April Showers, chapter 1
She sat legs swung over the windowsill, enjoying the calm, crisp April breeze fluttering on her face, tingling her ivory fingertips. In the horizon stood the lush, vibrant green hills that undulated in a snakelike manner to form an impressive sight. Admiring the rich, warm, stimulating hues and shades of pink and purple which fused together breathtakingly, surrounding the amber sun as it prepared to slumber she inhaled the bittersweet air, honeycomb music to her senses . As she peered over the canary yellow daffodils, appreciating their perfumed, sweet aroma; enhanced by the recently settled diamonds that fell from the clouds in brisk, refreshing showers. The rainbow - which had found a home in the woods entranced her with it's mystical, dazzling, sparkling light in a rich display of thousands of tones, ranging from vivid red to pastel yellow. Suddenly, a breeze picked up in a westerly direction, splaying her long, red hair into a vast fan of fire, speckled with oranges and yellows that danced to a far away African beat. Taking a deep intake of breath she felt a peculiar sensation wash over her body, like stepping under a raging waterfall. The air carried the stench of terror, the sound of misery, the taste of death. It embodied evil in ways the girl could never have imagined possible, darting around her with the agility of panther. She froze in fright and heard sadness as it pumped through her eardrums.
She slipped and fell to the soft, springy ground - could it have been a premonition. She shrugged that thought off, it was absurd to the point of being idiotic. Strolling back inside, the girl checked her answering machine - hoping, praying it was him, Connor. As she pressed the button she could almost feel his warm, tanned, vanilla-scented skin against her own pale, gossamer, lavender caressed skin. There was nothing, he had failed to contact her, but he would be returning soon, traffic could be busy on nearby roads. She sunk into the leather pouffé and drew her oak drawing desk closer. She picked up the sketch she recently drew of Connor and placed it on the rough, antique, oak grain that told tales of years of writers, poets and artists had practiced there craft atop the beautiful desk, a birthday present from her beloved Connor, even his name caused vibrant yet graceful butterflies to flutter around her brain, the rhythm of their wings forming a mystical beat that sent shivers down her spine. That beat was a part of her - she couldn't live without him. Imaging a life where he was not there was simply incomprehensible to her. Everything from huge gestures of love to tiny, simple things that show his appreciation such as saying thank you made her feel ecstatic and want to sing to high heavens. She was in love.
Fusing the water-colour pigments into a mellifluous blend she sighed and remembered back to the first day she met him, the day her life began.
It was a sweet Sunday morning, dew drops covered the long grass. A girl of about 17 years of age walked amongst the succulent, fresh, newly-born flowers inhaling their deep scent. Marika Donnelly had enjoyed the morning sunrise every morning for three years - alone. Sometimes she yearned for the company of another, being an only child she was used to being alone, but it didn't mean she enjoyed it anymore than others. She sat in the shade of a Birch tree as the beautiful orange orb awoke from it's nightly rest, filling the earth with a golden light and rich warmth. In her serene daydream she failed to notice the dashing young man stood beside her.
"Beautiful, isn't it." he stated dreamily. Marika turned her head to find the intruder and clapped eyes on the most handsome lad she'd ever met.
He turned up at College the next day, an English Literature student hoping to get a degree when he completed university. He seemed a real Prince Charming type, best of all in her eyes he remembered her. As the seasons passed a romance between the two blossomed.
Marika awoke from her trance and studied her painting, letting her eyes dart over the pastel paper that sung of dreams of tomorrow. It was nice, but was distinctly lacking something, the question was what. Studying the picture from a distance and letting the colors and tones wash over here she found the problem - the eyes. They lacked the roguish glint that had first caught her attention, the same glint still brightened her day years later. Returning to the desk, she began humming a familiar tune as she edited her masterpiece. When she was completely satisfied she turned and examined the clock. 9:38 glared menacingly at her in neon green digits; burning her eyes spitefully. He wasn't back yet, they were supposed to be celebrating her 25th birthday tonight. She sighed dejectedly and was terrified inside - she knew he'd never forget her birthday no matter what, so why wasn't he here. Out of frustration she turned on the T.V. and switched to Fox News, glaring at the screen, daring it to tell her she was being stupid getting so worked up. She bolted upright, horrified at what came on screen. A terrible, disastrous car accident had occurred just a few miles away. However upon checking her mind eased slightly, it wasn't Connor. In confusion and exasperation with potassium fear circling her bloodstream she decided to wait until 10:30, if he wasn't back by then, she'd call the police. Calming down slightly she strolled into the kitchen and poured herself a hot, steaming mug of cocoa and let it slide elegantly down her throat, easing her tense muscles with the hummingbird notes. She curled up on the sofa and turned on a DVD, Harry Potter and lost herself in an enchanting world of magic, heroics and love. Marika felt empty inside, she was alone on the 3 seater sofa with no-one to hold her tight and whisper candy-floss dreams of reassurance and serenity into her ears, should she become frightened. Tears formed in her cappuccino eyes and poured out like rivers, filled with the smell of fear - a forest fire burning the homes of woodland creatures, coming ever closer, the fumes threatening to suffocate her. She picked up the phone and dialed the number she prayed she'd never need. Politely she requested the police and reported Connor Bennett as missing. Lumbering to her soft, springy double bed she gently stroked Connor's spot, he slept like a rock rarely moving. Lying in the darkness Marika wondered in despair if she'd ever felt more alone. Gradually, she drifted into a deep sleep.
