~MademoiselleKool
Count Dracula had directed me to go to the Golden Krone Hotel, which I found, to my great delight, to be thoroughly old-fashioned, for of course I wanted to see all I could of the ways of the country.
I was evidently expected, for when I got near the door I faced a cheery-looking elderly woman in the usual peasant dress--white undergarment with a long double apron, front, and back, of coloured stuff fitting almost too tight for modesty. When I came close she bowed and said, "The Herr Englishman?"
"Yes," I said, "Jonathan Harker."
She smiled, and gave some message to an elderly man in white shirtsleeves, who had followed her to the door.
He went, but immediately returned with a letter:
"My friend.--Welcome to the Carpathians. I am anxiously expecting you. Sleep well tonight. At three tomorrow the diligence will start for Bukovina; a place on it is kept for you. At the Borgo Pass my carriage will await you and will bring you to me. I trust that your journey from London has been a happy one, and that you will enjoy your stay in my beautiful land.--Your friend, Dracula." ~ Dracula, Bram Stoker
Jane Gordon groaned and leaned back on her seat, tossing down her Bram Stoker and folding her arms, staring down through the window at the wet street. Cars crept cautiously by, wipers going like mad. She gave a derisive half-smile. In this town, rain was so unusual that nobody knew how to act when it did show up.
"Come on, Janey, you can't stop there." Her sister tugged on her sleeve persistently. "It's just getting good. At last we meet Dracula..."
"Emma, seriously." Jane rolled her eyes and looked down at the eager eleven-year-old. "I can tell you how it goes. Dracula comes to England, kills everyone and seduces Mina, then they both kill everyone. The people they don't kill then become Dracula's brides, and then when there's no people left they turn to the helpless wolves and eat them. Then they fly off to Mars and die too."
"Jane," Emma protested. "I watched the movie, I know the story. Come on, just read it."
"Sorry." Jane looked out the window again. "I guess I'm just not in the Dracula mood today."
"Why, because it's raining for the first time in months?" Glancing out the window, she shuddered. "You know winter's really here when it starts raining."
Jane rolled her eyes again. "Yeah, what a way to spend my winter break." She broke out in song, deepening her voice into a mellow drawl. "I'm dreaming of a wet Christmas..."
Emma's voice took on a teasing lilt. "Oh, is the gloominess why you won't read Dracula? Scaaaaared, Janey?"
Jane gazed at her solemnly. "Of course... if I get wet I'll melt." She clutched her hands together and her eyes widened. "I'll get you, my pretty, and your little dog, too!" she screeched.
"Ha ha." Emma rose to her feet and dusted off her pink sweatpants. "I'm going to play with Steven. You're in a weird mood today."
"If you're looking for respite from weirdness, you won't find there," Jane drawled with a grin. "That kid is up to his neck in strangeness."
"What's respite?" Emma stumbled over a pile of books near the door and righted herself.
"It's a reprieve, a suspension, postponement or remittance." Jane smiled serenely.
"Ah. All is made clear." Emma shook her head and went out the door.
"You won't get away with this!" Jane hollered after her, rolling slowly off the windowsill and onto the wood floor. She landed with a thump and lay, gazing up at Emma, who had stopped and turned back.
"Won't get away with what, you weirdo?" Emma was looking at Jane as if she belonged in a strait jacket. Well, that wouldn't be necessary but Jane wasn't entirely convinced that an asylum wouldn't be the best place for herself. She shrugged.
"I don't know. Just seeing if you'd confess anything."
Emma sighed and shook her head. "Weirdo."
"You'd think after seventeen years you'd be used to me," I called after her.
"Ah yes, but I've only been alive for eleven of those years," Emma reasoned.
"Of course. I had forgotten." Jane pulled herself back up onto the windowsill. "Weren't you leaving?"
"I was until you started acting so weird." Emma glared at her. "Whatever. Bye."
Jane waited until her bedroom door had clicked shut, then sighed and stared out the window again. In reality, she wasn't as weird and random as she seemed. She was just so bored with everything, so bored with life. True, she was bored a lot, but this particular brand of boredom made her want to do strange things. So she did. She'd never been one to suppress her natural impulses. Jane picked up Dracula again, staring at the ripped, dirty cover. She opened it at random, read a passage about some girl's heart getting cut out, then threw it down again. She watched patterns of raindrops as they hung, suspended, connected with others on the windowpane, ran down the window and out of sight.
