Chapter 4A Chapter by Brooklyn
That awkward moment when you have to travel with someone you don’t know and you have no clue what to say to mentioned person. Now add not even knowing his name. And him knowing your love life.
All of the above is my fault. Somehow. Well, except for not knowing his name. What am I suppose to do? Punch him until he tells me? Beg on my hands and knees? Neither of which are an option. There is something called pride…and gratitude.
“If I guess your name will you tell me if I’m right?” He doesn’t respond but I decide to try anyway. “Rumpelstiltskin?”
“No, but close.”
“You could just tell me and we wouldn’t have to fill the forest with useless chit-chat.” I try to reason.
“Tempting, but…no. Sorry.” I growl in frustration. He laughs. I give him the death stare but it seems to have no affect on him. Dang it.
“Hint?” I plead. He just shakes his head. “Fine. I’m just gonna call you Rumpel then.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Or would I?” I say with a mischievous smile.
“No. You wouldn’t. Because I saved your life. Aren’t you supposed to be eternally grateful?”
“Only if I’m a toy alien.”
“You mean you’re not?” He asks with mock surprise. “Wow, you’re a good actor. You totally fooled me.” Am I offended? You bettcha. Another look of death is wasted on him.
“Here we are.” He says. I look around and see nothing.
“Where are we exactly?” He better not be an ax murder or something.
He doesn’t answer but moves around brush until he uncovers an opening to a cave. “Home sweet home.”
“Oh.” Relief floods through me. Okay. That makes sense. We enter the cave and it’s surprisingly homey. Animal pelts serve as rugs and heaps of them are used as beds. There is a stone fireplace in the corner, obviously built by hand. He lights torches that are strategically placed so that they give the most light.
What surprises me the most is a little girl sleeping in one of the pelt-beds. She looks around five. I give Mystery Man a questioning look. “She’s my little sister,” he explains. “My mother died while giving birth to her and my father died a year after.”
I don’t know what to say. I can’t even imagine how hard it would be to have both parents die and then have a one-year-old girl to take care of on top of it. “Oh, I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, well, that’s just the way things are. Nothing’s gonna change it.” That’s something I understand. Like me, he keeps pulling the short straw.
I decide to change the topic. “So if you don’t want to be called Rumple, what am I supposed to call you?”
“Depends. How long are you gonna be here?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you gonna stay with us for a while or are you gonna go back to your home or are you gonna go somewhere else?
“Well, I can’t exactly go home, you already told me that. And you’re right. And I don’t have anywhere else to go… So I guess I’m staying.”
He nods in agreement. “Okay.” Then he continues to light more lamps.
“Well?” I ask getting frustrated.
“What should I call you then?”
“Whatever you want.”
“Fine.” I’m dying of curiosity but I won’t let him have the satisfaction of making me beg.
The little girl stirs and slowly opens her eyes. “Who is she?” she asks her brother, pointing to me.
“Um. This is Mallory. She’s going to live with us for a while. Sorta like a sister.”
“Yay! New sister! But why do we have new sister"“
She is right about to say his name but he cuts he off. “We’re playing a game. She can’t know our names, okay? Got it? Promise you won’t tell?” she nods in agreement.
“Seriously?!” I say incredulously.
His little sister comes and throws her chubby arms around my waist. “I love you!” she squeals.
I smile down at her. “I’m gonna call you Princess, is that okay?”
She beams, “Okay Mallory.”
© 2012 Brooklyn
Added on July 3, 2012
Last Updated on July 3, 2012
Untitled for Now
why do you want to know?, MA
AboutI'm a fourteen year old girl that is now in her freshman year of highschool. wish me luck!. I'm awful at spelling, and I need to work on "down time" in stories. I also can't seem to write one book for.. more..
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