Celia's reaction - hopefully the final draft.

I am hoping that this is my final draft of this, because I am so tired of writing it! I've attempted this so many times that I've lost count. Please let me know what you think. I still need to go over it again and edit it, I'm sure. I tried to get the punctuation right as I went along, but I was more focused on getting it written, first. Bah! I'm ready to move on! I have so many images that need to be written down, but I'm stuck on this one and I can't write anything else until I'm done with it. SO - please let me know if this is believable and makes sense and sounds half-way plausible. Any and all critiques are welcome with open arms! Thank you so much!!!


She used to love fairy tales: stories of beautiful princesses and handsome knights, who came to their rescue. They usually involved tall towers, or evil witches who cast evil spells on their lovely captors, and no matter what the peril the two lovers faced, the story would always end happily.

But Celia's life was not a fairy tale. There was no tower, just a plain, dull, drizzly town. It wasn't interesting or romantic- there was no beauty to be found in Eldon; the flowers had long ago died and the trees that still stood were withered. Eldon's people were much the same; a withered, dying lot of humanity, that went about day after day performing tasks that they cared nothing for, and living each day filled with anger and hatred. At least, that's what she saw when she awoke every morning and was forced to live amongst them and endure their ridicule each day.

There was no evil ugly old witch, but a horrible, faceless, nameless storm, that only wanted one thing: her death. She could feel it. Every memory of the horrible voice that screamed her name in unison reminded her of that fact; every memory of the words that Evan had whispered into her ear. Words that she knew - and yet didn't know.

And even if when she scrunched up her eyes in the mirror and turned her head to the side, she was still just as plain as she'd always been. Her nose was too big, her lips too small, her eyes weren't quite symmetrical, and her hair tended to frizz in the endless barrage of rain. The only beauty that she could see was the color of her hair; it reflected the shades of Autumn: browns, reds and occasionally oranges, when an occasional ray of sun would shine on it, which wasn't very often. Even with that one characteristic, she was still very plain.

And yet, there he stood: with the most sincere expression she had ever seen on another face, telling her that her life was in fact, a fairy tale.

Fairy.

At first, she took it as a joke: an awful ill-timed joke. It wouldn't be very hard to believe; the very first impression she had had of Evan had been nothing but jokes.

Fairy.

That was it, then. They boy had obviously lost his mind, and hers was quickly following. She looked away from his face and occupied herself with the wet blades of grass beneath her fingertips, desperately beating down the panic she could feel rising within her. Her face was hot and her eyes were all she could feel; the backs of them being pricked mercilessly by unshed tears.

Fairy

It was the most ridiculous... preposterous...

The boy had, obviously, lost his mind; and hers was quickly following. Images of the past few weeks came to the forefront of her thoughts and as much as she wished them to leave her be, she could not ignore them. She could not ignore the strange events that had led to this astonishing revelation: the rose that mysteriously appeared on her pillow from her dream, the odd way Evan seemed to be in tune with her emotions, the vivid nightmare that had haunted her long after she'd woken - the horrifying voice in the storm that constantly called out her name.

She swallowed back the tears that were inevitable: she never could hold them back, even when she'd wanted to, and stared at those sincere blue eyes, eyes that she knew were the wrong color.

She thought back to the dreams, the odd appearance of the rose on her pillow, the storm, how he'd saved her life - not once, but twice, the odd words he had spoken that she knew - she knew them as well as she knew how breathing.

She had never been very clever. Even with all his prodding and persistence, Phillip had never been able to teach her very much. He'd given up years ago, after her very final refusal to read poems. It seemed his favorite poet's dismissal was the final straw. He'd sighed, his mouth twitching in anger, and turned away from her with a calm demeanor that seemed to belie his true feelings. She remembered how odd it was that he'd be angry about something as silly as poetry - who wanted to read verse upon verse of nonsense, anyway? None of it made sense; it was just a bunch of words strung together by a person who was, clearly, out of his mind. What did the sun and moon have to do with love? Pots and pans and disgusting dishwater - those were what she knew of life. The sun and moon were things that were hardly every seen, here. But she could speak each word that had come from Evan's mouth, as easily as if she were reading it from a page. She knew those words. They made her feel something. Not just words jumbled on a page, but more...

