Noget om Zia

Som jeg har fortalt jer tidligere, er alle medvirkende i bogen personer fra det virkelige eller uvirkelig liv - med lige Cherry som undtagelsen.

I Part 7 får I lidt baggrundsviden om Zia, men det bliver skam ikke den sidste baggrundshistorie, der kommer. Selv om jeg er 28 sider inde (jeg publiser langsomt, det ved jeg godt, men jeg forsøger at holde lidt spænding ud, og jeg vil gerne kunne udgive noget på trods af skriveblokade eller travlhed) er historien knap nok begyndt. I har ikke engang mødt alle personerne endnu.

Zia er min personlige yndling, i hvert fald indtil videre. Jeg håber også I kan lide hende. Hun virker måske overfladisk, men sådan er det ikke. Hun er meget godhjertet og glad.

Hvis I har nogle spørgsmål omkring personerne, skal I bare spørge. Jeg svarer gerne!

With love

RN <3

Cherry - part 7

Percival

Song

He looks at the clock. 2:30 in the morning. And now she's coming home?

He hears her voice from his room on the second floor. Her voice have always been fierce, but ever so smooth. How is that even possible? Even when she talks, she really sings. Yes, his sister has many talents, and she became a teacher, of all things. She doesn't mean anyone to hear her. Maybe it's only Percival who does. He can recognize that song from miles away. Suddenly he remembers how he missed Zia. Zia, like an angel she would always remind me to do the right thing. And he's glad that she has that influence on him. However simple it seems, staying on the right track could be hard. At least for him.

Well, he made it a year without hearing that song, and though he knows that his father will be favoring her when he wakes up and until she leaves, he still admits to himself that he missed that song, that voice.

He never knew what it was about, really. Yes, he could hear the lyrics, but what did it mean?

She was named after a character in a game, Bastion, where Zia, a fair skinned, black haired girl sings that song. Their voices are even so alike. When she was younger, the game became an obsession. It may be old, but the game sure was beautiful, an artwork. The only way in which she doesn't reassemble Zia, is the height. With her 5'7 she's far from tiny. And she does also look like an angel. That's what she have been told forever. He doubts if she actually believe any of it.

He opens the window wide to hear better.

“Some day those tears are gonna spill...” he hear from the ground. She opens the door and the voice comes with her, leaving the front garden ever so empty.

He never understood why his parents named her after a character in an old game. He never played the game himself, in some kind of rebellion. But she was obsessed, at least for a while, and he watched her play some times. When she found Zia, she was mute for a week.

She never sing that song in front of other people, but that voice of hers is hard to miss some times, at least for him. She feels like it also belongs to her, at least a little bit.

In the old days, when they were friends all the time, he could sit for himself in his couch after a crappy day, and even Zia's words didn't get to him. He could sit there until she went to bed, walking around in her silk dress, her favorite, and sing because she absentmindedly tidied her room and went to bed. And that song could change his perspective on everything. He would get up and go to sleep like a good boy.

And he would sleep the second his head hit the pillow.

Zia is quiet now. She's in her old room, only touched my maids who cleaned. Ready for her to use at any time, if she came home from Paris.

He walks to her door and knocks. She opens the door and smiles.

“Perry, it's been so long.” And she hugs him. He hugs her back.

“It sure has, Zia. How was Paris?”

“It was nice, but it's good to be home again.”

They walk inside her room. Huge as an apartment, just like his.

“How bad is it?” She asks, worried, obviously.

“I feel like I'm drowning here, Zia. I missed you.” She hugs him again.

“How about mom and dad? Are they okay?” She asks with flatness in her voice.

“Fine, as always. Dad just got a bonus from Mr. Waltz. Mom is still just chilling with the other housewives.” He shrugs and smiles.

“Don't drown, Perry. I cannot save you from drowning. So don't.”

Her voice is baffling as it always is. He nods a mumbles “Goodnight, Zia.” and goes to bed.

Like a good boy.

Cherry - part 6

Zia

Homecoming

Darkness surround her. If it were not for the well lit speed-o-meter, she wouldn't be able to see the cab driver. She knows he wants to talk with her. Everybody wants to talk to her. For her, it seems like the only thing she has been doing the last week.

