Silence and Audra - Chapter 1

Kay. Another story by yours truly. Me! Hope you like it. And it might be boring in the beginning. Sooorrrryyy.
-Zella

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It seems like I've been having the dreams since before I could possibly dream. I can just imagine it now, a little tinny me inside my mother's stomach, dreaming the dreams that now seem to haunt the living crap out of me in a constant and maddening non-stop pattern.

They're almost all pictures and images, fragments of bigger seens that i look down upon like a weird out of body experience. It was like a film, starring me, scarred shitless out of my own dreams while I actually watch them.

Oh wait, does that make seance? Oh well.

In the dream there was always a house, or mansion as i liked to call it. It looked like a mansion from Steven King's Rose Red. It was just smaller and even though it looked lively, it had a seance of sorrow to it that showed in the very gothic like walls and arches and window panes. As if the house itself was weeping.

It had a gate that was so wide and so tall, that it looked like it was trying to keep something in, or out. And in the curved wrote iron steal were two letters, Z.E. in elegant handwriting.

Behind the gate was a huge looped drive that wound around a large working fountain that help a child-like angel on it, spitting out water form his cute stone mouth. Then the sorrowful but alive mansion, with the proper amount of roses and weeds on it, would disappear.

Then, like a mental slam, I would see the rooms, have memories of the rooms and what they were. The house itself was huge, with large spacious rooms and much to many of them. Shaped like a box that centered around an inside and outside garden, were four walls and over 100 rooms.

Then more rooms. Of a grand entrance hall with stooped ceilings and roman pillars. OF the parlor on the immediate right. Of the stairs at the back of the parlor. Of the long row of luxury rooms and libraries to the left. Of the kitchen at the back of the house, with the the cellar and doors to the gardens. Of the bedrooms of the building. Of the guest houses on the hole right wing. Of the servants rooms on the hole left wing. And rows of rent-out-business rooms in the back.

The other images were faces. They blurred and went to fast for me to see them fully. I only saw a female with black hair, a female with brown hair, and a male with starling green-gold eyes.

Another image. This time of a small but tidy room above the kitchen, with a slanted roof and wooden floors. The windows were different colors and they sent dancing squares of color across the blue walls of decoration. The room was perfect. Perfect for living. Perfect for playing. And perfect for escaping out of through the kitchen's roof.

The faces showed again, an unseen as before. But the black haired girl remained for another second or two, letting me study her more. It was a face I saw every time I looked in the mirror. But slightly different.

Her skin was just as pale, snow pale like it never saw the light of day. Her eyes were just as silvery black, like her irises and pupil mixed together and couldn't decide to be silver or black, so they just truced a hematite like color. Her hair was just as black as mine, sending rainbows into the air when light touched it, and it hung in the same array of tumbling curls with the same high roots.

But unlike me, her hair came down to her butt and had dine pearls and jewels strung through it. Also, her eyes seemed to shine more, more mischievous that what I normally saw, like she had a secret I didn't. And she looked so helpless and delicate in her old dress from the early 1900's, with lace and a lot of pink. She looked like a tall, willowy doll. Just like me...

Then the image of the Other Me grew into a wider perspective and I saw the room above the kitchen, the perfect room. While I watched myself but unable to make her stop fretting about her already perfect hair.

I watched as the Other Me walked around her room, restless until she found a comb. When she grabbed the comb, everything went blank and I felt mentally hit by a huge truck that probably had something to do with freaking out as I was slapped back into my own body.

I woke up to a ceiling as average as any ceiling. But for one dizzy second I didn't recognize the swirls and strokes of the cement and white paint. Where was the comforting wooden planks? The bare blue walls with squares of different colored light?

Then I realized that this was my room. And this is where i belong. Where I should be. I sighed and got up, looking over at the rising sun like I always did when I woke up, because my schedule was f-ed up.

As I got up, I wondered why dreams have to be some much better than reality. So much more real. So much more exiting. I would love to have a simple old life in a mansion instead of having my party-all-night-and-through-the-morning kind of life.

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That day after school, both me and my sister Rebeca- Beck- got letters from out Grandma.

It was strange, to get a letter from an old hag who was as cold and evil as Medea, but older... and on menopause. Yeah, women on menopause always seem angrier, more than even being on a normal period. Even though I was pretty sure she was done with that by now, since the old hag was already 65 or so. But what did I know?

Here's how I sum up all the BS that Grandma Eve has done. Like disowning her daughter because she married someone she wanted to marry. Sueing her daughter and husband when they have Becky. And then ignoring April- her daughter- and her family even as she had two little boys and adopted another daughter, me. She even sent a letter to April when her father died, telling her not to come for the funeral.

Now, staring at the two envelops on the counter, I just wanted to throw then into a blender or something (maybe I should be more creative... like a microwave... or the ground... or maybe I'll feed it to the dogs...). Maybe I could even get a magician to make them disappear! It was obvious who got which letter even though one was entitled to Smith, John- my father's last name-, and the other to Loud which was the name I kept from my real family.

One letter was in a black envelope and a red old fashioned seal, that one was out to me, Silence Loud. The other was in a white envelope with a blue seal that just read Smith on the front. The black envelope looked gothic in contrast to the other, brighter one.

I smiled, knowing it was the kind of smile that got me the nick name, Wild Silence, as I thought of an idea. and began my work.

April walked down the stairs and in the kitchen, catching me trying to bake the letters in the oven. She unfortunately saved them before they even caught on fire, even a little. I frowned and turned off the oven while she opened the letters. I sighed and walked to my favorite seat at the kitchen counter, waiting.

As April read, her pretty face paled ever so slightly. Not a good sign. As she read, Becky came down the stairs. I watched her, noticing that she looked like some kind of.. I don't know, princess ballerina faerie girl.

Her skin was tan, flawless. Her face as delicate looking as an egg shell. Her hair was light and feathery and the color of actual gold. Her eyes like round clear blue plates. She smiled at me, and said, "Hey."

April gently put the letters down. "Becky, Silence." She said, "Your going to your Grandmothers."

Becky's eyes lit up while mine slit down in anger. "Sure." Becky said at the same time I demanded. "Is this some tip of punishment?"

Becky sighed, then sat down while April nodded. "Of course."

"What!" I asked, "My grades haven't slipped. I'm not pregnant!"-yet, ha ha-" I haven't done drugs!" I said. "Why in the hell should I be punished so cruelly by going to see Grandma Eve?" I asked.

"Because," My mother's voice was stricter than I had ever heard it before. "you always come home in the early hours of the mourning, sometimes not at all. I have no idea what you do and I'm always worried that one day you wont come home at all!" She said.

I rolled my eyes. I knew I was cornered. I had no way to defend myself against that. "I'm not going." I pointed out. "You can't make me go against my will!"

"I'm going." Becky pointed out.

Two day's latter me and Becky were on a plane ride to an island that held the devil.