650 or so years later...
1. Belle and Books
I can't believe they made me move. I hate London, hate everything about it. I hate the cold, I hate the smog, the lack of sun, and the people. I hate their stupid accent, and their stupid etiquette, and all that stupid tea.
Can't wait for school tomorrow, where everyone can make fun of my American accent and laugh at my sense of fashion. I'm a straight up California girl, I like short shorts, tank tops, flip-flops, sunshine, heat, no littering, tolerance and everything else that can't be found in London. I hate my dad's stupid wife, it's her effin' fault I'm here. All that sun and happiness depressed her. Ugh, really? Is that like even possible?
Dad's a freelance photographer, so his job is pretty flexible when it comes to where he works. He certainly doesn't mind the change of scenery. Calls it a challenge. He married Saundra about a year ago and I can't say I love her. I mean, she's okay and she makes Dad happy so that's what matters, right?
But boy is she high maintenance. Lucky for her, she's got quite a bit of money of her own or we certainly wouldn't be able to support her with Dad's unpredictable profession and my odd jobs. Let's just say she came into a bit of an inheritance months before the wedding.
Damn, I'm awful, I really shouldn't hate on her. She's really not that bad. Wonderful cook.
I rolled grumpily out of my bed and put on a black T-shirt and jeans. I slipped into my sneakers, grabbed a jacket and left the house with just my cellphone and some money. I walked 15 minutes to the nearest Underground Station and boarded the Victoria line.
I passed through the rows and rows of people until I found an empty seat that was surrounded by more empty seats. I took a seat and leaned my head back, closing my eyes.
“Hey, you're in my English class, aren't you?” I inched open my eyes, annoyed at the British accent. The voice belonged to a guy with big red and black headphones around his neck. I could hear the bass notes vibrating and wondered whether he would become deaf one day from blasting such loud music into his eardrums. He was wearing a black sweatshirt with the picture of some metal band on the front and really muddy jeans. I blinked twice, I didn't recognize him.
“Robertson's fourth?” Yes, I was in that class but I wasn't surprised that I didn't recognize him. I never noticed anyone, didn't really bother to. No use making ties to a place I plan to bolt from as soon as possible.
“Um... I'm Nick,” he said, obviously uncomfortable by my silence.
“Belle.” I looked at my phone, pretending to be occupied by a text. He laughed nervously and rocked from foot to foot.
“So... um...” he mumbled, obviously not getting the hint. I sighed and gave in.
“You wanna sit down?” I offered.
“Love to!” he laughed, relieved of all awkwardness.
“Belle, huh? Your from Cali, right?”
“Yup, that's me, designated Cali girl,” I answered dryly. He laughed longer than was necessary.
“So how are you liking London?”
“Hate it.”
“Oh, um, well, you'll warm up,” he flashed me a hopeful smile.
“No I won't. It's too cold here. I miss the sun,” I pouted. He laughed again.
“Well you know, if you're really that cold, I could keep you warm,” he winked. I fought a deep blush, no one had ever said anything like that to me before.
“I cannot believe you just said that,” I said, trying to play it cool. He shrugged.
“Too cheesy?” he raised a cocky brow.
“Understatement,” I laughed. We chatted for awhile until we arrived at the Green Park Station and went our separate ways.
I climbed the steps out of the Underground and made my way to the only thing I could possibly ever dream about missing when I leave London. The London Library.
The most magnificent, majestic, marvelous, amazing place in the whole world. As if being a library wasn't good enough, it had to be the biggest, best collection of books ever. Well actually, I don't know if that's true but you should see the size of this thing. More books than anyone could ever dream of reading in a lifetime. In three lifetimes.
It's like scholars' heaven. I'm no scholar, but I love reading. Like, I could read for days. And that is precisely what I do, since I no longer have a social life. I've been coming here since the day we arrived, doing all my homework here, spending all my spare time here, away from the dreadful noise of the streets of London. And away from the cold. And away from people my age. Normal teenagers don't generally use the library as their frequent hangout spot.
