I M P O R T A N T :
For the new version, be aware of these new changes:
• Heather Sterling is now a nineteen-year-old girl, and not twenty.
• If you haven't noticed, this story is now written in first person and not in third person. Reason is because I wasn't really comfortable in writing in third person. I know some of you may not like this new version, but that won't stop me from doing things my way, right?
• Additional scenes (mainly between Heather and her aunts)
» I am terribly sorry for not updating for what, months now? This story means a lot to me and I want this to be in its best shape.
» As always, I don't proofread. So if you spot any errors, kindly inform me. :)
» With that said, I hope I won't get anymore questions regarding the changes since I just explained myself. I hope you understand my decision in rewriting this. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading!
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01:
a p p e t e n c e
• an eager desire, an instinctive inclination; an attraction or a natural bond.
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Aunt Flora's scream was enough reason for anyone to panic. For starters, Aunt Flora was a walking disaster; It was as if everything that she touches, dies. So this time, I was not surprised that she almost caught the house on fire. Again.
I immediately stood up, rushing towards the kitchen and leaving all the newspapers that I just used, scattered on the living room floor. "What the hell happened?"
Right before me, stood a frightened Aunt Flora with a spatula gripped tightly in her hand. "It wasn't me this time!" She raised both of her hands in active surrender.
A few seconds later, Aunt Nora appeared; then the moment her eyes saw Aunt Flora's doings, she screamed, "Oh Jesus," she rushed to take the spatula away from Aunt Nora. "How many times do we have to tell you not to go near the kitchen?"
Aunt Flora sighed, looking guiltier than ever. "I was just trying to be useful," she said. "Besides, what harm could a scrambled egg get you?"
"YOU ALMOST SET THE HOUSE ON FIRE JUST BECAUSE OF A SCRAMBLED EGG?" Obviously, Aunt Nora was getting depressed with the situation.
"Well, is there anyone in this house besides Maryweather who knows how to cook?" She deadpanned.
"Where is Aunt Maryweather?"
"Groceries." Aunt Nora gritted her teeth, shooting daggers at Aunt Flora. "Heather, darling, would you be a dear and make dinner?" she asked, her voice trying to sound calm. "I'll go clean up, while–" she stole a glance at Aunt Flora, "–Flora closes the shop."
"But," I started to say, my eyes landing on the empty cupboards. "We don't have anything to cook. Aunt Flora used the last egg."
Aunt Nora sighed for the hundredth time tonight, her hand massaging her temple. "We'll just have to wait for Maryweather then."
"You go continue whatever it was that you were doing," Aunt Flora spoke up, walking over to me. "I'll help Nora clean up."
I nodded, casting a glance at my aunts before walking towards the living room. On the floor, laid about fifteen newspapers that I just used earlier, and one pink highlighter. I sighed, realizing that I still hadn't finished reading everything. I sat on the floor, crossing my legs as I stared at the pile of newspapers before me.
I decided to continue reading where I left off.
LOOKING FOR A BABYSITTER:
In need of a babysitter age 16 and above for our two kids (age 2 and age 6) Pay is —
I shook my head. No, this won't do. I don't want to babysit other people's children for the rest of my life.
I moved on to the next section.
BABYSITTER NEEDED:
We need a bab—
I sighed as I put the newspaper down, feeling hopeless. How is it so hard to find a job that pays well and doesn't have to babysit snotty little kids?
"Heather," a voice said and I looked up to see Aunt Flora with a sad smile on her face. "Would you mind closing the shop for me?"
I slowly nodded, knowing that something is wrong. Standing up, I asked her, "Are you alright?"
"I really was just trying to help," she said, her voice quiet. "I only made things worse."
I sighed, feeling guilty for somehow making her think that way. "Aunt Flora—"
"You go close the shop now," she said instead, interrupting me. "Maryweather will be here soon."
Instead of arguing with her, I obediently nodded as I headed to the door. The door immediately lead to the shop—Our Laundry Shop. Our house was connected to the shop, so the moment I stepped out of the door, I already saw Aunt Maryweather carrying a bunch of paper bags in her arms.
"No need," she immediately said, out of breath. "I already locked the door. People inside the grocery are noisy as hell and I can't—" she paused, sniffing the surrounding. "What's that smell?"
I gulped, not knowing how to respond. "Well, you see..."
With her eyes closed tightly, she sighed disappointingly. "Flora went to the kitchen."
