The Amaryllis Project [ Chapter One ]
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
The night is always darkest before the dawn. So, if you were planning for the best time to steal your neighbour's newspapers — especially if you want them fresh off the press, or newspaper boy's basket — it was best done then. On the other hand, it was also the perfect time for many other acts that most people do not want people to see. Like, running away from home: the little act that has our main character now glancing anxiously left, right and back for any sign of human movement. That's right. Eighteen-year-old Iriel was running away from home.
As he could testify, sneaky acts, were always best left to time when it was very dark, silent (or at least, relatively silent) and the streets were nice and empty. Especially when you lived along Iturius Lane; a lane consisting of a row of very quaint and very stately houses. This Lane was famous for being the place where the neighbourhood were of the friendly kind, where seven out of ten residents were the type of people you would love to have as your godmother. The last three out of the statistical ten, you would rue the day you ever had the misfortune of knowing them, or never notice from a crowd. But regardless of whether they were the kindly gentlemen or darling ladies who gave away pennies and cookies, or mad hatters and crones who brandished canes and sticks, Iturius lane was famous for the nosiness of its occupants. Whether it was something trivial like what-missus-Diana-had-for-brunch or what-miss-Jessica's-cat-did-to-her-couch, or something really major, it got around the entirety of the lane in a matter of weeks.
Which was why Iriel was going through all the trouble of being sneaky, and running away from home at night instead of during the day. His parents were a conservative bunch, if they could keep things under wraps long enough, he would definitely be able to escape the eyes of the residents on Iturius Lane and get far enough to never need worry about them. Knowing his neighbours, once the news was out, everybody was going to keep a lookout for the son of the family living in House Seventeen, twenty-fifth Iturius Lane. Then, it would be a matter of days before a Miss Janet Berger, a Missus Althea Cotton or some nosy Parker of Iturius Lane would find him, and drag him to the porch of House Seventeen of dear old Iturius Lane, screaming and causing a big scene as they did so. If it were a particularly rambunctious woman, she might even decide that it would be a terrific idea to drag him along by the ear. That, was something he refused to live down.
Wincing at the thought, Iriel unlatched the lock on the front gate while taking one last look around, his left hand unconsciously reaching out to fiddle with the strap of his backpack for comfort. Most windows were dark, with their curtains and blinds drawn tight. Or at least, those of the most immediate houses were. But that, Iriel had long decided and had since been comforting himself, was enough. Cautiously, he pushed open the gate, it was only when the metal hinges let out a groaning 'creak' that Iriel paused, hastily rechecking his surroundings. In the deathly silence that marked obscenely early dawn, the small complaint of the irregularly oiled gate sounded about as quiet as gunfire. Nevertheless, the teenager steeled his nerves and went on with it, slipping out through the largest gap he dared to make before hastily pushing it shut and replacing the lock. Once again, he glanced about, this time with less wariness than before as he straightened up and started off to the left.
The houses leered at him as he passed, some by winking at him with obviously lit windows with their draperies pulled and shutters wide open, others simply mocked him with shadowy figures in the windows. This, made him wonder just for a moment what in the world he was doing everyday when he went back and forth from college, especially during the inhumane hours. He never did notice anything similar, the houses never seem to look so menacing, people's front lawns never looked so threatening, and why in the world was he tiptoeing past the empty lot now of all times? Wasn't it supposed to be a time where he should be running? Tearing down the block in a frantic attempt to get as far away from Iturius Lane as he possibly can in the space of time from now till daybreak? And now while they were on the topic, when exactly was daybreak? All these Iriel considered on his little waltz down the concrete pavement, in the midst of his sojourn away from home at the insane hour before dawn when it was the darkest. And now that he considered it, it was beginning to occur to him that maybe it wasn't that good an idea that he ran away today.
This hesitation, he decided, had to be a really bad sign.