I went inside and headed to the front desk. A small, white haired, balding old man smiled widely at me as I approached the desk.
“And how may I help you today, Miss Belle,” he beamed.
“I feel like a good murder mystery today, Mr. Hughes,” I returned his smile. He stepped out from behind the desk and walked me through the rows and rows of shelves. He had insisted on walking me personally to the section of my choice since the fourth day I had showed up.
He had noticed that I had came alone and gloomy-looking everyday and pointed it out. I told him my story and then he told me how he had come to London, too. Anyhow, he was not a London kinda guy either so he knew how I felt. He had come only out of his devotion to books, something I had in common with him and the only thing keeping me sane. So I had a friend in this awful place, as old as he may be.
Suddenly my attention was drawn to a folklore section on the way. All the books looked so old and antique, I couldn't help but stop Mr. Hughes to look. I ran my fingertips across the worn spines, loving the feel of old and familiar. I paused at a title that caught my eye.
Places Seldom Seen. It was written in fancy twirly gold lettering and looked even more worn than the rest.
“What's this?” I asked Mr. Hughes, pointing to the book.
“That, my dear, is a book about the myths of Great Britain. In fact,” he said pulling it off the shelf and flipping through it, “If I remember correctly, I do believe there is a myth about a forest near my hometown.” I leaned in to look while he paged through it.
“Ah, here it is!” he exclaimed, probably a little too excitedly, but I admired his enthusiasm. He handed me the open book and left me to curl up with it in a worn plushy chair.
It read:
The Disappearing Manor
There have been accounts of an enormous non-existent
manor dating back to 1300s in what is known today as
Evernight Forest. To find the hidden manor, supposedly, one
must simply lose one's way. Those who claim to have
found this manor, tell of a magnificent structure
surrounded by rows upon rows of rose bushes of every
color and fragrance. Those who happened upon it in the
late hours of the night say they saw a light in the West
Wing of the manor and a silhouette of a figure that moved
and stood like a human, but could not be for the sheer size
and build of the creature. He became known by the locals
who believe in the tale, the Beast of Rose Manor.
Source: Unknown
How ridiculous! A disappearing manor? Who would believe such a thing, let alone a beast? I tried imagining getting lost on my way to I don't know where and somehow finding myself in a forest. Wouldn't a normal person turn back when they've realized they've made a mistake? Like retrace their steps. Who would be stupid enough to keep going and “happen” upon Rose Manor?
I slid open my cell to check the time and saw that it was getting late. I had better get home, no not home, to our place before Dad and Saundra get back or they'll get worried. I got up from my comfortable position in the plushy chair, placed the book back in its spot on the shelf and hurried to the main entrance. I bid Mr. Hughes goodbye and made my way back to the Underground Station.
Suddenly, I tripped over the root of a tree that was sticking out of the ground. I hit the ground and scraped my hands and knees pretty badly. Dammit!
I was inspecting my injuries when I noticed that I was sitting on a dirt trail. Looking around me all I could see was tree, after tree, after tree. That's strange, I could have sworn I was in St. James's Square in the middle of urban London a second ago. I turned around and headed in the direction I had come from.
I checked the time on my phone and kept walking. The sun was getting really low in the sky and I needed to get back. I checked my phone again a little while later and realized that ten minutes had passed and I was still following the stupid trail. Am I lost?
It had gotten dark. I began to panic but there in the distance was a light. I came to a clearing and the hair on the back of my neck rose. There were roses everywhere and in the middle of them all was an enormous structure. It towered over me like a bear ready to attack.
The light came from a window in a tower in the far right of the mansion and flickered slightly, it must be some kind of fire. A candle, maybe. An inhuman figure stood by it, as if looking through the window. At me.
I screamed, jolting myself awake in the plushy chair in the London Library. I bolted out of my chair and the book which had been resting on my stomach, landed on the floor open with its spine facing up. I picked it up from the floor, flattened out the pages that had bent and put it quickly back on the shelf.
