Finding Miss Wild

CHAPTER ONE

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Every morning that horrific sound dragged Darcy out of her glorious dreams. Every morning that horrible, head-ache inducing noise dug into her head and thrived around until her eye lids opened. It was still dark. So dark that it could have been midnight but the flashing red light from her alarm disagreed. The young girl rolled over to the other side of the bed so her short arms could reach the black box that was crying for her to wake up. Her index finger connected with the snooze button but still the noise continued. Darcy sat up, clicking her back in doing so, and hit the button again. The noise still continued. Wiping a strand of blonde hair away from her face, she thrust a fist down at the roof of the box in frustration.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The infernal sound just wouldn't stop; her frustration turned to rage as she continuously banged her fist against the top of the machine, over and over again. Finally, she wrapped her long fingers around the device and pulled it away from the wall with all her might. She lost her grip on the object as it flew towards the opposite wall, having disconnected from the socket. The plastic shattered and lay scattered on the blue carpet.                                                                                     At least the beeping stopped, She thought to herself.                                                                                         How was she ever to explain this to her parents? She stood up and stretched her muscles as she bumbled towards the broken clock. She looked at it disapprovingly and smirked with a hint of triumph over defeating her inanimate nemesis. Darcy sighed as she wandered to her window and pulled open the blue polka-dot curtains.

It was a dreary morning, as always in England, with a slow but sure increase in light. The grey clouds, hovering in the dark sky like deflated balloons, were blocking the sun from view and stopped it illuminating the sky as the beautiful star should've been. She guessed that that's what it always looks like in October anyway.

Frantic whispers sounded outside of her door and her curiosity being something she never could control, she tiptoed carefully towards the door and pressed her ear eagerly up against it. Eventually, she managed to decipher the muffled words into a conversation:                                        "- have to be a chore!" Mum, she thought "It's your daughters birthday and this is a tradition." Darcy gasped in surprise as her hand slapped her mouth. She had completely forgotten. The talking stopped for a second and she prayed that they didn't hear her as she clung to the silence for dear life.  Eventually another voice spoke.                                                                                                        "I know but I don't have a lot of time." Dad, she noticed "Make this quick please. I know this is important but... please Cynthia."                                                                                                                                 "Alright. Just remember how much she hates birthdays. Don't over do it." Darcy ran to her shattered alarm clock and hastily kicked it into her wardrobe before shutting the door and scrambling back into bed and dragging the covers over her head. The door handle rattled before  clicking open followed by more hushed whispers and the pit pat of feet on the creaky floor boards. Her parents then stood poised over the bed on opposite sides as if to trap her in the sheet and began to shout at the top of their lungs an all too familiar tune,

"Happy Birthday to you!" Darcy rose slowly into a sitting position.

"Happy Birthday to you!" She rubbed her eyes and lent back against her pillow to examine the incredibly interesting ceiling.