𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄
—𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛 𝟷𝟷—
𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐒𝐀𝐓 𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐄. The teenagers that moved about around her didn't even bother to glance her way. But she didn't mind. She simply glanced up at one of the familiar girls— Carmen— and sent her a small smile, before her eyes were glued onto the book in her hands once again.
Melody liked to keep to herself. The other teenagers of Westbrooke hadn't been as appealing as a good book, nor a day spent inside playing boardgames with her family while the snow fell outside. Snow wasn't unusual for the small town of Westbrooke. In fact, it was almost always snowing. No one knew why, though; there weren't seasons anymore, as far as the people of the town were concerned. It was always winter.
Clark, Melody's only friend, normally spent time studying the basics of Westbrooke, or Virginia in general. He was so interested in the way the weather changed and effected the economy that he barely had any friends himself.
But Melody was one exception.
Melody didn't care about Clark's abnormal love for his town. To her, it only made him so much more special. She enjoyed the time they would spend together, which was rarely ever spent in silence.
Every weekend, after they finished their chores, Melody and Clark would meet up in their favorite hideaway spot, and gossip about their week. Clark would talk about his studies, of course, along with some of the things he heard while working in the stone mines. But Melody would only ever talk about the books that she had finished.
Melody was different than any other girl that Clark had met. She was intriguing, in a way. Despite her lack of sociality, she was perfect to him.
But he would never tell her that.
And throughout the years they spent together as best friends, the closer they had gotten. Recently, Melody had seemed to be attached to Clark by the hip. She was constantly with him, and, of course, Clark didn't object.
But today, Clark wasn't with Melody. He was off in the stone mines, helping his father haul some off some of the stone statues he had been working on for the week. So, Melody sat alone, reading her book like she usually did.
The teenagers around her stared with amusement, watching how she wouldn't even take a moment to acknowledge them. Of course they knew Melody was always like this, but they would sometimes get captivated in her small movements. She was someone the teenagers couldn't seem to figure out— despite the fact that they saw her almost every day.
But today was different, other than the fact that Clark wasn't sitting beside Melody, venting to her of his day.
Today, there wasn't snow.
It was rare in history that Westbrooke would ever not have snow. For some odd reason, the sun had peeked through the clouds, and shown itself more than it ever did.
Melody didn't notice.
The seventeen year old was too caught up in her newest book that she didn't hear the birds chirp, or the warm breeze dance across her flushed face. Because she had already gotten her nose stuck into the book, and she wasn't letting go of it until she finished the very last page.
She also didn't seem to notice the eyes that were stuck on her— mocking her, even. The tales of her were endless, and not one of them made sense to her. Sometimes she would listen while they whispered of her, and would pretend she was reading. And the things they said were awful.
One, in particular, seemed to stick in her brain.
"Didn't you hear about her, Lace? Mother told me that she's socially impaired, and wouldn't you believe it? The ugly duckling has gone mute."
Melody was hurt by the comment, in just the slightest. It seemed as though the memory was branded into the back of her mind, and she couldn't get it out. But somehow, she managed to look over the girl's words, and continued reading her book.
Since then, she had learned to ignore the strange and inconsiderate things everyone said about her. She had Clark, and that's the only friend she'd ever need.
"Hello," a small voice says from in front of Melody, catching her attention. "M-my name is Grace. I was wondering if you'd like to be friends."
Melody tilted her hand to the side, not recognizing the girl. Grace blushed furiously, her gaze dropping to her feet as Melody studied her features. She had long, brown hair that was wavy, and naturally beautiful. Freckles dotted around her nose, complimenting her dark brown eyes.
She was slightly taller than Melody, from what she could tell. And her dress seemed to be a bit newer, along with her glossed shoes and pure white socks.
"I understand if you don't want to," Grace says softly. "I don't really have a lot of friends, and the other girls make fun of me. They say I'm incapable of being smart."
Melody understood the girl, in that moment. In the short minute that she had met Grace, it was like she had found her other half.