Huffing softly to himself as a silent berate, he hefted his backpack further up his shoulder. He was definitely not backing out of this, it went against his pride and that very same pride recovered too slowly for him to risk it getting any form of hurt. And so with that in mind, the eighteen-year-old went on down the street, absently skirting slight cracks and avoiding loose stones while trampling on small trinkets of ill-disposed litter as he reconsidered his plan. It had seemed so brilliant then, when he thought of it. It was a genius idea, one which all unhappy teenage boys should have hailed him for thinking of. But suddenly now, his brain had gained an extra rationale and was laughing at him from some deep recess. It was now officially referred to as "Stupid Plan". Yes, the prissy voice in his head was telling him, snidely, all the cons and bashing the pros of "Stupid Plan". Iriel tried to focus on something else in response; he was definitely not going to endure his most defining moments as a rebel listening to some pessimist lodged in his brain. So what if the plan was stupid, it was working thus far, and it was definitely going to succeed in the end. He was sure of it, and some tinny voice in his head wasn't going to stop him. That he had long decided—
"OW!"
"Aren't you that kid from House Seventeen? Lucienne Azrael's little boy wasn't it?" And just when he was so sure it was going to work. Iriel cursed as he was forced to halt abruptly in his steps, what with the bright torchlight that was now glaring in his face. Blinking his watering eyes hastily, he held up his arm to his face, shading his eyes and blocking out majority of the light. It was only then that he actually managed to have a good impression of his assailant.
The one who ruined his plan was old, past her prime and starting to wither in the way only stern women could. Her jaw was set in a firm, resolute manner, and her pale hair was drawn back in a neat twist at the base of her neck. Her bright blue eyes were boring into him, and it was those eyes, along with that flash light in her hand that stopped him from running. When she saw his face however, she nodded primly and shone the flash light on his face instead. "Now where do you think you're going young man in such a deathly hour?" Great, now a confrontation. Iriel wondered for a moment just how bad his luck was going to get as he studied the face of the strict time-ravaged woman who was now suddenly poking her long nose into his business. He considered it for a moment, that old visage, that stern confronting tone and for a moment was going to give the old hag a good sharp retort when once again, he and his lovely new acquaintance were interrupted.
"Is there something wrong, Auntie?"
The voice, was soft. Very soft, very polite and above all, very drowsy. Despite those qualities, the voice caught both of their attentions instantaneously. Both of them thus, spun around on cue to meet the new approaching figure. The woman, also immediately swung her brandished torch over to shine it in the unfortunate figure's face. It must have hurt, for the victim's facial features scrunched up into a wince in response. Iriel squinted at the figure in the light, then rolled his eyes. Wonderful, as though it wasn't enough that he was having his business nosed into by some old hag, now her darling little niece was here to join the party.
The hag sniffed.
"And what are you doing awake as well?" What a nice jolly excuse of an aunt she had. Instead of telling her not to worry too much and go have some sleep, this aunt was gathering up herself to give a nice good ranting to direct at her later. "You should be asleep. It's three in the morning, now shoo, back in with you!" The withered old woman, with a disgruntled air, had decided against hurting her relatives eyes and now had the shining back torchlight in his face. Iriel scowled at the woman through the bright glare, squinting his eyes at the light.
Despite the warnings her aunt was giving, the girl merely blinked and also squinted her eyes to focus them at Iriel through the glare of the fluorescent light. She hesitated for a moment, glancing hastily at her aunt before seeming to come to a decision. "Um, auntie," she began bravely, directing the angry attention of the woman back to herself, "I invited him over." Immediately, the make-shift spotlight that was the torch was shining back in her face. Quickly she tried to redeem herself before the hag unleashed her power of words upon her, "He's that friend I told you about! He's coming over to help us in that... project for Doctor Channing! Yes, you know that project you signed Naomi, Lirah and Amaia up for? Yes...?" She trailed off hopefully, ignoring Iriel's confused look as she concentrated the full power of her charm on her aunt. The eighteen-year-old peered at the girl suspiciously in response.
