"Existence is the stain on reality's page." He Who Can't Be Named
Entry #257 New Beginnings
I was never meant to be a Husband.
I was never meant to hope.
I was never meant to have a choice in life.
I was never meant to fall in love with him.
In my fickle mantras of what was never meant to be a sudden sense of denial arises. It proves time and again to be cumbersome, like trying to get water to stick to oil. A feeling that could only be described as primal lies, and it waits. This I've known, despite the onset spikes of denial. I was meant to be a father. As the lone Inheritor of my Fat- fortune. Curse his cruel and abominable name. He was a sly, quick-witted, devil of a fuck. Not a single paternal bone in his shell of a body. I digress, wouldn't be the tall jet-black handsome head of hair I am today without his golden leash around my neck.
Thirty-four torturous years. Too bad you can't teach an old dog new tricks. Neither can you, teach a man the evolving business of worldwide car dealing, give or take a few recreational business activities. Money is money. And what's dead is done. I could almost recall the breathtaking view. Champagne on the air, the sun setting across the horizon, a moment to die for.
To death, and letting old dogs die.
(Reminder, buy a new yacht preferably Midnight Blue hints of Pegasus Pearl white)
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Chapter 1: The Name of Life
"ACHOO!" sneezed the cutest onyx chrysanthemum of a girl as the meanest grimiest greenest ooze of snot shot from her little brown nose. She flinched as if the smallest micro-cannon in the world suddenly decided to misfire during a war to last a lifetime leaving the metaphorical barrel slightly red and agitated and the battlefield covered in ashes.
Adena scratched her nose slightly after peering down at her small facial hill. She breathed in letting her lungs fill with air and other anomalies of soft reassurance. Realizing her mistake she breathed out a sigh for the pending stampede in the coming sixty seconds.
A quarter to the sound of what was supposed to be a blessed sign of life in the girl's spacious, cozy, and luxurious once soulless room. The buffest woman to ever grace the manor's walls bulldozed into the girl's private domain wearing cardigan up, business down. And to any God-fearing man looking to get into Paula's fitted pants. They'd be able to tell from a glance that the woman meant business, even when her face showed a concerned dependable middle-aged housewife.
Paula with her slicked-back ponytail and dark brown eyes of Colombian descent had burst into Adena's room aiming her orbs of devastation at the girl lying on her enormous bed.
“Orbs” refers to the first pair on the woman's butch body. Paula had bent the knee to the girl in front of her no older than thirteen. Hoping to come across as a night in casual armor. Her goal was to not make a bigger deal out of bursting into the clueless girl's room.
Paula was on babysitting duty though she would never say those words out loud. It would be a disgrace to her years training in the Army, even now she couldn't quite come to terms with how she ended up working at this estate. Despite the stupefaction of what was now Paula's life, the young Girl wasn't going to babysit herself.
"What is it? Are you okay? Did you suddenly fall ill!?" Questions were thrown at Adena sitting on her bed, legs crossed. Paula's words were met with a nonchalant "No" from Adena who was still focusing on the door, mostly the starry engravings on which it held. Her mind tended to wonder. Adena rarely saw Paula for she was just one of five assistants her father kept around for the past month because of the current circumstances. Adena rarely saw anyone.
The burly woman standing at her bed front could only be called an "assistant" nor maid or mother for the only person to ever draw water, blood, and mountain for the long black-haired girl was her Papa and that is the only name he could ever be called. “Papa” wasn't just a name, it was a Title, an achievement, a trophy of the highest tier.
"This is my own private domicile, and I will not be harassed... bitch!" 'Ignore that, I didn't say that.' Adena was going to ignore that. She was sure she didn't say that aloud.
'No, I didn't say that out loud.' Adena pried her hazel eyes off of her bedroom door forcing down the fleeting rage filling her throat directed towards Paula for disturbing the peace and forcing the natural laws of house etiquette into her room. She gritted her teeth the slightest bit to no one's acknowledgement, hopelessly sliding her eyes across the black and green flecks located on the black tissue from two minutes ago she didn't recall using.
