EXPANDING MY HORIZONS! Trying things out and all that. :)
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Cнαρтєя ƒινє
She was still one year old when she was still completely normal.
She spat, she stared, she learned to walk.
She cried, she fell, and she learned to whine.
She liked things shiny and she liked things dull.
She spoke her first babbles to her mother and she was happy, she was normal, and even if she would never remember her days as a young child, she couldn't help but hope her thoughts on the matter were true.
Then, when she was a two-year-old, she was happy.
She gaped, she blinked, she got curious.
She slept, she ate, she tripped over anything and everything.
She liked the sand, she liked the water, and she loved to laugh.
She learned to hide (for hide and seek of course), and she was alive.
She was happy, and it felt like she would never be happier.
Being three years old came with the fact that she was alive more than ever.
She scribbled on walls with pens, she ran around her village, and she got hurt.
She bit, she yelled, and she cried on average.
She stole, she laughed, and she learned the value of money… erm.. well... vaguely.
She liked to play and she liked to fight.
She learned to not drown in water (a useful life skill if you ask me) and she was alive.
From four whole years in existence, all the way until she was five years old, that was just how she lived.
She learned fairness and she learned she liked to paint.
She was always making a mess and she was always collecting shiny things, "like a crow" her mother had smiled, shaking her head every time she brought home a spoon, fork or just a rock.
She laughed, she cried and she, like most children, was expressive.
Then she was six years old, and she was scared.
She was confused, she was angry and she was sad overall.
She was no longer allowed to run in the village and she was pushed out when she tried.
She had to eat scraps and apples to survive (though she preferred the latter) and she slept in the sand (under trees, she learned from experience that laying in the sun hurt).
Her mother disappeared, and she was alone.
She was confused and she was traumatized.
She wanted to make friends, and she wanted to be treated like the other children.
She wanted to be treated right.
Maybe she was being selfish. But she didn't think that was so much to ask for, was it?
She was scared.
She couldn't remember any of the specifics of her seventh year alive if she tried.
She was no longer normal.
She was never happy.
She wasn't alive like she was surviving.
And she was way beyond scared.
She closed her eyes.
Then she was nine.
She cried a lot.
She was... a slave. And that was that.
She was all alone...
When she was ten years old, she didn't know most things outside of the words she learned and the miserable world that served as her head.
But she did know that there had never been another child her age in the castle that had slowly became her cage.
She was hesitant to talk to him at first, but when he started to initiate conversation, she couldn't have been happier.
The boy - at least, she thought he was a boy - didn't seem to think much of speaking, but to her, it meant the world.
But then exhaustion caught up to her, and she closed her eyes.
She just hoped they were friends now, she really wanted friends (well, actually she just didn't want to be alone, but the details weren't important).
She was... just there.
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She remembered waking up in an unfamiliar place after she had fallen asleep whilst talking to her companion, the blood that had once been sticking to her skin, and the sun that was reflecting off her matted hair was gone, wiped away an unfamiliar person.
Her only thought had been to get out, but the pain was so familiar she didn't make a noise as she gained consciousness.
She remembered the boy sleeping sideways in a chair next to her - it looked sorta funny, and really uncomfortable, kinda, very uncomfortable if she thought back on it later.
And she remembered being happy she wasn't completely alone again.
The room was white, and so was the stiff bed to which she laid in, or, at least the blanket and pillows were white, she wasn't sure about the mattress.
She had half the heart to go back to sleep in the first bed she'd had the luxury to sleep in a long time.
But she was scared, always scared.
So she ran.
Through a maze of wood, and without the hesitation or disorientation one would normally get from a quick change in scenario, she jumped.
She will later admit she acted rashly, but she couldn't bring herself to regret it.
But there was a tug.
She was back on her feet, so she jumped again to get away.
Another tug.
Rinse, and repeat.
Not long after, she was desperate, yelling for the hands to get off her, tears threatening to spill from her bright, yellow eyes.
Then before she knew it there was the boy.
The boy was walking towards her.
One step at a time with the gracefulness of a ghost.
He encircled his arms around her, and she tensed, ready for an attack that never came, but not wanting to squirm in case she hurt her new favourite companion.
She wasn't sure what was happening at first, but at last, she felt that comfort the other child seemed to be trying to give her, so she cautiously relaxed, feeling her lips waver.
As she began sobbing, tears rolling down her face, the boy released an arm, guiding her's to his back, and she clutched, she hated the feeling, but the boy made it a little easier with awkward little pats on her back.
