Man With Wings - Chapter One

            The sweet wind of spring blows gently against my cheeks. Those lovely birds sing lovely songs at me while sitting on the branch of the maple tree grown just exactly out of my bedroom window. I smile at them, meaning I have approved them as a friend and wish to be sung by every morning of my life. I have had my breakfast on bed, but nothing interested me, so I just took a bite of the lovely scented orange flavored pretzels and a sip of the thick full creamed milk. But even that didn’t amuse me much. I don’t know why, ever since I have been declared as the Crown Princess of Edworando, it feels like it isn’t really my life. I have always been a simple fourteen years old damsel, and I have never wear any dresses which were always full of laces and frills and a string of genuine white pearls around my long neck. And knowing you are really a princess now, it feels exactly like in a magical dream.

            My stern father and elegant mother, the honorable King Edmond, and the beautiful Queen Sahara, are expecting me to be a real crown princess. None at my school has ever thought I would be the crown princess, and they didn’t expect me to be a princess. I, the most famous tray-hitter at the cafeteria in school can’t really be chosen as the real crown princess. I have never experienced anything like this"of course"and living in the Palace of Ferris Manor for already a year had already made me feel miserable. And you know, nobody fond those snapping cameramen who always creeps anywhere.

            “Miss Easobelle,” a voice startles me from behind. I turn around to see who it was. It is Martha, the fifteen year old maid in the Palace. She is my maid, and she is to treat me well and dress me and feed me and make my bed all morning. But no, she’s my friend, and I’m not letting her to do all those things. I am the one who is responsible for my own self and my own bed. I have commanded her not to call me Princess Easobelle, because I can’t exactly fit in with that rank yet.

            “Yes?” I say, not expecting her to bring me any wondrous news because the morning had been a wondrous one itself. I stand up and smooth my lap. I had put on the pink muslin dress with frills around my wrists and around my neck and it tickled me really bad. I have to get changed right away to avoid from getting worse.

            “His Majesty inquired to see you in his study,” Martha points out. His Majesty? What is it that father wanted to see me for?

You know, I haven’t spoken or seen him since the last three day, and I can’t accept the fact that he is my real father, by blood and flesh. I have lived with my Aunt Veronica before, and she isn’t as elegant as my real parents were. She is, you see, working as a cashier in a local mart and didn’t often get salary because she eats while she works. Poor her. I wonder, what has happened to her?

I have known about my parents before. I mean, I know that they are alive, but I didn’t know what their name. Aunt Veronica had never told me of them before, and she told me that they were dead. But then, when I turned thirteen, she told me that I was supposed to be sent to live with them a Palace called Ferris Manor on an island named Fiorando.  That really shocked me and choked me.

            “Whatever he wants me for?” I demand, really wanting to know what exactly he wants me for. Maybe he wants to get to know me well. Or maybe he wants to scold me on something bad I had done which isn’t going to please him.

            “I also do not know, Miss,” Martha shrugs and raises her eyebrows. “Let me get you ready, Miss.”

            “No, no, it’s okay, anyways. I can do it myself,” besides, I want to change my outfit into a really cool one. You know, there are thousands of wonderful and branded clothes in the enormous wardrobe, and why don’t I change into one of those? I can’t just get trapped in those ticklish dresses full of laces all my life.

            “Are you sure?” Martha makes a softhearted grin.

            “Yes, of course. I hate it if someone sees me without a string of thread on my flesh. Right?” I grin as heartily as possible.

            “Right,” she says and walks out of the room as soon as possible. You know, she hates to see me mad. She wants the best for me. And she’ll listen to me and hears my command. That’s the only thing I love when I’m a princess.

            You know what? At my school a few have just known I’m a princess, and they are the best secret keeper you have ever seen. They are my three best friends"Lora McDaniel, Samantha Dandelion and Leonardo van de Gordon. They can keep my secrets really well. And can lie about it, too.

