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TEOSB: Two
The eyes of someone blue: Two"Destiny sucks." I paused for minutes. Sarah snapped, "What happened? Did I miss anything?" I turned back to look at her, as she peeked above my shoulders. "Don't bother," I said monotonously. And she stared at me awkwardly as if there was a huge mole on my face. "Are you sure? You know, I'm right here if you need me," Sarah eased. Doesn't seem like she meant it; after all, the only thing she would talk about for the next few hours is about that stinking show. And she glanced over to see if I looked interested. No such luck. Interested? Hell no. She turned away and frowned, while I hid a smile. "Finally," I sighed, "you stopped talking." She shot one of her menacing glares, deepening the blue in her eyes. Sarah had this creepy, serene charm as she folded her arms. And you don't wanna know how scary she can be, especially at a time like this. She looked like a cat with rabies. - - - Dad’s still inside. Well, locking himself up won’t eliminate me and my grief. I better go check if he remained alive. Fingers crossed on that one. Glass shattering? Nope. Hidden knives in the room? Hell no. Forget about knocking the door, I decided to test my stealth skills. I tweaked the door slightly, and saw . . . all of it. His back leaned on the wall, and his fingers wiped back and forth of a picture unframed. He picked it out of a chest-like wooden box. A memory box? I didn’t know men, even more, fathers, had these. He blew the dust away, and gazed into it. I tried to zoom in a little, so that I could catch it. His eyes watered, drips of it dribbling down. His sniff was so silent I could barely hear it. Harder, and harder, it was for me to watch. The picture was of Mom, carrying her baby, in her secure, warm arms. Mom wore a tied up bronzed hair, leaving her curly waves flow at her back. I didn’t even have much hair back then, only inches of russet curls. My eyes, glowing out the picture, bright turquoise blue. Bold, and brassy, they were. Mom had a darker shade of turquoise, twinkling - valor, and believable, full with devotion, as she grinned at her baby. Thump. I fell in, breaking the tear-drop silence. Oops, clumsy me. I was totally unaware, being forced into the picture made a sudden interpolate. He stifled, widening his eyes, feeling traumatized. “What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to see all of this,” he gathered the memory box that was left open. Dad snatched away the evidence so quickly, so I had to scan the room more. No sobs, no box, no picture, no nothing. He forced me to do this, not me. “Stop hiding, Dad. Stop lying to me,” urging him to reveal the unrevealed. I traced the hidden box under his bed, “What’s this? For God’s sake, I deserve to know. For once, please. Am I not your daughter?” His mouth sealed, even after my long-worthy speech. “I know it wasn't your choice to make the divorce. The papers – you didn’t even sign them!” His face, anxious – worried that his secrets will be spilled. “Did she elope or something? Did she have an affair? What happened to Mom, huh? ” I repeated, “I said, what happened to her?!” And I didn’t even notice I raised my hand, ready to set target. Before I could do it, the anaconda barricaded itself. It looked like he was afraid of me. His feet on ground now, drifting past me, out the house, and there it goes again, the door slam. Everyone hates me, I tell you. They do. Cause it’s clearly impossible to love me. Everything’s possible? Sorry, there's no Kim Possible in me. Evening crashed and darkness spread the house with solitude. He wasn’t back yet. Half past eight, I quit the wait and prepared dinner. Cooking – not my thing, but, at least a meal of