Fairylights and Flowers

Chapter 1

Ethan gazed warily at the pallid flower of a girl that sat opposite him. She was leaned forward; her delicate elbows resting upon the contrastingly dark mahogany table. They were sat in a buzzing bar, heavy with smoke and increasingly drunk city men. Ethan was entranced. A musty, mysteriously sweet scent emitted from the girl, cutting through the dirty haze of tobacco. Her hair was a rich golden colour, and tumbled down her bare back like some brilliant shimmering waterfall. Eyes, an exotic green colour, gazed into the thin glass of crystal clear liquid that sat in front of her. Not water, something stronger, perhaps a heavy vodka. As she moved to sip from her glass her tiny diamond earrings caught the dull bar lights and glittered magnificently.

“You’re beautiful…you know that?” Ethan slurred, taking another deep swig of his whisky glass. The girl’s pale, alluring lips turned up slightly. Her beauty was ethereal; almost mermaid or fairy-like. However there was a skittish, kitten-like shyness about her – as well as an all-knowing confidence. She was perfect, Ethan mused.

Their conversation was awkward; a combination of Ethan’s pathetic small talk and her simple, asymmetric answers. It was if she was playing a game, her soft, husky tones luring him even deeper into infatuation. It was not just the whisky that prevented him from looking anywhere but this goddess before him. Her skin was porcelain, her shimmering dress flattering her flawless body in every way, the necklace around her pretty neck drawing just the right attention. What had he done to deserve her attention?

“We should go somewhere, y’know.” She said suddenly, a playful sparkle flickering in her eyes.

“Hm?” Ethan was still in a dazed state, onto his third whisky, constantly pinching himself.

“Oh, I’d like to take you somewhere.” Ethan grinned like a schoolboy.

“Where might that be?” he said with a strong flirting tone. She did not reply, but simple finished the dregs of her vodka, and straightening up.

“You’re not leaving are you?!” he gasped. She smiled coyly, tucking her hair behind her elfin ears.

“No, no I’m not going anywhere.”

“What are you doing in a place like this anyway?” Ethan blurted, “someone as gorgeous as you…You deserve - ” but he didn’t know how to finish this without sounding ridiculous. How could he capture her beauty in a sentence, how could he describe how her alluring aura contrasted sharply with the dingy bar he had found her in?

“I think you should come with me…” The girl stood up, revealing her long slender legs, pale skin shining in the dim light. Ethan could not look anywhere else, despite desperate attempts to avert his eyes.

“Um, I don’t even know your name,” he said sadly, looking down shamefully.

“It’s Alice. Come on, let’s go,” her velvet soft hands curled gently round his and led them out of the smoky bar, and into the cobbled, rainy streets.



Chapter Two

They wandered in relative silence, seemingly under her direction, for a good hour or so, but to Ethan it felt like minutes. The street lights flickered as they passed, gas flames burning brightly against the night sky, which was sadly devoid of stars. Rain fell gently onto Alice’s pallid skin and surrounded them like a shower of gold, shiny and reflective on the cobbled ground. Ethan felt so peaceful, letting her lead him through alleyways and lanes, past little boutiques and groceries that had closed hours ago, fountains and small squares and plazas where small groups of people were gathered, drinking wine and enjoying the night air under their umbrellas. He was unknown to this city. Ethan was more of a country boy; having grown up miles away on a farm, yet throughout his childhood he had always been desperate to get out and see the world. The confinements of endless fields, early mornings and monotonous trips to the village markets had left him feelingly constantly trapped. In fact, travelling to the city had been his Great Escape. His attempt at ‘making it’ at something. Ethan was his family’s dark horse; a poet, a writer, a great devourer of all the literature stashed in the basement of his family’s country house. This was all secret however, no-one knew. He would stay up every night, writing long tales of dark fiction and heartfelt poetry, and each morning descend into the fields to work with his father. Everyone in his family assumed he would follow in his footsteps and take over the farm. Before he ran away, less than a month ago now.

In these past few weeks, Ethan’s life had consisted of crashing in doorways, under benches, in train stations, living off a sustainable diet of cheap chocolate bars and endless cans of soda to keep up his energy. His life was led on a whim, with little direction but a new, expanding horizon of opportunity offered up by the city. He had explored it as best he could, visiting every known publishing company and artist’s residence and submitting his work. However he was unable to give them his address, and so as of yet he had no way of receiving their feedback. He planned to revisit as many as he could soon. Although Ethan had a strange, creeping feeling that stumbling upon Alice had changed all his plans.

