Stars Fade Blue
A Sort of Glow
Morning flooded her small bedroom. The sun coated the walls and the floor and her face with warmth and light. It bathed everything she owned with a sort of glow that made her---even just for a moment---feel a certain type of importance.
Gracefully, she sat up and held back stretches and a yawn, for her mother stood by the window in a rather imposing way. It was evident that the Camellia Piccolet had just ripped open her daughter's curtains to wake her.
A daunting scowl festered upon her already unpleasant face, making each of her wrinkles show and the true malice in her eyes more apparent. This was the true Camellia, an unbelievably ugly person that took it upon herself to make others feel a peculiar unworthiness she herself felt when in the same room as her youngest child.
No matter how hideous an expression or awful her attitude was, she could not seem to break Farrah. Though both she and her husband had tried, their attempts to damper their daughter's life were futile. So it seemed. In actuality, Farrah had been broken for a long time. Farrah never felt worthy of her way of life, or her life itself. She felt nothing but guilt for ruining what happiness and respect her family had had before she was born.
"We have a guest for breakfast this morning," Camellia stated, and as if that were enough---which it was---for Farrah to understand what she wanted, she left.
Farrah did not wonder who the guest was, nor did she have any expectation that it was for her. As her mother had slammed her door closed, the young woman---because that's what she was in nature's eyes---found herself with her arms stretched high above her head and a silent yawn escaping her lips.
In silence and without a thought, she rose from her small bed and softly made her way to her wardrobe. On any other morning she would be expected to wear a simple morning dress, but for an occasion with a guest, it was an unspoken rule to wear something nicer. For this, she chose her nicest dress that would not be considered too elaborate for a regular day. Although she had plenty to choose from---since the governor's daughter could simply not dress out of style---Farrah made sure to express her own taste and modest nature through her garments.
By herself, for she had learned over the years, Farrah removed her nightclothes and replaced them hastily with a fresh chemise. Embarrassed by the exposure of her body, though no one was near, she quickly covered herself with her long corset. In Farrah's case, it was unnecessary to wear such a garment other than for the sole purpose of lifting and attempting to separate her endowed bosom. Over the years she had grown tall and, with pressure, thin. There was nothing for a corset to constrict.
After adding her petticoats, Farrah carefully pulled on her dress. It was a rather plain dress, one of light taffeta that did not reflect much light, had elbow-length sleeves, and was an appropriate light tan for the early days of summer. Once her dress was on comfortably, she slid her feet into a pair of silk slippers and pinned her hair loosely atop her head.
With knowledge that no one was near in the hallways, Farrah chewed absentmindedly at the inside of her cheek. She was bored and unsettled by the prospect of a guest. Often they were friends of her father's that spoke of nothing but laws or hunting and she was not permitted to leave until dismissed when the meal was over.
With any luck,she hoped, it may be Mister Evans again.
A few months before that morning, a curious man named Mister Evans had joined the Piccolets for a meal. He was awkward, but friendly, and although Farrah was not allowed to laugh aloud at the man's jokes and humor, she was still entertained by him and often anticipated his return. The meal with him did not drag on so long as others had.
When Farrah reached the first floor, she immediately looked for signs of where the breakfast would be held, since more often than not it was hosted outside to showcase Lenore's lovely weather and alleviate the stuffiness felt inside during the warmer months.
Her suspicions proved correct when she noticed the expensive paned double-doors that led to the garden were propped open by carefully selected potted plants. While delicately making her way outside, she took notice of the few maids grouped together by a window in the front room, anxiously awaiting the arrival of whoever the guest was.
"No, no, Braden, sit here," her mother's wicked voice rang.
As Farrah stepped out into the garden, she locked her gaze on the table and setting on the patio. It was all covered by an elaborate canopy to block out the harshness of the sun, but was exposed to the light breeze and smells of flowers and fresh air. Her mother stood at one end of the table, where she would sit, dictating to her closest brother that he must sit in a specific spot. In fact, he was ordered to sit in such a way that left only two seats open at the table. Both were the last seats on each side beside her father on the end. Straight away, she noticed something was off.
Governor Abramson and his wife had always gone out of their way to keep their daughter as hidden from the public as possibly acceptable. She had never been seated anywhere near an important guest of her father's. In fact, she was always seated beside her mother at the opposite end, as far away and out of sight manageable.
Today, however, she would be seated directly across from him. And, as if that weren't odd enough, the entire orientation of the table was backwards. Normally, the oldest siblings were closest to their father, but on this occasion, they were over by their mother. Even stranger, Farrah would be the only female on that side of the table.
"Farrah, sit there," her father ordered, gesturing to the open seat closest to her. She would consequently be unable to see who the visitor was until he sat down. This worried her further, but she said nothing.
Before the mystery guest arrived, Farrah sat and examined her surroundings. Her mother's back was to the house, and her father's to the gardens. She sat with her brother Braden to her left, father to her right. Beside Braden was her sister's husband Halvor, then her brother Winter and lastly, the oldest child, Luther. Across from Farrah would be the Piccolets' visitor, his back also to beautiful gardens. Beside him would be her brother Ormond, then his twin sister Sydney, Winter's wife Ella, and lastly Luther's wife Mallory.
None of their children were in attendance at this meal, which was Farrah's last clue that this breakfast was not like any other she had ever had.