Adena mindlessly watched as green and black specks pranced about Paula's face to her torso. Noticing that her attention had gotten away from her while observing the shaded dust mites.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
"No, I'm fine Paula, how have you been, how's Papa!?" Adena blurted out in anticipation. Attuned to the young girl's odd behavior Paula replied, "Sure you're not coming down with a cold!" in a nagging concerned voice.
Adena grinned and let her mouth do the talking before her mind took the wheel. "I'm fine, remember, I'm starting "Public" school for the first time after being isolated for who knows how long. After pleading to Father, you know.” Paula surely noted the emphasis the doll put on the word “public” letting her continue. “I'll finally get to see normal kids again, kids my age, in their natural, "normal" habitat. Now, what about Papa!?” Her eyes bloomed with focus and determination.
Paula giggled in her full and firm voice straightening her spine from the previous fourteen-degree bowing position. She walked back to the engraved wooden door she had run through which led to the rest of the grand Mabtali mansion—halting before exiting the room.
Adena could see the tall five-foot-eleven woman thinking quietly as to how to carry out the conversation, so Adena in turn sat silently in front of her book moving her flowing black curls out of her face. To Adena's wide-eyed surprise, Paula gave a reply.
"Your dad is still in recovery. I don't know the story, but some recurring health issues didn't play well with last year's wave of Covid. Your Dad, he’s getting better. You should be able to see him soon, I know your birthdays are coming up, so don't worry.” Paula had said just enough leaving the room and closing the wooden door. She even managed to close the door without a single creak which Adena would have applauded her for, that was if she hadn't come unannounced.
Adena threw the book in her lap onto the floor with excitement, ignoring the brown specks that flittered off of its cover, or the giant thud the book made on impact. Unconcerned with the cruel tricks her mind decided to play on her. She beamed up out of bed shouting from the top of her lungs in Adousa’s absence. She jumped up and down on her black cloud, for what she assumed to be five seconds. Turned out to be five minutes. When all was still, Adena looked down at a book that helped her come back to the confines of reality.
Hopping off her fluffy bed, Adena grabbed the expensive brown leather-bound book off of the floor that belonged in Adousa's sacred study. A cherished secret between the two of them. Her heartbeat thumped with great anxiety from memories of long-seen eyes that could look down on her like she was but a flame to be snuffed out if she blew in the wrong direction.
Holding the limited-edition history book to her chest Adena closed her eyes thinking the happy thoughts that could flood in without a moment's notice. Burying the memories that caused her great and powerful Father's piercing eyes to look upon her beautiful volumized head with disgrace.
'Felix, Waffles, running, clouds' anything to keep the bad thoughts away. Before she could sing a line from her favorite K-pop boy Group. The words "fucking idiot" came from her left ear in a condescending whisper without warning.
Adena blocked a scowl of disdain from forming after the intrusion on her train of thought. She raised her dainty legs off of the red oak of the perfectly leveled hardwood floor and stored the book in her wooden dresser which was a walk away from her bed and a meter away from the rectangular glass window showcasing a world she couldn't wait to rejoin, for she had once again been hidden away from society for far too long.
Impatient upon a new day's arrival, a day like the last but not the next.
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A yawn escapes the putrid tunnel of unwashed mouth scraping past the slightly unusual, elongated k-nines of a teenage girl who was helplessly entrenched in the whitest bed sheets, and four plump pillows with a touch unknown to the common man. Jumping out of bed with renewed vigor.
I rejoiced today was one of the two days out of the week that I was allowed phone privileges, quite an odd occurrence in the year 2021 but a girl does what she can with the best she has.
"Huzzahhh!!!" I roared skipping over to my window to pull back my pink curtains to reveal nothing but well-kept land and green grass in sight. I was high on life ignoring the landmass that had encroached in the night.
