The Celebrindal

Howdy! Thanks for clicking on this thread. >w>

Even if you don't finish it, I'd love a comment on what you did read.

Oh~ this is (obviously) not complete.

The Celebrindal

The roaring ocean was just beyond Anna's open window. A chilling, salty breeze woke her from a pleasant sleep. She pushed away the white sheets and lay still. Fluttering and billowing, her window's pearly curtains occasionally brushed against her bare skin. Anna was amused by the soft tickle as the curtains seemed to playfully caress her. Eventually she rose, and awkwardly set her feet on the sandy floor. Her bed barely rose from the bamboo and stone parquet, so when she did this, her knees came to her chest.

In a lethargic fashion the girl stood, rubbing her eyes vigorously, and softly padded her way to the French doors, which were adjacent to the door opening into the interior hallway. The two connected doors featured splendid, glassy panels that revealed the beach beyond. When she simultaneously opened both doors, a strong gale met her, whipping through her thick, copper hair. Anna was not taken aback by the harshness of the gust, or the pungent smell. While the saltiness was somewhat enjoyable, other odors such as fish amalgamated, creating a unique odor which she fancied.

Wearing only a thin nightgown, she ventured into the bright and vast realm of sand and sea, leaving the doors open behind her. The colors were rich and saturated. The sand was not pale or rough, but soft and golden. The ocean was a vivid and striking azure. Anna placidly ambled towards the water's edge, enjoying the balmy sand and breeze.

After touching her naked toes to the rolling surf and assessing the temperature, the young girl sprang forward, deeper into the frothy waves. Minutes later Anna emerged from the water, with a wondrous grin and sopping hair. She giddily clamored ashore, and sprawled out in abeyance. The blazing sun drew away the wetness, leaving a thin, salty crust on her tanned skin. She slowly pulled her fingers through the tangled mess of crusted hair, and laughed heartily.

"What's so funny?" she heard from behind, and then turned to see Clara, her governess. Clara wore a frivolous, effulgent orange wrap dress, which Anna imagined would taste like overripe mango. "I see you failed to change into appropriate attire for swimming, again?" Clara grumbled in a teasing fashion. After flashing a lavish grin, Clara sat beside Anna and tousled her hair.

"Would you like orange juice with breakfast today, Madame?" she said playfully.

Anna sat up with a wild grin and spoke barely louder than a whisper, "Yes, orange juice would be magnificent!"

"Pancakes?" Clara said in anticipation.

"Of course! What sort of Saturday would it be without pancakes?!" Anna exclaimed in mock horror.

Clara smiled, and then pulled the girl up. "Now go take a shower."

While Anna scampered to the bathroom, Clara began preparing breakfast in the kitchen. Anna returned from her shower just in time to help ladle the last spoonfuls of thick, creamy batter onto the griddle.

"It smells great, Clara. Thanks." she said gratefully, as she piled four steaming cakes onto her plate and lathered them in butter. Clara did the same, then grabbed the pitcher of fresh orange juice out of the refrigerator. Anna found two forks, the syrup and some napkins before leading the way to the outdoor patio.

After taking a seat at the mosaicked table, while Anna was concentrating on shoving the sticky bits of pancake in her mouth, Clara began to hum. The tune was light and wistful, and it reminded Anna of a sea shanty.

"What is that?" she asked with a smile, after taking a swig of tart juice.

"Oh, just an old song. Your mother taught it to me when we went to school together, which was quite some time ago. She knows more about it than me; you'll have to ask her about it when she gets back." Clara mumbled, as she appraised her progress on the pancakes. Then a gleam of remembrance flashed in her eyes and she pulled an envelope out of a well hidden pocket.

"I almost forgot, this came in the post today." she explained.

Anna happily accepted the letter and tore it open clumsily. Her pale eyes darted over the few short lines of script. "It's from Mom and Dad! They've reached Cape Leveque and spent a day on Sunday Island. It says they'll begin the journey to Canberra this weekend, and should be back to Bali in just over two weeks!"

The rest of the meal went without conversation as they lost themselves in thought. That is, until Anna thought to ask about the day's schedule.

Clara replied, "Well, I should do my job and teach you something. But that can wait until after lunch. I say we hop on the sail boat for a few hours. Sound good?"

