Pandora's Box; Ch. 1)

Chapter I – Happenstance

She smiles. Puffs of snow slowly slid down her cheeks. She held her hand farther out the window, catching a snowflake in the soft fabric of her mitten. She looks around, the grandfather clock was still. Cheshire, her cat, sleeps soundly on the armchair by the dusty, antique fireplace. She slips away into the night, towards somewhere in between nowhere and anywhere at all: even the moon beckons and holds promise for an unparalleled journey beyond these binding realms. She is happy.

Adventure is just a step further beneath her heels.

She takes flight.

She is oblivious of the real world.

She dreams.

The girl’s eyes flutter open. She rubs her hands together, hoping to warm them up somehow with the light friction of her palms. It was cold. She shivered lightly. Her gaze fixes onto the vestiges of dew on the leaves as they shimmered against the remaining sunlight.

It was the beginning of spring.

She climbed up again in the intertwining barks of the huge Oak she had always played in as a child. This tree was the farthest and the tallest mark from the ranch, and its branches was shelter to many, including the puffy eyed girl perched at the very crevice, like a dove warming itself in a nest during winter.

Every time she was troubled, she would leave the bungalow and spend her time here. She was indeed deeply troubled. Her Father had passed away the day before. The girl dabbed at her moist and reddened eyes.

She looked down to the swing hanging beneath the tree. Her eyes wandered to the adjacent river. Jumping down, she easily grabbed the branch above her and lowered herself down onto the swing. Soon, after a short while of playing in the water, she felt tired – and hungry. Something bubbled up inside her.

She wandered off.

The girl, clad in her fluttering red dress and twinkling, newly polished shoes, stood by the harbor at the bank of the river. She heard a soft rustle coming from the other side of the ledge.

She raised her chin in wonder.

This could be no other than the stray rabbits that lived underneath the bushes, she thought suspiciously.

She waited.

Instead of the small pink nose, whiskers, and long white ears she anticipated to see, she saw a mop of unruly, mousy hair pop out of the verdant shrub.

“Hello…?” The stranger’s voice quivered with the wind.

She edged towards the river’s ledge – the only thing which separated and prevented her from ransacking the field of scrumptious, juicy peaches just at the other side of the bank – and stood on her toes to see farther out.

She saw him.

He saw her.

He was a scruffy, ragged little boy who wore ragged clothes and had a ragged expression plastered on his face – maybe a few years younger than herself – looking lost; with beautifully clear, serene, jade eyes and wavy dark tresses which were obviously untamed.

She was intrigued.

A good brushing and a wash might help clear his features up a bit more, she thought.

There was really nothing special about the girl’s looks, but there – with her smooth cheeks, subtle chocolate-brown eyes and soft lips curled up into a cheery smile – something made his heart sink into his stomach and beat fast then and there, but that was an understatement.

He was spellbound.

Maybe I should ask her for help. She looks kind, he thought.

Before she could even speak, he hopped out of the bush, some leaves sticking up in his messy locks.

“Um… Hello,” He uttered timidly.

“Hello,” She replied. “…You lost or something?”She asked as she placed both fists on her waist in a skittish, masculine manner.

“Yes, I am… Isn’t it obvious?” He snorted. Her looks were a far measure from her attitude.

“Mind telling me your story?”

“Why should I? And besides, I’d end up with a sore throat, because I’ll be shouting all the way! You’re so far out there, y’know!”

She smiled. “Then… would you like to come over?”

“How can I do that?” He said rather crossly. She said nothing, but stooped down and unfastened a rope and pulled on it gently, drawing out a little blue and white boat just the size for the two of them. With sturdy hands, she rowed over to his side of the riverbank.

“Hop along,”

He was excited for the first time on that dreary day. In fact, he was so very excited he forgot why he was even that dreary!

“Where are we going?” He asked enthusiastically.

“On a picnic in our cottage near the weir,” She tapped a wicker basket from underneath her seat with a foot. “After that, we’re camping the night out in the caravan,” The lost boy’s eyes twinkled.

“You have a caravan?” He was now thrilled more than ever, jumping out of his seat at the stern of the boat, causing them to topple over slightly.

“We don’t have a real one, you silly, silly boy!” The older girl exclaimed. “It’s just a little playhouse Papa built for our birthday,” She frowned. Reminded of her father's death, moisture welled around the corners of her eyes again. The caravan was the only memento of him they had left. She hastily wiped the tears that threatened to come out. Luckily, the little boy didn't notice her silent dismay. She smiled half-heartedly.

“You have a sibling?” And once again he jumped, causing the boat to tremble under his feet, sending him knocked back down to the stern. “Ouch!”

“A twin, actually. Her name is Sophia,” The girl laughed. “Are you always this curious about everything?”

“No,” And he frowned some more. “Now that I know your twin’s name, what’s your name?”

