Got a horrible bruise on my hip and still stink of the river no matter how thoroughly I wash. I was resolved to earn my millions with far less dangerous crafting or blogging, or just marrying a PRINCE. Then at school, Amazons showed me my rather funny pics all over the Net and said only sissies give up after the first try.
“It doesn’t matter how many times you fall. It only matters how many times you get up,” Hecta quoted her favourite Shaolin monks.
“And guess what,” Carmina piped in, “There’s Dress Show Live at Terra Mall today! It’s gonna be a total sell-out and huge fashion event meaning lots and lots of…” she looked over her shoulder to check if our potential rivals listened, and whispered conspiringly, “big fish to fish for.” She wriggled her eyebrows at me, and my heart started thumping the click-clock song of the glam shoes on Milan catwalks. Oh, Lord!
Luckily, my black knight costume dried up by the time I got back into my model role. Hecta did me a mega horrific battle make-up and Carmina sneaked a real camera from her ma. We took a bus to the town, and I breathed into a paper bag all the way to calm my nerves. Hecta went berserk at the smeared mask on my face. But by the time we arrived, I looked more like a dead (few times) knight, and it pleased her even more.
The fair-show was a big noisy place with so many people bustling around the stalls and talking total gibberish (probably, French). Anyone could be a disguised agent, so we pretended we didn’t care and simply played up. Carmina took pics of me yelling pirates’ commands and I wobbled in Hecta’s boots like a wretched ship but kept my powerful and mysterious face.
It was rather fun but not until some Oscar Wilde like man DID come up and fell to pieces with most exquisite compliments. “What grace, what elegance! What zest! A gust of fresh, spicy gale to my lungs! Or dear me, miss, have you ever considered being a model?” he sang.
And turned to Carmina.
Carmina turned to Hecta, Hecta turned to me and I turned and ran away, crying. I stumbled and bumped into all French on my way. I wanted to lock myself up in a toilet, but Hecta fished me out and said to screw it. “Forget it, okay? Modelling sucks!” she said. “This all sucked from the start.”
“But…” I snivelled, getting even deader dead knight. “But then I’ll never be rich and famous.”
“Y’know, you’d better be yourself.” She said, fixing my smeared mascara with a wet napkin. “And eat as much cookies as you like.”
That sounded like a good idea. I was so hungry. And I REALLY hated walking in two-size bigger boots. We went to buy sweets instead, and Hecta held my hand so I wouldn’t tumble over again. I’ll think about being rich and famous tomorrow, but right now, I want my cookies!
“Ghosts aren’t real,” Agnieszka says as she lights a candle in my attic. Carmina peeks under the covered mess of broken furniture and blast-sneezes, sending a cloud of dust dancing in the air. “Of course, they are real,” I huff and place my bum on one of the old chairs. “What do you think you’ll do after you die?” “I’ll go straight to heaven,” Agnieszka murmurs, keeping an eye on the shimmering shadows cast by the candlelight. “I’d better go to hell,” Carmina beams. “If demons offer infinite pleasures, their homeland must be a treasure island!” “Nobody goes anywhere,” I state. “Your heavens and hells are right here, in this world. There is no another. We are haunt…” All of a sudden, the chair crushes under me. I flop on the floor, and we yell like freaking psychos.
I said no to cream buns and a cupcake for breakfast. I can only eat veggies now. Ow! T_T I went to Hecta’s for a makeover and hoped for some cookie with tea as a small compensation for my deadly sacrifice. But she said if I must, I must, i.e. no cookies FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE!
I felt like crying, but Hecta started pinching my cheeks to revive my natural blush and it was rather inconvenient to cry and blush at a time. Then she gave me her ruthless goth boots, macabre skirt with a spiky belt and some ghastly hoodie with a rotting skull on it.
“Are you going to turn me into a walking nightmare?” I vetted a giant sleeping BAT in the mirror.
“Fashion world sucks,’ Hecta grumbled. ‘Everyone looks the same, and it’s boring. You are gonna be something else altogether! A black knight of tremendous power and an air of dark mystery.”
“I don’t look like a black knight. I look just BLACK,” I protested.
“Black is new pink, silly,” Hecta said and got to painting my lips black, too.
When Carmina turned up with her camera phone, she laughed so hard it grew into hiccups. I started doubting she’d take a single picture of all that tremendous power and mystery of mine.
We chose the river bank for the shoot. Hecta’s outfit was so big, I swam in her boots and walked like a fish faking human gate. But it won’t get to the pics, right? Hecta said all models wore two-size bigger drags and still kept cool and fab.
So I pulled myself together and climbed the rock half buried in the river sand. Then crawled over to another panting and sweating and hoping it wouldn’t get to the pics either.
