Violet Rea and The World Begginging.
Short Story:
God strike me down.
Rebellion suffocation blow.
The tremendous world away.
Save me from this awful place.
A dignity figure of a girl murmurs to a sufficiently self perfect reflection. Her lightly bronzed skin and ravishing chestnut colored ringlets gleaming in the scarlet vanity. The utterly devastated mixture of dismissal and remorse echo back at her. The face peering into this sublime mirror is mine. Violet Rea Chamberson. To state some facts, I’m a 16 year old girl who once lived in the lovely town of Dover, Tennessee with my rather wealthy family, and whose life was completely ruined one angry blurt of self deceiving words.
This afternoon at 11:55 Its going happen. The world is about to blow, with my fragile life at its peak. Its all going to end, with a few simple words.
Undoubtedly my greatest fear is going to accrue, like it does almost every 12th Tuesday in May. Sitting down to another cryptic brunch of overly flavored tea and crummy finger food with my, ever so wonderful, Aunt Eliza. Now don’t get me wrong, Its not like I completely hate my aunt Eliza. Its more of a mutual distasted for each other. We’ve never seemed to get along, from the day I was 4 and vomited on her new European sweater, up to the point when I was 14 and slapped for using the word “createn” in a contradicting fashion.
One thing you must understand is that my aunt Eliza is not a very forgiving person, to say the least. She harbors things that normal human beings would simply let go. I see her as a bitter old women who clearly either has never been loved or spawned from Satan himself. She is, the epitome of evil. Everything about her screams wicked old hag. From her glazed over green eyes to her wrinkly overly tanned skin. I swear she sucks the soul right out of you. Now that I think about it, that’s probably the reason she’s been divorced a total of, what is it, eight times now?
Anyway the rest of my family is wonderful and my mothers a total doll, I never quite understood how they were related. That is until the one day, the day my life was dissolved into a million shattered pieces. I hadn’t realized up until then how aunt Eliza was slowly seeping into my parents subconscious’s and poisoning their very minds over a series of visits every 12th Tuesday in May. Or how shed simply change everything in my life for the worst or maybe, just maybe, the better?
Chapter 1
Hmmm…What should I wear? I thought to myself. Well, what would tick Aunty off the most? I decided on a short floral Gucci dress that ended just above my knee’s. Mother had always told me I was one of the very few girls in the world that had such a wonderful frame and that I should be proud of my model figure, I was more reluctant though. Although I despised showing so much skin, I knew aunty would hate it even more. I also knew that she was bound to have a chat with my father about my revealing clothing choice and how a proper lady would never show that much leg no matter how gorgeous. Oh well, sucks for him. My dad’s to much of a push over to take anything so seriously anyway. That’s probably how I got away with so much. Or maybe it’s the fact that he simply has to much going on to talk about fashion with his only daughter, let alone talk to her at all.
After fixing a slight mascara malfunction, I made my way down to the corridor. As I open the rustic style doors to the terrace I noted the smell of chi-tea and sweet scones. In the middle of the huge plaza like setting sat my mother sipping her tea looking rather pleasant in her sea foam green cardigan and white flow dress. To the right of her was my father clearly consumed in work chatting on his blackberry. Of chores across the table with a smug look on her face sat the wicked witch herself. I steadily moved past the waiter placing grapes on an oval glass looking plate I‘d clearly never seen before, I wonder if it was crystal or that cheap plastic stuff. Aunty stared at my appearance, overlooking it with grave detail. I sat, waiting for some repugnant comment to eject from her wine stained lips. I thought that maybe she wouldn’t say anything but then,
“You know my dear Violet, when I was a girl it was demeaned as improper to show so much skin.” Aunty said take a huge sloppy sip of tea. I hope she burnt herself.
“Well Aunty, I’m sure that was a very long time ago, things are different now” I empathized the word “very“. Mother tried to hide her giggling.
“hmph, well if you continue to speak in such a rude manner to me, then I’ll see it fit to leave.”
“now, now, Eliza she was merely making a slight joke no need to be so predictable” my mother chimed in before I could tell the old hag to go ahead and leave, that I didn’t want her there in the first place. I had things I needed to do that were far more important than chatting with this hell bent witch about the latest trends.
“fine, I wouldn’t want to leave my most wonderful sister because of a misbehaving child and a couple of snair comments, that might I add, match your clothing choice ” she spat. I should have kept my mouth shut after that. that’s what I should have done. I didn’t of chores.