The moment felt like it lasted forever, but she knew that in reality, it was only a few seconds.
"So... What was your name again?" The boy - she was still a little uncertain about that - in front of her asked.
She quickly unlatched from around him, scrubbing at her eyes and hoping her face wasn't as red as it felt.
Looking up at his face, she sniffed, responding with a quick mumble, and not trusting herself to speak.
Apparently, he did not hear her, because his mouth dropped open and he (albeit exaggeratedly) blinked openly.
Instead of trying to respond again, she simply grabbed his hand as she stepped passed and walked away from the main deck.
She should care less about what the adults thought, but she didn't want to embarrass herself further, and thus, she wanted to get away from prying eyes.
"Flora," she breathed out once they were out of view of the very same prying eyes she wanted to get away from, only to stumble back mere seconds later, having been pulled by the hand of her acquaintance.
His dual-coloured eyes seemed to sparkle with excitement and joy when they locked onto her own, yellow ones, "Your name starts with an 'F'!"
"...Yeah, why? Is that supposed to matter..?"
Question asked, he looked at her funny, the face he was making was very rude if you asked her.
"What d'you mean?" he asked.
"I mean- y'know..." she was hesitant to ask, but punishment couldn't be any worse than what she usually got, "Why does it matter that my name starts with an F? It never mattered before?"
"Oh. No, it doesn't matter at all, I just have a weird obsession with the letters 'F' and 'J'"
"Oh. Yeah, I don't really understand human functions, never... well... I never really had time to practice... so..."
A look of realization dawned on his face, then something like mischief, before showing a quick glimpse of hesitation as it turned into hope and a slight bit of desperation.
Wow, she was a good observer..-er.
"I... I'll teach you," he spoke, gaining more confidence as he repeated, "I can teach you as long as you'll stay my friend for a little while, as long as you're willing at least,"
She may not have known if an F was important in everyday life, but she completely understood what he meant, so her expression was quite a shocked one, if her face had become a less red, the effects were immediately reversed, but for a different reason this time.
Huh. The boy looked to be panicking.
Then, before she even had time to respond in the affirmative, a bell was rung, it was loud and high-pitched, ringing twice before a loud cry of "Lunch!" was shouted out.
Her head whipped around in all directions, freeing her hands to go peek around some railing, from the corner of her eyes she saw her (soon-to-be) friend doing the same.
People appeared to be walking towards a door... and now she knew to steer clear of that particular door.
There was silence between the two children, but it was quickly broken by the shorter one of the two.
"Are you hungry by any chance?" He asked, face pinched and awkward, tension long broken.
"Uh...well...I guess-" her stomach grumbled, her eyes gliding away in embarrassment as she finished her sentence, "-I could eat something,"
The boy looked happy. Genuinely happy, eyes shining with what she guessed was the need to get away from what was once a conversation he started.
"Okay! We'd have to go to the mess hall, though," he said pointing to the door.
Her eyes glided, following his hand, looking to the door she said she wouldn't go into and she felt instant regret, prepared to take back her every word.
"Though I understand if you don't want to go in there, it is kinda crowded and I would understand if you didn't wanna to be around so many people. So, I can go and get food and bring it back here if you want me to..." He said trailing off near the end of his sentence.
"Please do," She said fighting off her embarrassment once more, in hopes of getting some good food for the first time in a while.
"Alrighty, then, wait here, I'll be right back," he promptly left, jogging quickly.
She watched as he walked through the door, waiting until he returned.
As soon as she set eyes on the opening of the door, and having it swing shut behind the tattered posh clothing of the boy who was wearing them, all she could see was the door her mom, whom had also been wearing tattered clothing (they were less posh if her memory served her right, but also a lot less...tacky), going through the door she never returned through once more.
Her mind blanched, fists clenching against the ship's railing as the memories and noises went through her head.
A touch on her shoulder jolted her to the present
Looking to her side, the tiny, - wow, he was tiny now that she looked, really looked at him - young boy had a squint to his eyes, nothing but worry plastered on his round face
"Are you alright?" he asked, the worry on his face bleeding into his words.
"Yeah," she replied, nodding, "I'm fine,"
Her attention was quickly drawn to the two bowls resting on the railing her hands had previously been clutching.
Soup. It was soup.