“This is my home.” Alice announced, breaking their relaxed silence, coming to a standstill outside a rather ornate tenement flat building, rich in Victorian architecture.

“Oh, right, well,” Ethan felt awkward now, “um, I guess I should say goodnight then?” Every atom of his being willed her disagreement. He wanted to go in, wanted to get to know her better, to see how she lived, how she did things. The last thing he wanted to do was ‘go home’, alone into the night. Alice smiled rather modestly, turning towards him. She leaned forward, her face close to his. He could smell her sweet breath, her delicate lashes brushing his face. Closing his eyes, she planted a lingering kiss on his mouth, leaving a syrupy cherry taste on his lips. He wanted more…

However Alice didn’t turn and walk away alone into her flat. She took Ethan’s hand in her butter-soft palms and led him inside, up the cold stone spiral staircase to the door. She drew an ornate, pretty little key from her purse and inserted it, turning the lock with a satisfying click. She led him inside. Ethan was astounded by the décor of the apartment. Fairylights twinkled quietly on the ceiling, artificial flowers; peonies, roses, vines, giant daisies, spiralled along the walls, intertwining with the fairylights. Giant mushrooms, carved from various shades of wood, grew up from the ground; an invitingly soft carpet. A plush crimson sofa sat in the corner; adorned with various fluffy cushions. Heavy incense burned away in the corner; candles dripping with colourful wax were positioned everywhere. It was truly magical. Surreal, even.

It was only when Alice led him forward, seating him gently on the sofa, her hands caressing his neck and stroking his hair, obviously with desirable intent, that Ethan noticed with a pang of shock a young girl sitting in the corner, hugging her bare legs and sipping a mug of steaming coffee. The scent of the stuff hung about her in a compelling wisp, like that of a strong drug. Ethan craved coffee; he hadn’t touched it in weeks.

“Whose that?” he asked warily, briefly taking hold of Alice’s hands to stop her increasingly passionate movements.

“Oh, my sister…Belle.” She said vaguely, her bright eyes peering at his expression from under those brilliant lashes.

“Right.” Ethan said, awkwardness again creeping over his voice. He felt captured, as if under a spell, unable to avert his eyes from Alice’s waiflike, ethereal beauty despite the wearing stares of the young girl with the coffee, Belle. Belle looked up, revealing her fragile, heart shaped face, and green eyes, so similar to her sister’s. When she spoke, her voice was like a fading heartbeat, so quiet and almost rasping in weakness.

“Who is he?” Her question was met with an exasperated look from Alice.

“He’s Ethan. He’s gorgeous,” she muttered dreamily, “now go to bed.” She added with stabbing effect. Nodding warily, Belle crept silently from the room through another door, carefully placing her empty mug on a cabinet.

As soon as she was gone, Alice began stealing kisses upon Ethan, his lips, his slightly coarse cheeks, urgent marks of desire that left him with little willpower. He could not believe his luck. He was entranced; under a spell of her exquisite good looks, the surroundings, the thick, exotic scent of incense. He wanted more. He wanted a taste of this astonishing girl he had come across. He positively wanted to be consumed by this magical moment. Delicately peeling off her dress as she tore off his shirt, he descended into a blinding hour of enchantment. It was certainly an hour he would never forget. The hour he fell deeply for Alice Hart; the hour an impossible connection melded between them as they made love.



Chapter Three

What was that smell? Ethan awoke, his back in slight pain, upon a soft pink couch, in a room heavy with scent, perhaps a strong perfume; adorned with flowers and other such strangely fantastical decorations. His head felt hazy, as if he was drunk or under some kind of spell. Suddenly the night before came flooding back to him, and he realised where he was. He was naked except for his underwear; a quick glance around and he could not find his trousers. Perhaps he had one too many whiskeys last night.

“Morning sleepy,” Alice entered the room, her unearthly goddess-like presence sweeping towards him, golden hair tumbling down her delicate back. She bore a mug of hot smelling coffee and a small tray of inviting pastries, glazed with chocolate and maple syrup. Ethan’s stomach rumbled and he gazed wondrously at this girl, gratitude filling his heart. The night before came rushing back to him and sweet happiness filled his whisky-dulled mind.