"I'm so tired of reading about things happening to other people." Jane pressed her forehead against the cool glass, scratched one black-painted fingernail against it. She took perverse satisfaction in the squeaky sound. "Just once, I want something to happen to me." She turned away from the window and looked around at her tiny bedroom. It was mostly covered by the flat, lumpy twin mattress on the floor in the corner, and the rest of the room was taken up by books. Books and books. And books.
"Janey!" Anne's voice came through the door, muffled but recognizable.
"Yeah, mom?" Jane answered tiredly. Then, realizing that her mother probably couldn't hear her, she tried again, louder. "What!"
"Come down here, please."
Jane groaned and rolled off the window seat again. She made her way to her door and pulled herself to her feet using the doorknob as a ladder. She tumbled down the stairs, keeping right side up only by chance, and slumped into the kitchen.
"Jane, you've been up in your room ever since you got home two days ago." Her mother was standing over the stove, stirring a bubbling pot of something gooey. "I need help. It's only a week until Christmas and you haven't made any cookies yet."
"Sorry mom," Jane mumbled out of habit. "Why do I always have to make cookies, anyway? Emma's getting old enough..."
Her mom turned, long brown braid swishing from side to side as she made her way forward and stared accusingly with big hazel eyes at Jane. "I thought you liked making cookies. I thought you liked helping me -"
"Yeah, yeah, mom, of course I do," said Jane hurriedly. "What are we doing this year? The usual?"
Anne went back to the stove, a self-satisfied smile on her face. "Gingersnaps, magic bars, double chocolate brownies, Russian tea cakes, and, of course... sugar cookies."
"Of course." Jane went to the cupboard and pulled out the Joy of Cooking. The ancient, well-used recipe book fell open to the grungy, dough-crusted page describing how to put together a gingerbread house. She flipped a few pages, and the book separated into two halves. She stared at it through half-lidded eyes, then shrugged and tossed aside the half she didn't need.
"Oh, did the Joy of Cooking break apart again?" Her mom came over and surveyed the tattered book, shaking her head.
"Yes, strangely, it did, despite the thick layers of duct tape all over the spine." Jane leaned one elbow against the counter and ran a finger down the recipe. "Do we have butter?"
"Yes, I just got a bunch from Grocery Outlet." Her mom returned to the stove again and resumed her stirring.
"Flour, check, vanilla, check... how about pecans?"
Anne shook her head guiltily.
"Walnuts?"
"Jon used the last in his oatmeal this morning." She shrugged. "Sorry."
Jane sighed, and sank down again, letting her bare feet drag across the floor in front of her until she was only held up by her elbows, leaning on the counter. "I need nuts for almost all those recipes, mom, and we don't have enough eggs for sugar cookies."
"Oh, dear." Anne glanced at the clock and shrugged. "Well, it's a good two hours until dinner, so you have time..."
"Mom, I don't want to go to the store a week before Christmas." Jane dragged herself back up by her elbows and leveled her gaze at her mother.
"Well, what else would you be doing?" Anne pointed out calmly.
And reasonably. "True." Jane braced her hands against the countertop and shoved off, spinning three times on her way to the coat rack. She stumbled over something warm and furry - the cat, lying in wait for dropped food, which would cause it to lose all her dignity and drool over it like a depraved werewolf. Jane fell forward, caught herself on a black trench coat and pulled herself forward. Then she unhooked the coat, pulled it on over her equally black tank and dark blue jeans, and shoved her feet into black leather shoes.
"You'll get those shoes all stinky if you wear them barefoot," Anne warned.
"Too late." Jane breezed by, sticking her black flat cap on her head. "They already posses a mighty stink which has flattened lesser beings. Be glad you're so scent-resistant." She grabbed her deep green camo-purse, pulled out the keys and headed out the door.
Her tiny, rusty vehicle only opened from the passenger's side, so she opened the door, made sure her feet weren't too muddy, and dove in head first, somehow landing upright in the driver's seat.
