Sahara - Chapter Three

“This is Queen Sahara, your real mother.” Mom finally says in the smoothest voice, and I turn around to look at where she might be pointing. She is pointing on a framed photo, violent enough to be flattering. In the photo was a lady, a white lady, wearing a very elegant soft-blue colored dress like the one that Queen Elizabeth usually wears. Laced hem, silky fabric, hair curled and the color of gold, a string of stunning necklace which got an attractive looking dark-blue diamond in the middle around her neck. Everything seems to have their loveliness. On the top of her head, there placed a really cool looking tiara, very cool. I peer into the photo, examining everything that is available in it. And from that, I look at her eyes, and it startles me very much, though.

            Her eyes were the exact color like mine. I am feeling so confused. Is she really my real mom?

            I turn away to look at mom for some explanations, but whenever I stare at her face, I cannot speak. I cannot find the right word to ask her what is happening. I cannot believe myself.

            “She is Queen Sahara,” she says, her voice half whispered. Mom’s eyes looks weary, I can see, and I can understand the cause, and it was because she’s sleepy. I try to focus back on what she’d said. “She rules the island of Shamrock, and of course you haven’t heard of it. It’s the most perfect and most hidden island that you’ve ever seen.”

            I listen, frowning at some point. Okay, this is getting a little hint of scary.

            “If a person,” mom continues, “any person who wears the special pendant, they can see, and feel the presence of the island,” she sighs, staring straight into the great photo of Queen Sahara. Her eyes linger on the all over the photo. Well, of course she was talking about the pendant that I received before. I look at her, didn’t even want to accept the fact that I am maybe Queen Sahara’s daughter.

            I think it’s my turn to speak. I clear my throat. Mom turns to meet my eyes of unacceptable. “Mom,” I breathe in, trying to arrange the question to ask her. “Is she my mother?” there, I’d said it. But the respond wasn’t as good as I predicted, like she would say; ‘Yes, she’s your mother! The queen is your mother!’ well, I want that to happen, as I think it would be nice to be the queen’s daughter. I mean, I don’t want to be a princess, but I think it will be great if someone make a breakfast for you in the bed, and wash your clothes, and do your homeworks, and turn on the radio for you even though it was just few inches from where you were sitting.

            Instead, mom’s eyes flood with tears. It was really quick, and I don’t know how she did it. Like it was really sad if the queen is my mother.

            “Yeah,” mom sobs. She put her hand onto her right cheek, looking at me, and then she turns around to the window. She doesn’t want me to see her crying like that, I know it. And, I think, mom doesn’t love me much, I think I’m right, for she always blames me when the fridge isn’t working, although it was really her fault that she kicked it the night before. Mom was such a fuss. Living with the queen for some time might be awesome.

            “Oh, really?” I ask, pretending that I wasn’t really expecting for her to let me go and live happily ever after with the queen. “Where exactly is this Shamrock Island?”

            Mom gasps and turns to look at me, her lips quivers. She sobs more loudly. I sigh, and tap her on the shoulder. “Mom, I’m asking you,” I say. Well, maybe I sound a bit rude, but mom is crying, and I can’t help it.

            “Shamrock Island was in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. You must see it; it was really beautiful and lovely. I’ve been there once, when you’re still in Queen Sahara’s belly,” she wipes away her tears, trying to bring back her soul into focus. “I was her maid-of-honor long ago, when I was just seventeen, and I could tell that I’m her best friend. Do you want to hear the whole story?”

            I nod eagerly. I really wanted to listen to mom talking about my mother. It does sound a bit strange.

“Come sit by me,” she says softly. Mom drags me to her bed. We sit down. “It was a lovely Sunday morning, and Her Majesty was in her reading chamber, embroidering on her seat near the window. The King Belmond and all of the other maids and ladies-in-waiting are not with her, and so she sat there alone, breeze swings her golden curls wonderfully. But luckily, my chamber was really next to her reading chamber. And suddenly, we all hear a soft shriek from the bedroom,” the look in mom’s eyes made me gulp. What happened?

“Her Majesty was on the labor,” she smiles, and I didn’t realize that it was the prettiest smile I had ever received. “She was sitting on the chair, crying and waving and asking for help. I was there on time. I called for help and the other; doctors and such, forced me to wait outside.”

“About fifteen minutes later, we heard a cry. A cry of a small baby. I am so thrilled that I smiled all the way into the room. There, Her Majesty, lying on the bed, sweating like mad, holding a small clothe in her arms. The look in her face made me think that that day must be the greatest one. She named the baby Fiorella Isla Ophelia Rochelle Scarletta. Long name, isn’t it? The baby is you,” she jerks her chin toward me. Me? I’m Fiorella what? This is really impossible. I’m a no princess. So suddenly it sounds really odd to me, even though I was saying about being a princess just now. Oh, great.

“They call you Princess Fiors, because the combination of the first letters in your name. Isn’t it cute? Princess Fiors,” mom smiles happily, and she squeezes my arms.