“I’m not a child, I’m seventeen, don’t you remember Aunty or is your Alzheimer’s acting up in your old age?” I said with a cheap since of sarcasm and a slight smile. I should not have said that. She was clearly angry with my remark, her nostrils flared. I have to say it was historical to see her that way.
“Violet” my mother said in a light shock tone. “ Its fine Alane, I would suspect this much from her, having been raised in such a posh environment with no disciplinary actions.” “it’s a miracle she isn’t in a juvenile detention by now, with such audacious clothing people might get the wrong idea. Not to mention your bad parenting, I mean really Alane you should have raised better” That was it. I hated when she did that. Talking like I wasn’t even there. Like my mother was the reasoning for this hole ordeal between us. That was it, I was done. I stood up and said the first words that could come out of my mouth “You stupid witch, this has nothing to do with mom or dad, why don’t you just go back the hell were you came from and leave us all alone!” I screamed. Those words were shouted in my angry stoop and It took me a moment to refrain what I had just said. I looked around the table, my fathers mouth was agape his blackberry still for the first time in years, my mothers with a horrified expression sat hands clutching the table, as if I had just killed Aunty right then and their.
“I…I…” I felt the overwhelming rush of emotion that fled my body, my eyes began to feel heavy. Anger rushed though my veins sending my heart beating a thousand thumps per minute. I ran into the house and into the kitchen area. I closed my eyes. “Violet Rea, get back here and apologies this minute!” my mother shout echoing past the doors. There was no way I could face Aunty after that and I surly wasn’t going to apologies; plus she obviously started it in the first place. How could mom take her side after what she said about us, her none the less.
“no, Alane, I clearly see what’s wrong with that girl now, her apologizing wont teach anything, I could see this coming from the day she was born. She’s a bad egg. But things like this can be fixed” Aunty said. Surprising, she didn’t even have to decency to say my name. I was frozen though. No movement. I could hear their conversation. I don’t know if I was meant to though.
“This is regrettable behavior on her part, I think it would be better if you refrained to what we spoke about earlier.” what did they talk about? I could imagine my mother right then and their with a very sad disposition about her as the words flouted from her mouth.
“But, Eliza, sister I don’t…how could I…are you sure it’d be for the best?” she sounded regretful. This couldn’t be good news.
“Yes, it’s the best option for this behavior” Aunty said very solemnly.
Footsteps?
“Then its settled, she’ll have to gather her things tomorrow.” my father low voice chimed in , synchronizing with the beep of his blackberry.
Chapter 2
“Violet, do you have all your things?” Alice (our maid) called up to my room.
“yes, I’ll be right down.” hastily I through my cell phone into my overly sized duffle bag, flung it over my left shoulder like a carrion and started my descend down our grand staircase.
If I forgot to tell you, the thing that I hadn’t heard and Auntie’s proposition to make me into a better young women was to ship me away to Tombrige Prep for the summer. A very large and expensive reform school that my parents informed me was “for the best”. Yeah right, they just wanted me gone I could tell I was beginning to be a burden on there “perfect“ lifestyle. Did I not mention Auntie would be going to, science she not only paid for half the school but was on the board of directors. This couldn’t get any worse. At the bottom of the stairs stood my father holding a rather large bouquet of white orchids. Like my favorite flower would make it any better, my mother was no were to be seen. Of chores she wouldn’t want to see my facade face of disappointment leaving at her cost, her fault. Although I did see my fathers new set of golf clubs sitting by the door, he was going to go golf after shipping me away? No, he wouldn’t do that, would he? Aunty stood with an unnerving smile spread across her miserable looking face. I could almost say she looked happy. The first time seeing her smile and it was the day she got me to leave, what a witch.
After the shockingly dull ride to the airport with nothing but my I-pod to entertain me, I boarded the number 25 flight to Brunswick, Maine. That’s were the reform school was supposedly at, Aunty would be arriving at a later date apparently. Who knows though they could have just sent me off to never be seen again. Or aunty could have hired a hit man, oh well. I stretched to my couch seat, grabbed my phone from the duffle bag and threw it in the baggage carrier above. My phone made a slight beeping noise and I checked the message. It was from Mom, all it said was some lady named Mrs. Berlin was going to be picking me up at the next airport. What a weird name B-E-R-L-I-N sounded like the city, I wonder what her ancestors were thinking, how cliché`. For the next few minutes I sat back and watch the other passengers board the plain. For some reason no one had been assigned the seat next to mine? Maybe they just got lost and missed the flight.