            Lora is my science partner, and we get along really fast in the first glance. She just said hi, and I said hi, and in just two minutes we were gossiping about Paris Hilton. There’s one thing that amuses me when I’m with Lora"she will treat me like we’re sisters when I don’t even have any sister at all. Lora is a medium weighted girl, and she is pretty, I have to admit it. Her eyes were round and blue, and her hair was brownish red which curls down covering her back. In other word, she is Taylor Swift with brownish red curls.

            The next one"Samantha Dandelion, or others would call, Sam the Lion. Sam got the dialect of a Texas cowgirl. She is really fierce. I mean, she acts like a boy, even though she doesn’t have any muscles on her arms. Sometimes, when there’s a boy accidentally swooshed on her in the cafeteria, she will squeal and yell and try to hit ‘accidentally’ next time. Sam’s head was covered with a mop of tousled dark locks, and they don’t curl so much like Lora’s. Her eyes were dark and narrow and fishy"no one would love to stare in her eyes. One more thing"she loves to watch Motorcycle Grand Prix, or the MotoGP, that’s what I heard them say. Sometimes when I called her on the phone to ask about homeworks, she’ll say I have to call her back in another two or three hour, because she probably might be playing the MotoGP on Playstation. Great, isn’t it?

            Last but not least"Leonardo van de Gordon, or they would mock, Leo the Guard. Leo is really soft. I mean, he’s not like so soft until his flesh turns out to be marshmallows. He is like, so soft until you feel like he is a ‘she’. He never is a gentleman; he is more to a soft-man. Leo’s flesh isn’t so much like a marshmallow, even though he wished it is. His eyes were light blue, and his thick dark eyelashes are his best weapon for guys. I mean, he isn’t gay. He uses those thick lashes to fritter them away. When he bats those lashes to the man who loves to bully him, they’ll go, “Eww!” or “Man, you sucks!” and then you’ll see those bullies end up puking in the back streets. That is his real wonderful weapon.

            Oh, no. I forgot about Oriella Dorselle. She is the school’s most famous cheerleader, and she and her gang"the Sparkles"won’t get away from me. I mean, they want to reveal my secrets in front of my classmates and my crush, Adam Marco. But unfortunately, rumors tell me that Adam is recently engaged to Oriella. Not that engaged means to be married. I think she bribes him to go out with her and be her boyfriend. You know, Oriella is really rich, and she can get anything from her parents. But hey, I can get anything I want from my parents, too, okay? And I’m richer than her. And more power. It’s just that I am not a needy kind of girl.

            I kick those above out of my head at once, and drag my heavy body into the dressing room. My dressing room is really huge. It has to be huge because the wardrobe is huger than the window. It didn’t even look like a dressing room at all, because it is really huge. How many times do I have to tell you that?

            I pull open the wardrobe cover, and linger my eyes on each outfit hanged there. Which should I wear? You know, I always wanted to make that old man’s eyes pop out of his head only because I’m wearing un-princess like attires.

            Wow, this would be perfect.

            A black oversized shirt printed ‘metallica’ and a pair of black skinny jeans.

            After I had teamed them together, I dash a bit of that dark red lipstick on my pair of lips, and dab some black eye colors on my eyelids. I stand straight in front of my huge wall-hanged mirror, and stare deep into myself.

            This is crazy. I look so unlike a princess. Never mind, this is better than to slide into those gosh-so-eww dresses.

            I knock three times sharp on father’s brown oak study door. There’s a muffled voice saying ‘come in’, and so I twist the round doorknob and step in.

            Oh my, father’s study is very huge. The ceiling is way up high meters from me, and the walls were very brown. I mean, they were all made of wood. It was made of pure wood that the room smells of lovely forest. The walls were lined with huge windows and window seats, with velvet curtains covering them. There’s a big lovely yellowy chandelier in the middle of the room, and father’s desk is twenty-two feet in front of me. Behind that desk were tons of bookshelves, and it looks as if I’m in the library.

            My eyes set on that man, who was wearing a nice black coat and a pair of rectangle shaped glasses. He lifts his head up from the book he’s reading, and I can see that his jaw drops open a tiny bit.