She giggled. “You’re really silly!” but then answered: “Cassandra,”

“Pleased to meet you,” He greeted politely.

“I’m pleased to have met you, too. What’s your name?”

“Glaciel,” He answered enthusiastically.

She laughed at his vigor. “Okay… nice to meet you, Glaciel; that’s a really nice name!”

He looked away; brows knitted together, his cheeks tinted with a feverish red. This earned him yet again another sweet laugh. He repeated the sound over again in his head until it ached. Then he asked: “What’s in the basket?”

“Oh, there’s some cold chicken in it,” She smiled.

“Cold ham, cold beef, pickled radish, french rolls, rice cakes, cheesecakes, sandwiches, grilled fish, cabbage rolls, chocolate biscuits, wafers, ginger ale, lemonade, soda water –”

“Oh, stop, stop! That’s too much…” He yelped.

“Do you really think so?” She asked, quite piqued and intrigued at the same time. “It’s only what I always take during these quick little trips,”

“Do you always think of things as ‘little’?” He asked her back.

“If that is how I view them, then yes.”

“That doesn’t make any sense!”

“You don’t make any sense either. We’re here,” It was late evening when they have reached their destination. They floated through to a damp crevice filled with mossy rocks. The boy watched them glisten like sharp talons under the moonlight. Shimmering stars dotted the velvet sky with silvery radiance.

At the clearing, grassy green meadows sloped on either side of the crystalline lake with colossal water lilies that, instead of growing on the surface, were submerged below. Huge fish about the size of crocodiles glided across the water, in a beautiful array of colors ranging from silver to golden brown to orange, white and red and yellow. Brown, snaky roots of the shedding mangrove trees glistened from below the surface of the quiet water.

Ahead of them, the water tumbled over a weir that drove a dripping mill wheel. Adjacent was a handsome old cottage built of mellow red and teal bricks and weaved bamboo fences, welcoming and warm. Everything else which encompassed his view was all groves of chrysanthemums and bushes of berries lined up in neat rows and colorful landscapes.

They listened to the gentle blowing of the wind.

“Wow!” He exclaimed.

“That’s an understatement,” She muttered.

She docked the boat onto the peg at the shore, and knotted the rope tightly. “Pass on the basket,” She said sternly. “And oh, I’m sorry… My arms are tired from so much rowing. You can carry those instead.”

He groaned. It was heavy! “What the–…!”

She laughed and trotted along the path. “We’re here,” she said once again.

And he stood in front of the caravan – a big and bright canary yellow, painted over with green stripes at the base. It was held steadfast by four large stones at each of the wheels, which were of a handsome brick red.

“Come on in!” She beckoned. Inside the caravan was indeed a mini-playhouse, but the furniture and furnishings were all real: a small wooden table for four complete with chairs and a vase, a good stove, an old pot, three small pans, two kettles – one porcelain and one metal, jars of jam and marmalade, cookie jars filled with fresh pastries and pretzels and honey-glazed sweets, and small cabinets and drawers filled with utensils and yet more food, in addition to what they already had in the wicker basket.

He met Sophia. Much to his surprise, she was the direct opposite of Cassandra – or Cassie as she had referred to herself a few countless times after they have settled inside the playhouse – sweet, soft-spoken, lady-like and gentle. Cassie, on the other hand, was finicky, witty, rough, boyish, and almost oblivious of the other people's state of minds. They resemble each others countenance a great deal, and sometimes he couldn’t even tell which was which. Both the twins offered him a dollop of food and yogurt and scads of pleasant moments in their company.

The next day, they spent the whole morning searching for his family, and with little luck, they went back to the caravan empty handed. They played at the meadow that afternoon, lying in the grass and chewing on some home-made pretzel sticks while Cassandra played her flute and Sophia strikes a note or two with her violin.

Glaciel fell asleep soundly for the first time.

That evening, they found out that a group of campers who have taken shelter in Cassie and Sophie’s house after a whole day of searching was the family of the little lost boy. After giving their thanks, Glaciel asked if he could visit the two girls’ cottage more often, much to the delight of his parents and the twins and the rest of their family.

Soon after, Glaciel learned how to play the violin expertly with aid from Sophia. He climbed trees with the girls, sneaked into the peach orchard, picked berries, ate sweets, went boating, and sometimes, when the weather was good, cloud-watching at the vast roves of the church altars just a short walk from outside the Lauderdale property.

Cassie and Sophie's family owned half off the land they plow, and with Lady Luck on their side, business became fruitful and they were able to buy the whole acreage. Glaciel's family, the Mouchistines, provided a good allocation of their own land for the Lauderdales as a display of their gratitude a few months later, and the two clans became confederates and were united as close as real kinfolks were.

The happy afternoons seemed never-ending…

…but they were wrong. They were gravely wrong.