Ball - Chapter Three

            I listen to the sounds of metals and irons clinking to each others and the sound of cracks of fires in the fireplace. I open my eyes in a tired manner, and my eyes look about. Where am I? I stare at the thing formed in front of me. It is an embossed ceiling. There’s a figure of a lady with a beautiful crown and a man wearing a toga, and an old man with beards, long beards that gives me a slight tingle on my spine. I am lying on a soft material, and it is daylight. I’m in a soft piece of white duvet, and, only then I knew that this is my bedroom. I widen my eyes a bit because the thought of schooling today make me choke.

            What happened to me? The last thing I remember is that I was in the firm arms of the wanted man. But how did he save me? How did he climb down the tree so fast, just to fetch me? And I know that he did, because I was in his arms, and he was looking down at me. And he was smiling. How did I end up lying here, in my bedroom? Why the heck can’t I remember a single thing?

I pull myself up to sit, and when I did, I look at the fireplace, which was in front of my bed. Martha is poking on the fire using the metal poker, noisily. She is bending in front of the fireplace, and she pokes on the fire more loudly this time. I clear my throat.

            Martha stand up straight in a start, and she turns her body slowly behind. “Morning, Miss Belle!” Martha runs toward me and stands at the bedpost.

            I gasp at her sudden yell. She really is such a madcap. Martha Marion is one of the clumsiest ladies I’ve ever set my eyes upon. She sometimes may be really kind, and sweet and all, but most times, she is so silly.

            Martha sits down beside me, and looks at me. “Aha, you look like you are going to spill something,” she points her forefinger of her right hand on me. “Spill, spill!”

            “I"I don’t know"I think, I must’ve been dreaming,” I shake my head lightly, and touch my temple with my right hand’s fingers.

            “Of course you were,” she frowns. Martha yelps and says, “Oh, no! Did you have dream a bad dream?”

            “No, I had a great one,” I smile. Maybe, that wanted man was just a dream. But no! I had slapped my cheek when the first time I saw his face, and I can exactly feel the pain. I was not dreaming.

            But how did he save me?

            The way he saved me was totally like in a dream. He had fetched me into his arms, and why did I faint? Why did I sleep? I have to meet him right away. I have to bath him with lots of questions, because I want to know the truth. I want to know if it’s true he is a robot.

            Robot? Nah. Whatever am I talking about?

            I struggle to slide off the bed to put on my pink bunny sleepers, but Martha stopped me.

            “Oh, Miss Belle?” she seizes me by putting her right hand on my left arm. “You need to do your homeworks after you come back from school, and then you need to get yourself a comfortable hot bath, and after that you need to meet Mr. George Le Burgh, a hired make-over man, and all of that are for the ball tonight.”

            “What?” I sigh. “I don’t want to meet any guy to make me over.”

            “But, Miss Belle, it is the Queen’s order. See?” Martha pulls out a small beige colored note out of the pocket of her apron, and she hands it out to me.

            It says there:

           

 

            Princess Easobelle has to do her homeworks the minute she comes back home from school, and she has to get herself a comfortable hot bath to brighten up her face, and, has to meet Jorge Le Burgh to do her hair, her face and her attires. Tonight is her special night Martha. She must do all of that, at once.

 

         Yours,

                                            The Queen

           

            (TO BE CONTINUED)