“How did I deserve you?” he mumbled, carefully taking the treasured goods from her hands. Alice glanced down, made nervous by his praise. She seemed much less confident this morning, a nervous disposition and appealing shyness had settled in. As Ethan began to gulp down the coffee, the caffeine settling warmly into his body, he realised his appetite was not for the food on the pretty china plate in front of him. He wanted her; to kiss her, hold her, convey the strange bond he felt with her. As she fiddled gently with some of the wallflowers, pulling one and fixing it idly into her beautiful hair, he felt an odd protectiveness over her. I have only known her less than 24 hours, he thought, astounded at his feelings.

Setting the pastries aside, Ethan stood up, wrapping his arms around her fragile frame and kissing her passionately. She returned his kiss lightly, there was a bemused look on her face, strange and unrecognisable to the boy who barely knew her.

“What?!” he demanded playfully. Alice pulled away.

“I need to go out,” she said simply, “make yourself at home.”

“Wait…don’t go!” he yelled, grabbing her hands. She kissed him warily on the cheek, leaving a small imprint of cherry lipstick.

“I’ll be back. Belle will see to you.” As she left through the front door, her younger sister, he remembered from the night before, entered the room. She looked remarkably fresh and energetic, a complete contrast to Ethan who suddenly felt incredibly weary and dishevelled.

“You got a shower?” he mumbled, ruefully pulling at his straggly mop of chestnut hair. She giggled, her dainty face shining.

“Yes, but you mustn’t use it.”

“Why not?”

“’Cause you don’t live here, silly! Eat your breakfast.” Ethan thought her rather rude, but he appreciated her lighthearted attempt at authority. Nevertheless, he finished his pastries. He wanted to go now, to return home, freshen up; but he was worried he’d miss Alice and never see her again. A perplexing feeling of desire was growing within him; one he’d never experienced before. He felt compelled to see Alice – he needed to be with her, to hold her; stroke her gorgeous flaxen hair. It was no longer a desire, no longer simply a want; it was more of a need now. It had grown, spiralled out of control in the last few hours of sleep, until it was now a throbbing pain, something within his chest that he could not restrain or conceal.

“I think I love your sister.” He blurted, looking around for his trousers. Pulling on her elegant little dolly shoes, Belle laughed heartily. Mockingly even.

“Let’s play a game,” she said. Utterly intrigued, Ethan agreed with a sort of reluctance. His experience could not possibly get any stranger.

“Sure, why not?”



Chapter Four

Alice peered in the dusty shop window. Inside she could see the usual clutter of antiques; musty vintage clothing hanging from the hooks on the dirty walls, scattered gemstones, old coins that were no longer in use, bits of odd furniture. Nothing caught her eye at first. She liked wandering – exploring the streets, vainly searching for something. Something to fill that gap. The inevitable void that infested her life; a gaping wound that could not be healed, a horrible sense of emptiness that nothing seemed to satisfy. A desire for consumption which was never fulfilled. Alice tried everything. She smoked endless cigarettes, drank vodka shots till she was dizzy. She splurged borrowed money on ridiculously lavish items of clothing, handbags and jewellery. She offered herself to random men in random bars, hoping the numbness of sex and human heat would drive the pain away. Sometimes the abyss in her life got very deep, and she felt like she was teetering precariously on the edge. Temporary relief came in the form of sleeping pills, brief periods of self harm, small scars on her inner wrists, like prison notches to count the passing time. Count her demons. She had gone for weeks without properly eating. Days of sipping at cold water and black coffee, malnourished and sullen with starvation, her consciousness repressed with an adrenalin-induced stupor. Yet none of this worked. Expensive lotions healed her scars up and she was now left with nothing, no proof of existence; seemingly a lost soul in this confusing world. A dank depression which ate at her very bones, suffocating her thoughts.

