*~*~*~*~*Angelia*~*~*~*~* Chapter Three -- Fictional Getdown

[ Show ]

Support VoyForums

[ Shrink ]

VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Contact Forum Admin ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, [2], 3, 4 ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 18:16:20 11/22/02 Fri
Author: Tiffany
Subject: *~*~*~*~*Angelia*~*~*~*~* Chapter Three

That's all I can do for this week. This weekend will be spent outlining, drafting and writing chapters 4-6. Hopefully, I'll be able to post chapter four by Tuesday or Wednesday after school.

Enjoey (heh)

Tiffany

Unable to sleep surrounded by the droning sounds of mating crickets, Samantha got out of bed, completely untouched by sleep or the drowsiness that usually accompanies a three hour drive after a full day. She walked lazily to the window, stretching her firm arms over her head. Leaning against the sill, Samantha craned to stick her neck out of the window. Inhaling the rich scents of earth, creek water, and old trees, Samantha felt strangely at home within the invisible walls of Millington. The three hundred-year-old winds seemed to whisper words of comfort to her. It crept up her linen nightgown, cooling the humidity from her legs. The big, fat moon smiled at her from its place perched above her window. She looked out over the five acres Nicole's house rested on until her eyes rested on a tiny lagoon covered with Weeping Willow trees. Its tiny pier was only visible if you knew what you were looking at. It's nose stuck out right as a Willow leaf ended. Instinctively Samantha grabbed her camera and began snapping black and white photos of what she was seeing. There were little bugs skipping against the water letting the moon beam bounce off of them right to Samantha's camera.

Twenty-seven exposures into the roll of film, Samantha became restless with her far distance angle. Snapping the band onto her camera and slipping that around her neck, she grabbed a few more rolls of film. After slipping them into her pocket, Samantha became twelve years her junior and climbed out of the window, onto the window ledge and silently jumped the twenty feet down. Barely landing on her bare feet she scowled and let a slew of obscenities slip from her mouth. She wiped the rustled dirt from her gown and continued on her quest to take closer pictures of the lagoon. Walking slowly in her old-fashioned linen nightgown she now knew why people loved living in small southern towns. After midnight, no one would dare be awake. Not when they have to get up bright and early to cook breakfast for their entire family. This left Samantha all alone in the wilderness of her thoughts snapping pictures and freezing time as if it were her oyster.

As she approached the trees that blocked the lagoon from easy entrance of harm intending intruders, she could hear the soft hum of an acoustic guitar filling her ears. The sound of the blanched oak instrument ricocheted softly off the water and slid like smoke through the trees. Samantha closed her eyes and turned her delicate face up towards the moonlight. The night was too beautiful. Too peaceful. Too much like the heaven she only wished that she could live in. She felt like she was inside of an exotic vacation picture surrounded by oak trees, Willows, and crisp Latin melodies.

Walking through the murky grass as she pushed past the trees that blocked her view of�whatever was providing such a beautiful atmosphere for her. Overstepping a large root from the waterfront Weepy Willow tree, her eyes traveled down the progression of grass to the sand and mud of the freshwater lagoon. She could feel her feet squishing in the evidence of consistent sprinklers. She giggled quietly, not wanting to alert the master of music�. where ever he was. Samantha still couldn't see. Instead of fretting about where the music came from, she rejoiced in the fact that she indeed had music. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see a tree across the water being blown slightly by the wind. She armed her camera and set her lens exactly parallel to the tree and snapped several pictures. Then she shifted her placement and snapped a few more.

When the wind stopped, Samantha walked along the bank softly swaying to the ambient music the mystery guitarist was playing. A figure caught her peripheral vision. She turned her head inconspicuously as if not to alert whatever it was. When she still could not get a clear picture, she sought refuge in the safety of the dying willow trees before sitting down and focusing on the figure. Her breath hitched into her throat when her eyes focused to the variation of light and darkness between she and the sitting figure, she couldn't see the figures face�but based on the closely cut hair and the stately way it's shoulders relaxed�it was a man. A very handsome man. His fingers long and soft as he delicately strummed the inoffensive instrument. There was no guitar strap holding it to him�he simply sat with his knees cradling the curve of its hip. If she craned her eardrums, she could even hear him humming.

