The cold blazing heart -1

Dear Alex,

Mum has been worried about me. I tell her,“It's alright mum, I'm fine.”

But she thinks I'm being 'morose'. Then she takes me to the huge study in the mansion, which is just a fancy name for the room containing the spill-over from the library and she gives me this book, this journal. She says she wants me to write in this because she is afraid I might become a bit crazy like our aunt Susanne. I don't really feel like rebutting then, so I nod curtly and take my leave.

I can hear mum whispering to herself as she shakes her head slightly, “I just want the best for you honey.”

“I know mum, thank you”, I say and leave the study as she slumps into the giant brown chair.

I understand that she might be worried about me, but I'm very sure I'm doing fine. I have been getting top grades, I haven't “acted out”, as dad would put it. Even parties don’t excite me anymore, though Reyna is absolutely disappointed about it, I can see Martha welcomes the new change.

Martha hasn't changed one bit, since you left. Even now she is currently downstairs spearheading what she calls 'The Banquet of the year'. She has begged me countless times to come and help her with the banquet, but quite frankly I couldn’t be bothered. My exams are just a few weeks away and I know I must not let father down.

A slight knock on the giant wooden door brings Tori back from her trance. She had been staring down at the brown leather covered journal at her desk for hours on end, contemplating what kind of information she must enclose in it. She hadn’t come to a rather clear conclusion but she knew that she must right it to her sister Alex. The question would have boggled the minds of others but she knew that she quite simply must. Looking up from the oaken desk she found the lithe frame of her childhood friend leaning against the age old purple wallpaper that adorned the walls of her bedroom. The green-eyed female walked slowly across the room, her cascade of brown hair swung slightly with the jump in her footsteps. At first sight she seemed like a rather jovial person, but it was more than that, but only tori knew the extent of the mystery.

“Whatchu doing?”, Reyna chirped. She hadn’t wanted any reply from her best friend, she was just a bit concerned with the girl locking herself up in her room for hours on end. That always concerned her. Tiptoeing to the desk, she found the object of her attention lying tucked away neatly in one corner. Tori had taken to being quite neat and orderly since the incident, sometimes it bothered Reyna too much. But she had learned to throw her concerns out the door and adjust to the new Tori. After all this was just temporary, or so she hoped.

“C'mon, is this why you ditched me with Hitler Martha in the kitchen?”, Reyna accused holding the leather bound journal carefully in her manicured hands. She twisted and turned the little thing as if it fascinated her with just it's existence, just a second later she had plopped on the fluffy bed next to her and taken to reading its contents.

Her eyes widened in surprise as the object flew out of her hands almost immediately, and she looked up at her friend who now caressed the journal into her drawer and locked it for good measure.

“That's not for light-reading”, Tori reprimanded her best-friend. She looked disapprovingly at the girl sitting on her bed with her arms across her chest in defiance.

“What?”,she spluttered, “But, I'm your best friend”

Tori simply shook her head in reply.

“Humph!, Fine, but you have to help me downstairs or Martha will bite my head off.”

The brunette grabbed Tori by the hand and flew downstairs into the post-apocalyptic scene that was the kitchen.

“Oh Gosh! What's happening?”, a woman over her forties, but still looked like a 20 year old who could party in Las Vegas, came down the stairs. Her 4- inch heels clip-clopped over the marble tiling as she gasped at the horrendous sight splayed in front of her eyes. She tuned to find the guilty woman who was to oversee the proceedings of the hour, finally her gaze landed on one plump lady with olive skin and a tight bun on her head.

“Martha. Explain. Now”, she gushed with her lips drawn in a tight-line. Mrs. Rister rarely got angry. She always said that it was lady like to hold one's calm and always make the situation right. But the rules didn't apply when one's own posh house was turned into a flour-devastated war zone. Her breath came in short sputters as she cat-walked up and down the kitchen trying to calm down her nerves.

“Mother, It's alright. Reyna and I'll take care of this before the council arrives.”,a soothing Tori inched towards her frantic mother carefully and rubbed at her shoulder. This information seemed to lower Mrs. Rister's blood pressure however Martha was still under firing range. As soon as she had walked out of the room after a good glare at every one of the servants, the whole room resonated with a series of gulps and sighs.

“Astoria dear thank you so much for the help. I thought I was goner.”,Martha chuckled humorlessly as she touched Tori's hand softly. Her eyes always seemed to shine with a motherly love that Tori had never understood, neither dared to question. It was always a refreshingly welcome kind of love, but sometimes Tori felt guilty that she didn't deserve it.