Belle was her only source of inspiration, her survival; the talisman that brought her endlessly wandering mind back to reality with an unsympathetic shove. Their mother had died giving birth to Belle; and neither girl had known their father, although they shared his surname, Emanuel. they had never felt the desire to track him down, to them he was a dead existence, an dying childhood enigma that they no longer shared an interest in. Now at the ripe age of eighteen, Alice felt entirely responsible for her younger sister. Her younger sister felt even more responsible for Alice. They had went through everything together – dodging school, social workers, shoplifting magnificent department stores and selling goods on the local ‘black market’ to make enough to scrape by on. Living off benefits and Alice’s feigned talent for fortune telling. Every week or so, she would sit in the street, clad in a dark dress, mystical make-up haunting and illuminating her features, beckoning passers-by to spend some money to have their futures told, their hopes and fears dredged up from the depths of their souls. It was simple and not at all strenuous, not even emotionally, and brought in some cash. In fact, it offered Alice a sense of relief, satisfaction even, at revealing other peoples’ good luck and misfortunes.

A glint of gold light caught Alice’s eye. She peered forward anxiously, dainty fingertips pressed against the glass window. Peeking out from underneath an ancient crumpled blazer was an antique locket, oval shaped and bearing a pretty cameo rose which felt oddly familiar. A reminiscent sense of nostalgia emitted from the flawed yet beautiful piece of jewellery. It called out to Alice. Not in that usual, commercial way retail called out to her; with bright slogans and tantalising packaging, but in a heavy, authentic, almost emotional manner. There was nothing for it; Alice had to have it. At least inspect it. Scrambling in the pockets of her silk harem trousers, acquired from a little old boutique down the city’s west end, she realised with a pang that she was out of cash. Every penny had been blown last night on those elusive 4 Vodka shots. Last night. Everything flooded back to her. Ethan. A strange bolt of electrical excitement penetrated her heart. It was unfamiliar, new; a feeling she relished and despised at the same time. She teetered on the edge, considering how wonderful it felt to be consumed by someone who was still there in the morning, who really cared. Yet it was dangerous, to submit to her heart’s wishes, she’d learned that. Casting away such lingering considerations, Alice entered the shop, the door tinkling as she went in. Somehow she’d get this locket. She just had to.



Chapter Five

“Hurry up! Pick a card,” Belle’s voice was chirpy, eerily bright and happy. She glared, expectant and wide-eyed across the small mahogany table at Ethan, a selection of fortune-telling Tarot cards strewn haphazardly between them. They had spent the last few hours, amidst surprisingly lighthearted banter, drawing cards, with Belle’s thin white fingers laying them out carefully on the tabletop. It had all got a bit much for Ethan, the forewarning tales of doom predicted about his future, the illustrations on the cards; skulls, the sallow, drawn face of the Grim Reaper, distorted depictions of evil fairies and witches; the formidable femme fatale – a paradox to the two girls who had entranced him, pixie-like Belle and the vision of striking charm that was Alice. He had lost his temper and messed the precise layout up, announcing angrily that it was time he left. However Elle had pinned him down with promises her sister would be home soon. Hesitantly, Ethan drew a card from the random collection on the table. He did not look at it and handed it to the bright girl.

“Oh! Oh…oh shit.” Her shrill, chipper voice sounded awfully strange emitting the swear word. Adark presence was lurking behind her apparent sweet innocence.

“What?” Ethan sighed.

“It’s…the reaper.” Her face clouded over, white as the pallid moonlight of the previous night.

“And what does that mean?” Ethan asked, slightly alarmed.

“Someone…someone is going to die.” She stuttered, throwing the card onto the pile, the malicious presence disappearing behind her eyes to be replaced with intense fear; she leapt out of her seat and ran to the door, slamming it behind her in a rush. Ethan shuddered, unsure of everything, the formidable card glaring up at him.



Chapter 6

Ethan was freezing. A bitter, empty cold infested his bones and ached through his gut. He was lonely and hungry, fright shivering in his ribs as he sat in the vacant flat, waiting for Alice to get home. Alice. The girl, he had met her only the night before, and already she was smothering the bane of his existence. He could not stop thinking about her. The way her hair tumbled down her back, the way her eyes glittered like stars, the way her skin was flawless as porcelain, the way she made love – her entire being consumed his mind. He was addicted, infatuated, attracted. Love, like a cliché, but with a pain unknown to him. Where was she? Why had she left him for so long in her flat, having known him less than 24 hours? Where was her sister, who had fled gallantly after discovering some fearful prediction in her fortunetelling?

