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Thursday, December 8, 2011

12/08/2011 (Sample Chapter of La Encantadora/The Enchantress)

Chapter One
(Sample Reading)

Brazil, Amazon Rainforest
The year 2031
Inside of the seclusion of the unchanging walls or her life, Zita, was unaware of the highly developed world that surrounded her. Her cottage home, her modest family life, her meager living was a barricade of protection. This served as a border between them and the advancing world, or worlds that surrounded them.
This kept them happy. This allowed them peace and tranquility. This fort was all they needed to be content. Steering far from anyone's questioning or disturbances. This little place allowed them to live, alone, not requiring approval. Nor allowing anyone to bring them dismay.
The harmonious environment, the greenery, the beautiful flowers. It was a perfect little self-constructed, antiquated world, that they'd created all for themselves. While, everything surrounding them, changed and advanced. It was a perfect little piece of the Regency Era, in a Technological World. However, this was all they needed to feel pleased with their lives...
************
My first memory was that of a dinner that my father and mother were holding for my grandfather. My father's, father. I was very aware of everything that was going on around me, yet it seemed that my parents had no clue that I did. Maybe, it was because I had yet to verbalize anything. I refused to make them aware of all that I truly knew. They were completely aware of my physical growth, yet not so in-tune with my mental growth. Of course, a child like me is bound to be different. That, I'm sure, there was no getting away from.
My mother had prepared a great and extravagant meal. The table scape was beautiful as well. I was in the wooden highchair my father had built, sitting straight up in a seated position. Not something likely, for a one month old baby. Yet, as my parents very well knew; I was far from your average child. Ever since my conception, my development was extraordinary. I was sure it was because I was different. My mother was human and my father was far from human. As the matter of fact, nothing about him had ever been human at all. My father was an Encantador. A demon from the Brazilian Rain Forest. Water creature by day, humanoid by night. His name was Zavier. My mother; her name was Edeli.
My parents had prepared this meal, in order to convince my grandfather of accepting me. To except the fact that, they were going to be together forever. That my father was no longer going to do evil deeds, and that I was a proven product of their love.
I remember, seeing my mother slave over the stove and fuss preparing the table. She was trying her damnedest to make everything perfect. So perfect, in fact, that it would leave no room for doubt. She'd convinced herself, that the better her presentation, the better chance she'd have at acquiring acceptance.
My father leaned over her while she was yet fussing with perfection, lifted her to him, and kissed her forehead, “Edeli, My Love, relax. It does not matter to me, if he does or does not accept you and Zita. I love you both more than words can say. Now, forget about all this and come with Me.” he had a voice that could sooth the savage beast.
My father was certainly a handsome being. Tall with elegant good looks. Blonde hair and perfectly tanned skin, with eyes the color of the waters that he swam in by day. He was so handsome in fact that not even his forehead was as pronounced as most Encantadores. He could quite easily pass as a human, and no one would question him otherwise.
My mother was lovely also. She had long auburn locks, with hints of yellow-gold flowing through them. Her skin was a light tone of bronze. Her feature’s almost royal, with loveliness. Her eyes were big, almond shaped and as green as the forest itself. It wasn't hard to see why my father gave up his ways when he met her. I truly believed that any creature would have. She was without a doubt, truly enchanting herself.
I, on the other hand, still had no idea what I looked like. I had yet to visit my own reflection. Also, due to the fact that I'd never been to the outside world, in my mind (at that time) everything around me was normal. However, how quickly would I learn that I was totally and completely wrong.
My grandfather arrived just a short while later. I cannot say that I remember much after that. Everything seemed somewhat like a blur to me. I remember bits and pieces. My grandfather’s voice was harsh and uneasy. Then, some yells. Some crying. Things banging around, and then someone said, “And, that creature in there... she will never be accepted. Anywhere! Not here and not in the human world either! Look at her – she's a freak of nature!”. To that my mother's voice became aggressive and sharp, “Get out! Get out of my house! Now!” A door slammed shut. Then my mother; she cried. A hurtful cry. Like someone had deeply offended her.

At about four months of age, I'd been told that I was already the size of a two year old child. I remember, walking around my home, touching things, discovering things, learning things. My mother would giggle at my curious ways. My father was incredibly over protective. “Edeli, watch her. She can get hurt.” then my mother’s soothing voice would respond, “Zavier, My Love, leave her be. She's smart. She's learning.”
My father would sit me on his lap and bounce me around, singing funny little tunes that made me laugh. Seeing him this way made me wonder why I'd ever heard any rumors at all, of him being evil. He was too good, too loving, to be any sort of evil. My mother, however, kept her routine of telling me a story every night. I would close my eyes allowing my imagination to linger in all the things that she'd describe. Even then, fully knowing and understanding what was going on around me; knowing that I could use words, had I wished it, I still decided to remain silent. I saw no need to speak. My parents knew me well enough to know what I wanted and needed.

