She sits, eyeing the strange human across from her. Same dull grey eyes, same cheek structure, same smile. He is her father, but why does he seem so distant? Everything feature of hers is only a reflection. Every day her own, she was free. Things change. "Who is this man?" she thinks. "How can he just stumble into my life without any explanation, and claim to be my relation?" Noticing her stare, the man smiles sheepishly. The young girl frantically looks away. "I shall observe anything but him."
She is in a large round room, the walls weighed down with rows and rows of bound leather pages, giving off a dense, musty stench. Between the bookshelves were varies floor to ceiling windows, completed with long red drapery. The ceiling gleaming with dancing angels and smiling young maidens, supported by a mass of clouds, engulfed by golden embroidery, weaving throughout the design with stunning elegance and craftsmanship. A thick red wood double door decorated with intricate carvings of snakes, bears, and horses sat on her left, reaching approximately twenty feet across and up.The polished granite floor sported an array of dignified victorian furniture. There was a floral lace love seat in the far left, accompanied by a golden side table. She sat on a small couch to match the chair, legs crossed, hands placed awkwardly on her lap. The man claiming to be her father sat on the other side of the room, on a sofa.
"How was your breakfast?" The man spoke, attempting at conversation.
"Fine." The girl answered bluntly.
"I never wanted it to be this way, Annabelle. Things just happened and I had to leave. It wasn't my choice. Please don't be like this." He pleaded.
"WHAT HAPPENED? IT WAS ME, WASN'T IT? YOU COULDN'T STAND THE THOUGHT OF HAVING TO CARE FOR SOMEONE OTHER THAN YOURSELF!" The girl surged forward knocking over her seat. Her face was flushed with pure rage. Confused, the man stood and stumbled backwards.
"Annabelle, you don't understand! It isn't what y-" he was cut off by a strong hand clasped around his throat. Annabelle's eyes beat into his soul, as if he was the last piece of broccoli on a picky eaters plate. Her grip loosened around his neck just enough to allow a sliver of air to pass.
In a bitter whisper, Annabelle huffed into his ear, "I never wanted you to come back. I was happy. You always ruin everything." She firmly shoved him away, forcing him trip onto the couch.
The oak doors creaked open on the other side of the room. A throng of poignant men marched in, only to see a horrified man cowering on the couch, below a young woman, inside a draping red cardigan, long black patched trousers, and tall leather boots. She immediately turned around, caught in the act.
"Peasant, step away from the man." The soldier stepped forward, prepared to yank her away. Annabelle collapsed to her knees, head resting in groping, calloused fingers.
"What is wrong with my life?" Annabelle groaned to herself, running her hands through her short brown hair. The man rose, walked himself to the soldiers, and outstretched his hand.
"The names Julian," Gesturing in Annabelle's direction, "This is my daughter, Annabelle. I assume you are acquainted?" The gentleman grunted, and with a slight hint of arrogance, extended his hand to her. Annabelle shoved it away.
Pulling herself to her feet, Annabelle replied, "I don't need your fake kindness." Annabelle, with a conceited push past Julian, found herself face to face with the man.
"Now if you will be so kind as to let me pass-" The man shot toward Annabelle's arm, yanking her away from the door.
"Not so fast. The King desires a word." He escorts the two of them out of the library, and down a musky hallway on their left. The floor is laid upon by a ruff red carpet. The walls hold large candelabras draped with hardened wax, and before them a tunnel of darkness. They walk in a daze, led more by their own curiosity then by the army of soldiers accompanying them.
They finally reached the end of the hall, where two large oak doors stood guard. The soldiers pushed open the door. A small, plump, gnome like man wearing elegant reds and purples sat in a large throne.
"You came. What a nice surprise!" He said. As he talked, only his mouth appeared to move. The only emotion showed was the ear splitting screech in his voice. "There is something I have been itching to ask you." The little man said with a smile.
YOU ARE READING
A Journey
FantasyA young girl struggles to accept her fathers sudden appearance into her life, as he tries to become a fatherly figure to her against her will. She deals with the choice to continue living her life as a free individual, or follow a path more traveled.