Her brother, phoning her every day. Her father and mother phoning her once in a while, but seems too much. Everything is a little too much for her right now.

It doesn't help talking to the cab driver. She thought it would, but it doesn't. Talking never really helped. Maybe she's damaged.

“So how was Paris? I've never been there.” He says. He is mumbling, and it annoys her. Why does everyone mumble around her?

“It was rainy. It was cold. And sometimes it was a little warmer.”

They are again quiet, but the silence is awkward. He obviously wants to talk to her, and is struggling to choose a topic.

“Right... I was thinking more about your teaching job. How was that?”

She shrugs. It's an honest shrug. How was it anyway? She never really thought about it.

“It was good. The kids were good. Hard to leave them.” But it wasn't. It had not been hard to leave at all. She had been the outsider. She didn't speak french. Making a living in France and then not speaking french is harder than it should be. She was happy she was an english teacher. The kids knew english, and they were forced to speak english whenever she was around. They were fast learners, but it was an advance class, the same class she taught music. They never really cared for her, though. Yes, she was easy on the eyes, and she got by. But she didn't want to get by with her looks only.

“So what forced you home?” He disturbs her flow of thoughts.

“Nothing forced me, per se.” She says.

“A broken heart?” He guesses, and the guess makes her angry. Does she look like someone who just got dumped?

“No. Just... family business.” She explains, and agrees with herself not to get more into her whereabouts to the cab driver. He doesn't need to know a thing.

She starts humming. He seems scared to breathe.

And just like that, silence falls again, and within half an hour, they pull up to the house, the giant house she hadn't seen in a year. Didn't really change much.

So much like that home she used to know.

The cab driver carries her luggage out and says: “Goodbye miss Cryx. And good luck.”

Cherry - part 5

Cab driver

Angel

The man with the white sign is in the front of all the cabdrivers. The girl walks towards him and flashes a perfect smile with her pearly teeth, and her black, long hair frames her round face with the deep, brown eyes. Sometimes, she doesn't notice all the eyes pointing towards her. People is drawn to her beauty and she doesn't even notice. The cab driver smiles at her, and she may think it's because he have been waiting for a long time, but little does she knows, he is baffled by her beauty. She shakes his hand and he puts down the sign with her name, locking his eyes on her. They walk to the cab in silence. He doesn't dare to speak to her. She's just shy and doesn't know what to say.

He is taking it all in – her ever so sweet scent, the memory of her velvet voice when she presented herself, her next to perfect look, her eyes so brown he might get lost in them, her lips, slightly pink, even without lipstick, the black, silky hair, which lightly fly around her, her dress, that smoothly curls around her perfect body. She walks more graceful than he have ever seen anybody walk. Like an angel, he thinks. He wonders if she is a model. Everything about her is perfect. She is somewhere between 5'6 and 5'8, so she is kind of tall. She is a tall beauty, from her polished toenails in silver sandals, to the top of her head, where, on her black hair, is placed a deep purple beret to match with her deep purple dress. She is a bit pale, but it soothes her. Her paleness is a perfect contrast to everything on her.

“I'll take your luggage, miss.” He says, trying to focus.

“Thank you.” She says, and her voice baffles him once again. He wonders how old she is.

And they drive. She sits still in the front seat and he is fine with not talking. He wants to talk to her, but she has this effect on him, this enchanting, stunning effect, and he just doesn't know what to say to a goddess like her.

“I'm sorry I kept you waiting.” She says. Wonder if she could read his mind. He smiles. He was actually a bit annoyed to be standing there for half an hour, but when he saw her, he didn't mind at all. He would have waited an hour. He didn't mind. And he was glad that they had a long ride ahead of them.

“Oh, I really don't mind, miss. Don't feel bad.” He smiles, but she doesn't notice. Why would she notice anything about him, anyway? To say he was out of her league would be the underestimation of the year.

“That's so nice of you to say. Thank you. I didn't mean to keep you waiting. I was on the phone with my brother, and... I don't even know why I'm bothering you with this story. You already said it was fine. Never mind.” Her voice is flat in the end. Every word she says is like singing a bit within every word.

