The Lost Heiress (chapter 1 part 2)

 

Chapter 1(part 2)- continued from chapter 1(part 1)

Christine was shaken all over as his voice cut through the frozen silence. She took several steps back, she didn't know what he meant, it was just the fierceness in his voice, the urgency. He called out again, “Anala! Anala!” The wrinkles on the man's forehead deepened, “Do not be scared dear princess, I'm a friend, a very old one.” Something like a smile had appeared on his face. Christine still couldn't speak. “I’m Abner.” he said, “You don't know me but I'm here to tell you who you really are.” 

“What?” her voice was shaky. 

“Sit with me dear princess, will you? There's so much to tell you, and so little time. Sit with me.” 

“No.” Christine half whispered half screamed, a muddle of sharp breaths and frenzied heartbeats. Something about this man scared her, something in the way his green eyes looked, something! The mist seemed to be closing up on her, she took brisk backward steps. 

“Don't be afraid, please, I'm a frie-” 

Christine had started to run, with all her might, she rushed through the mist. The man's voice called out behind her, “Anala! Please stop! Don't run away. You still don't know who you are.” 

She didn't stop until she was out of the woods. The mist floated through the dark street like smoke. She quickened her pace, didn't stop walking till she was home. Her mother opened the door, heavy breathing and brisk words filling up the silence. 

“How many times have I warned you dear? Don't you know how dangerous it is? You should never go wandering about in the woods this late!” Mother's eyebrows were high up in her forehead, the loose skin on her tired cheeks pink. Christine didn't have anything to say. Like so many times before, she just walked past her mother, through the yellow corridor into her room. Their house smelled of old things, musty old things. Ever since their father had left, to live with another woman, Mother had been very quiet, like she was fading into the chipped paint on the walls, and every other memory the house reeked of had slowly began to be a burden on the hope tomorrow had once promised to bring. 

Christine lay on her bed, her eyes tracing the cracks on the ceiling. Her mind wandered through the misty woods, craving the secrets curled in its branches, in search of the old man with stern green eyes, his voice echoing through the haze, “I'm here to tell you who you really are.”

Who you really are!!

------------------------------to be continued-----------Story & painting by Ritoja