My fondest memory, however, was one of my fathers. Every night, I'd fall asleep in my parent’s bed and as soon as I had drifted off into my nights slumber, I would awaken the next morning, in my own bed. One night, I was already about a year old in age. In body, I was approximately the size of a five year old child. I'd decided that I was going to fake my sleep, in order to see how it all happened. How I'd fall asleep in my parent’s bed and wake up in my own. So, I curled up at the foot of their bed, as I usually did, closed my eyes and faked my sleep.
Some time passed, then, I heard my father's voice whisper to my mother, “Do you think she's asleep?”
“Yes. It looks like it.” my mother answered.
“Alright then...” I felt arms wrap around me, then a small quiet puff, “Wow. She's getting big and heavy. I can barely move her anymore.” he mentioned with love apparent in his tone. Not wanting to give away my secret, I maintained myself in still silence, allowing him to put me in my bed. After a while, still not able to fall to sleep, I decided to wait until sometime in the middle of the night. Then, I crept back into their bed. And there I stood, curled up at the foot of their bed until the next morning.

Time flew by way too quickly for me. All of it was mostly like a dream. As if I was alive yet, only in my own imagination. Or possibly, I existed within the thoughts of someone else. As if my life was merely a dream. Not real to anyone, not even myself. I was not sure if anyone would be able to understand. Most of my life, up until my fifth birthday, every day seemed like an out of body experience.
The morning of my fifth birthday, my mother, as she'd become accustomed to, took me out to the forest to pick fresh flowers in order to adorn the table with, for my birthday celebration. I, as usual, went with her picking the ones that I thought were the loveliest. All this time had passed, yet, I'd never said a word. I never opened my mouth to speak. It seemed as if my parents had resigned on trying to make me speak, and left me for mute. I assumed that their conclusion had been that I was mute because of their past sins. That my disability was the payment for their iniquities.
Yet, that morning, I was silent no more. As we picked all the most beautiful flowers I decided to ask, “Mamma, why does every one say that Papa is evil?” My mother dropping the flowers she carried to the floor in surprise, turned to look at me. Her eyes nearly displaced from their sockets.
She composed herself quickly, recollected her flowers, then answered, “Zita, my dear child, it's simply because they cannot look into his heart.” Such a simple answer, I supposed, yet so true. So, totally and completely true. I understood then, that had they looked into his heart, they'd then see that he was not what they thought him to be. Then Mamma continued, “What he is, had nothing to do with who he is.”

The small private party was lovely. My parents, stood proud looking upon me as I sat at the table, and opened a box that was gifted to me and sifted through its contents. I was eager to see what this year would bring me. I had become accustomed to living meagerly, only having what was needed. The only time a year that I'd get anything otherwise, was at this very moment; my birthday.
I reached the bottom of the box and pulled out what was inside it. I'd never seen such a thing. It was square shaped with a handle to hold it. It had some sort of glass in the middle. The glass that it contained seemed to reflect the room around us. It seemed to remind me just a bit of how rain drops reflected the trees on which they lay.
“What is it?” I asked. I looked up at my parents and saw the look of mere content in their face. I didn't know if they were happy because of the gift they'd given me or because of the fact that I spoke for the second time.
My mother answered, “It's a mirror, My Dear.”
“What's a mirror?”
“Hold it up to yourself, Love, and you'll see.” my father directed.
I pulled the contraption to myself, and gazed inside of it. Who was that person? I'd never seen her before. Was she stuck in this object? I dropped the mirror back into the box.
“Mamma, we need to get her out of there!” I demanded eagerly.
“My love, you cannot get her out of there because, she is not in there... She is you.” she replied, rather amused.
“What?” I was amazed. How did I get in this so called mirror?
“Lift it to yourself, Child. Look again.” my father told me.
This time, I lifted it to myself slowly, still semi-leery about the entire thing. I looked in it. With my free hand I reached for my face. The girl in the mirror did the same thing. I touched my nose, and so did she. I touched the mirror, and she did the same, her fingers touching mine. I stuck out my tongue, and she did as well. “This is me!” I thought to myself. I was amazed.
Taking an even deeper look, I analyzed the me that lay inside this “mirror”. She had my mother's forest green eyes. My fathers, blonde hair, yet it lay upon her shoulders and back in long locks, like my mothers. Her facial features were strong, like my fathers, yet feminine and delicate like my mothers. She was very beautiful, I mused.
“That's me?” I asked still in disbelief.
“Yes, My Love. That is you.” my mother answered. I'd never seen myself before. Never, felt the need to. Yet, now, I was looking at my own reflection, for the first time, and I was astonished. It was hard to believe that this person looking back at me in the mirror was indeed me. Yet, it was. I wondered, if the people that saw me, saw this very same person that I was looking at right now. I wondered if this person that lay in the mirror was merely my minds interpretation of me. Not what I really looked like. It was very hard to process.
I'd always imagined myself to be horrendous. The words of my grandfather, always rang in my head, “That creature... she will never be accepted”, which lead me to believe that I was hideous. I convinced myself, that I'd never seen myself because my parents wanted to spare me the agony. Giving into the inexplicable, I decided that I would have to accept it. This was me. End of story.