Martha had been the chief of maids for the Rister family ever since her mother had taken up as the town council's head. Which happened to be when she was born. Tori had always been used to having the kind maid around whenever she was in need of dire help, so much so that she couldn’t imagine Martha as anyone else other than a part of the Rister family. Her 20 years in the mansion had only strengthened the bond of love she felt towards the kids and the family.

“Right, so we start with cleaning Pedro off?”,her friend chuckled beside her as Tori looked up to find the family's favorite chef. Instead she found an unrecognizable man with flour specks on his nose and butter across his apron glaring Reyna to death. Surprising the lot, Tori let out a chuckle at the sight of poor Pedro who just grunted and took to the nearest washroom. Soon enough the two young girls were doubling in laughter on the kitchen top, occasionally banging their hands on the table from the hilarity of it all. By the time Pedro was back, he witnessed a kitchen full of servants, Martha, Reyna and Tori laughing away at what they called the “Flour-power man”.

“Alright. Now we bake Apple pie. Chop Chop”, Pedro called out irritatingly. His crisp Russian accent had alerted the girls like the whistle of an army sergeant and soon they were flying across the peach colored kitchen handing over ingredients and occasionally bumping into each other.

Looking at the sight in front of her, a kitchen filled with people laughing in good mirth, brought back strange yet delightful memories. Memories that Tori had never wanted to relieve, yet always found herself falling back into. Once again the livid scene burned in front of her eyes.

“Papa, but that's not how you do it!”,the little girl stomped her foot against the granite floor, holding out a book in front of the man's eyes.

“But, This seems so much more fun sweetheart”, the man cooed as he churned the soupy-looking broth. He smiled down at his elder daughter who had now stomped off to the counter and was reading the book, her tip-toes giving her the needed height. After a few minutes of careful contemplation, she had a look of satisfaction as she shook the book under his nose and claimed,”Ha!”

In clear black ink, it was written- Add three tea-spoons of cinnamon and only one tea-spoon of sugar

“So it was three tea-spoons after all”,she said with a tone of look-who's-wrong.

“Richard you should listen to the sous-chef”,the lady chirped, her legs dangling down as she sat on the table-top with her younger daughter on her lap.

“I think daddy was right”,the little girl whispered from her mother's lap. This little comment had earned her a high-five from her proud father who turned to smirk at his elder daughter.

“C'mon Alexandra, Just this one time?”,the mother cooed, giving the daughter her best set of puppy-dog eyes.

Alex rolled her eyes, a smile broke through her rosy pink lips as she dipped a finger in the spoon her father was holding out and tasted the liquid. The click of her tongue and the bright smile had told the small family all the answers that they needed, as they excitedly dug into their home-made snack.

“Tori? Toriiiiii”,the sudden jerks on her arms had brought Tori back to reality, albeit reluctantly.

“Phasing out again are we? Should I ring the doctor?”, her friend joked around, referring to the family doctor whom she believed Tori had had a crush on as a youngster.

Shushing her best-friend with a glare, Tori wiped her hands on a towel and made her way to the little white porch of the mansion.

Adoring the patterns that the clouds made, was one of the past-times that Tori had taken to since the incident. It seemed to irk the few people that knew her personally, but soon all of them had come to recognize her growing love for solitude and tranquility. Maybe it had come as a surprise to many, but Reyna had always understood why her friend had suddenly retraced her steps into the thick-walled shell that she had built for herself. On cold days like this, when everything and everybody seemed to be in a buzz around her, Tori liked to be left alone to herself. She often looked up at the skies, turned a tinge of orange as they welcomed the dusk, and bathe in the silence lingering around her. Sometimes her mind would wander off and she would start thinking some disturbing thoughts. Some that made her eyes sting with tears, and her cold fingertips instigate painful marks into her flesh. But she never dared to wipe the stray tears that leaked out, or rubbed at the stingy pain on her arms. Because she knew that if she did, that would give her incentive to let loose. It would be a welcoming alarm for her guards to break loose. She was afraid she wouldn't be able to hold on.

She looked away from the sky that brought back too many memories and looked onto her left at the white infrastructure that spoke of peace and serenity, when it was none of it. There it lay in words engraved in white marble,

Alexandra Rister (1986-2012)

Beloved sister, daughter and Fiance

“Lost but never forgotten”