Rosentale

Chapter II: When Change Comes Lurking About

Communication. So simple, yet so difficult all the same. The cradle and tomb of great and terrible things alike.

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Delilah stared at the wooden beam that ran crossways through her room supporting the sixty-three white wooden planks that made up the ceiling in her room. She shifted slightly where she lay resting on her bed. Time, she was convinced, flowed differently in her room. Although the old mahogany clock that had always hung beside the door suggested that only a mere hour had passed since she had laid down, Delilah was sure that at least thrice that time must have passed. A huff sounded through the air. She had already exhausted her imagination by creating faces and creatures out of the many shapes and places where she imagined branches must have once been. So far there was a smiling snake with a beautiful eye that shifted in various shades of darker browns, a solemn looking something which she had not yet figured out since the outlines melted into the wood lines, the base of a previous huge branch where it seemed the beginning of a galaxy was beginning to span out, and a peculiar little sphere with a cheetah pattern. She had tried looking for more but her imagination seemed to have run out and now all that was left was the irritating urge to actually do something with what already stood out. Draw something. Write something. Sing something. Create. For the life of her though, Delilah just could not bring herself to actually get up and dedicate enough effort to see any of it through.

Deciding that an hour staring into the ceiling was more than enough, she slowly slid off the bed, almost planting her face right on the floor before righting herself and remembering her own pair of legs. Spending more time in the bedroom would get her nowhere, she thought, ran a hand through her hair in a lost motion, and ventured down the stairs to where her father would be. On her way she stopped first on one platform and then the next to tap twice on both of the locked doors that led to nowhere and yet seemed to have such an obvious purpose where they stood. Seconds later a male voice sounded from the living room. "Ah, Del! Come to join your poor, lonely pa, have you?" Delilah smiled softly at the not so well hidden mirth in her father's voice. She poked her head around the corner, blonde curls falling anywhere and everywhere at the sudden motion. Her father sat crosslegged in the flowery two-seat sofa that was perched against the wall right next to the doorway. A huge newspaper in hand, the man briefly looked up to meet his daughter's eyes before diving back into the most recent stories.

"You say that as if I ever left, Dah-" she paused- "Dad."

"Well, you did, didn't you?" Her father looked up once more and tapped his head, careful not to disturb the pair of glasses that rested on his ears. "To some wild and wonderful place where only you can go." Delilah flushed at what sounded both like praise and reprimand. The man chuckled. "If only you could bring me along for once. I'd like to see what kind of places have got my little Deedly-dee so enamored."

"Anyways," her father neatly folded the huge paper and put it away. "How about lunch? I'm hungry. Are you hungry?" Half a step into the kitchen, he turned around and smiled at his daughter. "Let's make something to eat."

Not too sure whether she was in fact hungry or not, Delilah followed into the kitchen nonetheless and plopped herself down on one of the old chairs. She frowned. "Dad?" The man who currently stood with his head inside one of the cupboards rummaging through pots stopped and let out an inquisitive hum before returning to his search. "You're wearing a suit. You can't cook in a suit," his daughter pointed out. He chuckled.

"Sure I can, Dee. Sure.. I..." There was a rattle from the back of the cupboard and the sound of metal colliding with metal before a triumphant shout. "Eureka! Found it!" "Go get some eggs Dee, won't you?" The man asked as he put a pan to the stove.