Arabelle- by Super Duper Donut, Chp. 1-2, Fantasy

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Arabelle- by Super Duper Donut, Chp. 1-2, Fantasy

Post  Super Duper Donut on Sun Mar 11, 2012 9:48 pm

Chapter 1: The Dress of Death and the Shoes of Torture
(Nine years later)

“Oh, you look stunning!” Estelle cooed while sipping from a glass of Merlot. Her nude colored lipstick stained the glass. “Doesn’t she look lovely?” The rest of my ‘babysitters’ nodded in agreement and cooed and cried compliments at me.

“You’ve never looked better!”

“That dress was made for you and you alone.”

“Heads will turn when they see you in that dress.”

“Scarlet is so your color.”

It was typical. Those three babbling idiots were paid to keep my temper down but every time they spoke, it slowly inched upward. That day they sounded extra peppy as if they drank one too many cups of coffee (they did that on a regular basis) or won the lottery. Estelle, Kerri, and Bea were supervising my dress fitting for my sweet sixteen. I was just having a ball.

“Hayden will just love, love, love your dress!” Kerri said all excited. “The red palette looks great on you.”

Besides the fact I looked like a redheaded Barbie the dress was okay I guess. It reached to my ankles which was one thing I didn’t like. I’m 5”9. That was dangerous! Anyway, it was a silky material that was a scarlet color. The thin straps didn’t dig into my shoulders which was a thumbs up with me. And another dangerous item in my ensemble was the red stilettos. Sometimes I swore Hayden was trying to kill me.

“Are we done? I’d like to go home,” I said.

“I’m almost done. Stop moving!” Ms. Bell said then shouted. She’d been my personal tailor since I was twelve. You could’ve said we didn’t get along.

“‘Stop moving!’” I repeated in a mocking tone. Ms. Bell purposely stuck a pin in my leg. I yelped.

“I’m so sorry. My hand just slipped,” she said in a baby tone. “Is the wittle Arabelle alright?” I gave Ms. Bell an all-too-American gesture with my finger, if you know what I mean. She gasped and so did my babysitters.

“Oops, my hand slipped too.” If Hayden wanted to raise a young lady, she failed miserably.

“Arabelle,” Kerri said disapprovingly. Her curly caramel colored 80’s style afro made it difficult to pay attention without laughing. “We don’t do that.”

“It’s so . . . ungraceful,” Bea said. Estelle and Kerri nodded their heads. I rolled my eyes and sighed. Estelle, Kerri, and Bea have known me since I was seven after the fire accident. I used to be a cheerful little girl who smiled at everybody and loved butterflies and all that stuff. Then I turned into a bitter fifteen soon to be sixteen year old who hated everyone and couldn’t go a day without getting in a fight. It was amazing what the death of a loved one could do to a person. Even if it was a little fuzzy.

“Because grace falls under my name,” I said sarcastically. “And class, obedience, respect for any of you . . .”

“We’re done,” Ms. Bell said sounding relieved. I was relieved too: I could finally sit down and take off my torture device shoes. Hayden said I had to wear them so I could get used to them. Not in a million years.

“Thank you so much!” Bea squealed, clapping her hands and almost jumping up and down at my finished dress. “It’s so -”

“Breathtaking,” Estelle finished for her.

“Astonishing,” Kerri murmured mesmerized.

“Uncomfortable and dangerous,” I muttered to myself.

. . .

“I’m home!” I shouted unnecessarily loud making echoes throughout the mansion. Did I mention? I’m rich.

“Good grief, why are you shouting?” Estelle asked. I shrugged.

“My house, my rules.” Kerri made a “tsk” sound.

“It’s Hayden’s house and you should be so grateful you live in such a stunning home. People would kill to be as wealthy as you,” she said. “I know I would.”

“You live here,” I reminded her.

“And we should be thankful,” Bea said carrying my very expensive dress.
She checked her watch and squeaked like a mouse. “You need to get ready Arabelle.” I started whining. I felt very comfortable in my current clothes: Green Day T-shirt (all time favorite band F.Y.I.), black jeans and sneakers. But no, Hayden decided that my sweet sixteen party theme is ballroom thus making me wear the Dress of Death and the Shoes of Torture. Is Hades much worse or would I enjoy myself there?