"Needless to say, I never give people rides," she muttered to herself as she jiggled the key in the ignition. With a muttered curse, she pulled the key out, then stared at the object in her hand. It appeared that the entire ignition had come unattached from the steering wheel, leaving a gaping hole with wires trailing out. Jane blinked, shook her head, and laughed a deep, guttural cackle. She stuck the ignition back in and cackled again, then turned the key. The car rumbled to life and she thrust it into drive, started her window wipers, and screamed out to the center of the road, squealing tires, hydroplaning, the works. Jane barely stopped at the stop sign on the corner before flooring the gas pedal. If she could say one thing about her tattered, nasty old car, she could say that it accelerated remarkably well. With minimal spinning of the tires, the car leaped forward across the intersection. Drumming her fingers on the wheel in time to the honks of other cautious drivers, she laughed again. Driving was the best part of her day. She didn't care if other drivers thought she was a mad woman. It was fun. In fact, she didn't really care what people thought of her at all.
Jane wished, as she pulled into Safeway's parking lot, that the store were a lot further off. Curse Safeway for building just a block down from her family's house. Jane skidded to a stop as far out in the lot as she could get, wheeled around and pulled sharply, and slightly sideways into a narrow parking space. She leaned over, opened the passenger door and dove out the same way she had gotten in, head first. She still managed to land feet first, with only minimal splatters of mud on her jeans. Straightening, she slammed the door shut, winced as it bounced back open against her thigh, and slammed it shut again. Squinting her eyes against the steady rain, she strode hastily through the puddles towards the large, tan-colored store. She returned a stray grocery cart to its rack, then went to the automatic doors. They didn't open for her.
"Of course." Jane glared balefully at the doors, waving a hand in front of the sensor. "Of course this would happen." She stared at her tall, vague reflection in the glass door. Maybe if she'd been born beautiful, her life would be different.
A young man wearing a tan-and-red Safeway uniform hurried towards the door looking concerned. Jane sighed, lifted an arm and gave him a weary thumbs-up. He waved back at her, infuriatingly cheerful, then reached up and fiddled around for a few minutes while Jane stood, shoulders slumped, staring at nothing. She had asked for excitement, and this was what she got. Typical. Anne was constantly getting on her case for walking like an old lady, for being depressed, for having insomnia. Jane was just too tired of everything to care. She'd never consider suicide, of course - that was a stupid thing cowards did to escape from traps they made for themselves. She did, however, sometimes consider running away to Europe and becoming bohemian.
The door slid open with a reluctant huff of air, and the man smiled and winked at her as she walked in. Jane just sighed gave a half-hearted smile back. She made her way to the bake and made her way down, stepping around some tall guy who was just standing in the center of the aisle. She surveyed the nut section, then frowned as a flash of color caught the corner of her eye. She turned and met a pair of enormous green eyes, staring directly at her. She blinked and looked at the tall guy again. He was, really, enormously tall, seven feet at least. Fortunately for him, he was well-proportioned to his size. His appearance was really startling. Those intense green eyes were still boring into her, and those were amazing enough. Jane had never gotten an insipid "crush," as her classmates called it, on anyone, but that didn't stop her from admiring male beauty. This boy had dark, almost black wavy hair that brushed his shoulders. He had tanned skin that would have seemed darker had it not been for the strange glow, the weird luminescence that covered his exposed skin. Jane blinked and shook her head - the glow was gone now. He was still staring at her, though, through those astonishing eyes. Jane noted absently that his lips seemed to be turned up in either corner, not by choice but as if that's just the way they were formed - in a constant smile.
"Hel... hello?" Jane waved her hand in front of his face.
He didn't look away, just cocked his head to one side and continued staring. His lips quirked up even further.
"Why are you staring at me?" Jane asked, shifting from foot to foot and crossing her arms. He couldn't be a creepy stalker - surely not. He was too beautiful.
"You're unhappy." His low, throbbing voice sent a chill through Jane, and she scowled.
"Good guess, Einstein." She turned back to the aisle, selected a bag of pecan halves and put it under her arm. Then she looked back up at him. He was still staring at her, a puzzled line between his gorgeous eyes. "What?"
"Einstein?" He thrust long, slender fingers into the pockets of his jeans.
"You don't know who Einstein is?"
He shook his head. His eyes still hadn't left her face, and Jane was getting uncomfortable. "And you're still unhappy." He had a slight accent - English? Irish? It was very faint.
Jane snorted, was about to make a snide remark - then stopped. Why was she talking with this stranger, anyway? She should leave. "I'm fine, really. Thanks for your concern." She turned and began striding up the aisle, then turned abruptly to find his troubled gaze still fixed on her. Weird. "By the way, Einstein is a famous scientist - some would say a genius. I was being sarcastic."