I nodded, walking up to her as I tried to get the paper bag from her arms. "Let me help."
"Thank you darling," she said, sighing in relief as she carefully handed me the paper bag. "Found a job yet?"
I shrugged. "Nope, but I'll try my luck tonight."
She shook her head, opening the door for me. "No can do Heather," she told me. "It's already late, and you know the rules."
I sighed as I walked towards the counter, setting the groceries down. "Let me try just for tonight, Aunt Maryweather," I pleaded, walking back towards her as I took both of her hands in mine. "Please? College starts in a month, and the least I could do is help the three of you pay for my tuitions."
The three of them looked at me like I've just grown a second head. Aunt Flora started pacing back and forth, while Aunt Nora stood up and said, "Heather, we won't let you. Just let us handle the bills and everything; and then if you really want to get a job, there's always tomorrow. " She looked at me pleadingly as she added, "Just not tonight."
Aunt Flora's pace started getting fast. "It's past ten in the evening, Rose," she said, calling me by my nickname for the first time tonight. "Dangers are everywhere."
Aunt Maryweather nodded vigorously. "You could be in trouble if you —"
" — Oh and those people who sell human organs are really d —"
"— Heather we only want you to be safe and so —"
I groaned in frustration. "Fine, fine," I took a deep breath, "fine. I won't go anywhere." My head turned to the television, watching the news caster mention something about the weather.
"That's good." Aunt Nora sighed in relief, taking a seat on the sofa. "We only want to protect you, you know that right?"
"I know," I whispered.
"Well," Aunt Maryweather said, standing up as she heads to the kitchen. "You guys stay there, while I go make something to eat."
The three of us: Me, Aunt Nora, and Aunt Flora, were seated on the sofa while watching the television. They watched the show, I watched the window.
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After everyone had gone to bed, I tiptoed my way out of my room, passed by their rooms, and headed straight to the living room. I couldn't simply sneak out of my own room since it was upstairs, and I was afraid of heights, which meant that I couldn't pass through the window without screeching like a dying whale.
So this was my escape plan: Use the window in the living room.
My Aunts had decided that it would be a lot safer if they placed an alarm on the main door, so that they'd be informed immediately if ever we'd get robbed.
It was a good thing they hadn't thought about putting an alarm on the window though.
So I slowly walked my way until I reach the window. All the lights were out, and my only source of light was the light of the moon outside. Remembering that there was a flashlight in my duffel bag, I took it out to make my escape much more easier. Switching it on, I carried on with opening the window, and the cold breeze welcomed me the moment it was opened.
Breathe in, I swung my left leg out. Breathe out, and then my right leg followed.
My feet landed smoothly on the ground, making no unnecessary sound. Looking up, I saw that there were still no light coming from their rooms, so I took this as a good sign to continue my plan.
I could hear the sound of people passing by, the honking of the cars, and then the whispers of the wind. This was going to be a long night, and I just hope I didn't forget to bring the canned coffee with me.
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It was almost midnight and I still found myself walking around the streets of New York on a cold December night, just to find a job. I was that desperate. The snow fell heavily just above me and I pulled down my beanie a bit to cover my head. If only my father didn't leave me, and if only my mother didn't leave my father, then I would've probably be worry free right now on where to get money for college. Speaking of money, I realized that I only had twenty bucks left in my pocket (and my pocket have tiny holes in it).
A few more walks left, I reminded myself, then I could finally rest my feet.
The Museum was just a couple of feet away from me. I placed both of my hands close to my mouth to breathe in it, making it warm as I rushed inside the museum. I was never a fan of remembering things. I never remembered the names of the restaurants where my old flings would take me —hell, I probably don't even remember their last names, that's for sure. But that's only because I was never observant. So it was no surprise that the moment I entered the Museum, I didn't even take any detail of what it's like. Except, maybe, the chandelier hanging just right above me.
The moment I spotted a woman (whom I assumed was a guide), I immediately walked briskly towards her. I halted when I saw her discussing something to a group of people. I was just a few feet from where the woman was, so it wouldn't hurt to eavesdrop right?
"And now," I heard the woman say. "Right in front of you, is the famous Prince Antoine Rousseau Machiavelli: The Prince whose entire kingdom, including himself, was cursed by his soon to be bride. Five hundred years ago, on the ninth of July, Prince Antoine..."
