The Seventh Deadly Sin

Part Nine: Darkest Upheaval

"IT'S NOT SAFE FOR CHILDREN TO BE OUT IN THIS HOUR."

- Unknown

SOFT-HUSHED VOICES are taking me out of my deep slumber. It was blurred and unclear. And my body was stagnant subliminal. They speak in a rush tone; I furrowed my eyebrows, and my hands curled beneath the soft linen of fabric. I wanted to sleep in an hour or two more. But I felt the mattress weigh down, and a soft fingertip caressed my hair, "Mary Jane, you have to wake up, my darling; we'll be going somewhere today."

Mrs. Heathers pursued to bustle, and I slowly opened my eyes; I strained to see the rays of sunlight emitting from the windows. And I curled my hands under my ears, "Can I have two hours more, Mrs. Heathers?"

She chuckles, tenderly caressing my cheeks. "You must get up now; we'll be going somewhere important."

I nodded, and I sat upright, rubbing my eyes blearily. Mrs. Heathers ran her fingers through my hair, seeming pleased, "Good girl, now, let Naomi fix you up, and we'll eat breakfast before departing."

"Where are we going?" I asked, my nightgown was too long, and my hair covered up my face. I felt somnolent, and I wanted to go back to sleep. But the maids were already fixing up my bed. And Naomi was waiting unwearyingly.

"It would be a surprise," her rubicund gaze became softer.

GEORGE WAS THERE when we stepped out of the front porch. The morning sky seemed dark, and the tall black trees were unnerving. But I find it distinctly beautiful, at least. A low rustle of wind blew in our direction; I grasped the cream-blanched bonnet and put pressure on my skirt. The brown, dry leaves were being flounced on top of the dark green front lawn of the mansion. And I was already elated at where we'll be heading.

"Is Father coming with us?" I asked Mrs. Heathers, a few feet away from where I was standing—her dress was an elegant claret top and black pencil skirt. I find her reddish purple hat pretty. And she seems to be more beautiful under the melancholy firmament.

Her attention was focused on her rosette purse, seeking something inside. "I'm afraid not, darling; your father felt ill this morning. And it will just be the two of us and the chaperones."

I nodded, and I felt thwarted. I never had the chance to have a nice talk with him. He's always preoccupied whenever I'm residing in our mansion, and he rarely invites me to have an afternoon tea or even sauntering through the garden. Father was always detached, and he seldom appeared. But I know that he's always with me despite his presence.

Mrs. Heathers made her way to the car and I charted afterwards. She noticed the change in my sentiment and instinctively put the strands of hair behind my ears, "Don't be down too much; we're not staying in that place for too long, and your father couldn't come because the departure out of town was extensive."

"We'll be going out of town?" my chest heaved, and I felt anxious and fervent. I've never been out of town before. The nuns in the convent only dispersed selected foster children to come with them during the nuns' departure out of town. But I was never picked because I was assigned to watch the infants and one of the house chores maiden.

"Yes, and the place we'll be heading to is the most significant place we must attend." Mrs. Heathers spoke softly.

I felt some discomfort inside of my chest. I couldn't elucidate what I felt, but I decided to flout it and focus on the scenery through the windshield.

If I could paint, I would've done it using the locale on my window. It was enchanting with a dark entice. Everything was a contrast; there was light, and there was darkness. The skies and trees were grayish-black, but the road bolster was a beautiful contrast; the light brown dry leaves were lithe grandly through the air, and there was stealthy behind the appearance of the view.