In Pursuit of a Diamond [On Hold]

In Pursuit of a Diamond (Chapter 10)

Brief word from the author:

Dear Reader,

I really need feedback! It doesn't help me to have a few people scan through the story, and leave the work at that. This is my first time writing a lengthy story (I'm practicing a bit of self-discipline here), or a fantasy story. This is also my first time sharing a story of my own invention with strangers around the world before letting anyone else see it first. I've never been entirely comfortable sharing my writing, due to fear of it being, well, not very good. I want to know if my fears are justified. If you like what you read, please, please, don't hesitate to vote or comment. If you liked it but don't want other people to know, feel free to send me a private message; my oh-so-vacant inbox anxiously awaits you. If you didn't like it, don't be brutal, but I encourage you to give me some suggestions, maybe tell me where you think the plot should go from where you left off. I want to know what you think of the conflict, what you think of the characters. Basically, the more (hopefully good) opinions you have, the better!

Thank you so much for choosing to give my story a chance. And thank you in advance for any feedback.

Yours in spirit,

RaeF1994

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Leslie stood beside Berta and Dulcie at the Billigflüge terminal in München. It seemed almost like the American airports she was used to back at home, except that all the flights were being announced in German.

Berta and Dulcie were talking animatedly to each other. Berta seemed to have long forgotten her argument with Aubrey. Leslie had ceased trying to converse with the two women during lunch; Berta hardly spoke a word of English the entire time. Although, Leslie was not sure that she would have been altogether comfortable even with a conversation going. The restaurants in Germany were very cramped, and rather than finding an open table, one would just sit down in any open space next to total strangers. Dulcie had ordered a Kalte Platte from the Kellnerin, and it turned out to be a platter of assorted meats. Berta and Dulcie had dug right in, but Leslie had had a bad experience with German meat at an Oktoberfest celebration in Aurora a few years prior, so her lunch consisted entirely of buttered Brötchen.

Leslie felt as though she had been waiting forever when the announcement finally came over the intercom. "Flug dreihundert achtundzwanzig aus München zu Denver ist jetzt Boarding."

"That's your flight," Berta said, knowing that Leslie hadn't understood the announcement, "I suppose you'd better get going."

"Yeah, I suppose," Leslie replied, standing up. She felt very odd boarding a plane with so little luggage. All she had with her were her clothes from yesterday in a small laundry bag, and a doggie bag with leftovers from the Kalte Platte that Berta had thought might keep her from becoming hungry on the flight home; Leslie had been too polite to refuse.

Leslie got into the line beside the other passengers, all lugging along suitcases and duffel bags and backpacks. She turned back to Berta. "Are you absolutely sure that you want to pay for my flight home?" she asked, "I'm sure that I could arrange something to pay you back-"

"You'll do no such thing," Berta said, giving Leslie a small departure hug. "It's not your fault that you found yourself on the opposite side of the Atlantic Ocean. If Aubrey had any money to his name, I'd make him pay for it in a heartbeat. But since he doesn't, we're both more than willing to lend a hand."

"Alright, then, if you're sure," Leslie replied, handing the attendant her ticket, "Good-bye, Berta. Auf Wiedersehen, Dulcie."

"Wir wünschen eine gute Heimreise," Dulcie said brightly.

"You too," Leslie said, having no idea what Dulcie had just told her. She took up her bags and left onto the plane.

Berta and Dulcie waved as Leslie boarded the plane, then stayed in the airport until the plane had taken flight. They then proceeded out to the parking lot, where their station wagon stood waiting for them.

The two women were silent for a good deal of the drive, until Dulcie finally said, speaking in German, "This must all be very strange for her, mustn't it?"

"Mustn't what?" Berta asked, also in German, her eyes still fixed on the road.

"Oh, you know," Dulcie replied, "She finds herself hundreds of miles away from home in the space of a moment, only to learn about a magical war raging between sorcerers, and witnesses sorcery herself. Then, she flies back home as though it doesn't make any difference at all."

"I doubt that it's really sunk in yet," Berta said, "She seemed to be taking it so easily. I can bet that sometime soon it's going to hit her like a ton of bricks, and she'll end up admitted to a mental home or something. Poor Miss Hawkins."

"Und wie," Dulcie nodded.

They rest of the drive was silent. This was the way the Bramwells preferred it. Once they were out of the traffic of München, the scene around them was a very peaceful one. They always found the steady drone and lack of artificial lights on the highway very serene, and since they rarely left their cottage, it was worth their while to drink it in. The climb up the mountain was even more tranquil, since they did not drive on the main tourist road in order to reach their home, and thus were usually the only ones on the route.

It was Dulcie who first noticed that something was wrong. As Berta navigated the station wagon to the back of the cottage, Dulcie gave her a sharp nudge. "What?" Berta asked, turning.

"You didn't leave the front door open when we left, did you?"

"No, of course not," Berta pulled the keys out of the ignition and stepped out of the car, Dulcie following suit.

"Aubrey would have sense to keep it closed, wouldn't he?" Dulcie asked.

"Yes but what on-" Berta began, then stopped as she turned the corner of the house to find the front door standing wide open. "Come on," she ordered briskly to Dulcie, and the two of them went into the house.

Stepping over the threshold, they beheld a room with the appearance of having been the target of a windstorm. The furniture had all been rearranged, some toppled completely over. The drawers of the desk and lampstand were open, their contents strewn carelessly about. Books had been tossed off the bookshelf, and several figurines that had stood innocently upon the mantel now lay shattered on the floor. The kitchen, they found, was in no better state, the contents of every drawer and cabinet having been haphazardly rummaged through and ineptly replaced.

"We've been robbed," Dulcie said, in a semi-awestruck whisper.

"Dulcie," Berta uttered softly, "go check upstairs; see if they took anything. I'll call the police."

Dulcie nodded and proceeded obediently up the stairs while Berta found the phone buried under a table and a good deal of dishes, many of them broken, some of them moving feebly, trying to return themselves to their place in the cabinet. She called the police department in München and carefully spelled out directions to the cottage. When she finished and hung up, she found Dulcie standing in the doorway of the kitchen. "Is anything missing?" Berta asked anxiously.

"Yes," Dulcie replied detachedly, "Aubrey."