“I don't mind you telling me. I mean, cab drivers are the new bartenders, right? I mean, of course, if it's too personal, then don't... I mean... It's up to you, really. I just don't mind. Always nice with a bit conversation. We do have a long way ahead of us.” He tries to say it as happily as possible. He doesn't want to put her in an awkward decision.

“I guess you're right.” She says. The next few minutes in the cab is completely silent. Then she breaks the silence.

“I was on the phone with my brother. He is in a real bad place right now. I don't think he wants me to come home either. I mean, he loves me as much as I love him. Our father is just have a kind of way of favoring me. I never wanted that, and I don't understand him, either. They should be close, but I don't think they are so close when I'm present. I do feel bad about coming home so soon, but I just had to. I don't know why. Maybe I was homesick. Maybe I was sick of Paris.”

She stops quickly, as if she said too much. When he knows that nothing more is coming from her, he feels obligated to answer.

“What did you do in Paris?” And he expects to hear about a modeling job.

“I'm a teacher. I was an english and music teacher in Paris.” He thinks back to his school. No teacher he ever had was this good looking. Or that young.

“A teacher, huh. Wow.”

He thinks about how she smells. Flower and candy.

Cherry - part 4

Cathy

Story

In all her days as the local whore, she had never been anywhere so fancy as at the Waltz family resident. The house is huge and each room is beautifully decorated. She follows Cherry into one of her rooms – her living room. Bigger than Cathy's living room in her apartment. But her apartment is kind of tiny, but also pretty cheap. The party is still going on, and they had to take one of the other doors, just to prevent anyone from seeing Cherry's red eyes.

Cathy does not fear the coming questions. She is willing to tell everything. She sits down in one of the chairs around the coffee table.

“James, could you bring us a pot of tea, a plate of cookies and the usual bowl of sweets.” Cherry calls in a microphone.

“Your family has a butler called James?” Cathy asks.
“Well, yes. James is my butler. My parents have their own, that's Jeremy.” She smiles apologetic, as if it is indeed her fault, that Cathy never made anything useful of herself and her skills. She holds a grin when she realizes, that she has no skills. Nothing that can be used in the exposing daylight.

James is quite quick. The tea, the plate and the bowl is placed on a pretty tray, and he places it in front of them. Of course Cathy eats. But just not really in front of her clients. And not before a blowjob, especially. She is afraid of vomiting, though her experience. And she cannot gain weight, because then she'll lose what is left of her few clients.

Cherry sips her tea as a real lady. Lady Cherry, she thinks for herself, what an honor to meet you, I am miss Cathy, from the Goethe family. Cathy's family doesn't have anything, and her parents is divorced, after a crucial breakup when her mother and father cheated both, but her father was the first to find out, and from then on, they only spoke whenever a lawyer was present. Most of their money went for lawyers and such, and poor, little Cathy had already moved out by then, but she never got anything from them. Not at all. Not ever.

Make-believe will not do her good, and Cathy knows that. But sometimes, it is nice to pretend, just for that second it takes to sip from the teacup.

“Cathy, I am awfully sorry about your situation. It cannot be easy.” Cherry says, and a fire inside Cathy is burning in a funny way. It is not anger, but so close. She must be offended, yes, Cathy is indeed offended. She doesn't know a thing, Cherry doesn't know anything.

“Don't be.” Cathy mutters through her teeth, and judging Cherry's expression, she knows she went too personal, too far.

“I just don't get it. Why would you even start doing it?”

Now Cathy could understand, even answer. She had been longing to tell this story for so long, but no one ever cared to ask. She smiled her smirky smile and began telling her story.

