Carmiabell: The Black Apple

Chapter 11

Darkness came early, wrapping the world in a cloak of shadows. The stars aligned themselves in a twisted assortment, a haphazard arrangement that felt more like a chaotic puzzle than a cosmic design. Above it all, the crescent moon dangled in the sky, resembling a perfect bow or perhaps a smile-a smile as familiar as Marie's. If Marie had been present, she would've said something ridiculously profound about the universe's sense of humor, and I couldn't help but chuckle at the thought.

Damon offered to help us restore the black apple, but I couldn't shake the nagging doubt about his true intentions. Was it genuine benevolence or merely his idea of adventure? Perhaps he was interested in seeing where we would take it, so he could reclaim it later. I shook off the thoughts; he was just trying to help with a rather biting problem.

Meanwhile, Simon had been set free, his stick still confiscated until further research. As for Damon, the wealthiest among us, he promised to dig up information about nightmares and even offered to borrow a book or two from The Great Library. If there was anywhere to find a book related to a black apple, it would be there, in the chamber of the great library. But it was heavily guarded, fortified with armed machinery, weapons, and warriors. Damon assured us he could find something, which sparked my curiosity. I wondered if his knack for obtaining the apple from my bag had any connection to how he'd retrieve a book. Or perhaps he had some nightmarish ability to eradicate weapons in an instant.

Each word he spoke carried an air of intrigue, something unsettling yet strangely captivating. I found myself enjoying the way he moved, how his presence filled the space around him.

We crossed the busy streets and slinked into an alley, the darkness thick and eerie around us. Damon struck a match, illuminating the path ahead.

"Nice neighborhood Algebra," he quipped, his voice laced with sarcasm.

"Whose Algebra?" Zuina asked, crunching on yet another bag of crisps. "Oh," she replied to herself, lost in thought.

Her laughter, loud and unabashed, rang out, causing nearby walls to cringe in irritation. It would have been embarrassing if she weren't my best friend.

Feeling playful, I punched Damon's chest, a grin tugging at my lips. He responded with a teasing "ouch" and a grin that made my stomach twist in a way I couldn't quite explain.

I didn't love the nickname he used, nor the subject of our conversation, but a part of me relished the playful banter. I dismissed any notions of it being anything more than that; it was just a name given by someone who had taken residence in my thoughts more often than I cared to admit.

As we continued deeper into the alley, I could hear the stumbling feet of drunkards echoing behind us. Those were minor nuisances compared to the lurking threat of dwarfs, who had a knack for borrowing things without asking. It wasn't late enough yet, but who knew? Those three feer creatures could be lurking anywhere, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The container we approached was overflowing with black bags, yet that wasn't going to stop us from restoring the apple. Damon pushed a bag aside and wedged the apple between two others, deep enough to ensure it was hidden from view. It felt like a small victory to keep it safe, at least for now.

We hurried back into the glow of the street lamps, and in a fleeting moment, our eyes met. I was caught off guard by the depth of his turquoise gaze, like an ocean I'd never dared to explore. A strange sensation raced through me as he drew closer, and suddenly, I was hyper-aware of the space between us, as if the air had thickened. His lips hovered just out of reach, and I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like if we were closer. The golden hour painted everything in warm hues, but there was something electric about his presence that made my mind whirl.

"Can you kiss already? I'm feeling cold here, and home is not close at all," Zuina's voice cut through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality. How could she still be talking after all those crisps?

I blinked, momentarily forgetting she was even there.

"Bye," Damon said, stepping back, his smirk hinting at something more than words could convey.

"See you tomorrow," I waved, feeling a strange mix of exhilaration and disappointment as he and Zuina continued down the path.

It was crazy to think that my long-time crush actually wanted to see me the next day. A grin broke across my face, unstoppable. I could easily imagine how our paths would intertwine, but first, I had to face boiled cabbage for dinner.

Despite the culinary disaster awaiting me, I felt lighter, buoyed by the ease of the black apple's absence and the peculiar interaction with Damon.

°*°

I flopped onto my bed, my mind replaying his teasing smirk and the way his turquoise eyes caught the light. The faded white ceiling above me transformed into a canvas for my thoughts, where every detail about him became an intricate image. He seemed otherworldly-his words, his movements, even his height gave him an aura that felt almost divine. If angels existed, he would be a definition of one.

With the black apple off my shoulders and the enigma of Damon lingering in my mind, I pondered if there could be another way to stay close to him. Engaging in the theories surrounding the apple felt like a flimsy excuse for connection, and I knew I'd have to be cautious.

I got off my bed and opened a drawer, retrieving my notebook. As a kid, I had attempted to paint its woolen cover pink, a feat that turned out more like a drunken flamingo than a work of art. Age had worn it down, but it remained my favorite possession. I had left a similar one at home for Zuina, who had no understanding of the concept of privacy.

This notebook was where I whispered my secrets, and tonight, it would hold my suspicions. I didn't have to discover who had left the apple, but if I had crossed paths with it, I needed to tread carefully.

Simon Greenwings Sparkle.
Mr. Tom and his family.
The neighbor whose name I can't remember.
The other neighbors I can't remember.

I listed them out, my heart heavy as I considered the possibilities. I couldn't shake the nagging feeling that Damon might not be who he seemed. He could embody the lion in sheep's clothing, after all. The saying "keep your friends close and your enemies closer" played on repeat in my mind.

It pained me to write his name at the bottom of the list, but I knew I had to remain vigilant.

Suddenly, a noise from outside drew my attention. I slid the curtain aside to peer through the window. Mr. Tom, his wife, and Alma were on their roof, gazing up at the stars-perhaps attempting to decipher their meanings, trying to understand the past and future.

It sent a shiver down my spine to think they might uncover the truth before I did. The noise outside grew louder, a chorus of drunken revelry, their laughter mixing with the distant thrum of a club.

I shifted my gaze to the alley where the container was located. At first glance, it appeared to be the domain of revelers under flickering street lamps, until movement caught my eye.

It was darkness, until it wasn't. A figure, dressed in coal black, darted through the shadows, skillfully avoiding the light. It moved with a grace that reminded me of Damon-if he were to embrace the night fully.

The figure scaled a brick wall with remarkable agility, vanishing just as a drunken man opened his window to hurl insults at the revelers below. Curiosity surged through me as I continued to watch. I noticed a glass bottle sailing through the air toward the prowler's direction, only to see it slip away, as if it had never been there.

A chill ran down my spine. I could only imagine the risk involved in such daring feats. But the midnight prowler, whoever they were, moved like a master, their skills sharp and refined-much more impressive than any dwarf I'd ever encountered.

Suddenly, I met a pair of glowing, blue serpent eyes watching me from the darkness. My heart dropped into my stomach.

Instinctively, I jumped back, wondering if the figure had seen me. The intensity of their gaze sent shivers through me, leaving me breathless.

I peeked again, but the midnight prowler had vanished, leaving nothing but the lingering chill of the night.