Chapter I

Chapter I

Emily picked up her violin, a beautifully adorned instrument, oak wood with a black finish, lined with a golden trim. She placed it in its case, along with its bow and locked it. Her mother walked by the doorway, stopping to look at her daughter. “I was sure that magic had just entered our home,” her mother was a beauty, barely forty but still flourishing. Her daughter was the spitting image of her, long, curly black hair, blue eyes, pale skin. Emily’s mother approached her, sitting next to her on her bed. “If only I could create magic,” the young girl smiled. She was a musical prodigy, known across a wide range of cities. Her talent lied in the ways of violin and piano. She was Emily Maverick, eldest daughter of Elisia and Anthony Maverick, the wealthiest family in Tamerack. The Mavericks were renowned painters, and had even commissioned pieces for the queen herself. 

Elisia put her arm around her daughters shoulder and smiled at her, not afraid to let her pride for her daughter light the room. Emily laughed and stood up, grabbing her violin case. “I wish you didn’t have to go alone. This is an instance in which I wished I had allowed you to have an older brother. He could walk with you, look after yo..”

“Mother”, Emily interrupted, “I’ll be fine. Besides, what could happen? A young musician with nothing going for her in terms of looks is not going to attract a lot of attention.” Her mother looked up at her in shock. “Nothing going for her in terms of looks? My god, what an insult. Saying that is like saying that your own mother is not a fox. And I am a fox,” she brushed back her hair, then smiled in false confidence. Emily laughed. She knew her mother was a fox, but denied her own beauty. 

The two walked down the stairs together, and were met by her father at the bottom. He was the same age as Elisia, and still in his prime. His hair was a light brown color, cropped short. His eyes a vivid green. “There are my girls,” he opened his arms, hugging his daughter and kissing his wife’s cheek. “You’re sure you don’t want me to walk you to the theatre?” he looked down at Emily, concerned. “Papa, I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself,” she smiled.

“Aww, well I hope you still need me for something.”

“Okay, maybe just a little bit.”

The group laughed. Emily gave her father another light hug and kissed his cheek. She took up her violin case and walked to the door, looking back at her parents who wore happy, yet concerned grins. A little boy came charging in from the living room and was quickly swept up into his father’s arms. Caleb had just turned five years old and showed simple signs of becoming an intelligent young boy. He waved good-bye to his sister, and she blew a kiss at him, then exited throughout the front door. Anthony set Caleb down, pushing him lightly to continue his play in the living room. “I’m not going to be able to sleep tonight until she gets home,” her mother walked into the living room, sitting beside her son on the couch and running her fingers through his curly dark brown hair. “I am too Elisia. I mean, she’s a responsible young women. Mature, but beautiful. And the worst part about our status is that everyone knows who she is,” he itched his jaw, nervous. Elisia took a deep breath. “I just hope that everything will be okay...”

* * * * * * * * * * * * *

Elisia walked through the cold, damp streets of downtown. Her shoes clicked against the cobblestone street, echoing off of the buildings. She was alone, for a storm seemed to be on its way. She saw the peaking top of the theatre and quickened her pace. She would be performing tonight for a charity event, in which many musicians would flock to earn money for the less fortunate. It was an event organized by Emily’s parents, for they figured that with more money than they knew what to do with, why not share it?

Emily hurried along the street to the theatre’s front doors, making her way through them and down a long hallway to the auditorium. There was a special entrance for the musicians, and Emily followed the horde of people carrying instrument cases to a room behind the stage. A man dressed in his best was standing at the doorway checking off the names of the musicians entering the room. Emily approached him, and exhaled, feeling nervous. She had never done anything like this before. Her family had been her only audience, and even though she knew she was talented, she wondered if hundreds of other people she had never even met would think so. “Name, please,” the usher demanded. “Emily Maverick,” the young musician said, hoping he wouldn’t give her any trouble. 

“Oh, Miss Emily. You’re the daughter of the ones who organized this event, am I right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, I am sure that this will be a successful night. It is such a great experience to see musicians getting some credit for a change. Go on through, ma’am”

Emily smiled and thanked him, then made her way through the door and sat down as far from the other players as she could. She was self-conscious, worrying that her hair didn’t look right, that her dress was not the right color for this particular occasion. Get over your petty complaints, Emily. You’re only adding to your fear she thought. She fluffed out her dress, which by all standards was exceedingly beautiful. It had been her mothers, off-white in color, and hung over her shoulders fittingly. Her father had once told her that white was perfect for her, for it lavished her beauty, making her look more like a deity than anything else. She wished her mother  and father had come with her; she wished that once the curtain rose, she would see their sweet faces smiling at her from the front row, Caleb bouncing on her father’s lap. 