“When I was 14, my mom and dad was never around. They both had affairs. My dad was having sex with my aunt, and he went to see her all the time. He stayed there for weeks, claiming it was a business trip. My mom never cared, she had affairs all over the town. Not at the same time, though. Most of the time, it was our former neighbour. He was three years younger and good looking. Once, they were at home, I came inside, but they didn't notice me. I opened the door to the bedroom just enough so I could see them. It was so loud that they didn't notice me. He looked like he was raping her. His face, red and sweaty, banging his waist against hers. She was bowed in a weird position, and for some reason I never really understood, she was moaning and clapping her own chest at the same time. I just ran from home, not knowing what to make of this. A friend took me in, as I explained I couldn't possibly stay at home. And I was in the best of luck, since my friend owned the building, in which I live in now. She told me I could rent with a discount when I got some money. How does a 14 year old girl get money? Well, she sure as hell doesn't know. Again, I was in the best of luck, as I met a man on the street one day, he was asking for directions. He asked, before leaving, where I was heading, and I told him I was looking for a job, anywhere they'd take me in. He happened to run a small store, and what he could offer me was not much, not enough for rent, that's for sure, but I took it as a start. Well, two years went by like that. I saved everything I got paid. I worked overtime each day. The money was illegal and I never cared. Taxes and stuff was not a luxury I could or would afford. Right before my 17^th birthday, one of my costumers at the store was a very, very nice looking man. He had come in after hours to pick up a package from the mail, which he couldn't get in the daytime when he was working. I had volunteered to work overtime and close the shop. We got to talk and suddenly his expression changed and became... mysterious and dark. He told me how his wife had left him and how he was ever so lonely. He stroke my hair so gently as he told me, that if she had only been more... willing... it would have turned out fine. Their relationship would never have cracked. But she never was willing. He kissed me and one thing led to another. He took the innocence I had left. Afterward, he gave me a 'tip', which was far more generous than I had ever received, combined. This was how to get money. This was the way. I told him that if he needed anything, he should call me. And if he knew any friends, they were ought to call me as well. He left with the words “Little miss, this is no way to make a living. And if it is, so let it be. You better suck hard.” I actually never saw him again, but he had made a hell of a work out and about. People came into the store, trying to arrange meetings with me. I wasn't good at the time, but I was the only one. Absolutely the only one. And I took every costumer I could get. Some even taught me a thing or two as well. I had a nighttime job, and all went great. It was hard and exhausting at first, but I got the hang of it. When a rumor started, that I was sick, I lost most of my costumers. It was good, because it taught me to be picky. Suddenly, I was some kind of high class whore, and I got paid more because I was picky, and knew who I wanted to serve. Rumors was still spread, of course, but I never bothered me. And now, here I am. 19 years old.”

Cherry has stopped drinking her tea. The cup is half empty, and she haven't touched it in a long time. Maybe it's Cathy's fault, but she doesn't really wonder. The tea does taste good, though, but Cherry is used to it. She has to be.

“I see.” She says, face smooth as a real lady. Cathy is still, so perfectly quiet, one could hear a cricket if there happened to be one. She waits for another question. Cherry observes Cathy like she was poisonous. Like if she spoke too quickly, she would infect her. As if she would infect the entire, huge house and leave the bodies to rot. Cathy thinks Cherry is afraid of her. Just a little, tiny bit.

“Don't you have any plans for the future? No wish for an education?” Cherry sounds very concerned, maybe she pities her. Cathy doesn't want nobody’s pity, and for a brief second, she hates Cherry, the fine, rich lady so much she wants to slap her. Her hatred passes and she smiles.

“I wanted to be everything in the entire world,” Cathy answers with a dreamy look, as she remembers all her fantasy jobs, “I wanted to be a life coach, for troubled kids. Getting the leaders of tomorrow a fresh start, a clean slate, back on the right track. And I wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. One to comfort and play with the kids for a year before they had to start the rough life in school. And I wanted to be a fire-woman, and rescue people in need. And I wanted to be a social employee, and help where I could, where the society would need someone. I wanted to be someone who was needed. I wanted to be that someone. And then reality hit me in the head, and reminded me how I have no time or money for a fancy education. How would I pay? I only have a little saved up in the bank, mostly for injuries, since I don't have health insurance. I just don't have the money. So no, I have no educational plans. I have a fine job at the store, I pay my rent every month, right on time. I don't have money for luxuries like fancy food or dresses, all my clothing comes from second-hand shops. Even this dress. Do you believe anyone wouldn't want it? Anyway, I make do, and that's enough.” She smiles again, this time without any sincerity at all.

The look in Cherry's eyes, is a look Cathy have seen a few times before; the look of pity. That look is a look she doesn’t care for at all. Should she go? She takes another cookie and leans back. Wonder when she'll have cookies this good ever again.