Carmina cried at me some inconceivable commands to “heave ho, mi hearty, set sail!”. “And don’t mess up my rags!” Hecta piped in while I did my best to look powerful and mysterious.
Till my left foot stuck in a crack. I lost my balance and plopped down into the dirty shoal, with one blasted boot still standing on the rock. OUCH! “Sink me!” Photographer said and Stylist joined, “Holy shit, that was cool. Did you shoot that?” as they ran up to get me out of mud.
Okay. Enough of being a model! I’m going home to eat a cake.
There is something in the air of Windenburg, and it is fertility. Not simply is Dinah Owens with child, but we are also practically the same scale. I am unable to express my delight of the invite she gave me for tea and discussion at the Owens manor. I was glad for the extension in invitation for Elijah. I know what you will say, and I will tell you that I refuse to bring help into my home when I am more than capable.
Mother, their home is so brilliant I am sure you would collapse. Dinah was an outstanding host. Her attention ranged from her own pregnancy to my advice concerning raising a toddler. Elijah did not care for our conversation and found solice in candles. They kept him entertained throughout the rest of our stay.
Dinah informs me of a theatre being built, funded by her husband. I am surprised you were not the first to tell me. Is Father not remaining up to date on his own town? Either way, you will love it. It should be complete by the time you arrive for your first visit. I guarantee it our first outing.
Do you remember when I was a girl, and we accompanied the Ervings to the festival by the pier? I wandered from the crowd and discovered that tiny brown dog with a limp. I can still recall the heaviness of my exhaustion from crying for three days after you refused to allow me to bring the stray home.
Isaiah has a similar story. A street dog walked the roads of Rill Cove and caught his attention as a boy. He says he passed the animal so often that he named her Lady, and over time she responded to his clicks and whistles. One day, he fed her his last bit of food and it was the last time he had seen her. It is unlikely, but I like to imagine that we encountered the same dog.
For forever and a day, I could never understand why you forbade me from caring for the dog, even after growing and acknowledging my pampered upbringing. My search for your reasonings have ended today.
Our morning began with a walk through the town center and ended with Lijah’s discovery of a stray. He stayed put by the dog’s side, and I swear it, she imitated Lijah’s big pleading eyes. They knew they would never part, and they were waiting for Isaiah and I to come to terms with that.
I am sure you have arrived to your own conclusions of this story. If not, I am happy to inform you of our newest member in our rapidly growing family. We named her Lady.
Elyse watched summer, her favorite time of the year, gradually end through the window. Rain and fog replaced the summer heat and the sun’s shine as the season of fall approached Windenburg. Every year she had to face the reality of change once the leaves turned brown.
However, her gloom lasted not half as long as the years prior. Being with child was more than enough to relieve the sadness of summer’s departure.
I appreciate your correspondence. I find comfort in every letter you send, yet I remain in waiting of a response from Father. We have not exchanged word in over a year, if not passed through you. It feels I have been cast aside. I do not understand his silence. Is the distance between us the issue?
Enough sulking, I suppose. I fear it is developing into a habit… You say you want to hear more of Elijah? There is nothing I would rather do than boast about my sweet boy.
Lijah is well into his second year. Can you believe it? I am trying to. He eats twice his size, I swear it. Our food supply diminishes before my eyes. He and Isaiah are milking my energy dry. Speaking of his father, it is difficult to separate the two from one another. Lijah enjoys his time with me, yet I know he spends every moment waiting for his father to return from the school. Just yesterday, I busied myself with needlework while keeping a watch over Lijah on the porch, who tired himself out with his own creativity. I prepared to take him inside and it was as though he felt his father walking through the gate. He jumped out of my arms and into Isaiah’s. As much of a sight it was, it is I who carried him in my aching body for months… Correct? Never does he declare such delight during the time I tend to his needs from when I wake to when I lay. Is this what I deserve for favoring Father when I was a girl? I imagine another child would yearn my closeness…
I ask again, how are you and Father doing at home? You never reply to my requests upon returning for a visit. I want nothing more than for Elijah to meet his only grandparents. He will adore you, especially, I know it.
I am pleased to inform you that your grandchild spent his first month happy and healthily. Our bundle of beauty enthralls Isaiah and I. Lijah can’t communicate all too well, but if there is one thing he certainly treasures, apart from feeding, it is the garden. We take him outside when he grows finicky and the breeze is forever enough to end his fits. Isaiah swears it my fault. I can only agree when considering the amount of time I spent residing by the garden’s statues with Lijah for nine months.
My emotions of recent are like none other. I cannot find words to express my love for this boy. I wonder if you and Mother felt as such when I was born. Will the protectiveness cease? I suppose it is my first month as a mother. I am still in recovery from being with child. Yet, it makes my stomach ache, the fear of this world taking him from me.