            “What happened to you?” he asks, almost like a shout. Father pushes back the chair and stands up. “Where is your dress?”

            My eyes go huge. Oh, no. I think this man is going to kill me.

            “I,” I start to stammer. What am I going to respond? “I’m going to change into it later. It was scratching my neck just now.”

            Father shakes his head lightly; his gaze is still steadily set upon me, and I could see sadness in his eyes. Oh, my. “I don’t know what to say more, Belle,” father sit down and touches his fingers on his temple. “Do sit down now.”

            I slowly walk forward to his desk. There’s two elegant looking plush chairs placed few inches in front of his desk, and I sit down carefully on the right one. Father stares at me for a moment before he talks in his firm manner.

            “I have seen your attitudes, Belle,” father begins. “And I am not satisfied with it. The reason I called you is to tell you wonderful news, and I hope you will agree with me.”

            Agree? What does he mean by ‘agree’? I remain silent. I wish he could speak faster and tell me what’s happening.

            “You know,” he continues, “many years ago, in our descendant, princesses marries in early age. Some marry at twenty, some sixteen, and some fourteen. And now,” he clears his throat. “I have met this prince who is going to be a very devoted King of Morolanda, and I wish you to marry him on your fourteenth birthday, which is going to happen next month.”

            “What?!” I spring onto my feet, eyes widened, lower lip begins to tremble. What is he doing? Me marrying at fourteen? Are you nuts? “What the heck are you doing?”

            “Heck is not in my vocabulary, princess,” father holds his right hand in the air. “You have to listen to me. You are going to marry that prince, and that’s final!” he pounds his palm on the desk loudly.

            “I will not marry a man in an early age, father! That is so ridiculous,” I shake my head. It really is ridiculous. I haven’t even had my first kiss, and now he is trying to make me marry a man at fourteen? Say it again, FOURTEEN?

            “If you won’t, you are not in my descendant!” father shout indelicately.

            “Well then, I will not be in your stupid descendant!” I run to the oak door and dash through it, ignoring father who is calling me by my full name.

            The minute I am outside the door, I figure out that they had been listening to our conversation. The maids, the cooks, the gardeners, even Lady Lavender, is standing nervously in front of me, all looking afraid and gasping and saying, “Oh, my!” I just don’t mind them, but no way will I marry on my next birthday.

            I bolt to my bedroom, shut the door behind, and bring myself to my huge wall-hanged mirror.

            Do I look like a real princess? Should I marry on my next birthday? Tears are stinging in my eyes right now, waiting to roll down on my cheeks and slide off my face. You know, maybe that prince father talked about just now is handsome. I heard father knew a lot of handsome princes because he had held a lot of lovely balls and invited a lot of lovely chaps. Perhaps I should marry him, or perhaps I shouldn’t. I don’t know what to do now. Where’s a fairy godmother when you need one?

            I look at my face. I haven’t considered myself as a beautiful one, but those ladies-in-waiting told me that I am a really beautiful girl. Well I don’t think I am, at all. My eyes are weary black and they looks really queer and narrow sometimes. I always shoot everyone with a really long, scary stare, and they don’t like it and they think I am a very strange girl, indeed. My mouth can’t smile, at times, but they aren’t as lovely as Mary-Kate and Ashley’s. They are just medium sized, and turns pink after I drank a glass of fresh orange juice. They didn’t exactly satisfy me with much lovely curves. My long hair is completely dark with a hint of earth brown and they are so straight you think I went to the saloon to straight them up. They sometimes shines when the sun strikes into it and it gives them a lovely color of rich brown, but instead all of that, I am not at all perfect and beautiful. I have not any talent that will please someone besides than singing in the bathroom, which will only turns the neighbors mad. But, hey, I’m living in a castle, what are going to turn mad? The horses in the stables?

            Gosh, I have to make an action. What if father really agrees to that prince that I am going to marry him? What if he had already called that prince and made an arrangement of the wedding? What if"

            I have to make an action right away! But what should I do? I can’t really marry a chap which I really don’t know.