"Oh, Doctor Channing! Yes yes, kind chap that man. You could have simply told me he was coming, you nasty child. Yes yes, well... " the woman looked almost positive flustered for a moment before she jerked her head at Iriel, "You there, come on in then." And with that parting shot, she switched off her torch, to the relief of both of them, and shuffled back indoors with it. The girl sighed, nervously rubbing the back of her neck as the old woman disappeared through the front door of the house. Iriel took that time to properly study his "saviour". She wasn't as young as he had originally thought she was. She looked about his age, if not one or two years his junior. With her pale hair cut short in a rough jagged pageboy style, and her strange under-developed boyish figure, she looked almost forlorn in her simple white shirt and pants combination. Iriel though could have nodded in mild personal approval. So she was not particularly pretty. Definitely not pretty, pretty like a flower or sculpture, but she, like her aunt, did command a certain amount of respect with her overall look. She really did resemble her aunt very much, now that he thought of it, she stood with the same air and walked with the same amount of confidence... Heaven help him if she didn't have a suspicious nature like her aunt as well. And as though to confirm that same thought, she had her eyes on him right at that very moment. Both her bright blue eyes (so like her aunt's) were focused intently on his own inattentive face...
Swallowing nervously, he offered her a sheepish smile.
To his own amazement, she smiled back, if a little fleetingly. "So sorry for that, but Auntie Letty... She'll probably drag you indoors if you don't come in right this moment. Once the stranger becomes the guest... " she shook her head with a small strained chuckle as she eased through the entrance cut out in the span of the iron gate and signalled for him to do the same. Obediently, Iriel eased himself through the small gateway, almost catching his forehead against the top of the gate. When he was through, the same girl latched the gate, and marched on ahead of him on the cemented path towards the porch. Iriel wondered for a moment what sort of crackpot family she had been brought up in to be able to so confidently walk ahead of a stranger she had found, figuratively or not, on her doorstep. "You know, I'm thinking that you'll be wondering why in the world this crazed idiot is helping you..." Understatement, that, "I'll explain it to you later. When Auntie Letty isn't going to come breathing down your neck every five minutes to make sure you're comfortable. Or mine to make sure I'm attending to the darling guest..." she laughed again, in that same strained manner. "Besides that, you did look kind of lost," she added conversationally when Iriel failed to respond, and she glanced over at him behind her shoulder for good measure.
Lost? Iriel thought indignantly, he had a plan all thought out long before he even contemplated running away from home! He had had a brilliant plan. It had even involved a dramatic sojourn away from home in the dead of the night and dawn, two car chase scenes, multiple action-packed gun fights and an ending that would have made both Bond and Spielberg very very proud indeed. ...Alright, so he did not have any sort of a plan at all. Mildly irritated at the thought of the girl possibly being right, he scowled at her as he sulkily looped his left hand around the strap of his bag, trailing behind her and coming to an eventual stop on the neat porch. He slouched silently to the corner as he watched her fiddle a little with the lock and politely invite him in. He considered it for a moment, but at the sight of her passive expression, one of mild disinterest even, and decided against any sort of response. Thus, whilst giving her the cold shoulder, Iriel stepped into the house.
.x.
It was a cozy enough for a home; warm colours, matching furniture and a soft fluffy beige carpet that lined the floor from wall to wall. Not for the first time, he felt himself having to resist the urge to nod in approval: this may be some weird, twisted crackpot family, but at least they lived in normality. There was nothing weird or unsightly about this living room. There were no odd symbols scrawled on the walls, no suspicious objects or pointy edged items lying about anyway. Even the slightly randomized placement of the furniture (consisting of a L-shaped sofa and a matching arm chair, a glass-topped coffee table, a very elegant book case and a television set complete with its own cabinet) showed nothing but the scene of a pure and innocently normal sight of a regular family living in a regular home on Iturius Lane. It was all very innocent. It was all very, very suspicious. Iriel just could not help it, this scene of utter normalcy... It just did not match what he saw in the blonde that had lied in the face of her aunt and invited him (a stranger, no less) into her house in the dead of the night before dawn. If there was nothing wrong here, well, then Iriel was definitely a turkey. And he was certain that he was definitely not a deranged and idiotic avian, if the lack of a bright red comb and blue-black feathers was not glaringly obvious enough. Slight disorientated, he resumed his gaze, training it on the girl who had in the span of time it took him to study the surroundings, locked the door firmly behind them and wander over to the couch. Now, she had seated herself on the beige sofa, and absently gathered and restacked a pile of magazines that were barely out of line in the first place. He could not help it, when faced with a scene like this, he just had to quirk an eyebrow at her this strange obsessive gesture. Maybe it was neurotic, a tic of some sort? It would have explained a lot...