The nightmare had put me on edge and I jumped every time I heard anything as I made my way to the Underground. There wasn't anything to be afraid of. Everything looked gray, as usual, because of the constant foreboding clouds that hid all traces of blue sky.
It was different now though, changing. The sun was starting to set, not that you could see it in the first place, and the city was kind of gaining color. Like at that point when the dark sets in, but before the nightlife starts and everything has a different perspective. I always thought it was as if everything had switched itself to glow in the dark mode.
Dusk. My favorite part of the day. Seeing the city this way calmed my nerves and by the time I was on a train, I was good and relaxed. Why hadn't I ever gone out at dusk? I used to go out especially, to see the world switch from day to night just for the hell of it, but I don't think that I have since I moved. It made me like London just a little better.
The Underground train was pretty full when I boarded it, due to rush hour. Having never used it this late, I had never had this problem, but this time I ended up standing half the way.
When our apartment building came into view and my dad was standing in front of it, I knew I was in trouble.
“Where have you been?” he demanded.
“I–”
“Do you know what time it is? This isn't our safe little town in California, Belle, this is London,” he bellowed.
“Dad I–”
“There are bad people in the city, people who are just waiting for a pretty girl like you,” I choked back a the urge to scoff, “to walk around alone in the dark and– hey, where do you think you are going?” I had stalked off into the lobby and left him there babbling to the air.
I took the elevator up to the fourth floor and used the key around my neck to open the door. When it didn't work, I remembered that it belonged to my old house and that I refused to put my new key on the chain. Since I hadn't grabbed it when I left the house, I had to wait for my dad to storm out of the elevator after me and open the door, mumbling something about disrespect and only caring about me.
I scrambled to my room as fast as I could as soon as the door was open, and locked myself in. My nerves were on edge again. I got an odd feeling that someone was watching me, but when I went to the window, there was no one in sight.
I stayed up in my room until dinner. Saundra had cooked up some quick pasta dish. We ate in silence until I couldn't take it anymore.
“Dad, I fell asleep at the library, that's all. I've made the trip so many times, nothing could have–”
“Yes it–” he began.
“It won't happen again.” He looked at me for a second to see if I was being serious or if I just wanted him off my case. He must have been satisfied with what he saw because he nodded and the topic was dropped. He began to talk to Saundra about some client who was being anal and wasn't letting him be creative with the photos he was taking for him. After dinner I showered, brushed my teeth and escaped back to my room. I was in bed and everything when there was a light rap on the door.
“Yeah?” I called.
“What are you doing tomorrow after school?” Dad said through the door.
“Um, I don't know. Probably going to the library,” as usual...
“Alone?” he pressed. No, of course not, I'm going with my imaginary friends.
“Probably.”
“Belle, it's been three weeks since you started school here and you've been going to that library everyday.”
“So? What's wrong with going to the library?” Would he rather have me getting stoned or drunk at parties like half the kids at my school?
“Well it's just that Saundra and I have noticed that you've been awfully glum since we moved and Saundra doesn't think you have made any friends,” worried like a father should be when his daughter spends every free waking hour at a library alone.
“That's 'cause I don't wanna make friends in this sh–stink hole,” I replied, catching myself before I cursed. He finally opened the door.
“Belle, why are you so determined to stay miserable?” he sighed, frustrated.
“I just want to go home.” I pulled the covers tighter and tried to swallow down the lump rising in my throat.
“This is our home now.”
“This will never be my home.” He sighed and leaned against the doorsill. His hand went to his forehead and smoothed out the worry lines it found there.
“Anyways,” he cleared his throat, “I wanted to know if you wanted to do a gloomy, black and white London photo shoot tomorrow. Since you're already in the mood and everything,” he smiled softly. I smiled back and nodded then closed my eyes as a signal for him to leave. He stood there for another second or so and then I heard the door click into place and knew he was gone.