Fairy

It was so far away from the reality that she knew. She had resigned herself to this life. This dull, lonely life with all it's hardships. She was built for work. It was what Faye was constantly reminding her. "Celia, you can lug those around. You've the right build for hard labor," and then she'd cackle and continue standing at the stove and pretend that she was doing something important, other than just watching carrots boil in the great big cast iron pot above the fire.

The tears continued to stream down her cheeks, as she watched Evan's expression as it constantly switched between sincerity and concern. What was he feeling from her now? Could he tell that she was in disbelief? In shock? Did he know that instead of feeling relieved at finally knowing the reason that she had been hated, scorned and ridiculed her whole life, she actually felt betrayed? With that knowledge of who she was and why they hated her so much, also came a whole slew of new questions: if they knew how she would be treated, why had they brought her here? Why would her mother and father put her in danger, put themselves in danger, to live in this horrible place with all it's ugliness and despair. Why had they let her live her entire life surrounded by people who hated her, just to leave her here alone?

It wasn't fair to them, or their memory. but the feelings of betrayal came, nonetheless. Every day they'd had an opportunity to tell her the truth, yet they woke up each morning and lived their lives as if they belonged here; as if they were part of these people. Each night, they kissed her and told her they loved her, but never once mentioned what she was. She had to hear it from a boy, whom she had never even met prior to two weeks ago. A beautiful boy who gave her vivid dreams and spoke magical words and saved her life. There would be no reason for him to lie to her now.

All the vivid images of her dreams played out behind her tear-filled eyes, as she fought to regain control over here rampant emotions, and for one long moment, as she looked into Evans' eyes, she could no longer see sky blue-instead she saw the brilliant jade green eyes of the friend who had cared for her, taken care of her. And for the first time in a very long time, she didn't feel so alone.

He held her small calloused hands in his large, oddly soft ones, and she felt safe. She had no way of knowing whether these feelings her real, or manufactured by the young man who held her hands, but at that moment, she didn't care. Apart from his mild teasing, he had shown her in every action, word and deed that he cared. He cared whether she lived or died. He cared enough to shield her from the torrent of wind and rain, put himself in danger for her own safety. Everything about him was telling her she could trust him.

She looked up to his eyes once more, and the slight flutter of her heart caused her breath to hitch in her throat and her sobs to stop momentarily. She hadn't even realized she was blubbering until then, and as she looked into his eyes, she wished once more, that she could tell what he was feeling. His expression seemed to be frozen.

And even in all her emotional turmoil, the doubt, fear, loss, betrayal, hope, the evil nuisance of self-doubt crept in; making her wonder if he would soon be tired of her never-ending sobbing.

Her question seemed to be answered quickly, and she was lost in her own self-admonishment, as he gently picked her up and and began walking away from the sodden grass and the arch of trees. It appeared he had had enough of her crying for one day, as he handed her off to Phillip. She barely heard the angry words that were exchanged between them. She barely knew it when she was laid on the large bed that stood in the center of the her ugly, borrowed room.

She cried for so long, that eventually, Phillip and Emma also tired of her and left her alone.

As she cried out the last of her tears, she remembered the way that her Papa would always brush her tears away, when she cried. She always cried. Whether she was happy sad, afraid, lonely, nervous, the tears would always fall. And Mama and Papa would always be there to dry them, with their rough, calloused hands, before they swept her up in their strong arms and did their best to put the pieces back together. She was a mess - and they'd loved her, anyway. They'd made it a point to tell her every second of every day they were on this earth. They showed it in their final actions when they sacrificed themselves for her safety.

She stared at her calloused hands and the tears streamed down her face anew as she remembered that day. And for the first time, made peace with it. She missed them - would always miss them - but she was hear, now. They had died so she could live, but she had been going around day after day as if she were dead; going through the motions of her daily life, spending every other moment with her face awash with tears - living each moment with so much guilt. They wouldn't be happy knowing that she was living so defeated.

But that realization brought a new truth: every day that she stayed here, she was putting everyone else who inhabited this dreary town at risk. It was after her. A shiver ran down her spine and she quickly wiped her face with her hands and walked over to the lone window in the tiny room. The moon which shone uncharacteristically bright earlier in the night, was now covered. Only a small sliver of light illuminated the ground, making it barely visible. She found the darkness was oddly comforting.

Exhausted and spent, she fell asleep on the floor, beside the window frame, with her head laying on her folding arms. Her last waking thought carried a determination that she hadn't felt in so long: this would be her last night in Eldon.

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