"Ah."
Somehow, Jane got the feeling that if she hadn't pointed that out, he wouldn't have gotten it. "Well, bye." She started towards the checkout counter, then was halted by his voice.
"Can I ask you for assistance, or would that be strange?"
Jane turned and looked at him warily. He didn't look creepy, and he didn't look insane. She noticed for the first time his strange attire. He was wearing dark jeans, but no shoes. His long, loose shirt was a blindingly bright yellow, and he wore a necklace of wooden beads around his neck.
"Assistance with what?" She took a step towards him.
"Well, I need some food suitable to my..." He faltered, then began again. "I need food, and I'm not sure where to start."
"Oh." Jane stared at him. "What kind of food?"
"I don't know, just... food. To eat," he clarified.
"Okay. Well, what do you like?" Jane was puzzled, but as her mom had pointed out, she didn't have anything else to do.
He looked even more puzzled, and reached up to rub the back of his head, sweeping his hair back from his temple. "What do I like?" he repeated. A brief silence, then he shrugged. "I'm confused."
"So I see." Jane frowned in thought. "Well, I'll just show you around a little bit, and you can grab whatever you think looks good."
He nodded amicably and they started out together. Jane had to describe most of the foods she pointed out, as he seemed to have never eaten any of it before. Jane told herself as she led him through the store that she was just being nice because she was bored. But to be perfectly honest with herself, there was something about him that lifted her spirits. She almost forgot her former depression - he didn't say much, and none of it was particularly optimistic. It was more like an aura of peace and acceptance that surrounded him, and bled into the people around him. It was strange, mysterious, but Jane wasn't complaining. Any respite from her own exceptionally despondent company was good enough for her.
Finally they reached the other side of the store. The stranger's arms were loaded high with packages, but he didn't seem to be straining. Jane led him towards a checkout stand, paid for her pecans, and waited while the cashier bagged all the food.
"That'll be one sixty-two ninety-nine," said the cashier in a bored voice.
The guy looked startled. "Um... what does that mean?"
Jane stepped forward. "You know, dollars and cents? Like, money?"
"Oh." He frowned and reached into his pockets. He jingled something around in his pocket, and a sly smile crossed his expression. He pulled out several hundreds and handed them to the cashier. "These should do the trick, I think."
Jane's half-lidded eyes widened momentarily. He had all that, and he didn't even know what money was? Who was this dude? Some foreign royalty or something?
He looped his long arms through the bag handles, lifting all of them easily, then looking at Jane expectantly.
"Um. Okay." Jane blinked. "So where are you parked?"
"Excuse me?" he asked politely, following her out the automatic doors.
"You know, your car?" Jane frowned. "You have no car?"
"Oh. A form of mobility." He shook his head. "No, I'm walking home."
Jane hesitated, then shrugged. He'd been nothing but gentle so far. "Do you need a ride home or something?"
"No, it's okay." He was smiling at something again, then his gaze met mine and his eyes tightened. "Could you... do you think you could smile or something? Be happy for just a minute? I'm getting a headache."
"What?" Jane squinted up at him through the drizzle. She looked around at the grey skies, puddle-spotted parking lot, then down at her own dark clothing. She had forgotten her despondence in the store, momentarily, but now it came rushing back. It felt like an enormous burden had been dumped on her upright shoulders, and she slumped. "I'm sorry," she said wearily. "It's just that... I can't, really."
"Oh." His eyes widened and he stared at her. "You can't be happy?"
Jane shrugged. "That sounds lame, I guess."
"It sounds... horrible." He sounded shocked. "I'm sorry."
"No, I'm sorry." Jane hesitated. "I'm not the kind of person who usually talks to strange guys, but you seem kind of sweet and clueless."
He blinked, and his smile returned full force. "You think I'm sweet?"
Jane frowned. Did she? Well, whatever. "Anyway... I can't even remember where I was going with this. My point is, I'm just not very good company, especially if you're looking for joy and happiness."
"I see that now." He sighed, Jane thought regretfully. "That's all right. Maybe I can help."
Jane laughed humorlessly. "I doubt that, unless you've got fame and adventure laying around in your pockets."
He just smiled gently and didn't reply. Something about him was... different. Inhuman, almost. Jane almost thought that maybe, if anyone could, he was the sort of person who would have adventure in his pocket.