Another friend.
"Of course," Melody says, surprising the girl. "Of course I'll be your friend."
Grace looked up, a dance of light sparking in her big brown eyes. "Really?"
Melody nods in return, scooting her body down the bench, making a space for her newest friend. She lightly taps the spot next to her, signaling for Grace to sit down. Grace complies, a large smile on her face as she takes the seat, and lays a book on her lap.
"Have you read of the seasons?" Grace asks Melody, her eyes never leaving the book she holds.
"No," Melody replies.
"I do. I read of what Westbrooke should be; summer, spring, autumn. But all we've ever known is a light winter. Why does Westbrooke have to be so different?"
"The cold is charming," Melody says, her eyes grazing the small specks of snow that linger on the ground by her feet. "I've grown used to it, and I believe we all have. No one really knows why it happens."
"But there has to be something, right?" Grace turns to face her. "Something that can completely change the weather, as if it were an easy task. To not involve the others around us, and to target Westbrooke exactly."
"A coincidence, maybe," Melody shrugs, pulling her shawl closer to her chest. "I don't really prefer to dwell on things I have no power over. So I've surrendered to the fact that Westbrooke is like this."
"I believe you're right," Grace smiles, opening her book. "And maybe I should do that, too."
---
"Mother, have you gotten the mail for today?" Melody asks as she enters her home, draping her shawl on the coat rack.
"No, dear, I haven't," her mother replies smoothly from the kitchen. "I knew you'd want to do it when you returned."
Melody didn't take another breath, as she pulled her shawl back on, and made her way down the gravel road. On her way, she couldn't help but hope for a letter from the library; one that would announce the arrival of her new books.
She glances around her, before opening the mailbox, and holding her breath. And, to her utter happiness, there was a letter for her, with a package that read her name, too. But, it wasn't from the library. It was from Clark.
"'For your desire of reading books.'" Melody read the small letter aloud, smiling to herself as she clutched the package. She flipped through the other mail, before making her way back home.
But as she began her walk, her cheeks flushed from the cold, something caught her eye. In the Snow Peak Mountains, not too far off, there was a snow-covered tree that rustled. She squinted to look closer, her eyes gazing at the peak of the mountains.
And, to her dismay, the movement had stopped.
She shrugged off the unusual feeling that grew inside her chest, and continued her walk home. Her feet crunched in the snow below her, a soothing and familiar sound that Melody had begun to love.
When arriving back at her home, she wasted no time in rushing to her mother and delivering the mail in her hands, then skipping down the hallway and into her own bedroom.
She slipped off her favorite pair of shoes, before closing the door behind her, and sprawling across her bed. After tacking the letter from Clark to the pin board that hang on the wall above her bed, she ripped the tape from the brown package. Inside lay a hardcover book, one that Melody had been talking about for a while now. Even though she was used to the gifts that Clark would give her, she still didn't expect for him to buy her the things she wanted.
'The Aniston Tales of Westbrooke', the cover read in bold white letters. Melody ran her fingers over the cover, her eyes dancing over the picture of the Snow Peak Mountains; the snowy forest that Melody knew so well at the top of the mountain.
The picture was beautiful, and had to have been taken by a professional. She knew of only one photographer in Westbrooke, and she was almost for sure he had been the one to take it.
Then, she read onto the back cover.
'The most retold and popular fairytales of Westbrooke; some of which are contemplated to be real. Contains the stories of;
The Hungriest of the Peak
Annalise and the Blood Queen
and
The Tale of Frost.
Melody's eyebrows crunched in confusion. She had never heard of such a story as The Tale of Frost. Her grandmother used to read her the stories of Westbrooke every night before she slept. But why hadn't she mentioned this one?
The Hungriest of the Peak and Annalise and the Blood Queen had definitely been something Melody could remember— they were some of the most common tales that she heard.
Weary and curious of the book, she skimmed through the pages of the book, until she came to chapter three. Then, she layed back on her bed, resting her head on the backboard.
And then she began to read.
________