section flowed into the other.
The floors were gleaming and different in each section. A grand spiral staircase wound it's way to a second floor where I could partially see and definitely hear a huge fountain.
A fireplace warmed a far corner of the "cottage", and in front of it lazed Jemima on a perfectly-white lounge chair. She watched me indifferently at first, but her face seemed to soften after a few seconds.
Then, quite suddenly, she was right next to me and beaming.
"What do you think?" she asked, her voice an excited squeak.
"W-wow..." was all I could do to answer. She beamed harder and she grinned, "The downstairs, of course, is off-limits. As is the fountain upstairs, and the guest suite. Oh, and of course my suite. Other than that, make yourself at home."
I was more confused than ever. I was invited in and then told I couldn't be there?
Jemima's face suddenly looked serious and business-like again.
"I mean it," she warned, "You'd better not do any decorating where I banned you from doing so. I worked extremely hard on designing this, you'd better not mess any of it up."
"So - you're banning me from the room, or from decorating in the room?"
"Decorating the rooms, of course!" her voice took on an anxious edge.
Her personality seemed to constantly change; her moods drastically transformed in a hearbeat.
I admit that I was a little intimadated. But I refused to let it show.
"So who are you anyway?" I asked, "And why are you always 'cleaning up after Lucinda?"
She scowled again.
"Whatever you do, don't you dare mention my bratty, selfish, spoiled sister's name in this house ever again!" she growled.
I was stunned out of speech.
Jemima was Lucinda's sister?!?
Author's Note: Please review! And sorry I took so long on this chapter! I've really been trying to make Jemima's personality really pronounced, and I wanted her to have some of the same characteristics as Lucinda, to make it seem more evident that they were sisters. Do you like the direction this story is going in or not? Please review!!!