Suddenly, the door burst open, to reveal Alice, her powerful presence instantly illuminating the room, spreading a warmth into Ethan’s cold, frightened frame. He longed to cling to her, to love her, hold her. Yet an icy chill emanated from her figure, standing in the doorway, eyes glaring around the room, searching.

“Where were you?!” he demanded, “I’ve been stuck here, all day, your sister even left…” he trailed off when he saw her frowning glances transform into an affectionate, gleeful expression. Her pale fingers clutched a dusty gold locket, emerald eyes sparkling with exuberance. Ethan stared.

“What is THAT?”

“I found it. It’s beautiful, so lovely...” her voice was excited, breathless, sing-song with happiness. Ethan studied the necklace from his position across the room. Its oval locket, adorned with a pearl surface and a pretty rose was mildly attractive, but certainly nothing special, nothing eye-catching. He was clueless as to its significance.

“It’s, um, pretty.” He mumbled, shuffling towards her. Desire flickered within him, a flame he continually tried to repress. He reached out, holding Alice softly, stroking her arms, smooth as polished gemstone.

“I’ve missed you…Alice…” he tasted her bitter name on his tongue. It filled his soul with a dangerous sweetness. Acid sugar.

“Yes,” she said vaguely, looking down and then deeply into his eyes, rich chestnut in colour, glazed with love.

“What’s happening Alice? Why? Chick, I barely know you.” He was clearly stressed, struck with confusion, emotionally overloaded. The cocky arrogance of his usual personality diminished to sheer terror and fascination, like a rabbit in headlights. She simply smiled. That little turning of the lips that killed him.

The air shifted, the door again opened, this time to Belle. Her white gold hair shimmered past him as she skipped towards the fridge, buzzing idly in the corner which formed a kitchen of sorts. Ignoring the couple, she gleefully opened the door, taking a moment to consider the contents before extracting a gleaming red apple. Ethan was thoroughly bewildered, their casual coming and going was becoming a bit much.

“Belle…” Alice began, backing away from Ethan, moving towards her sister.

“Yes?” Belle’s voice was full of chirping, childish arrogance. She did not like being addressed by her sister in such a tone.

“Why was he alone?” he voice was thick with concern for him, slight contempt for her.

“I was bored. And wouldn’t even shower when I asked him to! He’s smelly!” Outraged, Ethan opened his mouth to protest. The reason she had left was over a Tarot reading. He had asked her to use the shower and when she refused he had to jump in when she ran away. Alice cut in before he could open his mouth.

“I’m not happy Belle…Where have you been?”

“Oh, just playing with Millie. Quite innocent Alice I promise.” She was annoyed, irritated, clearly distracted. Ethan thought she was pulling off this little act quite flawlessly.

“What’s that you got there?” she said with sudden interest, addressing the locket that was entwined in her sister’s fingers.

“I found it…”

“It reminds me of Grandma. Reminds me of – “She was cut off instantly by a vitriolic look from Alice; her lips slamming tightly shut.

“Ah, well, I’d better be going to bed now anyway,” she smiled cheerily, an instant change in tone, “night night you two! Have fun!” she winked in their direction and entered the small bedroom adjoined to the main room. The fairy lights flickered on and off as gusts of wind battered relentlessly outside. Shrugging, Ethan figured it was time he should leave; he’d had enough. He should leave them alone. Turning towards the door, Alice grabbed his forearm, her nails ever so slightly digging into his flesh

“Don’t you want to know how lonely I am?” she rasped, her voice laced with a cold desperation. Tears sprung in her crystalline eyes, her hair was wild. Before he knew it, Alice was upon him, planting heavy, passionate kisses upon his mouth, along his neck, undressing him. As he reciprocated, electricity flashed between them, thunder and lightning crashing as the wind-fuelled storm raged outside.



Chapter 7

Belle had just reached the grounds when the school bell rang. That angry siren that signified the start of another miserable day of institutionalised discipline, rules, order. Belle hated school. She was twelve years old, a first year, and yet already felt her mind had surpassed the level of high school education. Belle wasn’t recognisable as particularly academic or intelligent. However she possessed an abnormal maturity, a deep understanding of the world that outshone and surpassed that of her peers. She grasped the meaningful aspects of life with surprising relish; love, scorn, terror, politics, human nature. She knew what people did and why, she knew what made them tick. This made school, decidedly...boring.