"Yeah!"

After packing sandwiches, Anna and Clara set off, spending five pleasant hours in the bay before returning. And as Clara had promised, the rest of the day was spent on studies. Before retiring for the night, the girl and her governess agreed to a cup of tea on the beach. The brilliance of the night was insurmountable, and they took delight in every shining star. As Clara gathered the cups and saucers and prepared to return, Anna was caught by a very peculiar noise. It was like a horrendous monster breathing in, and suddenly the roar of crashing waves became eerily muted. The sand now stretched further than usual, and rather than ocean, flopping fish lay near.

"Clara?" Anna asked with frozen lips.

With hesitance, the woman lifted her gaze. Blazing fear poured over her, burning into her nostrils, throat and chest.

"What do we do?" mumbled Anna in a crackling voice. But before Clara could answer, a surge broke the horizon.

Forceful torrents of water came upon the pair, tossing them asunder like rag dolls. Stunned by the swiftness, they could do little more than succumb to the current. The ripping water carried them towards the house while catching every object that had once occupied the shore. Despite the efforts to find each other, both were lost in the rapid waters. Anna's choking gasps and screams were drowned out by the roar and splashes as she bobbed in and out of the blue abyss.

In the utter terror, Anna's mind was dominated by only the drive to survive. Suddenly there was a sharp pain in her abdomen, and the world began to grow faint. She pawed at the newly warm area and discovered a protruding object: it was a shard of her mosaicked table. In seconds an icy clarity fell upon her, followed by a pang of sadness and realization. As the inevitable darkness descended, a vague outline of a ship flashed before her eyes, finally flickering out like the flame of a candle.

There was a soft warmth, then muttering. The words grew louder and louder until they shot streaks of fire from her ears into her head. But there was still a blackness, which could not be reprieved by any amount of noise or sensation. Then, though she hadn't realized it was happening in the first place, the swaying stopped. Her body felt too still for an instant, until she was moved by many fondling hands to slick, chilly surface.

"We are here to honor the ending of a perfect Life cut short." said a stout man in an impatient tone. "This girl will now serve under the captain-" he paused to adjust his spectacles and lean in closer, "Kabric- She will serve Kabric on the Celebrindal." Hushes rippled though the crowd. The man squinted his eyes in agitation to quiet the murmurs. "I want no trouble from you folks. The decision has been made by a power higher than my own."

"But surely, Jyrom, you cannot allow it!. Kabric is no more fit to be captain than I am to be an... an Ojinga! It's an outrage he's still serving after the incident!" a towering figure shouted. He was a shipbuilder, bulky and powerful. In contrast, his eyes had a sparkle of wisdom and gentleness. He continued less gruffly than before, "Haven't enough payed the price for his recklessness? Must more innocent people be lost because of him?!" Water began to swell in his eyes as he looked to the boundless blue sky.

Jyrom glanced down, then lifted his gaze to see the faces of the dozens before him. They were all citizens of Deshrahka. They all deserved to be safe. "I will talk to Court. They will reconsider, certainly." he stated with more resolve after each spoken syllable. Kind words of thanks were rejoiced.

"Who will take the girl now?" asked an Ojinga, crouching oddly. Agitation could be heard in the voice, though it was assumed to be either natural or a reaction to the previous comment.

Suddenly, the sound of clicking boots echoed across the square, alerting the gathered citizens to the arrival of a lanky young man with lemony yellow hair. Unaware of the gaping mouths and horrified expressions, Kabric leapt atop the podium to stand beside Jyrom.

With a charming grin and dramatic bow, he exclaimed, "Please excuse my tardiness, kind people of Deshrahka!" then paused in glee, "I see you even delayed the Revival for me!"

"Get off the stage ya' damn fool! Jyrom agreed to appeal to Court! You'll be demoted fer good!" Harrison shouted and then muttered, "You never should have been acquitted..."

"You heard, Kabric! Get out of here!" a women screamed. In shock, Kabric stared numbly at the crowd which was now throwing various objects his way. His faced flushed deep shades of rose as he processed the entirety of the situation. "I-I..." he stammered, "I never meant to hurt anyone. You know that. Jyrom?"

"They have the right to know they're safe." Jyrom whispered. A bout silence caught the crowd, until the Ojinga once again spoke.