The real action/drama is getting closer. I can promise it well happen in or by chapter nine. =]
Comments!?
Gracefully, she sat up and held back stretches and a yawn, for her mother stood by the window in a rather imposing way. It was evident that the Camellia Piccolet had just ripped open her daughter's curtains to wake her.
A daunting scowl festered upon her already unpleasant face, making each of her wrinkles show and the true malice in her eyes more apparent. This was the true Camellia, an unbelievably ugly person that took it upon herself to make others feel a peculiar unworthiness she herself felt when in the same room as her youngest child.
No matter how hideous an expression or awful her attitude was, she could not seem to break Farrah. Though both she and her husband had tried, their attempts to damper their daughter's life were futile. So it seemed. In actuality, Farrah had been broken for a long time. Farrah never felt worthy of her way of life, or her life itself. She felt nothing but guilt for ruining what happiness and respect her family had had before she was born.
"We have a guest for breakfast this morning," Camellia stated, and as if that were enough---which it was---for Farrah to understand what she wanted, she left.
Farrah did not wonder who the guest was, nor did she have any expectation that it was for her. As her mother had slammed her door closed, the young woman---because that's what she was in nature's eyes---found herself with her arms stretched high above her head and a silent yawn escaping her lips.
In silence and without a thought, she rose from her small bed and softly made her way to her wardrobe. On any other morning she would be expected to wear a simple morning dress, but for an occasion with a guest, it was an unspoken rule to wear something nicer. For this, she chose her nicest dress that would not be considered too elaborate for a regular day. Although she had plenty to choose from---since the governor's daughter could simply not dress out of style---Farrah made sure to express her own taste and modest nature through her garments.
By herself, for she had learned over the years, Farrah removed her nightclothes and replaced them hastily with a fresh chemise. Embarrassed by the exposure of her body, though no one was near, she quickly covered herself with her long corset. In Farrah's case, it was unnecessary to wear such a garment other than for the sole purpose of lifting and attempting to separate her endowed bosom. Over the years she had grown tall and, with pressure, thin. There was nothing for a corset to constrict.
After adding her petticoats, Farrah carefully pulled on her dress. It was a rather plain dress, one of light taffeta that did not reflect much light, had elbow-length sleeves, and was an appropriate light tan for the early days of summer. Once her dress was on comfortably, she slid her feet into a pair of silk slippers and pinned her hair loosely atop her head.
With knowledge that no one was near in the hallways, Farrah chewed absentmindedly at the inside of her cheek. She was bored and unsettled by the prospect of a guest. Often they were friends of her father's that spoke of nothing but laws or hunting and she was not permitted to leave until dismissed when the meal was over.
With any luck,she hoped, it may be Mister Evans again.
A few months before that morning, a curious man named Mister Evans had joined the Piccolets for a meal. He was awkward, but friendly, and although Farrah was not allowed to laugh aloud at the man's jokes and humor, she was still entertained by him and often anticipated his return. The meal with him did not drag on so long as others had.
When Farrah reached the first floor, she immediately looked for signs of where the breakfast would be held, since more often than not it was hosted outside to showcase Lenore's lovely weather and alleviate the stuffiness felt inside during the warmer months.
Her suspicions proved correct when she noticed the expensive paned double-doors that led to the garden were propped open by carefully selected potted plants. While delicately making her way outside, she took notice of the few maids grouped together by a window in the front room, anxiously awaiting the arrival of whoever the guest was.
"No, no, Braden, sit here," her mother's wicked voice rang.
As Farrah stepped out into the garden, she locked her gaze on the table and setting on the patio. It was all covered by an elaborate canopy to block out the harshness of the sun, but was exposed to the light breeze and smells of flowers and fresh air. Her mother stood at one end of the table, where she would sit, dictating to her closest brother that he must sit in a specific spot. In fact, he was ordered to sit in such a way that left only two seats open at the table. Both were the last seats on each side beside her father on the end. Straight away, she noticed something was off.
Governor Abramson and his wife had always gone out of their way to keep their daughter as hidden from the public as possibly acceptable. She had never been seated anywhere near an important guest of her father's. In fact, she was always seated beside her mother at the opposite end, as far away and out of sight manageable.
Today, however, she would be seated directly across from him. And, as if that weren't odd enough, the entire orientation of the table was backwards. Normally, the oldest siblings were closest to their father, but on this occasion, they were over by their mother. Even stranger, Farrah would be the only female on that side of the table.
"Farrah, sit there," her father ordered, gesturing to the open seat closest to her. She would consequently be unable to see who the visitor was until he sat down. This worried her further, but she said nothing.
Before the mystery guest arrived, Farrah sat and examined her surroundings. Her mother's back was to the house, and her father's to the gardens. She sat with her brother Braden to her left, father to her right. Beside Braden was her sister's husband Halvor, then her brother Winter and lastly, the oldest child, Luther. Across from Farrah would be the Piccolets' visitor, his back also to beautiful gardens. Beside him would be her brother Ormond, then his twin sister Sydney, Winter's wife Ella, and lastly Luther's wife Mallory.
None of their children were in attendance at this meal, which was Farrah's last clue that this breakfast was not like any other she had ever had.
The real action/drama is getting closer. I can promise it well happen in or by chapter nine. =]
Comments!?