A dark fog covered the earth eerily. Baleful tunes of midnight smoke filled the air; a melancholy presence began to possess her body as she trudged the charcoal road. Screams of terror filled her head as a violin played menacingly in the distance. Suddenly, the air went cold and frost spread, freezing everything into ice. She ran, knowing she could never outrun this presence of evil, but she couldn't give up - he was somewhere in this ice forest but where. Rounding the corner she crashed sideways into the wooden bark and read a dreary message carved into the mahogany bark, 'Time is running out; Your luck has run dry. Escape whilst you can or prepare for the worst. Terrified she sprinted as fast as she could through the thicket of trees. Darting into a hollow she stopped in her tracks, horrified at what she saw. His limp, bloody body hung from a tree in the center. He was tied roughly by the waist and his eyes where closed. Slowly, she stepped closer and opened his eyes, staring at the empty glass orbs; she screamed in despair and was forever frozen in time as the evil caught up with her.
Marika awoke screaming, in a pool of icy, glistening grey sweat. Panting she rose from the soft covers and walked into the kitchen to get a warming cup of coffee. Shaking, she sank to her plush sofa and let the bittersweet aroma of the drink fill her lungs, soothing her racing mind with a stroking, lovingly warm hand - caressing her veins as it traveled. Just as she was about to take her first sip the doorbell rung.
Placing the hot, steaming mug on her coffee table she went to the door and answered it. A middle-aged woman dressed in a navy-blue woman stood with a companion, a younger woman of about 30. They both had strangely sympathetic looks on their faces, Marika thought as she greeted them and invited them into the living room.
"Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?" she asked nervously - worried at why to policewomen would call at her doorstep at 5 am.
"No thank you love, sit down please, hun," the elder woman said kindly. Dejectedly, Marika sat back down on the sofa, terrified at what was coming next.
"Can you confirm, Miss Donnelly that you reported Connor Bennett as missing at approximately 10:34 last night?" the younger woman inquired. A rush of emotion swamped Marika - had they found him, was he alright.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this love, but Connor's body was found in the early hours of this morning, he was carrying something that we presume was for you," the middle-aged woman said sympathetically, handing Marika a small velvet box. Hands trembling, she carefully lifted the lid and admired the most beautiful jeweled ring she'd ever laid eyes on - a single, vibrant red ruby in the shape of a heart lay in the center surrounded by crushed diamonds, it was unmistakably an engagement ring. She broke down into pools of tears, engulfed by a feeling of guilt, if Connor had just bought her a nice little gift and took her out for dinner, he's still be by her side. She couldn't believe he was gone, he was only 26. The foul stench of 100 rotting corpses seeped through her nostrils as the lemony, acidic smell of sadness surrounded her and a melancholy cello played in the deepest, darkest regions of her mind. She was alone in the world now.
She slipped and fell to the soft, springy ground - could it have been a premonition. She shrugged that thought off, it was absurd to the point of being idiotic. Strolling back inside, the girl checked her answering machine - hoping, praying it was him, Connor. As she pressed the button she could almost feel his warm, tanned, vanilla-scented skin against her own pale, gossamer, lavender caressed skin. There was nothing, he had failed to contact her, but he would be returning soon, traffic could be busy on nearby roads. She sunk into the leather pouffé and drew her oak drawing desk closer. She picked up the sketch she recently drew of Connor and placed it on the rough, antique, oak grain that told tales of years of writers, poets and artists had practiced there craft atop the beautiful desk, a birthday present from her beloved Connor, even his name caused vibrant yet graceful butterflies to flutter around her brain, the rhythm of their wings forming a mystical beat that sent shivers down her spine. That beat was a part of her - she couldn't live without him. Imaging a life where he was not there was simply incomprehensible to her. Everything from huge gestures of love to tiny, simple things that show his appreciation such as saying thank you made her feel ecstatic and want to sing to high heavens. She was in love.
Fusing the water-colour pigments into a mellifluous blend she sighed and remembered back to the first day she met him, the day her life began.
It was a sweet Sunday morning, dew drops covered the long grass. A girl of about 17 years of age walked amongst the succulent, fresh, newly-born flowers inhaling their deep scent. Marika Donnelly had enjoyed the morning sunrise every morning for three years - alone. Sometimes she yearned for the company of another, being an only child she was used to being alone, but it didn't mean she enjoyed it anymore than others. She sat in the shade of a Birch tree as the beautiful orange orb awoke from it's nightly rest, filling the earth with a golden light and rich warmth. In her serene daydream she failed to notice the dashing young man stood beside her.
"Beautiful, isn't it." he stated dreamily. Marika turned her head to find the intruder and clapped eyes on the most handsome lad she'd ever met.