Her eyes were drawn to him. It was as if she were seeing beauty for the first time. In all of her twenty-two years on earth, she'd never seen such a photogenic subject�or artistic subject for that matter. And the fact that she'd found him near a lagoon Millington, Tennessee instead of on the cover of European Elle, made Samantha realize what a crazy world this really is. Picking up her camera she began snapping pictures. Her finger was a madman possessed by greed and envy as her camera gluttonously devoured the man playing the guitar. When she discovered she had run out of film, she quietly cursed the sky before changing the film. She was well into half of the sixty when a serendipitous voice came from his direction. Samantha was startled at first and fell back onto her backside, dirtying her nightgown with mud�but she didn't care. She craned her ears to listen once more and heard it again�this time�the humming was accompanied with words.

You cry openly
When I wish I could
But I've been conditioned
To be misunderstood
I envy your emotions

While you smile so easily
I seek some appeasing
For the frown that never disappears
For the scowl that taunts scornful ears
In envy your happiness

Help me
Goddess of the sweet disease
Let me show feeling
Let me reveal
The grin that appeals
To the joyful
I envy you

With my green monster peeking to say hello
Goodbye to the child
Goodbye to the wild
Goodbye to goodbye's
And the jealousy for the desire to be
Anything other than me�

Samantha covered her mouth as a tear fell slowly down her face. Beautiful and talented. The words pierced her heart sullenly. It was as if he'd read her feelings and put them into a song meant only for the wind. She wanted to run over there and embrace him into a hug. She wanted to tell him that everything would be okay. She wanted to tell him that hurt doesn't last forever. Even though it may appear that it will never end. It is only temporary. But Samantha did none of those things. After all, what refuge could she provide for him? What comforting words of wisdom? She was still clearly unhappy with her life and from what she could see; her unhappiness would last always. So why should she tell the beautiful soul with the guitar that his pain was completely unjustified? She couldn't.

"Hello?" the voice called out startling Samantha "Anyone out there?"

Quietly, Samantha sat in the sanctuary of the trees and damp earth not afraid of being caught but afraid to acknowledge that fact that she'd been listening to his private thoughts. But he was on Nichole's property so Samantha was completely justified in being there. He namelessly called out to her again, this time soothing the rough edges of his voice. Samantha brought her knees up to her chest and crouched tightly as if trying to pass as a turtle.

"Don't be scared, I'm not going to hurt you" the man crooned gently "I just want to know who or what you are" he said almost cynically humorous this time.

Samantha bit her lip and stayed still praying to God the whimpering in her stomach wasn't as loud as she thought it was. She could hear rustling across the lagoon as something entered the water. It lapped softly at the water as if in no hurry to get where it was going. Samantha closed her eyes and prayed once again that it was just a non-human creature. When she heard it climb up the muddy banks of the water and walk across the fallen branches and roots of the surface she now sat on she knew it was indeed human. Swallowing her fear, Samantha waited.

"I can hear you breathing. Why don't you come on out and stop hiding. I promise I won't hurt you"

Looking to her left, Samantha could see Nichole's house no more than a three minute run away. If she moved quickly, she could make it to the darkness of Nichole's house before the man could make out her face. Shifting from her sitting position to a panther looking squatting position, Samantha watched the still unidentified man walking closer and closer to her place under the trees. Digging her polished toes into the damp dirt, Samantha darted past the branches toward her destination.

Her camera continuously popped her chest fierce and heavy blows that although painful did not suspend her race to get to safety. She pumped her tight calves' faster letting pain shoot into her legs. She heard his voice calling still namelessly after her, but she did not stop until she was to Nichole's living room window, where she was out of the sight of the music man.

Smiling, at the challenge of getting back up to her room, Samantha looked at her obstacles. There was neither a drainpipe to give her assistance nor any kind of brick. Because Victorian houses are never built with brick, Samantha was left to make use of the aluminum siding. Grabbing hold of the porch railing, she pushed up with the muscles in the overused muscles in her arms until her feet were firmly planted. She then wrapped herself around the circular column and thrust herself upward as if she were on the pole at work. As she pressed harder she could feel perspiration dripping down her forehead. Slipping a little, she worked quicker, trying in vain to ignore the pain shooting through her arms. Finally reaching the ledge, she used her last bit of strength to pull herself up to the open window. Once securely in, Samantha collapsed on the floor letting the cool wood soothe her burning skin.