But not tonight. This was Emily’s turn to do something without them, her turn to prove that she was capable of doing something without them. She unhooked the latches on her violin case, taking out the instrument, its bow and a small amount of rosin. She softly ran the rosin along the fine edges of the horsehair, making them sleek and ready for play. She was having difficulty deciding which song she wanted to play. There were two pieces that she had in mind, one was a song that her mother had taught her, a beautiful piece that was intricate, yet simple at the same time. The other was song that she, herself, had created entitled “The Winter of Wolves”. It was a lengthy piece, and held many different elements, such as softness, gentility, suspense. 

This song will be perfect she thought. She had written the piece after a strange dream she had about a pack of wolves, led by two, one black and one white, running across a river, in hopes of reaching the other side. They were chasing deer, their stomachs yearning to be satisfied. And then the dream ended, leaving Emily to speculate whether or not the wolves were able to catch their prey. Whether or not they had made it across the river. She remembered vividly that snow had blanketed the ground and fat fluffs of it were trickling down from the sky. Emily had never forgotten that dream, and had no idea why it had stuck with her for so long. It was so real, as if she had been there. As a child, she had wondered if she really had been there.

A man walked into the room, interrupting the chatter amongst the other musicians. “If I could have everyone’s attention, please. Thank you. Now, I’m sure that all of you know that this is a charity event, organized by the Maverick family. This event has been funded in order to raise money for the less fortunate. One of the Maverick’s own, their daughter, will be preforming in this production. Miss Emily, are you here?” the steward looked out amongst the crowd, scanning for the young musician. She raised her hand, smiling, but obviously feeling uncomfortable. Everyone in the room fixed their eyes upon her, some of them smiling, some of them with blank expressions. A few of the young men seemed to fancy her, for once they noticed her, they couldn’t remove their eyes. 

“The event is about to begin,” the steward said, “If I call your name, please join me at the front of the room. We will begin momentarily. Jamie Fischer. Roseanna Marcs. Madeline Bently”. Three musicians gathered their instruments and followed the man through the doorway, anxiously waiting behind the stage for their turn to play. Emily sat quietly, closing her eyes and listening to the different instruments being played. After one musician finished, another one would take their place, until only Emily remained. The steward returned, a big grin on his face. “Miss Emily? The stage is all yours. Knock them dead,” he said. She gathered her materials, breathing deeply in and out, attempting to quell her stomach. 

She walked through the door behind the man, down a hallway that seemed to grow progressively darker. She could hear the audience clapping, a large uproar that did not help to ease her nervousness. Her mother had once told her, “When you are on stage, it seems as though all the world is watching. You don’t want to disappoint them, or bore them. You want to amaze them, leave them speechless. Show them that magic does exist, and that you can create it. And once you begin playing, the whole world falls away, and the only thing you hear is the majesty you create. The only things that exist are you, your instrument, and song. And in the end, that is all that matters. The unity between player, instrument, and piece.” 

Emily took a deep breath, remembering her mother’s voice of wisdom. Her mother could always calm her, even when she wasn’t around. The musician that was on stage before her had finished playing and was making his way down the hall to the waiting room. He was young, perhaps twenty, and gave Emily a smile that made her stomach quiver. She smiled back, not knowing how to respond the way she would’ve liked to. “Good luck, Emily. I thank you for this opportunity,” he nodded toward her and continued down the hall, disappearing out of sight. Emily exited the room, stepping behind stage, where she could see the outline of the velvet curtains and beyond them, the audience. There was a lone chair set out for her on stage, the spotlight shining directly over it. This was her moment. 

An announcer stepped out onto the stage. “That was Christopher Evans playing an original piece on the Cello. Simply breathtaking. However, our night is coming to an end. We have one more musician to present to you tonight. The daughter of the founders of this charity event, Miss Emily Maverick on the violin,” he began to clap, and was followed by the crowd to welcome the young musician to the stage. She walked out from behind the curtain and waved, smiling nervously. She took a seat, unlocking her violin’s case and taking out the instrument. She placed the base of it on her shoulder, touching her chin to the rest and readying her bow. She began her piece slowly and softly. She allowed her song to tell the story of the wolves, and while the audience would never know what is was about, they would be able to feel the emotions that followed with it. Emily played for approximately ten minutes, leaving the crowd speechless. When she drew her bow away from the instrument, the audience erupted. 

Emily bowed, smiling and attempting to regain her breath. She approached the end of the stage and looked out amongst the crowd. There was no one here, that she saw, that she recognized. She figured that most of the patrons had traveled from far away, just to see young musicians play. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. It would appear that many of you have traveled far and wide to be here with us tonight. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you. Events like this cannot happen without people like you. Thank you all so much. Good evening,” she waved again, then grabbed her violin and case and exited the stage.