"To whom do I owe my rescue, anyway?" He raised one dark, fine eyebrow.
"I'm Jane," she said with a nod.
"I'm... you can call me Faye."
Jane frowned. "Isn't that a girl name?"
Faye's green eyes darkened momentarily. "I don't think so. It's my name, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Sorry." Jane shrugged, then smiled. "Well, I'd better go."
"That was a very nice smile, for one who doesn't do it often," said Faye. Jane felt a weird sensation tingle through her belly as the tall boy grinned down at her almost tenderly.
"Um... thanks. Have a good life," she said with a nod. She picked her way across the parking lot, forcing herself not to look back. She was in a fair way to having her first crush, and it had to be on some weirdly happy guy with colorful taste. As she reached her car, the gloom from the day settled in around her again, and she sighed. Too bad things never happened like they did in books. If this were fiction, she and Faye would meet again mysteriously in several different stores, and then he'd ask for her number, and then he'd save her from some exciting danger of some sort, and then she'd find out that he was secretly a disgustingly rich prince from some obscure kingdom far away, and he'd whisk her away to ride horses and bungee jump for the rest of her life.
Jane cackled at herself as she jumped over the passenger's seat of her car. How ridiculous she was getting - like some dreamy Anne of Green Gables, now. She snuck a glance over her shoulder and saw the tall, package-loaded Faye still standing there. She frowned and backed out of her space. She'd go offer him a ride, one more time. She wheeled around in the lot and screeched forward towards the doorway, then halted in the middle of the drive, frowning. He was gone. Just disappeared without a trace. What in the world... she looked around for any sign of him. He couldn't have walked away so fast...
Jane shrugged. It was strange, but stranger things had happened. Unfortunately, not to her. "Better get back to baking ordinary cookies in my ordinary house with my ordinary family." Jane sighed and pumped her car into drive, shooting home as if the devil himself were after her. Which, in a sense, she supposed... he was. If a complete lack of interest in life as she knew it was a sort of demon, then he wasn't on her heels. He'd already overtaken her.
~
December 18, 2008
I have decided to record my time here and make the most of a bad situation. Perhaps it shall hasten my pardon if I discover some new, astonishing and helpful information about these people.
I arrived three days ago and discovered the town in a flurry of activity, preparing for the human holiday of Christmas. According to the locals, Yakima is usually a perpetually sunny haven, almost a desert. That's partly why I chose Washington as my exile. Unfortunately, having arrived in the dead of winter, it has been raining constantly. With some difficulty I found a small apartment to rent until I can figure out how to pass the years until my time is up.
Money is greatly valued here. (Note: find a legitimate way to make money) I was forced to Glamour a dried-up gingerbread cookie into paper dollars just to buy groceries today. I pride myself in fitting in fairly well with the humans.
I have already discovered a favorite haunt - a place known as Toys Are Us. There are many delightful children and bright colors which provide me with an excellent relief from the constant scowls of the adult humans.
I have yet to try my first mortal food experiment. I don't need the nourishment, but if I am to live among humans and learn about them, I must learn to eat like them. I will record successes and failures in the preparation of the food - but I expect it to be exceptionally easy.
Today I had my first true conversation with a human woman. She looked young physically, but her eyes were old. Her shoulders were bowed as if under a constant weight, and she wore dark clothing. She was rather ordinary, though a little taller than average, I suppose. She had short, dark brown hair, dark brown eyes, a rather flat nose and large lips. Her aura of misery instantly repulsed me, but I felt as if I should help her. I tried several standard Healings on her while we talked, and they helped momentarily, but her misery returned as soon as I withdrew the Healing. Her name was Jane. By the end of the conversation, all attempts to lift her spirits had ended in a self-inflicted headache. I must find happy friends. I can't afford the drain on my health when I'm around people like this Jane. (Note: avoid further acquaintance)
I find it difficult to shake my thoughts away from the female. Her smile at the end of our conversation showed a great capability for happiness. She chooses not to exploit that ability. It's as if she's missing something, as if she's waiting for something. Perhaps, if I can help her find that something, she will learn the art of joy.
I must abandon these thoughts. There is still much to do, and I must find an occupation immediately.
End
Note: Forty-nine years, three hundred twelve days, sixteen hours and thirty-two minutes left of banishment.
) It was pretty long, but good. I love the way she doesn't care, and she's kind of weird. She's like a normal teen. Being bored all the time. Hehe.