I stopped eavesdropping, finding it useless. Impatiently tapping my feet on the cold floor, I silently cussed in my head. I looked from side to side to find something to keep myself busy, when I noticed a painting of a young man. Glancing at the woman and seeing that she was still busy, I took a few calculated steps towards the painting. The man in the picture was undoubtedly the Prince himself. Well if the fancy suit wasn't already a give away, then his face surely was.
Right on the bottom of the Prince's feet, the name 'Theo Mitchell' was scribbled messily. My eyes landed on a passage just right under the Frame.
'Different from other tragic tales, let us not begin ours with a 'Once upon a time'. Two kingdoms; one good and the other bad, had set another war. Nobody but their ancestors knew how their hate towards each other started. But a wise wizard offered a suggestion to stop the hatred. A selfish prince, was forced to marry the enemy's daughter. Thinking it was preposterous, he laughed at her face and insulted her, saying she's a disgrace. But little did he know, how wrong it was to do. For the princess' rage, started a curse; Not only for him, but for the whole kingdom making it so much worse.
The whole kingdom fell into a deep sleep, frozen in time. But the curse is only to be lifted by true love's kiss and the prince was given five hundred years time.
In the highest room of the tallest tower is where he slumbers, waiting for the one who still remembers; about the Legend of the Prince who turned into stone, who'll only come back to life with true love's kiss alone.'
I stared at the passage, my mind going in circles. Never had I ever read something so —
"I see you're taking an interest in history," a voice whispered at my neck. "so what do you think of the so called Sleeping Prince?"
I turned to find a man (probably a few years older than I was), staring at me. "What?"
He broke into a smile. "The Prince," he said. "What are your thoughts?"
I stared back into the painting. "Is it necessary?" I asked, but he remained quiet. Assuming he was expecting a different answer, I tried to add, "Well, he seems..." I focused on his eyes and then I realized how— "cold," I said, voicing out my thoughts. I didn't like the way his blue eyes were portrayed in the painting. Looking at it from here, It was as if he was staring straight into my soul. His eyes were so beautiful, it was intimidating and slightly terrifying.
"Cold?" He chuckled, taking a step closer. "Tell that to my mom and you'll get a lifetime supply of her rants." He tilted his head to the right, pointing to the woman discussing.
I smiled, amused by his answer. "Why?"
"She's been studying about his life - especially about the legend - and now she thinks she knows everything." He snorted, rather unattractively. "She says he's just misunderstood."
"Maybe he is."
"Please, he rejected the Princess of Mauroches because he thinks she's ugly. And every history geek knows that the Princess was the prettiest girl in the whole kingdom."
"Ouch," I commented, imagining the Prince (if he did exist, and if he wasn't just part of some legend) insulting the Princess right at her face. "That's gotta hurt."
"Oh, you bet it did!" He chuckled. "Painful enough for her to curse him, am I right?"
"Right." I don't know what else to say.
He seemed to notice my uneasy expression, so he cleared his throat. "I'm Noah," he introduced, reaching out his hand.
I glanced back at his mother and then released a sigh, knowing she's still busy. Shaking his hand, I replied, "Heather."
"That's lovely," he commented. "What I'm curious about though, is the reason why you're here."
"I need a job," I told him, wasting no time. If he was the son of the woman, then that means he could maybe help me get a job. "Do you think you can help me?"
He blinked, taken aback with my sudden confidence. Noah rubbed his chin, as if thinking of something. "I don't necessarily do this to other people," he began, looking up to meet my gaze, "but I'll see what I can do."
I nodded understandingly.
"Okay," he breathed, scratching the back of his neck. "Say, would you like to grab —"
"Noah," a voice called out, and we turned around to see his mother walking her way towards us. I just realized the group of people already left, and we were the only ones left. "Time to go. We still have to —"
"Mama," he cutted her off, looking at her apologetically. "This is my friend, Heather." He pointed to me.
She smiled genuinely, extending her hand. "Oh. Why hello there, Heather."
"Good evening Mrs . . ."
She laughed to herself, before answering, "Just call me Jackie."
"Jackie." The name felt foreign on my lips. "It's nice to meet you."
"Likewise, darling," she said. "We're already heading out. You can come with us if you want," she offered. "We'll return you home safely."
"Oh— Haha, no, I – Actually . . . I — "
"She's looking for a job, mama," Noah butted in. "That's why she's here."
"Oh," she said, then she turned to me. "But it's really late, and besides, we're not really looking for someone. Unless, you want to be a night guard then —"
My expression immediately perked up. "Yes, that'll do!"