Næste del er ude!

I har sikkert været meget spændte på den næste del af Cherry, og denne gang er det også hende, der er fortælleren. Den næste del er det Cathy's tur til at fortælle, så glæd jer!

Forresten, så er alle personerne (undtagen Cathy) bygget på virkelig eller fiktive personer, dels fordi jeg er virkelig dårlig til at finde på ordentlige navne (jeg har det med at genbruge) men mest fordi jeg elsker at forestille mig hvordan en person, f.eks. fra en film, ville være hvis vedkommende var i et helt andet setting. Der kommer flere personer til, og jeg har lige i øjeblikket to nye personer, der skal skrives ind i historien.

Nyd den næste del.

With love

RN ^^

Cherry - part 3

Cherry

Questions

“What the fuck are you doing?” She yells, and now his eyes open wider than anyone she has ever seen before. He takes up his pants and starts to run. Cathy is on the ground, not showing emotions at all.

“Do you think this is the first time I’ve been caught during business?” She asks. Cherry is confused. Business?

“What do you mean? Who are you? I don’t even know your full name.” She yells.

“Chill, snob. I’m not from in there,” Cathy points to the giant house, “I’m from the city. And my name is Cathy Goethe, and you obviously don’t know me. But I know you, miss Waltz, because everyone knows the Waltz. They don’t have to make money the hard way.” She laughs a little of her own pun.

“Hey, we did go through a lot to get where we are today.” She shrieks. She cannot calm down. She knew what they did. Why would neat Percival Cryx do a thing like that?

“I know, and now you’re neatly put in the snob-drawer. Good for you. Did you want more from me?”

Cherry wants to ask all kinds of questions, but she doesn’t. What would it help anyway. Though she can feel her eyes tearing up, she mutters “No.” and turns around.

Cathy rise from the ground, casually and silent. She giggles, and Cherry finds her mocking her. She doesn't say anything, though, because she just can't seem to put her mind in order. Why would Percival Cryx do that?

“Your eyes are tearing.” Cathy states without any sign of emotion being heard anywhere in her voice. As if she was a robot, stating the obvious at all times. Cherry gets mad and turns around, exposing her red eyes at Cathy to tell her 'this hurts'.

“You know, I once had a client with an ex-girlfriend just like that. She wasn't over him, but he really didn't like her. So he came to me to get it done. A boy has needs. And she came to me and stared at me while crying and then she yelled at me as if I had done anything wrong.” Cherry felt like screaming at her, telling her that she made a good, innocent boy a victim of the pressure of society. But she doesn't utter a word.

“You're in love with him.” Again, she's stating the obvious. Cherry gets more and more mad at her, and wish she could just scream. But her lips is still.

“I can't blame ya,” Cathy says in a fake, foreign accent, “now that I've been there, I could go again. I mean, even though I've done some shady stuff in my days, does not mean I can't acknowledge a real nice...”

“DO NOT SAY IT!” Cherry screams, finally. Cathy looks at her, stunned. She holds perfectly still.

“I don't want to hear about it. What is done is done, and I have to forget every feeling I've ever had about that boy. I thought he was decent, but no.” She sighs and wipe away her tears.

“Hold your horses, snob. Just because he was insecure, you're gonna drop him? Girl, you're not gonna get any boy with that attitude. Trust me, I've seen them all; the sure-of-themselves, the scared, the needy, the really needy, and then there's boys like him; those who have so little self-esteem that they think they'll never get any girl ever – especially to go down on him.” She shrugs and faces Cherry, who stand in confusion, listening. She couldn't possibly believe that he was insecure. Fine, neat Percival. He couldn't possibly be insecure, not so much that he'd go to... that woman... She couldn't believe it. And she knew she had to ask questions now.

“I do want more from you.” She says, slowly. “I need you to answer some questions.”

Cathy nods. “Can we do it inside? It's a bit cold, and it's not getting warmer.”

Cherry turns around and make a sign for Cathy to tag along.

Cathy makes a hop and follows Cherry.

