The Damsel and the Musketeers(ON HOLD)

Chapter Four

I was determined. I sat there, on my bed, surrounded by tea and scraps of paper. I was devising a plan. I took a sip of tea after crumbling up yet another piece of paper. When I finally figure out this plan, I decided, I’m going to have killed a hundred trees. I knew though that I had to make this plan work. Or else I was screwed. This was my only shot, this one plan.

So it was a plan that I hoped oh so desperately would work.

I started out again, my hand slowly gliding along the paper.

The Plan- Get the Musketeers Back Together

Step One- Get them together in a controlled area

Step Two- Don’t let them fight each other

Step Three- Try to get them to talk to each other

Step Four- If Step Three doesn’t work out, explain to them why I want them friends again

Step Five- If all else fails…

That is where I suddenly stopped. What would be my if all else fails? I didn’t know. I laid back on my comforter, thinking hard. I did not want to have to think about what it would be. Would I finally have a use of those letters? I really hope that wouldn’t be what would happen. For all I knew, there would be a fight, which could cause problems with the judges. “Crap!” I shot up and ran over to my calendar.

I peered at this week, relaxing. The day after next, I would have to go and have my monthly visit with the President and judges. Check in on me and my plans with the boys, try and get me to admit who I would choose, make sure I am following the rules. All the normal things that happened when I went in to visit the Capital. I really did not enjoy going because I was there for a short time and only to repeat the same answers and questions that had been asked to me for the last two years.

It was getting boring. Fast.

I walked back over to my bed, checking my phone for any messages from Ali, or one of the boys. Nothing. I sighed then went back over my Plan. It was sad to think that this is how my life had become, and would be, until my 18th birthday. I checked the date, November 10, exactly seven months and eleven days. My mom had always told me she knew I was going to be special when I was older, since I was born on the summer solstice. I don’t think she ever thought of this being the way I was special, because of it.

I sighed, thinking hard. I only had seven months and ten days to get the musketeers back as friends. If this failed, then I was screwed. If I was screwed, so were the three boys I had grown up my whole life with. Quickly striding over to my dresser, I took the key hidden in the crevice of the mirror and bent down. Slowly inserting it into the smallest drawer then turning it ever so slightly to the right, the drawer popped open. In there, sat the seven letters. I gingerly pulled them out, then walked back to my bed and laid them out.

Staring down at them, they seemed so small, yet I knew how much information they held. I traced my handwriting, debating on opening them up and rewriting them, even though I knew every word on every letter by heart. I picked up to the one for my dad. I started tracing my ten year old self handwriting that had printed the word “Daddy”. I sighed, feeling the tears prick my eyes as memories of before his death started to flood my mind.

The main one through all of the memories that came back, was when he told me he knew I was special.

~~~~~~~~

“Reesie come sit by Daddy!” my father cooed to me. I jumped at the chance, I loved my dad. He was my dad, so I really didn’t have much of a choice; not that I minded. My six year old body wedged perfectly into his side, with his strong arm wrapped around me, pulling me as close as possible.

“You know sweetie, I know you are going to be special when you’re older. Not just because of your birthday, but because you are going to change something in this society. I know it.” He told me, poking my nose. I didn’t understand at the time, so I just stared up with wide eyes a small smile working its way onto my face.

~~~~~~~~~

My dad had always had a way with words. Twisting them, mixing them until they didn’t seem to mean anything, until one day when they changed your life.  My dad wasn’t like most men. He would occasionally bring my mother home flowers or chocolates like the rest, but most of the time, it would be poems.

Poems littered his special writing room. They were taped to the walls, crumpled up on the floor, or only have a few statements on them, and still be in work. I could only guess that his writing room looked exactly the same as it had a year and a half ago, when he had last entered it. Ever since his death, we did not want to think or dwell on anything that could remind us of him for more than a moment. So his writing room had become off limits.

Until now.

I raced out of my room and pounded up the steps to the room, which first and originally was supposed to be the attic. I hesitated at the top of the stairs, just before the door. Is it worth disrupting the peace and calm that we have lived with since he died? I thought back to my dad, thinking about what he would tell me.

Go on Reesie. You will never find what you are looking for, unless you take the first step. I pushed the small rectangle door open, blinking as the dust that I disrupted flurried around, dancing in the light coming through the window.

I lifted myself gingerly up onto the floor, careful of the poems littering the floor. Not wanting to make too much sound to be found by my mum, I tiptoed across the room, towards the desk facing the window. My dad always said the best view was out this window. He could see everything he needed for his world to be perfect.

I sat down in his chair, trying to figure out what he meant. He had taped up photos around the frame of the window, all of different parts of his life. Him as a baby, sometime in elementary school, high school graduation, him and my mum, their wedding day, my mum holding me, me as a little girl, and me and him, taken a few days before he died.

I looked at them, and noticed a poem stuck beneath the photo of him and I. At first, I did not realize it was a poem, since it was folded up, yet in his messy scrawl I made out the word “Reesie”. I quickly unfolded it and at the top he had written a small note.

“I know you’re special, so I thought you might want this poem. It is not of my own, but one of my favorites. Love you, Dad”

I looked over the poem quickly, smiled, and folded it back up. This will definitely help me tomorrow with the boys, I thought as I headed out of the room.

-------------------------

hai guys.

you likey?

I kinda need to find a poem now...

dont worry, i have a week.

so i have the next two chapters planned as to what I am gonna do..

comment

fan

vote

hasta luego!

Jezzi xx