As Dusk Falls

Chapter Five

She cautiously stepped through her front door- painted red to "ward off demons"- carefully avoiding the line of salt meticulously poured over the threshold of the doorway.

"Hey, Grandmere!" Aurelia called into the house, walking into the kitchen. She could smell the strong scent of spices.

"Aurelia Colleen Drago! You are twenty minutes late!" her Grandmere scolded her as she stepped into the kitchen. She was sitting in one of her rickety, mismatched kitchen chairs, crocheting what was probably meant to be a scarf.

"Sorry, Grandmere. Practice ran over tonight. You know Mr. Day, he's so talkative," Aurelia said, surprised at how calm she sounded. Acting lessons were really paying off.

"It's fine, cher. But please do text me next time. You're going to give me a heart attack," her grandmere lamented, running a wrinkled hand through her graying hair.

"Sorry ma'am, I will text next time," Aurelia apologized.

"There's leftover meatloaf in the fridge, if you're hungry," she suggested. "I didn't get a chance to make anything new, I was working late, myself."

"It's fine, I'm actually feeling kind of ill," Aurelia lied, clutching her stomach.

"Oh! Do I need to run and buy you some Sprite?" she stood, pushing the chair back. It scraped over the floor like nails across a chalkboard, causing them both to flinch.

"No thanks, Grandmere. I just need sleep," she half-lied. She felt exhausted.

The old lady placed a soft, warm hand over her granddaughter's forehead. "You do feel slightly feverish. Go lay down, get some rest."

"Goodnight," Aurelia said, turning around as soon as her grandmother's hand left her forehead.

"Goodnight, cher!"

In her room, Aurelia changed into a pair of warm pajama pants, and a comfortable old t-shirt. She moved over to her mirror to scrub off her makeup.

She studied herself in the mirror with an "artist's eye," noticing all of the things about her that made her...well...her.

She wasn't "ugly" she knew, but she wasn't exactly model material, either. Overweight by society's standards, with wide hips and a bubble butt that made wearing skinny jeans, her favorite kind of jeans, a slight hell. Her hair was a matted mess of frizzy coppery ringlets, with natural golden highlights. Her eyes were wide and gray as steel, cold and closed off, her lips full and naturally rosy, her skin pale as a proper English lady's in the 1800's. She could spend hours in the sun, and achieve nothing but a burn that disappeared in a matter of days, leaving her pale-skinned. On the right side of her upper lip, she had gotten a piercing. A cute diamond stud glittered there at all times. Her gray eyes were rung by black eyeliner and earthy brown eyeshadow.

She watched as the makeup disappeared, leaving her face exposed. She looked...different...without the thick rings of eyeliner she usually hid behind. Younger. Weaker.

Shaking her head, she climbed into bed.

She had thought tonight would be a typical sleepless night, in which restlessness would plague her at all hours. Lately, she had trouble sleeping when the moon was awake.

But tonight, the minute her head hit the pillow, she was out.