"Idiots! The girl! We haven't the time to waste. Arrangements can be made later, hurry and begin the Revival!"

Severely embarrassed by his negligence, Jyrom waddled down the steps of the elevated platform on which the Grand Podium sat and quickly tottered to the marble slat in the center square. While the crowd turned to watch, Kabric dashed silently away in shame.

"To truly honor this Life," Jyrom said while looking over the girl, "we must give it a second chance. Another beginning. That is why we have come together today. Please hand me the Whiting." When Jyrom's gloved hands were almost wrapped around the sealed jar of Whiting, a jolt from a nearby docking vessel concussed the entire platform on which the square was built and the jar slipped, shattering against the cobblestone in the next instant. Many faces watched in horror as the powder turned a sullen shade of gray.

"The Whiting! It's ruined!" shouted the shipbuilder.

"Nonsense. It's just reacting with the humidity. That's all." Jyrom said weakly before wiping the sweat from his brow. He then let out an anxious chuckle while reaching for a pinch of powder. "I'm sure it's fine." he said, but as he touched the Whiting it fizzled on his fingertips and evaporated completely.

"Hurry!" the Ojinga gasped, "Use a shard of the jar to pick some up!" Jyrom nodded, not questioning the wisdom of the hunched figure. However, as he sprinkled the powder upon the girl, it was clear something was amiss.

The powder hissed and spit violently as it brushed the icy skin of the girl. Dark patches developed on the spots of contact, only to fade in the next instant. Then a chime sounded in the distance. If the girl’s spirit had not been awoken yet, it never would be.

As the wind stirred, bringing mist from the docks across the plaza, the girl’s eyes finally fluttered open. When she rose, Jyrom looked into her pale eyes and became worried. He could see no tranquility in her spirit.

“Do you know who you are?" Jyrom asked pensively.

"I'm....not sure. I definitely don't know who you are though." she said with a smirk.

Surprised by her humor, Jyrom stepped back, staring with wide eyes. "Aren't you going to introduce yourself?" she said with less patience.

After clearing his throat, Jyrom spoke, "Well, child... I am an important person, which is all you need to know. Now, I need to know, do you remember anything?"

"I'm not sure what you think I'm supposed to remember. I know I'm me, but doesn't everyone? What a silly question..."

He breathed a sigh of relief, the Whiting worked after all.

"Wait, do you know where..." the words trailed off as her face contorted in frustration. There was a prickle of ice that numbed her skull when she tried to think. "There is someone. I'm not sure who, but someone. Someone is out there, I need to find them." she whispered.

"Oh, dear...This is not good, not good. No, this is bad. Oh my..." he stuttered. The crowd that had been inching forward now began to murmur and scoot away.

"What have you done?! She's a monster. No one can bring back a part of their mortal lives without corrupting the entire city!" the Ojinga hissed.

"Hush!" he shouted. "The girl will be fine, I'm sure all this nonsense will simply fade away. Am I right, girl?" he said with an edge of malice.

"I-I...I can't make this feeling go away!" she cried. "I'm sorry. There's a hole, in my chest. I know it wasn't always like that. I don't know why. Can you help me?" the girl pleaded, collapsing to the ground.

Jyrom stepped back once again, "No child, we cannot help you. I, like everyone else who inhabits this place and knows of no other land, have been cleansed of our mortality. We have only learned of our past existence through writings that were recorded before time itself drew breath. You belong in neither Heaven nor Hell, yet you lack the body to grace the living. Where you belong, I don't know. But you must leave us, please."

For the first time, the girl took in her surroundings. Not only was there blue sky above her, but below her as well. At the far end of the square protruded wharfs where magnificent ships docked and prepared to set sail into a blue beyond that was not water, but air. In the other direction a clock tower stood, reaching into the clouds far above and dwarfing all other structures of the city below.

"Wait," said the Ojinga, "I should tell the girl her name before she leaves, in case she never remembers her mortal name. Come here girl." Slowly, the girl walked towards the strange figure. "I divine the true names of our spirits," the Ojinga, who upon closer inspection bore no particular resemblance to either gender, explained. "Hmm..." it murmured, taking the hands of the girl and enclosing them in its own. "Demaris. That is your name. May you fare well the journey home and find the one you seek."