Wake, Chapter One
I got good feedback. :D Got comments? Criticisms? Ass-backwards insults? Post them here. PS - 'Air' is French for ass, I believe. That's what my dictionary told me, anyway.
Chapter One
Just a boy, when his new life began. His sister, barely a woman. That girl - Nancy, wasn't it? - she looked so much like her. So much like Belle.
Shaking his head, Jack pulled his car into a driveway, stabbing keys into the door and dragging himself inside. No, no - he couldn't go there again. Once he thought of her, he'd sleep with nightmares till dawn. Still, his mind spoke, and he listened.
Just barely a woman, yet already pregnant - by a foreigner, no less.
She didn't tell him then, but he knew, now, that she was raped. The thought made his heart and eyes sting. She was fourteen, doe-eyed and kind. It frightened him, at times, that he was forgetting her features - that was why Nancy so shocked him - but perhaps it was for the best.
All he could remember was the sounds, smells, textures. She asked him to climb the tree, to help her tie a rope. The knot twisted so easily in his boyish hands, leaving splinters in his fingers. Wind whispered, and not far off he could hear his mother, singing as she crushed grapes beneath her feet.
He couldn't have known. This was his only comfort. He could not remember the moment between his tying and her drop - just the thud of her weight, collapsing and snapping. His fear as he tumbled from the tree, clutching his arm and screaming for Mamma.
He had helped his sweet sister tie the noose where she would hang.
After that, his life became filled with death. A boyish determination to save his sister grew into experiments, occult practice, psychic consultation. Then, four years after an experiment with immortality, he realized that he had not aged.
Jack shook his head, busying himself with hot coffee before releasing himself to a couch. That was the past, past, past. And this...
"Sunny tomorrow, with a chance of light showers..."
"Bah." Jack rolled his eyes, biting his lip to keep from thinking of his past once again. "You're wrong. My elbow itches, and that mean's rain. Lot's of it. Air." The Weatherman didn't seem to mind his French, and happily continued to spew bad puns as Jack lay his head on the arm of his chair, eyes beginning to grow heavy.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he'd have more work to do. Best get some sleep.
With this, he found his head nodding, and knew no more.
_____________
She watched him with fascination, iridescent eyes glittering in the dark.
Gently, she drew a slender, pale finger along his cheekbone. He mumbled, but did not stir.
So this was him.
Somehow, she had expected someone with a bit more presence.
Golden locks tumbled around his weary head, Jacques had the air of a tired young boy. She had expected - a black cloak? A wicked laugh, and upturned nose, a magic staff and screaming princess?
With a giggle, she moved from him, eyes smiling through grey bangs.
No. This was them man - she could feel it. But what to do?
He stirred, eyes flickering, lips twisting. He cried aloud, a name she could not decipher, but already knew. Belle.
She would watch him, for a time yet. When the moment came, she would make her move. And, until then... she could wait. She slipped to the window, sliding her thin body over the railing, giving him one last glance as he began to snore.
...She could wait. After all, they both had all the time in the world.
Just a boy, when his new life began. His sister, barely a woman. That girl - Nancy, wasn't it? - she looked so much like her. So much like Belle.
Shaking his head, Jack pulled his car into a driveway, stabbing keys into the door and dragging himself inside. No, no - he couldn't go there again. Once he thought of her, he'd sleep with nightmares till dawn. Still, his mind spoke, and he listened.
Just barely a woman, yet already pregnant - by a foreigner, no less.
She didn't tell him then, but he knew, now, that she was raped. The thought made his heart and eyes sting. She was fourteen, doe-eyed and kind. It frightened him, at times, that he was forgetting her features - that was why Nancy so shocked him - but perhaps it was for the best.
All he could remember was the sounds, smells, textures. She asked him to climb the tree, to help her tie a rope. The knot twisted so easily in his boyish hands, leaving splinters in his fingers. Wind whispered, and not far off he could hear his mother, singing as she crushed grapes beneath her feet.
He couldn't have known. This was his only comfort. He could not remember the moment between his tying and her drop - just the thud of her weight, collapsing and snapping. His fear as he tumbled from the tree, clutching his arm and screaming for Mamma.
He had helped his sweet sister tie the noose where she would hang.
After that, his life became filled with death. A boyish determination to save his sister grew into experiments, occult practice, psychic consultation. Then, four years after an experiment with immortality, he realized that he had not aged.
Jack shook his head, busying himself with hot coffee before releasing himself to a couch. That was the past, past, past. And this...
"Sunny tomorrow, with a chance of light showers..."
"Bah." Jack rolled his eyes, biting his lip to keep from thinking of his past once again. "You're wrong. My elbow itches, and that mean's rain. Lot's of it. Air." The Weatherman didn't seem to mind his French, and happily continued to spew bad puns as Jack lay his head on the arm of his chair, eyes beginning to grow heavy.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he'd have more work to do. Best get some sleep.
With this, he found his head nodding, and knew no more.
_____________
She watched him with fascination, iridescent eyes glittering in the dark.
Gently, she drew a slender, pale finger along his cheekbone. He mumbled, but did not stir.
So this was him.
Somehow, she had expected someone with a bit more presence.
Golden locks tumbled around his weary head, Jacques had the air of a tired young boy. She had expected - a black cloak? A wicked laugh, and upturned nose, a magic staff and screaming princess?
With a giggle, she moved from him, eyes smiling through grey bangs.
No. This was them man - she could feel it. But what to do?
He stirred, eyes flickering, lips twisting. He cried aloud, a name she could not decipher, but already knew. Belle.
She would watch him, for a time yet. When the moment came, she would make her move. And, until then... she could wait. She slipped to the window, sliding her thin body over the railing, giving him one last glance as he began to snore.
...She could wait. After all, they both had all the time in the world.
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