The babysitters steered me into the ‘powder room’ (in my house powder room and bathroom were two different things) and went to work fixing my hair and all that jazz. After twenty minutes of squirming, scowling, shouting, and biting I was done. I was again wearing the Dress of Death which showed off my hourglass figure and the Shoes of Torture which no doubt, was going to make my poor feet bleed. Estelle had managed to pull my bright red hair in a bun and left two little spirals of hair hanging. Bea had put ruby earrings and necklace on me, which was difficult since I ducked and dodged. Kerri decided on deep red lipstick and gold blush for my makeup.

“Oh my, gosh. You look so beautiful,” Bea gushed. “I wish I looked this good on my sweet sixteen.”

“Yes, she does look lovely. Doesn’t she?” a new voice purred making my skin crawl. “Thank you girls. Could you give us a minute?”

“Yes Ms. Hayden,” Estelle, Kerri, and Bea chorused then left the room. I looked down at my lap and folded my hands.

“So,” Hayden said walking up behind me. She started fiddling with my bun. “How’s my Arabelle been for . . . how long has it been?”

“Almost two years,” I said quietly. There was an awkward pause.

“I think your hair would be best if it were down,” Hayden said and yanked out the hair tie. My hair gently brushed the back of my dress.

“Why are you here? I thought you hated me,” I said.

“I don’t hate you, Arabelle,” Hayden said but I knew she was lying. “You just have a few major flaws. But we can work those out.”

“Have my major flaws kept you away? I bet right now it’s taking every ounce in your body not to run away on terror. Am I right?” My voice had a surprising bitter tone. Hayden took a deep breath like, Keep it together. I can do this for a little more.

“I’ve been busy. There are very high demands around the world for my archetectual genius.”

“You’re such a liar. Just like . . .” I stopped myself.

“Just like Daddy?” Hayden asked. “He was trying to help you.”

“Did you ever think I didn’t want to be ‘cured’?” I said, iciles hanging on every word. “You don’t know what sick and twisted things they’d probably do to ‘cure’ me.”

“We knew what we were getting but you burned down the building and took your father with it. You’re a murderer.” The sick feeling I got when I first saw the tower burning filled my chest again.

“You’re not my mother. I don’t care if you and I are blood relatives. You’re a horrible woman and I can’t say I’m even in the least bit delighted to know you exist. Crawl back to whatever hole you came out of and don’t come back.” That was lady like me talking. Believe me when I say this: I could have said so much worse.

“And you’re not my daughter. You’re just another greedy brat taking advantage of hardworking people.”

“I’m taking advantage of hardworking people?” I asked ready to burst into flames, literally. “You’re the golddigger!” Hayden turned on me and slapped me hard across the face. My cheek started stinging. It was most likely going to swell tomorrow. The door opened and Bea popped her head in.

“Your guests have arrived,” she said.

“Excellent,” Hayden said smiling as if she didn’t just slap me. “We’ll be right out.”



Chapter 2: My Happy, Happy Birthday

You know when you’re having Thanksgiving at Granny’s house and you’re the last person to arrive. So when you come through the front door, you’re flanked by the rest of your family who are just dying to know what you’ve been doing since last Christmas. That’s what it felt like when Hayden and I went to the entrance hall. About a hundred people were standing there chatting to each other. Kerri, Estelle, and Bea had done the super quick change thing and were wearing identical short black party dresses, chatting to guests.

“Thank you everyone for coming!” Hayden shouted over everyone. Her voice was loud just like mine. A trait I inherited from her. “Please follow me to the ballroom where we can get the party started.” The crowd nodded and starting talking loudly again while following Hayden. A few greeted me but the rest of them ignored me. I was completely fine with that. I started backing up towards the left staircase trying to look innocent and that I was a total angel. My plan of running away was foiled when I turned around and ran into Estelle. Well crap.