Cherry - part 2

Percival

Corner

Percival feels strange when he watch Cherry leave. She had done it sudden, like when the drunks disappear, but Cherry doesn’t drink. She despise alcohol. She must have been frightened in her early years. He looks away, just in time before Cherry looks back. She doesn’t return.

Cathy talk and talk about nothing. He looks at her, her body skinny as the rest of the people are. She is just as beautiful as any other girl, but no one looks different from each other, he thinks. Her blond hair is short and looks crisp. Her hairdresser must be new, he think to himself, otherwise she would have used hairspray and not wax. Amateur. He had graduated with fine grades, and was already promised a job as his fathers assistant. Though his father was not at all the head of the department, he was still entitled to a assistant, and he could choose anyone he’d like. I’m lucky in that way. It’s a nice job, I think. He hear Cathy's voice change, and he knows she asked a question, which he did not hear. “Sorry?” He asks, momentarily distracted by her cleavage.

“Are you not going to touch me at all?” She asks, her voice fierce. “I figured you brought me to this charade for nothing?” And he remembers his agenda. Cathy was his agenda.

At least tonight. He did not feel anything special for her at all. He barely knew her, even though she had been pouring stories about her life all night. He had barely heard a whole sentence in each story.

“Can we get out of this place. I don’t eat.” She shakes her head slightly. “Yeah, sure.” He murmurs, and as they walk towards one of the giant doors, he spots Cherry, alone in a corner.

Cathy takes his hand and starts running slightly. They stop at one of the street corners, only slightly lit. She press her small body towards his. He is a bit more muscular, even though he never really had time to exercise.

“Look,” she says firmly, “that took three hours. And for what? Nothing happened. And I don’t eat food. I was bored and I don’t really have all night. Plus, I know all the rumors you’ve heard, trust me, they get to me at some point. Don’t trust everything you hear. I’m not sick. I don’t do this on a regular basis. It is only at crisis times that I do this. Also, very few people even dare ask me for ... services, anymore. Once, yes, and I denied a lot. I always made sure they were good families and healthy. I know what you’ve heard... and I cannot stress enough that it is not true. At least not all of it.”

Percival shakes his head in agreement. He would never have asked her if he trusted any of those rumors. If they were all true, she would be dead now.

“How would you like this done?” She asks, now with a professional voice, that scares him. It makes her sound more professional than she should.

“I really, really don’t know. Just do the usual, if you have a usual.” He shrugs.

“You’re the one paying, mister. If you have any wishes, do tell.” She almost smiles, and for a moment, she looks ten times as pretty. And now it’s gone.

He sees how she goes down on her knees, right there in front of him. In the almost darkness, in the totally deserted streets, there he stands; a wealthy son of an important man, getting his first blowjob from the local whore.

She gets up quickly. “Just a few questions. Would you like that I swallowed? I can do that. Would you like any special moves?” She shot glances at his exposed crotch now and then, and when nothing seems to happen, he doesn’t even answer more than with a shrug, she does down again and starts working.

He feels sorry for her. He can feel nothing, and he doesn’t want his money wasted. He starts thinking about girls. The kind of girls he have seen in the magazine at a friends house, hidden below the bed. He thinks about girl who takes their clothing off, who touches themselves while doing so. And then he thinks of Cherry. How she had looked when she walked towards him just fifteen minutes ago. How she had made his heart flutter. And then he moans when he feels the first touch of soft, moist lips.

It goes on like this for a while. The though of her effect on him is lingering. When he thinks about touching her, the feeling in his belly grows.

They are both too absorbed in the situation, so when footsteps is heard, no one notices. He looks up, right into Cherry's blue eyes, and he sight of her is overwhelming. He closes his eyes as if she was merely a projection of his imagination, and comes into Cathy's mouth. A slight swallowing sound is heard, and then silences falls around them.

Informationer omkring historien, så I ikke bliver forvirrede :)

Nogle gange, når jeg læser historien igennem, går det op for mig, at den kan være ret forvirrende for de, der ikke er inde i den endnu. Fordi den kommer i dele, i stedet for hele historien på en gang, kan det godt blive lidt forvirrende.

Lige en ting først: fordi min blog hedder Riiwiis weeklys, betyder det ikke, at der er 'kun' kommer historier hver uge. Det er mere en garanti for, at der i hvert fald kommer en ny del hver uge.