Be it dust or poster residue from last year's K-pop boy band. I was, how can I put it nicely “over it.” Specks and flecks galore were splayed across my bed covering even the hardwood floors, everything that had gone untouched by the living had been conquered by the critters.
Shades of various colors lay around in piles without any reason.
Over the years I’d gouged one small observation. Hints of black were on my bed, only slight traces of black were on my hands, and only small hints of black specks came out of my mouth, nose, eyes, ears, and pores. Anywhere with a hole really, but you would call me crazy If I made a fuss or gave the anomalies any real attention.
These shades of black specks were unique to me, and you guessed it, maybe you didn't "Adousa Mabtali" the chronicle father himself. I always thought it was odd and quite scary, but you learn to live with it. I'm learning to live with it.
After washing off the world's feces. Laugh all you want. Yeah, that's what I call them if not bugs.
I brushed my teeth, grabbed my phone and exited my cozy prison cell. In my defense, it only feels like a prison because almost no one ever visits. Isolation is fun until you lose track of time and your sense of self. That type of stuff. One time, I walked out of my room completely naked. Can you believe it? Very wild incident indeed. Anyway, I put on some black joggers and an oversized white shirt with a huge happy face on it. Fluffy socks to boot don't judge me. I'm not going far if I can help it. Gliding down the staircase with the reflexes of a spry cat.
I momentarily thought about sneaking into Papa's room, but he hates it when I see him in that state. He's not weak "I'll fucking kill you" I mouthed by mistake. It's just not a pretty picture. Papa's respirators beeps every five seconds, tubes tucked away into his once spotless brown skin. Wiping a tear away at the image I conjured the will that fled me in the previous seconds.
After an exercise routine in the workout room "nothing too strenuous" recalling Father's words of wisdom "The first two days of the week are for relaxation" he would say in his suave voice. I head outside to greet the sun and its hive of Orange, white, and yellow specks that occasionally rain down from the sky and every direction it resides. The sun was bearable since it was so far away but honestly, I was just happy to get out of the house filled with top-of-the-line furniture, a huge Picture on the living room front wall of what once was, and a ton of art pieces I would do well not to break anything- again.
I whispered to myself "If only I was built in a day" recalling a few moments that didn't happen to be the brightest. Oh yeah, I almost forgot my birthday in a few months. I wonder when Father is going to drop by, rarely see him in the morning well this entire month. "It's fine. I'm fine!" It's not so bad. Maybe it is, I've been talking to myself this past month or so. 'Quite a lot.'
Papa used to call him "The Nocturnal Animal" hopefully because of his love for the moon. Anything besides that thought process was just "Ugh, Ewwww!!!" I know it seems like I'm all alone, living the whole Rapunzel princess locked away never to be seen again type of life but Papa checks in on me almost every night when he finds the strength. I could see his specks even with my eyes closed- The unique pattern that distinguishes Papa from everyone else, "I've remembered it by heart" one-of-a-kind. My mind may play tricks, yes, but never when it comes to specks. It's like peering inside to see what people are truly made of, or at least that's what I think... That's right, Specks, that's what I was thinking about.
If you focus on the shades, you notice the patterns, Papa and Father's specks both feel at home though opposites, 'sun & moon' I would surmise.
I do kind of miss him holding me to his chest when the world became too much. I'd focus on the 'ever-flowing lush light in his eyes, watching the gentle soft blues run through his veins, earthy greens caress his skin, the sound of his strong and constant heartbeat on my ears' but past the color. I miss his presence, I miss their presence, and hate to say it, but I miss Father's presence even the bone-chilling specks and flecks that come with and everything that's hiding underneath.
This month's almost been the worst month of my life but there are better days to come I know it.
"I can feel it" I mumbled, nervous about school and the anxiety that'll come with honors classes, being around people my age, and everyone in the world can't be as nice as her. Thinking that would make me delusional, and I'm not delusional.
'Well, not always.'