Trudging into Registration class, Belle was met with the usual snarky looks from her classmates, sneering at her old-fashioned outfit - a dress of white cotton, pleated leather headband and dainty shoes - underneath their sniggering adolescent noses.

“Sorry I’m late,” she mumbled to her teacher, taking the only remaining seat, at the front. In class, Belle was quiet, reserved, her mind thwarting any external stimuli so that everything around her didn’t really exist. Thus, Belle learned nothing. She ignored nothing because her mind didn’t acknowledge her surroundings, her teachers, the mundane group-work she was forced to participate in. Belle would be busy plotting, scheming and remembering aspects of the past that would perhaps fulfil a roll in her future. It was as if she lived to satisfy the little bubble she and her sister lived in. They were lost souls, reminiscent of a past world where life was simple and love had an exquisite strength. Yet they were surrounded by the traumas of the modern world – fast cars, money, stress, pressure…confusing relationships. Belle thought she would never fit in, and she liked it that way.

The day passed in a hazy array of classes and assemblies and trying to ignore the hushed whispers of her classmates. Belle’s mind was dominated the whole time with thoughts about a certain mysterious locket. She pondered its musty beauty, the faded gold sheen of its surface, the way the rose was so familiar to her. She remembered how she’d used to stare in wonder at it, how it would never leave Grandma Sinthia’s neck. As a very young girl Belle would laugh at how she would sleep with the locket on. She was sure it was Grandma’s locket. Such an innocent piece of jewellery, the same one. The one that earned the family’s diminishing fortune, the one that in the end led to Sinthia’s death.

As the final school bell tolled, Belle headed home; wandering the lonely, rain-soaked city, the dirty cobbled streets where she belonged, passing coffee shops crammed with people escaping the weather, markets closing up for the day, people rushing around under the feeble protection of umbrellas. Life was so much hassle. So much stress. Why did people choose to live this way? Belle felt lost in the endless rush and pull of time, she felt out of sync with the world’s tide – the ebb and flow of life disorientated her, like constantly waking up from a nightmare. She wished she could be safe in her old Grandma’s house, cosy by the warm hearth with her favourite soup and her Sinthia’s wondrously outrageous stories. Belle was proud of these memories, how she’d held them intact and not let them tarnish like Alice had. She knew her sister resented her Grandma’s decisions, she didn’t reflect on happy memories anymore like Belle did. Sometimes Belle thought her sister wistfully denied the past, denied life itself sometimes. Belle wasn’t like that. She was, in her mind at least, bright, often consciously naive but her persona was always a lot warmer, it kept her happy and in some ways, carefree.

In her daydreams, Belle did not notice the world around her. Alice used to scold her for erecting such a wall between her mind and the world, she said it was unhealthy and ruined her lovely personality. Belle cried it was her safety blanket. Everything was bubbly and bright in Belle’s world, she couldn’t quite deal with the harsh reality which had been inflicted on her life since early childhood. Instead she had concocted a cocktail of dreams about the future, how Alice would marry a rich old man and they would once again have a fortune, have meaning. Belle thought money was meaning. As her sister gradually wasted money, attempting to make their lives better and fill up the emotional cavern between them and the world, Belle felt her life becoming increasingly meaningless. What was life without money, when money equated to fun and success? At her worst periods of adolescent despair, she tried to regain a sense of reality and control over her situation. There were times when Belle refused to eat and became so thin she looked almost ethereal with fragility, her delicate frame fairylike. It didn’t help that she was tiny, quite the opposite of her tall, striking sister. In fact, in a crowd, only her dazzling blonde hair caught any real attention. She was a strange girl, lost in her own portrait which the people in her world found difficult to capture, to assess.

She was nearly home though, dusk had settled in. She could almost see her sister’s vintage turquoise car, parked at the end of the long street ahead of her.



...



Belle did not see the headlights of the car, skirting and sliding abruptly on the slippery wet cobbles, the glare of the looming bumper, the horrendous screech of furious brakes. Belle’s final gasp was not one of terror, as she stepped out onto the road, right into the unfortunate path of the sliding car, but one of sheer surprise. Belle was at last plunged into painful, irrevocable reality, intense pain shuddering through her in a crescendo of waves, as her tiny body was struck by the mechanical monster – she did not cry or scream. A wicked flash of hysterical horror glimmered in her dying eyes. She laughed.