When the pain stopped, Samantha put her camera back in its place in the nightstand next to her bed and collapsed blissfully on the bed letting the inviting cool white bed linens absorb every fiber of her skin. Hit with a brick of sanity, she realized her feet were covered with, most likely, caked on dirt. Getting up to wash her feet wasn't an option. They were too sore as were her inner thighs and calf's. Promising herself that she'd wash the sheets in the morning, Samantha let the thought of her filthy feet leave her head.

She rolled onto her stomach with a soft grunt letting her sweating forehead touch the soft pillow. As she buried her face in it, she smiled. The guy at the lagoon drifted into her mind. His music. His voice. They were all so haunting to her. Samantha could practically feel him singing to her. But at the time she was listening, he had no idea that she was lurking in the brush. In her haste to get away from the potentially embarrassing situation, Samantha had forgotten to look at his face. Sure, she had pictures of his silhouette but his actual features were cloaked by the shadow the trees on his side of the lagoon provided. The part of his body that she saw clearly against the light was his hands.

His hands, his hands, she thought lucidly. His hands were pure�pure heaven. The delicate way they stroked the guitar. How they seemed to only gently touch it but the volume of it had been astounding. And when he'd come to seek her out, it was his hands that she saw considerately moving offensive branches away. It was his hands that made her want to�to make herself known. But the imaginary stoic face she'd had in her mind made her run. Run, run and run she did.

"So much for a full night of undisturbed sleeping" she thought turning on her back once more

The drive down from Nashville had been so soothing. It had been Samantha and the declination of hills as she traveled south; alone and uninterrupted. Her thoughts consisted of nothingness. She basked in superficial thoughts of her frazzled hair and finally getting that long avoided perm. Hopefully, the hicks in Millington would be equipped with a salon that carries ISOPLUS permanent. Maybe, she thought carelessly, I'll get my hair died or cut or rodded. Those thoughts carried her throughout the entire three and a half-hour drive.

When she arrived in Millington, her eyes were wide in surprise. She had no idea that it would be as small as it was. She had been as small as it was. She'd been thinking more along the lines of Lancaster. Which was small but large enough to have two sides of town: Southwest bank and Northeast bank. But Millington was indeed an almost shotgun town. When she approached the welcoming sign, it informed her that the population was a little over ten thousand. She laughed out loud and felt the urge to curse Nichole and her new job. Instead, Samantha dwelled on the beauty of the tiny hamlet. The greenery and the smell of fresh grass and creek water. The southern air lingered in her nose, flaring her nostrils. And as she approached Nichole's large house. She almost felt like Millington could be her home.

When she got out of her car, the gardener welcomed her and gave her a key to Nichole's house, informing Samantha that Nichole was in Memphis until tomorrow morning closing up the last leg of her run as the female lead in Memphis Theatre's production of Evita. Samantha had a right mind to drive to Memphis to catch it, but decided against it. She was too tired. Besides, knowing how Nichole lived for critiquing herself during her off seasons, Samantha knew there would be a video of the whole play.

So she fixed herself dinner, watched local television and took a long hot bath in the room next to Nichole's. She kept herself from developing any of the pictures that she'd taken from the road. Samantha had decided that she would dedicate an entire evening of doing absolutely nothing. She changed into her loungewear and completely chilled out. Something she hadn't done in a long time.

And as Samantha finally drifted to sleep during the wee hours of the morning, so tired from her midnight escapade and workout that she didn't hear any of the twigs and wood chips that hit her window and since she was in her bed sleeping deeply, she couldn't see the man she had been running from, standing all the way down on the grass starring up at the only woman in history that had ever run away from him.

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

MORE MORE MORE! I LOVE THIS! (NT) -- Reagan, 21:24:10 11/22/02 Fri
Oh that's soooo GOOD!!! Can't wait until Tues. or Wed! -- Z, 21:35:47 11/22/02 Fri