Both of them looked at me questioningly. Jackie raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"A night guard," I told her. "I can be that. Please. I really, really need a job right now."
"I don't know, dear." She shook her head, frowning. "We had two night guards, originally. But the other one got into an accident, but he will be back in a few weeks. I don't know if I that's a good offer for —"
"No, it's perfect," I insisted, probably sounding desperate already. "Please, I really need a job."
She sighed. "I'm sorry," she finally said. "But I really don't think this will do any good for both of us."
"But mama —"
"No, Noah," she told her son, then she turned back to me. "It's not exactly that easy to be a night guard, and we can't just allow anyone to have access in the museum."
Oh God, I came all the way here for nothing.
With a heavy heart, I said, "I understand."
She offered me a small smile. "Thank you. Now let's go, we'll drive you home."
"No need," I replied. "I'll just stay here for a couple of minutes. It's — It's my first time here anyway. Might as well make the most of it."
She nodded understandingly before walking out.
Noah gave me a smile, then he handed me a card. "Keep in touch, okay?"
"Of course," I replied, his back already facing me. "Of course."
When they were out of my sight, I sighed depressingly. What now? My aunts were already probably aware that I was missing, and if I went home, I'd get scolded for running off. I'd never go home until I get a job.
This situation got a whole lot depressing than I thought.
I began to notice a wine standing lifelessly on the counter. It was as if it was telling me to drink it. I found myself just staring at it for no apparent reason. Next thing I knew, I was already walking towards the counter, and grabbed it victoriously.
As long as there's wine, I whispered to myself, I'll be fine.
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Seven continuous gulps later, I dizzily stood up from the floor; remembering that I still had to roam around to check the museum. I was hired . . . right?
With the bottle half empty in my hand, I headed to the statues of some extinct animals, checking if they're still there for some reason, and my smile slipped. Stupid little cute animals.
I continued to circle the museum; making the artifacts and some other important history stuffs in front of the counter, my last stop. Now, with the bottle empty in my hand, I placed it on the counter as I slowly and carefully walked towards the room where the rumored Prince's body was placed. The light was still on when I entered the room cautiously even in my somehow drunken state. My eyes began their search to find the switch; then the moment I spotted it, my eyes lazily tried to shut. Sleep, I whispered to myself, must sleep.
Where was the bloody night guard anyway?
On the corner of my eye, I began to notice a sudden movement just behind the life-like statue of the Prince. My eyes were half asleep then, and so was my body. Yet, I took a few steps towards the bed. Then all of the sudden, I looked up to see that the room was moving, as if spinning around me, and it was making me dizzier by the minute.
"I'm drunk," I mumbled, reminding myself of the naked truth as I struggled to get closer to the bed. "And sleepy. So sleepy."
My head, I winced in pain, my head- oh my lord, I whispered the time I settled on the bed. I knew my eyes were deceiving me, my body was giving up, and I couldn't keep my eyes open. I placed my hand on my temple, massaging it gently when I accidentally hit something with my arm.
"Fuck," I hissed, the pain making me feel awake for a short second. "What the bloody—oh," I paused when I saw the thing that I just hit. Though I knew in the back of my head that it was just a statue, my eyes were telling me a different thing. It looked too real to be fake. I found myself staring at the statue just a few inches beside me. Then as if I couldn't help myself, I stared at the Prince's lashes, admiring how long and naturally curled it is. Gently tracing the line of his nose, I wondered how soft it was until I reached his lips; His unexpectedly soft lips. Maybe it was just the alcohol taking an effect on me, but my heart began to beat rapidly.
I tilted my body so I could properly face the figure. The moment my thumb touched his bottom lip, a feeling of desire rushed through my veins. A smile appeared on my face as I leaned in. Pretty, I whispered in my head, pretty, pretty, pretty...
My head throbbed again, making me lean back. But I was too captivated by the statue that I found myself leaning in again to get a closer look. If only he was real, I thought, he'd be the most good-looking man I've ever seen.
My nose touched his, my lips were just a breath away from his, our foreheads were pressed against each other. I took a deep breath and grinned to myself, pleased with the fact that I got a good look at it. Or him.
My hand reached for his cheeks as I carefully lifted my head to see his face better, when I instantly and absent-mindedly blacked out causing my forehead to rest back into his forehead, my nose touching his, and then, my lips meeting his.
My night ended with that; Unaware that while I slumbered safe and sound, someone was already watching me.
Someone with a crown.