The Howl of the Mute Princess

Introduction - Silent Beginning

Everything about her was small, everything except her hair. The lustrous and long auburn that sprouted from her seemed to never end. There were times when she would be forced to go to a hairstylist every week to gain some type of manageability. Not a single person could help her understand how and why her hair grew at such an extreme rate. Frustration seemed to be a permanent expression etched upon her face at times like these.

Often, she would accidentally run her paint ridden fingers through the length of it while submerged in her art. Although she despised having being constantly troubled by it, she also felt a strange calm when she would let it grow out. There were times when she felt as if she were under a mysterious spell, allowing her to be completely free and undoubtably trapped at the same time.

'Why won't you blend?' Her tiny voice squeaked in her mind. Of course, if she had a voice, she would currently be using it to groan in defeat. Small hands wave ferociously against the stretched canvas placed before her. Yellow fingertips quickly darting up to smooth out the yellow acrylic on a section of familiarity.

Taking a few steps back, she inhales the view before her. There on the canvas, presents a dark sky with a bright red moon illuminating the path to a glowering figure of ebony, which is accompanied by the usual pair of golden yellow orbs. Soaking in the shapes and vibrancy of the colors she was just vigorously brushing, an exhale leads itself out of her lungs. Exasperation filling into every fiber of her being.

'It's always the same, the same black dog, matching yellow eyes and all.' Rolling her eyes, she tosses her messy pallet onto the equally disheveled table. Crusty brushes scatter around due to the impact, they roll to new assigned places. Many tubes in variety of countless colors sit in an opened box, each perfectly placed and never touched. She only ever used the same three colors when she felt the canvas pulling her towards it.

Not by choice of course.

For reasons unknown, she would always find herself drawn to the same scenery. Although she always received a furious headache after she finished grimacing at her canvas, she still had trace amounts of humor in her tiny bag of internal emotions. On a whim one day, she bestowed a fitting name to the shadowed figure in her paintings, Hairy Migraine.
Cheesy, but in fact, most very truthful.

Still silently scowling at the painting before her, she prepared herself for the usual cold and threatening feelings that would jolt through her small frame whenever she slips out of the trance. Shivering at the thought, she is interrupted by these very feelings. Chills engulf her and run up her spine, the sense of a familiar danger jolts her veins and keeps her frozen in place. Eyes once attached to the golden ones in the paint now dart around the dimly lit room, searching and hopping. Immediately making her breathing get forcibly frantic, she hopped she didn't find what she was looking for. The dark figure that loomed over her dreams and wrecked havoc in her fragile mind flashed through her thoughts. When her wide eyes didn't land on the possibility of a threat, a blanket of irritation would instantly engulf her. Heart podding in her chest she squeezes her eyes shut, hating herself for feeling so weak.

Thirty one.

This number seems to be her new record. Thirty one times she has let this beast take over her mind and steal her sanity, ruining every single canvas with that repulsive replica scenery. So much wasted potential, not to mention what little money she had that she spent on those canvases. Over and over again, she has repeated this process for almost a full month now.

'Not again, there won't be another time! No wasted money on a wasted canvas.' The tiny voice in her mind perked up in amusement. 'I simply will not allow it. In fact, I'm throwing away these three colors right now!'

Snatching the paint tubes up off the disheveled table, her arm flys up above her head to chuck them into the nearby trash bin. Halted in her movement, guilty streams up her slender frame and keeps her frozen in her movement. She would never be able to get rid of these paints, not a single one. They were too important and no matter how badly she wanted to rid herself of them, she couldn't bring herself to do the deed.

'Who am I kidding, I could never let Mom's paints go. It's the last of her I have.' Her cerulean orbs gloss over with threats of streaming wetness.The arm holding the paints flops down in defeat then raises again to clench the tubes to her chest. Sharp and fiery pain scorches through her body at the thought of loosing the last pieces of her Mother that she still possessed. A silent sob releases itself from her throat, vibrating through her small stature.

Shuffling to her comfort zone, her beloved bed, she flops into the plush comforter and curls herself into a ball. She desperately didn't want to think back to that night that she lost her happiness. Searing pain continues to flood her small body and overwhelm the strings of her delicate heart. Memories submerge in her mind and an inaudible cry of pain leaves her chapped lips. This is nothing new to her, the intense pain and nightmares have been going on since the accident occurred 7 years ago. The traumatic accident that stole her family and her voice away from her.          

"Mom, are we almost there yet?" A small voice pipped up in the car.

"Almost honeycomb, grandma will be waiting to greet us with a big hug." The smooth voice replied with a thin smile.

"Will she still smell like Stanley?" The memory of grandma's late pet turtle surfaces in both their minds along with the memory of the smell that occurred when Granny forgot to feed him for two months.

An unexpected laugh rings through the air in the car and fills the atmosphere with new emotion. "Hopefully not Hunny, otherwise this will be a tough trip to get through."

"Is Daddy going to meet us there?"

Grey eyes peering up at the rearview mirror through dark bangs, a few seconds pass before answering a solid 'no' to the questionable little mop of hair in the back seat. Noticing an instant frown etch onto her tiny face.

"Sweetheart, you know Daddy has work to attend to. Don't be sad, you will see him again." The lie slices past her thin lips and guilt crawls up from the back of her throat. Knowing that the little girl in the backseat will not see her father again and it was because of her that the small family will be torn apart.

The little face turns to peer out of the car window, eyes watching the rain drops rolling down. Bored with the rain she starts trying to keep up with the fast moving tree tops. When she started getting dizzy her wide eyes brightened up to see a flock of ravens soaring above them in the grey sky. She wondered how many feathers they each had and if they acted like a raincoat to keep them dry up there.

All her fast paced thoughts were interrupted by the sharp squeal of brakes being slammed. Her big eyes whipped to the front of the car just fast enough to focus on bright headlights rapidly approaching their car. Her tiny body let out a terrified scream that shrilled through the valley as the impact pushed them over the railing and into the tree tops below.

~~~
Just a little introduction to the backstory of our main character, how did you guys like it?

Thanks for reading, I always welcome constructive criticism, so please leave a comment, and possibly a vote? :)
Next chapter will be out soon, and I will create a chapter updating routine.
Thanks for your support towards my first book!