"You know, you look kind of sleepy." Oh she was talking again, he noted, if a little irritably, "how about you get some sleep then we'll talk about everything in the morning? You look like you've been through quite a day." Was she concerned? That was touching, it was a little odd and it did feel strangely off for a stranger to be concerned about him though. Iriel shook his head at her, a tired diagonal motion that did not help in anything. If anything, it simply made him a little dizzy. The girl looked strangely worried about him when he shrugged irritably in response, and chose to peer closely at his face in an attempt to diagnose him. What she got, was only a mildly irritated, mildly startled expression. "Alright Alright," she held up both of her hands in front of her, shaking her head at him in a very condescending and also quite motherly manner, "it's time... uh... your name?"
"Iriel. Iriel Sheltiel Azr—"
"Oh, so you do talk!" But she recovered quickly from her sincere exclamation of surprise, "Hmm it's high time little Iriel went to bed. We'll see if we can fit you in my bedroom."
It was that statement that actually startled him out of his sleepiness. "What?" he asked, a little confused at the statement. The girl, had to be at least sixteen, what in the world was she doing letting male strangers into her room? Especially a male stranger whose name she had not known until oh, say five seconds ago? Once again, the thought sprung on him: but, why not? This was the very same girl that he had thought came from a crackpot family. She was the one that had made him look around suspiciously around the should-have-been-nothing-but charming living room, searching fruitlessly for signs of possibly deranged residents. He should have seen this coming, he really really should have. Even then though, this was still more than a little unexpected.
She, however, barely looked repentant at making that shameless statement. "Sorry, but we don't actually have a guest room. You were a surprise... " she laughed again, as awkwardly as ever, "And we can't let you share with Auntie Letty's daughters can we? I doubt you'd be doing anything... funny, but really, just in case anything happens..." she trailed away, probably because she had finally noted the very appalled look Iriel was giving her. Once again, she began to rub the back of her neck, as though his gaze somehow prickled her physically. "It's really alright, I can share with my brother. Completely fine, we always used to sleep together anyway," she quickly offered, though Iriel did not look particularly comforted by this either. If anything, his appalled expression looked even more aggravated at her very words. She set both her raised hands in front of his face, as though surrendering, inclining her head a little to the right, "How about you take a look first, then you decide if you have any more, ah, complaints? I can assure you that my bedroom will be far more comfortable than the cement pavement. Unless you have other ideas about your sleeping quarters?" That question... Iriel didn't have any sort of better plan anyway, especially about lodging. He guessed it was far better to see what this odd shrimp of a girl had to offer before deciding otherwise. She was right, he, by far, did not have any sort of plan or idea about where he was suppose to sleep. Thus it was to nobody's surprise that he once again followed her, feeling like a great lumbering fool behind her delicate, almost pixie-like skirting up the stairs to the third storey. He followed her, even as she went on to the door and gently twisted the doorknob and let herself and he, Iriel, in.
It was really dark in the room, but when his eyes finally adjusted so that they were attuned to the dark, it wasn't exactly a big problem. The windows were still partially open, with a small breeze wafting through, as proven by the fluttering curtains. It was a sizeable room, and though he couldn't tell from the palette, the overall layout was pretty well, quite decent. So much for a crackpot, this girl actually had a good sensible brain in that blonde head of her's! So he felt a little mean at the thought, but here she was, insisting she would be fine sharing a bed with her brother. The mentioned brother was already asleep, settled in the bed to the left of the room. In the poor light, the girl's brother looked like nothing more than a vague figure warmly wrapped up in his thick covers. The girl tapped his shoulder, and he jumped. Slightly, just slightly, embarrassed, he glared at her half-heartedly. She only blinked at him, quite openly showing how she plainly was dismissing his glare from existence. "You can have my bed," she offered kindly, "it's the one to the right as you know. I'll share with my brother."