Christopher, the cellist that had played before her was leaning against a wall, and seemed to have been waiting for her. He flashed his dazzling smile at her. “That was beautiful,” he said, raising an eyebrow. Emily brushed a few ebony locks behind her ear, chuckling. “Well, I figured I would give these good people something they would enjoy. It is because of them that we can have events like this,” she walked by him, following the hallway back into the waiting room. Christopher followed her, attempting to make small talk with her, but not receiving many responses. Emily wasn’t really sure what to say. She hadn’t had many prolonged conversations with young men. She had been so busy studying her academics and practicing her music, she hadn’t had time for boys. And now here stood Christopher, a fox if there ever was one with his dazzling smile, shoulder length sandy brown hair and blue eyes.

“So, ma’am. I was wondering if I could buy you a drink?” he asked, out of the blue. It completely threw Emily off guard. “Excuse me?” she asked, “I’m sorry. I don’t drink. And I have to go home right away. My parents are expecting me.” Christopher shrugged his shoulders and picked up his cello case. His many attempts were now beginning to bother Emily. Even with his ravishing good looks, she wasn’t interested. She had more important things to worry about. “Well, goodnight,” she said, exiting the room and making her way out of the theatre. 

Clouds had gained in numbers, a sure sign that a storm was inevitable. Small droplets of rain began to fall, and Emily looked up at the sky, sighing. She wanted to hurry home as quickly as possible. She walked down the street, keeping her mind off of how frightening the adjacent forest was. The forest was a proud structure, and had offered so much to the villagers of Tamerack. But the stories that came out of those woods...well, that was a different story. Adding rain and darkness did not help to quell Emily’s nerves. She continued walking, listening to the sound of her boots against stone, the sound of her heart thumping in her chest. She could make out the shape of three people walking towards her, two of them stumbling. Oh, great she thought.           Three men emerged from the settling mist, rain pelting their jackets.

Christopher stood at the front of them, an expression painted across his face that sent chills down Emily’s spine. It was like he had become a completely different person. There was a pure look of evil on his face, like a demon in sheep’s clothing. Emily stopped, then made an attempt to walk around them. But Christopher wasn’t about to have that. He grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to let out a small scream. His strength was frightening. “Where are you going, little Miss Emily?” he asked with a sarcastic tone. The two men standing around him laughed. 

“Let go of me. Now,” she demanded. Christopher looked over his shoulder at his lackeys,  then back at her. He pushed her against the side of a building, causing her to lose her breath. “Now, I’ve never been turned down before. I’m still looking forward to that date, Emily. Whether you want it or not,” he watched her fall to the ground as she tried to regain her breath. She looked up at him and saw that he was beginning to unbuckle his belt. “Hold her,” Christopher demanded o his followers. They did as he asked, getting on their knees and holding her down at the shoulders. Fear was biting at Emily’s skin. She was wondering what she had done to deserve this, what she had done wrong. She couldn’t believe that this was happening. How had she judged this man so poorly?

He moved closer to her, pulling his pants lower and beginning to move his hand up her dress. Tears began to fall from her eyes, and no matter how hard she fought, her body wouldn’t allow her to go free. 

As if lightening had struck the earth, a creature bolted from the forest, running toward Emily’s assailants. It growled maliciously, and jumped at Christopher. Emily saw a flash of black fur grab Christopher from the back and throw him to the ground. She heard a faint scream, and then silence. The creature was a wolf of the purest black. Once it had finished with Christopher, it launched itself at the drunk men. Emily screamed as the wolf accidentally closed its mouth down on her arm.  The other men fled, stumbling down the street as quickly as they could, waving their arms around and speaking in drunken banter.

The rain let itself down harder, drenching Emily’s hair and dress. She stared at the wolf, who’s coat was being pelted down by the rain. It stared back at her, its eyes a gleaming red. But there was no malice there, just pain and regret. It breathed heavily, in and out, whimpering, as if it couldn’t believe it had bitten her. As if it wanted to tell her that it was sorry. Emily held her arm which was bleeding violently. Before Emily could say something, the wolf dashed away, back into the forest. Emily slowly stood up, placing her hand on the wall to stable herself. She was shaking almost uncontrollably. Her first objective was to go home. Mother and Father will never let me leave the house again she thought. She stumbled home, blood dripping down her arm and onto her dress, tears mixing with the rain splattering onto her face. She walked along the street, hearing only the rain and the silence of her shame. 

Author's Note

I welcome criticism, as long as they are civil. Thank you :)

Reviews

[Traci]

Wow a very intense chapter you've written here. Very nicely ended with "the silence of her shame". Sums up what has just happened. I enjoyed Ch 1 and look forward to the continuation.

[Chelsea Marie]

Thanks a lot :) I honestly wasn't sure how people would take this story. It was actually just a little idea floating around :p But I guess that is how most things begin, huh? Anyway, thanks for reading. I am actually posting Chapter II as we speak :)

[Traci]

You are very welcome :) Write from the heart, what you like, and don't worry about what others think. Little ideas turn into big things, as Ch 1 did for you. Keep writing and I'll keep reading.

[Chelsea Marie]

:D