Once glancing at the boy, who had pushed the soup more towards her as well as handing a spoon to her after seeing where she was looking, she did a quick sniff test, then took a sip.
Good soup. :D
It really was good soup...or maybe that was the hunger talking.
The soup was thin, soft pieces of carrot, tomatoes and peas littered each bite of what seemed to be some sort of chicken or beef broth.
She liked this soup.
Bliss. That is the word she would use to describe what she felt when she got to eat, amplified once more by the conversation her friend (she decided, yes, they were friends now, food was her love language) was trying to start up.
"Uh. Whoever the chef is is smart, uh- for um- y'know, making a thin soup, because- uh- somebody with a weak stomach can- well- digest it easier..." he looked funny, and she took great pleasure in his unharmed distress, "I'll just shut up now,"
"No." wow, food was making her bold, "Keep talking... Please,"
Her etiquette was terrible. Thats all.
"Oh, uh- alright... well.. let me tell you a bit about myself... Uhm," the discomfort was real now, she didn't particularly like that as much as the distress that wasn't harming him, "Actually, I'll just talk and hope it goes somewhere,"
She hummed in agreement, taking another bite, and not really caring what he said as long as he was comfortable and still filled the silence.
And so he talked. Hmm, it would be more accurate to say he was rambling, but she only gave half an ear to what he was saying, too focused on the food in front of her.
It was only ten minutes later, after finishing her (good) soup she realized he hadn't taken a single sip of his own (good) soup.
"Are you going to eat that?" Flora asked, still hungry, pausing the fluffy-haired kid"s rambling.
"Ah, uh no," he said looking vaguely sick at what seemed to be the thought of eating.
"Can I have it?"
"You sure? I don't think your stomach is healthy enough to eat so much after a long period of starvation,"
Before he could go onto another rambling tangent she replied, "Yes, I'm sure. Give me the soup...please,"
So he handed it over, her digging in almost as quickly as he started up his nonsense, yet endearing rambling again.
This time, she listened, because now she was bored, even long after she finished her second serving, and felt a bit sick, she listened, even after he paused and asked if she was alright, she listened, even after they skipped the bell for dinner, and the sun went down, she listened.
She heard as he talked about his arachnophobia, and how he knew it was irrational, she heard as he talked about how he was bilingual, twelve years old (which, wow) and liked music (he said he played a couple of instruments when she asked which ones, he just gave a sad sigh).
She heard as he talked about his three older siblings, and how his parents weren't expecting to be able to have another child due to how old his mother was becoming at the time (she asked what he meant, and after a brief pause, he turned so red she was reminded of one of those strawberries she always wanted to taste, but never got the chance to try, needless to say, she never got her answer).
Then she listened as he started talking about candy, sprinkles, a cat his least favourite sister had as a child that was named Sprinkles, a butler named after a dog, a dog in his neighbourhood named Cat, a cartoon with a cat who chased a mouse who knew a dog that would beat up the cat, (that one hit a little too close to home but he said so many random things he didn't have time to get caught up on it) how the dog was the type of dog who drooled so much it reminded him of the time another one of his sisters had water shooting out of her nose, water, the ocean, something called a catfish, wondering if there was such thing as a dogfish- anyway, she never got any sleep that night, but she gained a very new, shared interest in boats (the boy started talking about boats somehow and talked about how he really liked boats despite not knowing a single thing about them, and the way he talked made her think about it).
Yeah, she liked this kid, many adventures were awaiting them.
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Look, I know I said something like three months to write eight chapters, and that I was being realistic, but it's almost been half a year (or more) and all I've done is this poor excuse of a transition chapter (I didn't reach my word goal, and I'm hating myself for it), I was being way too optimistic.
Here are my excuses anyway:
1. School started up again, and I moved to a new school again this year, so that's fun
2. I moved to live with my grandparents, I won't give any more explanation for that
3. I've been feeling a little burnt-out, and I think I might have ADHD or depression but I don't have the resources nor money to get professionally diagnosed, that's great (note the sarcasm).
4. My grandparents got covid, I hate it very much
5. This chapter was really boring to write, but I keep getting ideas for later chapters, I'm excited for that
6. I kept getting distracted
And that is about it, I hope you now know that I am an unreliable author, never take my word on when I say I'll update.
I use Grammarly. :) I wanted to share that, and the fact I still have to go over it over three times before I feel confident enough to post it.
Badabing bada-boom, I don't got no spoons.
Thank you very much for reading, and have a wonderful day.