"You... I don't think that's a very good idea," Iriel offered a little uncertainly as he set his bag down in a discreet corner, "I mean, you are... well." Disconcerted, he tried to word out what he was thinking without sounding too much of a sexist. "Well, I don't think you should be sharing a bed with your brother. It's just weird. I mean, it is so late already, and you aren't a kid... "
Now it was her turn to look slightly confused, "What? Would you rather I sleep with you?"
Iriel gave her an incredulous look, one that she seemed to look even confused at in response. At the sight of her poor, puzzled expression, he decided to just leave her be. She could go on with her crackpot ways, who was he to change her way of life anyway. He was a stranger to this family, and would at best have the influence of a stranger. He shook his head, maybe it was best he kept his comments to himself. "Uh... nothing," he managed, as he pulled off his shoes and sat down on her bed, feeling more than a little awkward.
She smiled at him, as though really sincerely relieved that they managed to iron this little disagreement between them peaceably, "Just give me a holler if you need anything." With that, she turned over and gave her brother a good shove. The lump knotted in the blankets groaned. "Move over stupid brother. Shove," Iriel squinted at her through the poor light as he tried to settle down on her bed, watching her scold her brother in some strange language as she finally eased into the bed, and vanished under the covers as well. With lack of anything better to do, the eighteen-year-old flushed and turned over to stare at the wall. How was a girl of her age able to treat things like these with utter sang-froid? How in the world could a girl be brought up in such a way that she was so utterly, completely clueless? Iriel did not know, and definitely could not even begin to comprehend. Instead, he curled up and pulled the sheets to his chin despite the relatively breeze less night.
When he finally fell asleep, the last thing he remembered was the faint scent of flowers.
.xxx.
Labels: T.A.P.
about one xREDballoon
about meIt was the username that was adopted either in late August or early September of 2009. It was the combined effect of too many games on Orisinal (especially High Delivery) and also her long-time love for how the large red carnival balloons when they fly away.
about meFinalized as a digital signature only in November of the same year, it has since been used everywhere: her previous Gaia account, her account on bubbl.us, and of course every recent endeavor on web and graphic design. It was an aim of hers to use it as something of a brand. From her sketches to simple blog layouts, one xREDballoon presents is her favourite signature as of now.
about meone xREDballoon is the internet handle of a girl, born on a wet day in the early morning of late February. Although astrologically she is a Pisces, she displays many of the Aquarian traits, possibly as a result of being born near the time. She likes the concept of beauty in its most primitive classical form, ruffles layered upon each other generously for flounce or decor, detailed black lace be it crochet or woven, a whole palette of colours from turquoise to grey. She is charmed by the way an old well-read book smells on a wet rainy day, and the way the pages feel, all crinkly and wise under her fingers as she turns the page. She loves the inviting appeal of a blank notebook, and a good gel-ink pen in the colour of the sky.
about meLearn more about her in her personal blog.
about And Then She Fell
about meAndthenshe-fell@blogspot was named as such in October 09, on a whim and on a wish to match the layout that time. And Then She Fell was a lot of things back then: a roleplay layout (in bbcode), a roleplay idea (which was never developed) and also the words emblazoned in huge Ruritania upon an image which showed a falling girl. That was the beginnings of this writing blog as the all-new concept of And Then She Fell.
about meFrom the start, And Then She Fell has always been a semi-personal blog. While visitors are not unwelcomed, no particular effort is put into censoring the content or to sound polite. Just as well that the blog touches on intangible unimportant things, for if it were to talk of life and its nuances, things would sour quickly and it would become a blog of cynical views and criticism.
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