“Passengers please fascine you seat belts; and turn all cellular devices off at this time” the intercom beeped repetitively. I clicked my phone off right after my last message sent. I had sent a seriously long letter to my best friend Lauren saying how I couldn’t make it to the latest party and all the crap that’s happened to me the last few days and how I‘d contact her when I could.
I sat on the plane for about twenty minutes just staring out the window. The land curved and ripped a clean cut from one yard to another. Why is it that everything looks much more brilliant and violently designed when having a birds eye view? The colors were vibrant until we hit the coast. Then it was ocean, nothing but pure blue ocean. The water sparkled with a mysterious way about it, I always loved the ocean I’ve only been to the beach a select number of times though. I wish I could have gone more. The plain ride slowly stretched on, I began to drift asleep. The last thing I remember is the nonchalant hum of the plain.
“The flights is over miss.” a numbing voice said softly. I opened my eyes to see a rather nice stewardess gazing back at me. “Oh sorry, I’m up, I’m up” I mumbled. She help me find my bag and guided me off the plain, and their it was. The it I was referring to was a tall, glum, overly dressed Lady that introduced herself in a raspy cold voice as “Mrs. Berlin.” God help me.
Chapter 3
It was about a three hour drive of tensioned silence and nothing but the buzz of the road being swept back before us, we arrived at a tall ordained building set right on the coast of the ocean. “Wow” the words escaped from my mouth. “Yes, wow indeed, this is the most expensive and honored reform school in the country my dear, your lucky to be here“ Mrs. Berlin squawked. “lucky, right” I said gloomily.
Death Before Life
A Short Story:
Who came up with this whole last words stuff anyway? Like think about it, kind of pathetic right. The very last sentence you take before your final breath, the words tickling between this world and the next. That simple phrase that seems to cling to everyone in the distance, submerging into one’s self-conscious to grow into a life altering change of mind. It really isn’t fair. It’s not like I chose to die or anything, let alone have such a cheesy line for my demise. From now on I’ll be remembered as the fairly confused girl, with no goals, no plan, and underwhelming low self confidence who seemed to have very little time in this world. And for those who don’t know me enough, the dead girl of Donavill high.
Its completely ridiculous, the term “dead” that is. I mean, yeah I’m technically dead but its not like I don’t have feelings too. Anyways, as I’m laying in this pink station wood edged coffin for all eternity or at least until nine thirty, I might as well tell you a little story. Now don’t worry this isn’t one of those boring overdid biographies you’re English teacher assigns you for no good reason or a sappy romance that no-one can ever stomach. But instead, a thrilling novel pined with disastrous consequences, a mysterious death, and a totally killer prologue by yours truly.
Chapter 1
First lets rewind to the backdrop of this lovely story, my birth name is Elizabeth Mcjames, and my death was no accident. At the ripe old age of 17 I was brutally ripped from my wonderful life and smuggled into a world of lies, hatred , and a killer need for revenge. All brought on by a mysterious turn of events that crippled my vary being.
My story begins at the loosely knit halls of Donavill High, nestled in the sleepy town of Mitchellgon, Florida. Were pretty small towns people lived in an even smaller town. Not a lot seemed to go on. The still water of the damp marshes creped into a small shallow pool, mosey oaks cloaked the forest floor leaving a slight salty smell that stuck to everything in its path. Covered by clouds most of the time, except for that ever so rare glisten of sunshine that blinked from house to house like beacon shining through the dense foggy night. Like most small towns, everyone seemed to talk, giggling gossip form one house the next. It spread, like a rippling pond, but soon died out into calmer waters. Much like my death.
“Elsie, over here!” Molly boomed from across the cafeteria. Her flat blond hair tousling over a florescent pink v-neck polo. You know at first glance you would have suspected that she and I were the closest of friends. That we grew up knowing each other to have such a tight friendship that it would seem only people who have grown over time together could obtain. But the truth of the matter was that I had only met Molly a few weeks ago. She was a recent exchange student from who knows were, and I’d been paired with her for an art assignment when we met. From her appearance that day I remember thinking “this girls got to be a total slut.” Yeah I seriously regret that now. Over a period of four days we’d kind of bonded and both discovered our similar tastes in classical movies and our overwhelming love for macaroni and ham sandwiches.