spaghetti wouldn’t hurt. Well, maybe it will. The onions were a pain, and so were tomatoes. Slicing them – or slicing me? I just couldn’t get them right. Dad was back now as he closed the door gently. He pushed me aside off the kitchen table, and folded up his sleeves. “I’ll do it – you take a rest,” he offered. Considering the fact the tomatoes are . . . (frankly speaking) partly wrecked, I won’t refuse that offer. I nodded and sat on the dining chair. There were only two left, one for me and the other for Dad. I assumed he sent the third one to charity. It feels weird, you know, the empty feeling – it’s clouding my mind. It’s been like . . . what? A week since she said hello. To put the cherry on top, Dad’s not sparing me anything. Nothing. Not-a-thing. Not even a single word about her. What I know: One – they are getting a divorce. But that doesn’t explain Mom’s recent behavior of anti-socializing. Two – they are not getting a divorce. I saw the unsigned papers. Three – why does it feel like she’s already gone? Gone, and by that I mean, absent in this world. - - - Dinner was horrible. Mainly because of – never mind. It doesn’t matter. It was the first muted dinner I’ve ever experienced. I twirled the noodles around my fork, over and over again, waiting for him to preach the ‘your-food-is-not-a-toy’ speech. The annoying, unbearable lecture he loves to give – I can’t believe I miss it. I actually do. Rolling over the bed wasn’t fun anymore with the extra space unfilled. The skies above me were so dark and tense, I had to paint them. The streaks of white, covering the black, and it grew too bright; I had to open my eyes. Darn, it was the daylight. As I reminisced, I titled yesterday as, 'Marie's Best Birthday'. Sarcasm much? - - - What a day. I clap my hands for this wonderful day. The day Marie has to accompany her little ‘best friend forever’ to a stupid show where stupid people go and watch stupid people sing. If you ask me, I'd say that nothing in previous lines were exaggerated. Is Sarah coming? If she is, either she has to hurtle down here in a turbo jet to reach there on time. Speaking of the devil, there she was, panting. With her hands on her knees, she slid a message, “We . . . have . . . to . . . go . . . now . . .” catching breath in between every word. Instead of channeling the inner-me and swear vigorously like I usually do, I sighed – it helps me to stay calm. My eyes enlarge as she looked like a swanky prostitute. “Sarah, what in the world are you wearing?” I raised my eyebrows. “Clothes,” she argued, “Can we go like, I don't know... now?!” Sarah was boasting off in her little black dress and red pump-toe. That made me look like a pile of shit. My head bowed down to view my clothing. I swear, my T, jeans and rusty sneakers, is crappy. - - - The miles of screaming girls had me intimidated. It stretched all the way from Sandy to Murray of Salt Lake City. We tossed ourselves into the front-line and passed the tickets to the guards. Why do they have to get giant-like bodyguards to scare us? Give me a break. In we go, as Sarah and I got the permit. And Sarah's doing her own thing, swiveling her head - eying every cute guy in the building. So what shall I do? Take a seat, and enjoy the show? Sadly, yes. Then, a prince charming went on stage. That was when the girls went wild. Like Lion King wild. - - - “Who’s that?” I asked childishly. She drooled, “Don’t pretend you don’t know him.” From where I was standing at, he wore a tousled shaggy hairstyle, dark chocolate in colour - his fringe perfectly swept to the corner of his right eye. He was all suited up, in a white buttoned down shirt, overlaid in a formal black vest, increasing the fan-girl screaming volume with his every movement.