Der bliver sprunget i tiden! Historien foregår ikke nødvendigvis 100% kronologisk, og det bliver mere tydeligt som historien skrider frem. Der bliver også sprunget i tiden, hvilket betyder, at hvis I sidder og tænker 'skrev hun ikke lige i nutid før? Hvorfor er det datid nu?' så er det ikke fordi jeg ikke kan kende forskel på nutid og datid, det er rent faktisk meningen.

Den er ikke inddelt i kapitler, men i dele (nogen vil måske argumentere for, at det er det samme) men jeg har valgt at give hver fortæller ca. en side, hvilket udgør en 'del' af historien.

Historien hedder (indtil videre) 'Cherry', men der er mange fortællere, som bliver introduceret senere.

Den næste fortæller, som kommer i næste del, er Percival. Som I nok har Lagt mærke til, er det ikke en jeg-fortæller. Hvorfor så have individuelle fortællere, tænker I nok. Det er simpelthen for at give et lidt anderledes syn på historien (eller de mange små historier, der foregår) men mest af alt et andet syn på de andre fortællere.

Jeg håber, I vil kunne bruge denne forklaring, hvis der er noget, I er i tvivl om. Som sagt tilhører den næste del Percival, og jeg håber I vil kunne lide ham som fortæller. Hans del kommer ud senere i dag.

With love

RN

Cherry - part 1

Cherry

Pink

The ballroom was beautiful as ever, with the classic style interior, three full buffets, which was barely touched, since most of the people in this society usually was on a diet. She often wondered when they ate, and in that case, what they ate. Most of the people in this room - of those she recognized, of course - was people she had never seen eat anything. They sure did drink a lot, and because they rarely ate, or not at all, they got awfully drunk. And when they got drunk, they started talking. It seemed like no one really liked talking, and therefore it must be avoided at any cost. Luckily, people was self-centered enough - or drunk enough - not to notice their blabbering. They all had servants, who quickly tucked them into their expensive cars and let the driver get them home. That is also why no one ever wonders, if someone suddenly goes missing. She wandered about in her pink dress. Was this her pink dress number 8? 9, perhaps? The thought flees her mind as quickly as it had entered, as she came to think about all the fine dresses in her walk-in-closet, and decided it was useless to start counting them. Her fine, light brown hair dingle down and tickled her arms as she walked gracefully towards the other side of the room. She could not really enjoy this as she had when she was a kid. This had become an everyday thing for her, ballrooms and people dressed in their finest, or at least some of their finest. All the fancy food and the drinks with sparkling color... None of it seemed to get to her anymore. It hadn’t done that for years. She did remember when she was fifteen, and her mom let her walk in real, high heels for the first time at a ball. That one was exciting. She had worn smaller heels before, but nothing like 6 inches. She had worn a summer dress, yellow and short, so everyone could see her shoes. But what she remembered mostly about that ball, was her anxiety to walk. Her mother had mocked her for not walking a step more than she had to, but she meant it well.

Her father was somewhere in the room, probably not with her mother. She started looking around the room. She was eighteen now, and her ability to walk in heels had increased these past few years. She didn’t have to walk far, though, before she heard her moms shrilling, drunk voice pinch in her ears, calling her name.

“Cherry! Oh, Cherry, darling, there you are!” She seemed more than thrilled to have found her. “Yes, mother.” Cherry replied, embarrassed, as she saw who she was with. It was Vaughn Cryx, a researcher at one of her fathers companies. Her father owned most of the town, so more than 90 percent of the people in the room was working for him. They did not seem to fear him, though. Maybe because of the booze. Vaughn Cryx had a son, Percival Cryx, who was just the same age as she, also just graduated. They had taken several classes together, and during the past year, she had grown fond of Percival. Not that they talked much, but he was a hardworking boy, who knew what he wanted. She admired that. Now, seeing her mother, drunk, almost harassing Mr. Cryx, was horrifying. Now he could go home and tell his wife about this horrible ball, where the hostess was drunk. Please, she thought to herself, please don’t tell Percival.