Nudging my way through the overly populated cafeteria. I noticed Hana in her Vienna coffee sweater, ripening apart her oversized, over processed, bagel as though she had some kind of bubbling furry toward the two hundred calories it possessed. Hana was know to be a completely unconventional girl to say the least, with her midnight black hair and sweater ambience. She had always had a small frame standing 5`½ feet with the weight of a penny. But don’t let her demeanor fool you she’s actually the head of the cheering squad and ASB president. I carefully slid into the unoccupied seat next to Molly. When Violet, with a very enthusiastic look on her makup-stained face, plopped her tray right in between us. I scooted to the left, I should have know better, she always had any seat separating Molly and me reserved. Or so it seemed. I’d known Violet for almost forever; we went to pre-k together and by her expression I knew their was something she was dieing to tell me. But right as she began to speak, Hana blurted “ What are they trying to do, kill us! I mean they seriously don’t expect us to eat this right?” in an overly obnoxious voice. “What are you even talking about, Bambi?” Violet hushed. “I’m talking about this infernal three million calorie death bomb in my hand” She shouted shaking the deformed bagel through the air. “Oh its not that bad.” chimed Molly taking a bite of strawberry yogurt. “Yeah, says the girl eating over granulated cows milk, that can be toxic you know!”. “Oh please, kids in Africa would kill for this over granulated cows milk” she argued pushing the spoon full of yogurt at Hana. “ let the kids in Africa have it then” Hana said as she pushed the spoon away making a vomiting expression. Great I had just sat in on another one of the Hana vs. Molly moments, neither of them ever get any kind of point across. “I’d be happy to ship you their to give it to them, maybe then you’d appreciate what you have” Molly boomed. “Like hell I’d ever go anywhere were their forced to eat that crap” Hana disclaimed. I thought the simple dispute would go on forever, when Violet practically squealed “Shut up, both of you, I have a much more important topic to discuss!”. “ What is it, the color of your nails” Molly said sarcastically. “Come on guys, what is it Violet?” I said, really I hated that, having to intervene and be the good guy. “ Well the gossip around the hall is that theirs some totally hot new seniors, just dieing to be dated.” Violet said. “ Like Brad Pitt hot?” Hana asked. “Hotter.” Violet whispered. “So, who cares” I really shouldn’t have said that, the words just kind of slipped out though and once in the air they multiplied, causing a disarray of confusion to sweep across my friends faces. “What do you mean who cares! Their extremely attractive men Elsie, tell me your not going gay on us” No I wasn’t going “gay” on them. I just didn’t see the point in getting involved with people whom I had not connection with. “Ew, no. But why go chasing after them like a bunch of lost puppies, do you want to seem desperate?” I said with a small hope that the statement would ward the idea of whatever plan Violet had cooked up.
“Come on your just afraid of rejection!” Violet said looking rather angry. “No, shes completely right, and what if their like duche-bags?” Hana voiced making me feel completely grateful to have such a friend. The bell chimed blocking out Violets descending voice. “Well talk about this later” she ended as we all split up making way towards are next classes.
As I make my way up the stares I notice Molly isn’t fallowing me, witch is weird considering we have the same upcoming advanced chem. Class. I decide to mark it off cuse she usually skips at least one of her classed to help aid PE., or so to say, flirt with the lacrosse team. Once in class I slowly move to the seat regarded as “mine” even though we don’t have a seating chart, everyone has their own place in the room. You know the seat with their intended “cliques”. I sit next to a smug girl named Lauren and an a boy named Brandon with an overly exaggerated smile. But since Molly’s failed to show the seat behind me is empty. Damn her I think. How dare she leave me with these people, I don’t particularly hate them, but I don’t like them all that much either. The bell begins to ring and Mrs. Charson starts her morning lecture. “Oh god please send something interesting“ I whisper. Nothing, not a single unfitted glimmer of hope for something that will bring me though this dreadful class. Mrs. Charson lecture almost bores me to death, no seriously she speaks in such a monition voice that even the dead would have died if they hadn’t already been dead. Then halfway through a rather refreshing speech about the periodic table, right as I start to nod off the door of our class swings open in a calm kind of way that distracts everyone from their near death experience. Standing the doorway was…
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