It was captivating - and I was too busy being mesmerized by his striking jade green eyes. My heart felt shaky - more likely, embarrassed, to be standing under something so beautiful. It brought buoyant to the audience, yet I felt saddened at the last verse. He pulled away from the microphone and gave a crooked grin. Sarah was . . . can I say starstruck? The host popped out of the blue, and poured an unfamiliar question, "Now, who's ready to win the Amplified’s companionship?" I wasn't paying much attention to the lady. My eyes were only drawn to the man beside her. "Amplified’s companionship? What kind of shit is that?" I asked foolishly. "Oh, wow. Don't you watch television at all?" Sarah replied. "No, not at all," I bit my lip. "Well, it’s something you need to get your life back.” "Shut it. Like I need a life. I've already got one, and look where I'm standing at - some shitty show." "Oh, too bad, honey. I've already registered both our names." She rose up to wait for the announcement, tapping her feet impatiently." “And the winner is . . .” the drum rolls start. There was so much excitement. Sarah had her fingers crossed. I had my middle one ready to show the freaking world what I'm made of, "Ma-", my heart fainting, there could be thousands of Mary-s, Marie-s, Mandy-s, right? It couldn't be me. Hell to the no. "Marie Belle." Oh my god. The spotlight hit me so I had to shield my eyes. Only after five minutes of audible gasps and sighs, there was applause. “I think I heard wrongly. My ears are never dug!!! I’m sure that I’m sure, there’s gotta be a twin out there somewhere! IT IS NOT ME,” I screamed, as Sarah pushed me further. She was crying of laughter, or maybe she was faking the bitter disappointment that I won instead of her. I refuse to accept. I tried to escape and wriggle myself free. The camera shot the brilliant struggle while little girls' mouths hung open. The host giggled nervously, "Okay, there seems to be some difficulty here," covering the microphone while she choked on her laugh, "Security," She called out strongly. Once I was released from Sarah's overpowering strength, I got curbed again, now by brawny security that tied my hands to my back and pushed me forward. “You planned this, didn’t you? You, Dad, everyone." Sarah hesitated. “Well, it wasn’t really my idea, mostly your dad. He wanted you to be happy, so please, bear in mind. He’s watching you now. Don’t make a fool out of yourself. I don’t want Mr. Belle to -" she paused for seconds and continued, "- be wretched, like you." My arms were lifted up from the ground to the stage. “He’s watching me? Excellent. Let him see how unhappy I am,” I said before I didn’t manage to dodge her amazing slap. “Can you stop thinking about yourself for one second?” she hauled over the coals, all eyes set on me. I kept silent. Part of me believed that was true – the selfishness I possess. All thanks to inheritance, I guess. I walked quietly up the side-staircase. From what I counted, fifteen men, some barely reaching the age of twenty, lined up horizontally across the stage – holding a numbered cupboard from 1 to 15. "Ah, finally. Back to earth now?" the host taunted. "Yeah." I nodded, displeased. Folding my arms, waiting for the earthquake – any moment now . . . please. "Now, close your eyes and pick a number from this bowl." WHAT? Now they're asking me to fish for numbers? Oh great. Number 6. I scanned around the building to check who held the number six cupboard. A guy wearing eyeliner, skull T's, skinny jeans. Oh my god, I'm gonna puke. He just acted out a lick at me. A bulb lit above my head. I lifted up the piece of paper downwards; facing the host. “Number 9, huh? Hmm . . . good choice,” she showed off her pearl white set of teeth. My eyes closed as footsteps approached me. He beamed, "I'm David Anderson." Heaven. Labels: The eyes of someone blue |
About the Author
Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended © 2009. Plagiarism is outlawed.I am Sandra Lau (blogger of sandralautzelin.blogspot.com). And I've been charged for passionately writing too many emotional and suspensive dramas. I live by my tacky metaphors and deep quotes, but hell yeah, I love 'em! Reviews means a lot to me, and criticism are most welcomed as well. About the Story
The Eyes of Someone BlueWho says darkness can't be lit up again? The prequel: Marie Belle goes through living hell daily and when she was delivered the worst news of her life - her mother's death, she finds it impossible to regain such a thing called happiness. Hence, her dad set her up on a television broadcast competition and therefore, she also won. Her prize? A stranger, and another who appears later - both likely to fall in love with her. But whoever said 'Don't talk to strangers' doesn't want you to make new friends. But they are only unknowns to her, but to the world, they are the kings of the music industry. Was it worth the fight? Maybe, maybe not. Starring: 1. Charles Belle (Joaquin Phoenix) 2. Chase Anderson 3. Clara Belle (Julianna Margulies) 4. Damon Anderson 5. David Anderson 6. Emma Rose (Katie Holmes/Cruise) 7. Lennea Parkers (Shantel VanSanten) 8. Lily Anderson (Cate Blanchet) 9. Marie Belle 10. Sarah Gabriels (Leighton Meester) 11. Trevor Parkman (Hayden Christensen) Click here to read: Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Chapter Nine Reviews
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