My mind is racing fast. I’m a p-princess? Daughter of King Belmond and Queen Sahara? Oh, no, s**t! I’m not ready! I’m going to ask her more.

“Then, why am I living with you? Why didn’t I live with the Queen?” I wanted to know. I have to know. I will know. Okay, okay, stop.

“Okay, there’s more to tell you. But, look at the time--”

“No, I’m not going to school today,” I say. “Today’s not a school day for our school.” Wow, lying may be my best talent.

“O-kay,” mom frowns. “But--”

“I want you to proceed,” I raise my eyebrows. Well, will you lie when you’re going to be a princess?

“Okay, chill,” she holds her hands in the air. “It’s beginning to be like, interesting, right?”

I nod quickly.

“Okay, so, a month after your birth, His and Her Majesty went to see a witch. I mean a wizard. What’s the name of the man that sees your future--”

“A palmist,” I say. Ha-ha, she’s funny.

“Yes, a palmist,” she grins. “After your parents--” she pauses a while after said ‘parents’, and then she continues, “after your parents meet the palmist , the palmist said that in the presence of you, it will bring doom to the island of Shamrock,” she sighs. “It’s a coincidence, because at that time, I got a job to be chef, and to live on my own. So, they handed you to me, forced me to promise to stay far far away from them. I know they don’t want to give you to me, as you were their first child and daughter.”

I try not to shriek, because everything seems to make sense. I don’t want to live with the queen and king. I didn’t even know or say hi to them yet!

“But, suddenly, I received a letter, from Capt. Evan Shamrock, their Minister of Security,” she says. Minister of Security? So maybe it’s true he’s a captain. Pssh. “He wrote that they needed you back for some reason, like they wanted you to marry a man and rule the kingdom ASAP.”

S**t. What? No! I’m not marrying! God. This isn’t happening. What if I ended up marrying a fat prince? No! In fact, I have not a desire to marry one.

“MOM!” I yell. I stand up nervously. “Marry?” I’m not going to marry anyone, that’s what I know.

“Yes, honey,” she smiles, as if it was very good news for her. “You know, you gotta marry when you’ve turned fifteen, in any way.”

 

 

I dump my lunch tray on the table and sit down on a seat next to MJ in the cafeteria. I am feeling really frustrated ever since mom told me that I have to marry in any way, yesterday. It is really hard to accept that my birthday is just next week. And that mom told me I had to marry when I turned fifteen. Gosh, hard to swallow. Imagine that, marrying someone you don’t even know when you are just fifteen! But wait. Mom didn’t even found any candidates, YET.

“What’s up with you?” MJ startles me, puzzling why am I staring silently at my vegetable soup, without even taking a spoon to stir it. I am puzzled why did I stared at it, too, even though right now I am starving, because just now mom didn’t even cook a breakfast for me, and making ‘got tons of works at the restaurant’ as a very wonderful excuse. I wake up with a quick gasp, ignoring MJ, take the spoon and sip some of the seasoned tastes. It feels like I am cursed, really.

MJ stops chewing her burger for a while. She puts it down, without even taking her gaze from me. MJ clears her throat. “Look, Kris,” she taps her finger on my shoulder, and I turn around to meet her face. I was afraid she might be looking so angry and was going to scold me because I made noise, but instead, her face looks calm and soft. Well, that, I think, may be a real miracle to me, because I have never seen her face so calm and, beautiful. MJ was always a fuss. She was never calm. But right now, she’s really calm. “Ever since you wore that shamrock-thingy on your cleavage, you’re starting to act a bit of a weirdo,” she puckers her lips. What a meanie!

“What?” I exclaim, feeling a sudden of anger. I stand up. “Whaat?”

“No, chill, okay?” her eyes are all big. I sit back down. “It’s just that, we know it comes from the Shamrock Island,” she nods.

What? Since when did she know about the Shamrock Island?

“How did you"”

“Evan sent a letter to us,” she takes out a piece of paper from her pocket. “Here.”

“Us?” I gasp. Why is this nerdy boy being really noisy? “What do you mean us?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, and then nods. “He sent it to all of us in the science class, the day you wore the pendant. He"he said that you are a princess,” her eyes widens. I don’t know what else to say then ‘what’.

“He says it in the letter,” she points out to the letter. “He told us about the Shamrock Island, and everything.”

Oh my God, this is really crazy. “Oh,” I say, trying to not sounding like I got problems. “Okay then.” I give back the letter to her, and slurp up my soup.

MJ is still staring at me. “You don’t feel like it was wrong?” she raises her eyebrows.

“No,” I lie. I shrug. “It’s okay.” I nod. Indeed. Everything seems like a dream. It feels like I am still dreaming from yesterday.

Reviews

[ainaaabdul]

:D
thank you!
okay, well, i'll be working on it.

[Flo]

quite interesting, havent read a story for a long time, this one might actually get me back to reading,good job, im looking for more :)

flo