Sparks ✨

Chapter 2- Damascus

It took me over ten hours to drive, but I finally arrived in Damascus. The town looked like time not only stood still here; it seemed as though time had stopped long ago, in another era. Old buildings were more dominant than modern architecture. The houses all looked worn and dated. They adorned a mix of steep gables, pointed arches, articulately molded motifs on porch corners, some even displayed kaleidoscopic stained glass windows. Damascus, while far removed from the nearest metropolis was a bustling town with a population of just over 7,000 people.

I had found an ad online from another student who was subletting a room in her house. I wanted to put as much distance between myself and any fraternities, parties, or just people in general so I decided to room off-campus. My Jeep sputtered to a stop in its new resting place for the next few years. I looked around critiquing the old neighborhood that was now my home, hopping out onto the dated sidewalk. I grabbed up my canvas bags from the passenger seat, clutching them tightly with both hands. The wind whirled around me preying on my attention disorder. I watched as it rustled the decayed leaves down the cracked stone sidewalk, the foliage clamored to the end of the worn paved road, alongside a weathered picket fence that wrapped around the corner lot. I had to force the rusty hinges of the crooked gate open. I stepped across the threshold, securing the gate behind. A narrow flagstone walkway lead up to my new home. It was more lovely than the photos on the Internet had captured, a picturesque gothic revival style cottage.

Faded black shingles lined the rooftop; antique windows inset to the steeply pitched gables, the board and batten finish of the old home had been faded by the sun to an olive paint-chipped green. Gingerbread style molding trimmed the drab exterior that was nearly entirely engulfed by a vegetation of thick ivy weaving in and out. One side of the house had almost been taken over by the prominent flora.

Luggage in hand I inhaled deeply through my nose and headed up the bare walkway. The massive wooden entry door flung open with a crack, in the doorway stood a lovely girl with matte pink lips and a graceful smile. She was wearing a powder blue silk dress that was as radiant as her pearlescent opal skin it clung against.

"You must be Ember Albright!" she announced enthusiastically. 

"I am Loral Noble, I have been waiting anxiously to meet you. Welcome home!" She exclaimed, her voice was very intricate, girly; it was every bit as ravishing as she. Loral had honey blonde locks pulled together in a sweeping side braid, perfectly placed tendrils were free-flowing around her face.

Before I had time to reply she continued – "There are two bedrooms you are welcome to choose from, I'm not sure if I will be letting the other room to anyone else or not but for now it's just you me and my cat Luna Bell."  She stated smiling a perfect smile, her tone coated with vigor.

"I'm not very picky." I obliged, placing my luggage on the floor of the foyer.

The living room seemed as though it belonged in a staged photo-shoot for a better homes magazine. The inside of the house was in pristine condition, it had neutral walls, refurbished oak floors, and an old soot-stained stone hearth that had been updated with an ivory coating of chalk-paint. The rooms abounded in soft blue and green pastels, floral fabrics, and twill textures that added a touch of French country style to the quaint cottage.

"You clearly have a knack for decorating," I said admiringly.

She smiled, "Thanks, dear.  Now let me show you around."

Loral was very well put together, while I was quite the contrary. I could not think of a single hobby I had any more, not even one thing that brought me satisfaction or pleasure. That same apathy emanated in my appearance. Dark, drab colors formed my wardrobe, I rarely took the time to do anything with my hair, unless letting it air-dry counted as some new hipster-chic approach to style. My long burnt copper locks looked lackluster and dull against the muted tones in my wardrobe; the dismal colors turned my olive skin to ivory.

The dingy colors did little to accentuate my features, if you can even call them that, my wardrobe was more a reflection of how I felt on the inside: simple, dark, empty. I was once vibrant and full of life just like Loral, okay maybe not just like Loral. I was admittedly sarcastic and introverted, but I was once in love with life, whoever that person was— well, she died with Gage.

I followed Loral down the hall to the first room on the left.

"This is the first choice. Now it's the largest of the two rooms. I don't like to decorate the rooms I let, I feel like that is a personal space that should reflect each person so feel free to make it your own." Loral said, flipping on the light switch. 

The first room we came upon was large and more empty than the rest of the house. It was pretty basic, rather modest, but I didn't need much. A clunky wooden dresser with ornate rusty hinge work was pushed against the wall directly behind the door. White linen drapes covered a broad set of windows on the back wall. The walls of the room were a slate blue shade, most of the space in the bedroom was occupied by a sizable wooden beam bed frame with a bare mattress.

"Would you like to see the other room?" She asked.

"Actually, this one is pretty perfect I think." I replied.

"Oh wonderful, then it is all yours. Please make yourself at home. I will leave you to unpacking but let me know if you need anything at all." She smiled and disappeared closing the door behind her. 

I leapt back onto the exposed bedding, taking a deep breath in to savor the moment.  There wasn't much to unpack, a few clothes, my favorite chunky knit blanket, a pale gray bedding set, and pandora's box, well that's what I call it. It's just a small wooden box filled with memorabilia from my time with Gage. A box a therapist had told my parents was unhealthy and was hindering me from letting go. I didn't want to let go and until I wanted to no one could make me, it didn't matter how abnormal that made me. I'd never been normal anyway. It was late once I had everything unpacked, I tucked the fitted sheets onto my new old mattress, plopped onto the bed, and turned off the table lamp.

*********************

My nose alerted me to the savory aroma of hotcakes wafting into my room, rousing me from a tranquil slumber. I opened my eyes and stared up at the white shiplap ceiling, half debating whether to roll back over and stay in bed or get up and make the most of this new day. Reluctantly, I stumbled out of bed, grabbed a brush and began trying to tame my tangled tresses. In the kitchen I could see Loral flittering back and forth, almost fairy-like. Flour was flying in the air like pixie dust in a cartoon movie.

"Good morning sleepy head." She greeted me.

"I hope you're hungry." She motioned toward a towering stack of flapjacks.

Loral's white cat Luna was brushing against my legs, purring affectionately.

"Morning," I said stretching.

"I don't think you made enough." I chuckled.

"Please tell me there's coffee."

Loral nodded handing me a large white mug.

"I'm going to go into town after breakfast, would you care to join me? I can show you around before classes start if you don't have plans for the day?"

"Thanks, that would be great actually. I've wanted to tour the town." I paused for a moment savoring the delectable drink.

"Are you from around here?" I asked in a feeble attempt to create conversation.

She replied, smiling sweetly.  "Yes. In fact, most everyone attending the college is from here or a few towns over. We don't get too many newcomers, maybe a handful a year. If you don't mind my asking, what made you want to move here?"

I thought for a minute. "I wanted a change from the norm."

"Well— you couldn't have picked a more perfect place for that." She called over her shoulder, before disappearing down the hallway.