I received Mother’s letter this morning. She says you are pleased to hear I delivered a healthy child, and happier with the arrival of a grandson. I would be delighted to hear from you, just once. Even more so to set up a date for your and Elijah’s first introduction. I pray this letter finds you during a time well enough to write back. Do not forget to send it out. I recall your habit of doing so.
Isaiah and Elyse were blessed with an uncomplicated delivery and the arrival of their firstborn son. Elijah Ambroise was welcomed by his parents with enthusiasm and eagerness for all that would follow his birth.
Elyse’s final weeks of pregnancy were spent in serenity. Amid numerous forms of leisure, residing in the garden was always her first option. She enjoyed watching the sky whether it was clear or full of clouds, and she hoped her child felt as tranquil as she did in those moments. Eventually, the garden became the first place Isaiah searched when arriving home every day.
Their method for consuming time together entertained both parties with Isaiah’s treasured and heartfelt performances on the piano, each melody tailored specifically to Elyse’s liking.
Discomfort, proven inescapable when with child, peaked during the midway mark of Elyse’s pregnancy. She spent many mornings lying in bed and praying for the moment her pain would end. Through it all, Isaiah remained by her side.
Even the bleakest days had a tendency of pleasant endings in the Ambroise’s household. As the sun set, the ache that plagued Elyse was replaced with the quickening she felt from within.
During Elyse and Isaiah’s stroll along their grounds, Elyse’s enthusiasm in sharing the contents of the mail she’d received that morning was apparent.
Her father, who was adamantly against forms of communication without the contribution of penmanship, brightened his daughter’s day with his letter in celebration of her being with child. He and Elyse’s mother congratulated the growing family that they’d wished for when allowing Isaiah to wed her.
It’d been the first time since their arrival to Windenburg that her father had engaged in correspondence with her, with the justification of being regularly preoccupied. Elyse had grown accustomed to being overindulged and kept from the world by him. She didn’t expect to be so disconnected from home after taking residence with Isaiah.
Even so, she was significantly pleased to hear from them, and more than satisfied by their written approval.
Elyse recognized the signs for what they were and prepared herself for all that would follow. Isaiah merely had his suspicions. Both husband and wife withheld their inklings from one another until they grew far beyond confirmation, and the first addition to their family was guaranteed.
Because Elyse’s parents kept help around during her upbringing, she was never accustomed to domestic housework. It had been enough to influence her to do the opposite when she would, one day, share a home with her husband. Young Elyse promised herself that she’d keep control of her house without the help of hires.
So, after kissing Isaiah good-bye, she spent her time alone at home, keeping the clothing and counters clean while also establishing time for her own interests.
Dinah and Booker welcomed the Ambroise household to a seaside picnic fit for the breeze. Accompanying both families were their newly born girls, who had been delivered during the same week.
Elyse and Isaiah reveled in the comfort of gaining friends in Windenburg, but their delight in their daughter starting her life with one was immeasurable.
Elyse’s energy lessened as the end of her pregnancy neared and Elijah’s hyperactivity conveniently peaked. Keeping the boy in one setting for more than a few moments was a daily task and, occasionally, an achievement.
She basked in relief when Elijah met her level of weariness in the best way he could. As he settled down, Lady would, too. The contagion of yawns was inevitable in a home occupied by a woman with child, a toddler who has spent every waking moment tiring himself out, and a dog that can read the room.
Elijah’s highlight of the day was stacking blocks and knocking them down in different techniques, repeatedly…for hours. The highlight of Elyse’s day was the shared nap among the trio that merely lasted two.
Camilla - Vol. One: Impulse Episode 7: Boundaries and Stuff: Part 5
Last Episode Recap: Camilla and Amir went on their second date. Amir spent the entire time plotting on how to get closer to her. In the end, he questioned whether or not he was in fact “winning” as he so confidently said he was.
This episode:
Switching up on me. That’s what I wanted to say. But if I did, I knew he’d play dumb—just like he alwaysdid. So I let it go, and moved on to saucing the pizza. At least with that, I knew exactly what I was getting. Unlike him, and this wishy-washy stuff he’s been on lately.
Read the rest on my blog (links to story directory) Alternatively, you could just go straight to mellindi.com.
Previous and next buttons are located at the bottom of each episode so you can follow along without returning to this post.
Camilla - Vol. One: Impulse Episode 7: Boundaries and Stuff: Part 4
So, I know what I said before about relationships and messing things up, but something she said made the risk feel like it was worth taking. We were texting one night, super late, like three in the morning, and I asked if she was thinking ‘bout me—you know, just fucking with her.
Read the rest on my blog(links to story directory) Alternatively, you could just go straight to mellindi.com.
Previous and next buttons are located at the bottom of each episode so you can follow along without returning to this post.
