Prologue

Prologue

A Chapter by Romeana

Prologue

           

 

“She’s… beautiful,” Christopher whispered.

 

He took a shaky breath and a step back, admiring his work. After 10 months, she was finally finished. Lying in front of him on a long stilted table was a fair wooden doll with her small mouth slightly agape. Her empty eye sockets were gazing into the wooden rafters of the barn, and the top of her hairless head was reflecting warm sunlight from the only window in the room. Christopher was close to tears. His eyes could not muster the strength to cry, but they were blinking as quickly as bruised, restless eyes could flutter.

 

How long had it been since he last had a good night’s rest? He couldn’t remember. Day after day, night after night, he had spent his time with her. Angeline. He was so careful with his work, carving her delicate hands and feet with the care a mother would use with her child. He could remember the long laborious nights of sanding slender legs and abdomen. So clearly his mangled hands could recollect shaping small breasts and the slight curvature of her back. But more than anything, he could remember light growing darker and brighter as hours passed, then days, as he perfected her head and face. Her lips had been such the struggle for him. He would always lose control of himself when it came to Angeline’s lips. One minute he would be shaping the doll’s beautifully full bottom lip, the next he would realize his eyes were blurry with tears and that he was not carving at all. Instead, he would be staring into the dead darkness of the barn, sobbing a name. Her name.

 

“Angeal,” He murmured aloud. But no. Angeal was dead. She was never coming back. Now, it was only him. He blanched at the thought of his own emptiness without her. How he no longer felt a desire for food, or sex, or life. Sometimes his body ached with the longing of feeling Angeal’s body against his. His body was like steel, hard and ridged, but so gentle when it came to wrapping firm muscle against the warm, soft body of the only girl he had ever loved. Oh, how he would keep her so safe in his arms and bury his face in the thick of her dark hair, whispering promises of stars, marriage, senseless love making until she could stand it no more. How she would have that sweet, childish look in her almond eyes when she wanted her way, and how any sternness he would have worked so hard to maintain would melt at the touch of her sweet, pouty lips to his. All of that, gone.

 

“Angeal,” He whispered again, “I am nothing without you.”

 

He stared at the doll, his almost complete Angeline, and then looked at his mangled, bloodied hands and dusty clothes.

 

“Look at what I have become.”

 

“You have become quite a mess, sir,” a voice sang from the barn door.

 

Christopher did not look to see who it was. It was Patty, his maid, of course. Patty was a stocky woman with a large, musical voice to fit the bulk of her stature. Her auburn hair, as usual, was restrained by a tacky blue scarf that Christopher rather hated, but not as much as he hated her unmanageable curly hair. Therefore, he kept his opinion of her scarf to himself. In her meaty hands was a tray of uncovered food. Banana porridge. Christopher could smell it. The aroma of the sweet mush was charging through the air, suffocating the dusty scent of the barn and settling in the yellowing oak shavings around him.

 

“Go away, Patty,” He grunted. He wasn’t in the mood for food. He only wanted… sleep. Yes, the thought of sleep was almost intoxicating to him. He sank down to the floor and rested himself against the leg of Angeline’s table.

 

“I will not,” Patty stated, slighted by the order. “You have not eaten in 15 hours. You have not slept in 35 hours. Who knows when you last bathed? You only spend your time in this barn, and quite honestly, I don’t think it’s doing you much good, sir. But I-”

 

She paused, startled.

 

She had been marching over to Christopher with all of the intention of force feeding him, when she noticed the doll. She was almost lifelike, in Patty’s opinion. Her body was unbelievably smooth and accurate. It was no wonder Christopher could barely operate a spoon, he had almost sanded the doll into oblivion. Besides that, it was unnervingly lifelike. It was almost as if Christopher had stolen a sleeping, waify young woman from Jamestown just down the road and put her body on the barn table. The face was the most startling aspect of the entire masterpiece. Dead, eyeless sockets gazed into space, but otherwise she looked exactly like…

 

“Angeal? What on earth is this,” Patter sputtered, taking a step back.

 

“No, Patty,” Christopher muttered from his spot on the floor. “This is Angeline. Isn’t she beautiful? I’m finished with the wood work, mostly.”

 

“Sir, this is absolutely disturbing. I knew you were working on something in here, but this? This is madness. This is too far.”

 

“It’s just a doll. You can’t understand.”

 

Patty pondered Christopher’s words for a moment. He was right, she did not understand. She had never understood the love between him and Angeal, she did not understand Angeal’s death, and she certainly did not understand the impenetrable darkness where Christopher’s mind often was. She did not understand why he spent days at a time in a stupid barn carving a doll that would only remind him of tragedy and loss. But she did understand this: If she was not around to take care of Christopher, he would surely die. Her family had been taking care of the Wimblersons for generations, and one day, her children would take care of Christopher’s children the way she took care of him. That was a working bond that she adamantly believed should never be broken.

 

Patty leaned over and removed the wood chippings from the tangly mass of silky black hair on Chris’s head, looked him in those sad, tired brown eyes, and spoke as gently as she could muster.

 

“Christopher, I’m going to get you inside, cleaned up, and fed. Then you can go to sleep. After you rest up, you can come back and work on your… Angeline.”

 

Christopher did not look particularly happy about Patty’s decision to move him, but he did not fight her as she pulled him to his feet and dragged him out of the barn.



© 2013 Romeana


Author's Note

Romeana
This story is created for mature audiences. Please give criticisms and reviews, I am looking to improve.

My Review

Would you like to review this Chapter?
Login | Register




Reviews

Intriguing first chapter. I'll be looking forward to see how the plot develops.

Posted 11 Years Ago


Romeana

11 Years Ago

Thank you so much for the review. (:

Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Stats

191 Views
1 Review
Rating
Added on January 22, 2013
Last Updated on January 30, 2013
Tags: Begining