Chapter 22 – Drosselmeyer’s Dialect
Fakir burst through the hallway door like a firework and then proceeded to run down hallway at top speed, with Duck and Drosselmeyer slowly in tow.
Light played across the hard plains of his face, striping his skin like bars and curving over his figure. Drosselmeyer wheezed behind him and Duck dashed up to Fakir and yelled at him, “Fa-Fakir!? I don’t understand! Where are you going!?” Fakir kept his head forward, focussed on his destination.
“It’s a riddle!” Fakir called back. Drosselmeyer groaned.
“WE KNOW! That is a classic brainteaser, It’s been around for decades!”
“How do you know?” Duck frowned back at him.
“I WROTE IT!” Duck gasped, “This is why I don’t understand his method! It is simply too simple to figure out, and I know for a fact that Carabosse knows I wrote the riddle! Which what I don’t understand!” he stumbled as he tripped over his feet.
“It’s pretty straight forward actually,” Fakir said turning to the left, Duck skidding after him; huffing, “the grammar is deliberately crap!”
“I beg your pardon young man!”
“There are five spelling mistakes!” Fakir slammed into the door of the library, grasping the door handle and violently thrusting it open. The library was empty, as usual. Fakir swiped his hand across an adjacent table clearing it of all books and papers, then slamming the paper down. He leant over the table, a bead of sweat trickled down the bridge of his nose.
“And *gasp* what relevance *gasp* does that have!?” The old man collapsed on his desk.
“coe, yo, happines, grl and whih… obviously meant to be the words come, you, happiness, girl and which” Duck panted over to Fakir and slumped onto the floor beside Fakir.
“So?” she grumbled into the floor. Duck looked up at Fakir; expecting a cold shoulder or bone rattling razor glare from Fakir… instead her stomach stirred uneasily as a soft affectionate smile tickled her skin*is he smiling at me right now?*
“Think about it… what letters were missing from the mistakes? coMe, yoU, happinesS, gIrl and whiCh… put those words together, and?” Duck was frozen in his stare, something strange lingered there; like the reminiscence of a rotting notion. Drosselmeyer snapped his fingers.
“M, U, S, I, C!”
“Music Room, number 5… 5 being the amount of letters in the word,” all three heads turned abruptly to the tower of books where Autor once occupied; and once again, “it also happens to be the same music room Fakir and Duck shared their first kiss...” Autor snapped a book closed and condescendingly peered from above his glasses. Duck’s face flushed red as she remembered exactly what happened that day…
~
“I don’t know! I’m just stupid! I don’t know what I think I might know! I’m just a character in your creepy granddad’s story! I don’t even know why I am here! All I wanted was to make Mytho happy and become prima ballerina like Rue! But you’re so confusing! I didn’t mean to meet you here and now I hate you-” she was cut off when Fakir crushed his lips against hers.
^What the hell am I doing…^
*What the heck am I doing!*
Fakir loosened his grip on her shoulders and pushed harder into her soft lips scrunching his eyes as he did so. Duck’s eyes were wide open with surprise and fright; slowly they fluttered closed as he bruised her lips. She clenched her fists. The velvety feel of his strong lips brushing against hers made her shiver. His warm shaky breath condensing on her cheek.