“Thought of retiring so soon?” she asked. So much for my plan. Estelle grabbed my arm and started herding me with the rest of the crowd.
Hayden led us through house and through a few unnecessary rooms where she just happened to place new expensive art pieces. Did I mention Hayden’s a show off? Chatter of how ‘exquisite’ and ‘modern’ the mansion was went around. I hated it when Hayden put a new piece of modern art in the house. First of all, it usually looked like a piece of junk she dragged out of someone’s trash. Second of all, she was taking down the old portraits of the family before the accident.

“I hope all of you have the most wonderful time. And remember, happy birthday Arabelle!” Hayden shouted all preppy like.

“Happy birthday Arabelle!” the guests shouted then stormed into the ballroom. Many ‘oohed’ and ‘aahed’ as they walked through. The peach and beige linoleum floor had been polished and looked brand new. That was totally false. I remember the many ballroom lessons I had in here.

“That chandelier is magnificent,” Miriam Lincoln, a giant software company head, said in awe. True, it was magnificent. It was made of glass, crystals, and diamonds. The chain link that attached it to the ceiling was made of platinum that was shiny (shiny things attracted Hayden). It was like a diamond shaped layered cake. The crystals and diamonds sat on the glass platforms that connected each layer to the next.

Hayden nodded and smiled. She flicked her wrists which was the signal of, Now you can begin the party. The guests understood and boom, they were back to chatting, laughing, and gossiping about each other. I pushed passed them and saw the Heaven Table a.k.a. the buffet table. There was sushi, lobster, roasted pig, grilled salmon, fruit salads, steak, veggie plates, pasta, uni, lamb, goat, chicken parmesan, and so many other things I could never name. The center piece was my cake.
It was a six tier cake covered in white fondant. Black roses decorated the rims and inside of each layer except the top. Curvy black gel designs etched the sides of the cake. I walked around it and saw that if you turned the curvy designs the right way it said, Happy Birthday Arabelle! The candle was a picture of me, not smiling, holding a 16.

I stood open mouthed at the cake for minutes. This thing was huge and had edible roses. My perfect cake.

“Do you like it?” Hayden asked popping out of nowhere.

“Since when does my opinion matter?” I asked coldly glaring at the floor.

“It always has. You just didn’t know it.”

“Because your word means so much to me.” Hayden pursed her lips and smoothed her tight white dress.

“I designed it especially for you and your obsession with black,” she said glancing at the cake. “I don’t know why you insist on such a dark color.”

“I don’t have an obsession with black,” I said testily. “Are you sick or something? You’re being nice to me.” Hayden put a hand on my shoulder and looked at me with a sorry expression. Was I dreaming?

“Things between us haven’t been great-”

“You can say that again,” I muttered. Hayden sighed impatiently but continued.

“I was hoping we could mend our relationship and start over.”

“Are you not the same Hayden that just slapped me about ten minutes ago?”

“Arabelle, I was angry. I know I’m not the best mother in the world-”

“You can say that again too.”

“But I want us to be a real family again.”

I thought this over for a minute then said, “Heartfelt talk, wanting to make our ‘family’ better . . . what do you want?” Hayden doesn’t just show affection especially towards me for no reason. I’m not stupid.

“Nothing, just for my daughter to know I love her,” Hayden said earnestly. Chills ran down my back when she said ‘my daughter’ and ‘love her’. The last time Hayden said she loved me was the morning before the accident. This was the first time in nine years. “Now you’re sixteen and practically a woman. When you get older and get married, I want to see my grandchildren.” I thought my heart was never going to beat again.

“Oh, and my children can call you Granny Witch. How lovely?” I retorted with sarcasm. “I’m not as stupid as you think. Just tell me what you want so I can dig into the buffet. It was made especially for me, right?”

“When you’re begging for me to take you back, I’ll just watch them take you away,” Hayden said angrily. “Enjoy your party, while you can.” Her white leather pumps clicked against the linoleum floor as she walked away. It was official, Hayden was crazy.

Despite her last statement, I kept thinking about her saying she loved me. I knew it was to lure me into whatever she was talking about but a teeny-tiny itsy-bitsy little place inside me felt warm and fuzzy and happy to know she cared about me. That place used to be huge but due to lack of attention or even acknowledgement it grew to the size of a tape worm.