“Mr. Cryx, what a pleasure to see you here. It has been a long time.” She says, shoving her mother to the side. In the corner of her eye, she sees how her mother is almost tripping, yet no one seems to notice. No one other than a servant reacts, and he takes her mother upstairs, nearly carrying her. Cherry shakes Vaughn Cryx’s hand.

“Miss Waltz, indeed a pleasure. How are you, now the exams are over?” Mr. Cryx is always nice. He is somewhere between 43 and 47, she never really got to know, but he looks young of his age. She thinks about Percival, and how she can ask if he brought him here. He almost never does, and if so, one of them gets drunk, and then they all leave at once.

“I am quite fine. It is a relief. But I suppose you know... from Percival.” There is a long pause, and Mr. Cryx doesn’t look her in the eye as he finally answers.

“Uhm, yes. It is a relief for him as well.”

“Did you bring him today? I would like to congratulate him, as we hardly spoke at the graduation.” She smiles, not too hopefully. Her blue eyes gets to him.

“In fact I did. I figured he might need a night out.” There is yet another pause. It got awkward.

“I don’t know where he is...” He slowly confesses. “I’ll find him.” She cheers, and turns from him. She doesn’t know why Mr Cryx is so uncomfortable every time she mentions him, which almost never happens. She looks for him for minutes before she sits to relax her feet. He might have left, and the people running around in fine clothes are too many for her to see the difference.

And then she spots him. There, at the other end of the wall, further away than it seems, she knows that, talking to a pretty girl in a dress, much like the one Cherry is wearing. She walks towards him, but as she approaches, the notice how pretty that girl he is talking to actually is, and she feels more selfconscious than she can bear at the moment. No, this could wait. He might have gotten a girlfriend, even though she never heard of him having one. She is about to turn away, when he sees her. Their eye contact last for several seconds, and she knows she has to go over there. It is plain etiquette, as she has learned from all the lessons from the maids and servants.

“Mr. Cryx.” She says, without looking at the pretty girl.

“Cherry.” He says it as if it was a request. Tasting the word in his mouth, complete silence falls among them. Cherry gets uncomfortable.

“Congratulations!” She spurts out, as if the word was explosive vomit, ready to burst out at any time. And it did. She had to save it.

“I mean, I wanted to congratulate you on the graduation. I know it was a week ago, but I barely even saw you at the graduation, and I figured, since we had some classes together, that I wanted to... congratulate you...” She finds herself in the same position as a child does, when it has done something wrong, and explains oneself in a hurry. But he barely seems to notice, as he says: “Thank you, you too. I heard you did well.” She nods towards him once. It was meant to be a yes, but it just never got there. Suddenly, she remembers the pretty girl, and her manners, and she turns around as gracefully as she can.

“Hello,” she says slowly, but confident, as offer her hand, “I’m Cherry Waltz. I live here.” The second she says it, she wants to disappear. Everyone knows the Waltz family, and the I live here comment was just too stupid and almost bragging. The pretty girl shakes her hand, as if it was on fire. “I’m Cathy.” Cathy is blond and her dress is also pink. Cherry feels a sudden rush of discomfort, and excuses herself. That did not go as she wanted, not at all. She looks back at Percival and Cathy, and they are talking again. As if they never even noticed she was there.

Velkommen!

Velkommen til min nye (og første) blog.

Denne blog vil blive brugt til en historie jeg arbejder på lige for tiden, som indtil videre bare hedder "Cherry".

Den er på engelsk, og da jeg ikke er perfekt til engelsk overhovedet (den er heller ikke blevet rettet ret meget endnu) vil der være nogle fejl i den. Nogle gange tænker jeg ikke lige så hurtigt som jeg skriver - når jeg er optaget af en god historie i mit hoved, er det svært at få hurtigt nok ned på papir... eller dokument eller whatever.

Denne blog er lavet for at give min historie lidt mere ... opmærksomhed? Det lyder så selvcentreret, men det er absolut ikke meningen. Jeg sendte den til en veninde, og hun fik mig overtalt til at smide den ud på det store internet.

Jeg vil meget gerne høre ris og ros fra de folk, der ved en fejl kommer forbi min blog :D

With love

RN <3