He turned up at College the next day, an English Literature student hoping to get a degree when he completed university. He seemed a real Prince Charming type, best of all in her eyes he remembered her. As the seasons passed a romance between the two blossomed.
Marika awoke from her trance and studied her painting, letting her eyes dart over the pastel paper that sung of dreams of tomorrow. It was nice, but was distinctly lacking something, the question was what. Studying the picture from a distance and letting the colors and tones wash over here she found the problem - the eyes. They lacked the roguish glint that had first caught her attention, the same glint still brightened her day years later. Returning to the desk, she began humming a familiar tune as she edited her masterpiece. When she was completely satisfied she turned and examined the clock. 9:38 glared menacingly at her in neon green digits; burning her eyes spitefully. He wasn't back yet, they were supposed to be celebrating her 25th birthday tonight. She sighed dejectedly and was terrified inside - she knew he'd never forget her birthday no matter what, so why wasn't he here. Out of frustration she turned on the T.V. and switched to Fox News, glaring at the screen, daring it to tell her she was being stupid getting so worked up. She bolted upright, horrified at what came on screen. A terrible, disastrous car accident had occurred just a few miles away. However upon checking her mind eased slightly, it wasn't Connor. In confusion and exasperation with potassium fear circling her bloodstream she decided to wait until 10:30, if he wasn't back by then, she'd call the police. Calming down slightly she strolled into the kitchen and poured herself a hot, steaming mug of cocoa and let it slide elegantly down her throat, easing her tense muscles with the hummingbird notes. She curled up on the sofa and turned on a DVD, Harry Potter and lost herself in an enchanting world of magic, heroics and love. Marika felt empty inside, she was alone on the 3 seater sofa with no-one to hold her tight and whisper candy-floss dreams of reassurance and serenity into her ears, should she become frightened. Tears formed in her cappuccino eyes and poured out like rivers, filled with the smell of fear - a forest fire burning the homes of woodland creatures, coming ever closer, the fumes threatening to suffocate her. She picked up the phone and dialed the number she prayed she'd never need. Politely she requested the police and reported Connor Bennett as missing. Lumbering to her soft, springy double bed she gently stroked Connor's spot, he slept like a rock rarely moving. Lying in the darkness Marika wondered in despair if she'd ever felt more alone. Gradually, she drifted into a deep sleep.
A dark fog covered the earth eerily. Baleful tunes of midnight smoke filled the air; a melancholy presence began to possess her body as she trudged the charcoal road. Screams of terror filled her head as a violin played menacingly in the distance. Suddenly, the air went cold and frost spread, freezing everything into ice. She ran, knowing she could never outrun this presence of evil, but she couldn't give up - he was somewhere in this ice forest but where. Rounding the corner she crashed sideways into the wooden bark and read a dreary message carved into the mahogany bark, 'Time is running out; Your luck has run dry. Escape whilst you can or prepare for the worst. Terrified she sprinted as fast as she could through the thicket of trees. Darting into a hollow she stopped in her tracks, horrified at what she saw. His limp, bloody body hung from a tree in the center. He was tied roughly by the waist and his eyes where closed. Slowly, she stepped closer and opened his eyes, staring at the empty glass orbs; she screamed in despair and was forever frozen in time as the evil caught up with her.
Marika awoke screaming, in a pool of icy, glistening grey sweat. Panting she rose from the soft covers and walked into the kitchen to get a warming cup of coffee. Shaking, she sank to her plush sofa and let the bittersweet aroma of the drink fill her lungs, soothing her racing mind with a stroking, lovingly warm hand - caressing her veins as it traveled. Just as she was about to take her first sip the doorbell rung.
Placing the hot, steaming mug on her coffee table she went to the door and answered it. A middle-aged woman dressed in a navy-blue woman stood with a companion, a younger woman of about 30. They both had strangely sympathetic looks on their faces, Marika thought as she greeted them and invited them into the living room.
"Would you like a cup of coffee or tea?" she asked nervously - worried at why to policewomen would call at her doorstep at 5 am.
"No thank you love, sit down please, hun," the elder woman said kindly. Dejectedly, Marika sat back down on the sofa, terrified at what was coming next.
"Can you confirm, Miss Donnelly that you reported Connor Bennett as missing at approximately 10:34 last night?" the younger woman inquired. A rush of emotion swamped Marika - had they found him, was he alright.
"I'm sorry to have to tell you this love, but Connor's body was found in the early hours of this morning, he was carrying something that we presume was for you," the middle-aged woman said sympathetically, handing Marika a small velvet box. Hands trembling, she carefully lifted the lid and admired the most beautiful jeweled ring she'd ever laid eyes on - a single, vibrant red ruby in the shape of a heart lay in the center surrounded by crushed diamonds, it was unmistakably an engagement ring. She broke down into pools of tears, engulfed by a feeling of guilt, if Connor had just bought her a nice little gift and took her out for dinner, he's still be by her side. She couldn't believe he was gone, he was only 26. The foul stench of 100 rotting corpses seeped through her nostrils as the lemony, acidic smell of sadness surrounded her and a melancholy cello played in the deepest, darkest regions of her mind. She was alone in the world now.