            Mother! That’s it! She can definitely help me, by stopping father.

            I rush out of my bedroom door, and quickly dart to mother’s favorite place, the library.

            “Mother?” I sing the minute I am in the enormous library. I’m sure she’s in here. But there’s no sound at all. There’s not a single noise in there; only the sound of birds chirping outside and the huff my breath was heard. “Mother?” I sing again, this time, louder.  

            “Yes, yes, darling, what is it?” mother comes out of the bookshelves and makes her way fast towards me. She had on a dark blue cotton dress with lovely ribbons around her waist and a pair of diamond earrings. Her honey colored hair was pulled up into a really cool looking chignon, and she looks rather lovely in my sight. I think mother quite the prettiest lady in Fiorando. I don’t know why her eyes are blue and mine are dark.

            “Where were you just now?” I ask, quickly stand straight in front of her.

            “I did some work in here,” she gestures behind. “What did you called me for?”

            “I,” stammer is my best friend nowadays. “I want to ask you a favor.”

            “Let us talk over a cup of tea and in front of the great scenery.”

            And so, mother takes me to her favorite reading place, the large balcony that shows the great Mount Fiorella. The mountain is the most beautiful place that one can’t even resist to take a long gaze at it. It is a really green colored single mountain, and they said that there are a lot of games in there.

            She calls the maid to bring in some teas and cakes and we sit down on the cane chairs. After the maid had laid down the teas and cakes, mother says, “Spill out what you want to spill.”

            I sigh; hoping mother could really help me this time. Well, I know I haven’t known her for a while, and maybe this is the best time to let her help me. “I hate father.”

            Mother’s eyes widen really big. Oh god, I think I’ve started with wrong sentence.

            “Whatever are you talking of, princess?” her voice becomes so stern. I’ve never heard those tones on her before, and it gives me sudden chill on my backbone. Maybe I shouldn’t say that next time. “You know, princess, you shouldn’t say something like that, and p’raps you could be thrown out into the dungeon. I think you should learn more.” Mother folds her arms across her chest and stares deep within myself. My heart starts to pound, and my lower lip starts to tremble.

            “No, mother,” I say, trying to control my shaky voice. “Father wants me to marry, and at fourteen, too!”

            So suddenly her face changes into a really happy expression; her frowned brown eyebrows settle and rise up high, her cheeks flush pink, and her sweet mocking mouth turns into a really lovely and heart-throbbing smile. She clasps her hands together into fast triple clap and she tittles a bit. “That would be so wonderful!” Mother exclaims.

            Am I dreaming?

            “Mother!” I shout. I know I’m in the level of rude when I did that, but from what I know right now, mother seems to be really happy when she heard I said I am going to marry. This is so over. I think I shouldn’t be in this descendant. I stand and push back the chair. “Maybe I shouldn’t tell you these in the first place,” and I bolt out of the balcony into the library and into my bedroom.

            I shut the door behind me and toss myself on the bed really hard until my nose hurts when it hits the mattress. I begin to sob, inhaling hurriedly. Is this how my life supposed to be? Marry at fourteen when I don’t even know the groom? Should I really marry him?

            “Gah!”

            Goodness! Who is that? I lift my head up and turns it around, eyes lingers at my surroundings. I sure think I heard someone said something just now. But where is the source of the voice? It must be someone. There must be. I drag myself up, and try to stand. After the sobs, it all makes my body all heavy and weak. But whatever it is, I will have to find that voice. I’m so afraid if it is a burglar or a bad man trying to steal me and make me a hostage. But burglar, in daylight? “Who is that?” I ask in my trembling voice. There’s no response. I walk over to the window seat and draw the curtain aside. Heavens!

            There is a man climbing onto my window. He is clinging on the ivies which grew on the outside walls of my bedroom, and he looks rather still. He isn’t smiling and isn’t frowning; he is just clinging on the ivies without tiring expressions. And on his back there are fluttering things. I don’t exactly know what it is because it is translucent, but I think they are"well, I think they are wings.