Taking a deep breath, I turned to the buffet table and started piling my plate sky high with sushi and uni. Did I mention that seafood was the best thing in the whole wide world? Or at least to me it was. On the edge of the ballroom where the exit doors were there were tables set for two each. No one was eating. The guests were all on the dance floor dancing clumsily or still talking about which smaller company or corporation they wanted to buy. I took a seat at one table in the corner and starting eating the sushi with my hands. Hey, when you’re practically starved in order to fit your sweet sixteen dress you’re going to be pretty hungry when you see the food.

“It isn’t very lady-like to eat with your fingers,” a voice said behind me.

“Maybe I’m not a lady,” I replied snidely. The voice’s body slipped into the chair sitting across from. She was a woman possibly in her early thirties. She had long and sleek amber hair that was thrown over her shoulder. Her midnight blue gown made the woman look like a super model. She looked slightly familiar.

“Hello Arabelle,” she said smiling politely. “I’ve been waiting to talk to you for awhile.”

“Do I know you?” I asked twirling a piece of sushi between my fingers. “I feel like I’ve met you before.” The woman chuckled.
“We have met before but I’m surprised you would remember my face. After all it was about nine, ten years ago.”

“You seem to know my name, but I don’t know yours,” I said popping the spicy crab roll into my mouth.

“Lionette Maine.” I smirked. Lionette raised a questioning eyebrow.

“It’s just, you know, Lionette Maine. Lion and mane . . . never mind.”

“Anyway, I would like to have a word with you,” Lionette said. Lionette . . . the name sounded sort of familiar. It has something to do with a building.

“Uh, okay,” I said.

“Can we take a walk outside?” Lionette asked. It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.

“It’s almost December,” I said. Lionette shrugged. “It’s about zero degrees outside.”

“Let’s grab a coat and take a walk,” she insisted. I sighed and walked with her to the entrance hall. Lionette grabbed her coat. “Aren’t you getting yours?”

“Don’t need it,” I said walking out the door. Okay, for those of you who are going, “No! Don’t go with her!” may I remind you I could, oh I don’t know, set her on fire? Others who are thinking, “She’s going to be a total popsicle without a coat.” I found out that I can play with my body temperature. If I want to freeze myself to death, I could if I wanted to. Or I could go all super nova and be a huge blue flame. Either one. Right then I felt pretty warm.

“So, Arabelle, have you ever considered yourself to be special?” Lionette asked.

“Define special,” I said. “There are tons of special people out there. There’s prodigy special or special needs kids or short bus special-”

“No, like so special no one else in the world could do the same thing.” Like I was going to tell Lionette I can be hotter than the sun itself. Wait, Lionette and fire . . .

“I don’t know. I don’t have special skills.”
“But I’m sure you do,” Lionette kept pressing. “Something like telepathy or moving objects by without touching them.” How does she even have the slightest clue I’m ‘special’. Lionette, fire, me and special. I was special. I was a special needs child. I was sick and needed to be cured. Oh, my God.

“I think we should go back now,” I said turning back.

“No, we should finish our walk around the block,” Lionette said grabbing my arm and tugging me down the street. I got a small panicky feeling. I made skin get really hot until it almost started glowing. Lionette yelped and let me go. I took off without hesitation. “Why are you running?” Lionette called after me. “We’re going to get you!”

“You’re crazy!” I shouted at her. You may be thinking how did we get so far down the street so fast? Lionette kind of pushed me along making me walk faster than normal. “Shoot!”
I stepped on my dress while running and fell on my butt. Just my luck. Before I could even think about getting up, someone grabbed me and put a hand over my mouth. Has anyone seen this in a movie somewhere? Lionette strode up to me and the person holding me. I seemed to be taller than them.

“See? I told you we were going to get you,” she said. I was about to go inferno but Lionette stuck something in my neck. The person let me go.

“Did you just drug me?” I asked. The world seemed to spin and my legs became weak. Was it normal to see purple trees? “Oh, the purple trees are waving at me,” I said dreamily then passed out in the street.
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Super Duper Donut

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