Clara Returns

It is a magnificent box, dark red as if made from some fine wood but when you move your hand over its surface, it felt of velvet. It is adorned with beautiful ornamentation of gold paint and warm jewels. When you remove its lid, it is empty, nothing within except for one hand crank, polished to a near impossible shine. Put the crank in its proper place on the box's outer wall and began to slowly turn it. As it goes the crank makes a pleasant 'tick tick tick' sound until it can turn no more.

Music begins to play and for a time, nothing moves.

But then, books. Books, books, BOOKS! Tomes of varying sizes and widths fill the window of your view. A captivating sight as they spring out from the top of the box. They spin and twirl and make a delightful tableu for any lover of libraries.

Among the books, at their very center sits the young woman. As the books twirl and stack and gather around her, she sits still, studying and studying. The books surround and swirl and she sits at their center, concentrating.

***

"We can't help but worry about you."

Clara felt they could help it if they tried. She and Claus did their best not to meet each others' gaze in shows of exasperation and solidarity. If you have siblings, you may know the urge to do this when your parents are reprimanding you for insignificant or incorrect details. The two were on their way to visit their Godmother Drosselmeier, their mother's aunt, for afternoon tea, chess, and vigorous study. Before they had a chance to depart, Clara's parents stopped them in an effort to check in on how Clara was doing, emotionally. But eventually they did make it to Drosslemeier's home.

***

"They act as if I've turned into some sullen ghost. I don't think I'm all that dull and I'm starting to feel insulted at their insistence that I am. Do either of you find me dull?

"Personally my dear I've always found you to be delightful. Though honestly I'm unsure of how much merit you'd like to put toward my opinion. Whenever people meet me, half find me boorish ad half find me strange."

Drosselmeier and Claus were playing chess while Clara sat at the desk, jotting down notes about performing magic in your sleep and scanning books she'd perused many times before. Taking moments here and there to lament her parents' ill placed coddling.

"I'm tired of it. They speak of me as if I've become some dower sourpuss, a shadow of my former vibrant self. I am vibrant. Really, even the jolliest among us will grow some soberness during periods of intensive study. No one seems to understand that I've been going through long bouts of intensive study."

"Not to mention you really should have been a queen by now. Six years past the deadline will leave anyone slightly miffed, and with good reason." Drosselmeier moved one of Claus' pawns to a spot she found preferable and then made her move. She and Claus had an arrangement that she was allowed to cheat at chess as long as she did so openly, it always had a way of growing convoluted when she attempted to hide it.

"Exactly. I'm six years behind in Royal training so that's even more studying I'll need. Studying I should have already finished compounded with all this studying I shouldn't have had to do to begin with. It's tiring and tiresome. Just the thought of it makes me want to lie down and sleep for days."

"Not to mention the added headache of mother and father not being aware of the situation."

"I first told them about it when I was far too young, that's the problem. Now, it's merely a story I told as a child and they never take a word of it seriously because of that."

"How many relatives have they recited it to do you think?"

"They tell it every Thanksgiving, so I'd wager everyone but cousin Martha, but I suppose they could have written to her."