There, I mentioned her likes of that Belladonna plant. But did I mention from where she got that? That's where comes the name of Nina Windsy. A beauty with brain indeed. A magnificent structure—Topaz bright eyes with cherry blossomed contours, pointed little nose and petal thin magenta lips—curls came down her waist like that mysterious infectious siren singing below the sea bed. I envisioned every little and wide varieties of perfection but Windsy obtained none of what I got enraptured. She was earthy, whimsical yet—what charmed me was the sweetness of the dark dewy crimson droplet that was swallowed by the dirt.
She was watering the garden she adored. Roses, Daphodils, Irises, Violets, Tulips... all in three pairs but one Belladonna in the centre. But it wasn't sowed by her. She wished to get rid of it but couldn't, not with her own hands. She loved roses...some of which were infected. That small fortunate incident was the result of her careless inspection. Fortune! The dirt was my constant servitor. That very day she found her inner peace in the vile company of Vanilla Scorpio. Nothing escaped my extreme sight.
Windsy, while on her way back home, came across her. She stiffened by her very sight, but Vanilla did not lose composure, even though she could have...just for the sake of—
"Vanille! It is you, isn't it? For real!" Windsy closed her mouth which hungry open mere seconds ago.
Vanilla held an icy cold stare for her. "Nina, it has been a while."
"A while! It has been eighteen years. And you look unexpectedly young. I feared your death."
"I was," Vanilla said.
"I never took you for someone who was fond of jests."
"You're quite the same...ethical. You seem matured."
"Is that your way of saying I have aged? I'm not that old Vanille. You know what...come with me to my house. We have to have a good talk." Windsy hooked her arm round hers and they reached there sooner than expected.
There she met the young lonely Belladonna among those she didn't belong. It had been an hour merely for Windsy to draw back in the unfeasible house of opera; her remembrance. But for Vanilla, it was a segment of disregardance. It was revealed that Windsy would soon be off to Helvetia as she had none of her family members left. She would be the lawfully honoured companion of Jared Washington. Pathetic whimsical creatures with no utter values regarding life. Confronting one's own deepest desires and to succumb...ah! Must be dense to them. How shall I perceive?
But the meeting turned out to be serendipitous in an enormous way. She requested Vanilla to keep her company in her house. In a vaguely affirmative way Vanilla smiled at her when she made that request.
Days passed and the eagerness she reserved had begun to wear off. In its place a new aberrance enraptured her. One time, just three days prior to the fated day, Vanilla got fortunate to be charmed by the magnificent boulevardier by whom Windsy was infatuated. According to him, Windsy desired for a visit before the day.
It was a gloomy day, intense gray horizon. The distant waves of the trees were the harbingers of an imminent storm. The fallen leaves by the pavement which were twirling around the gas lamp stand dropped aimlessly. The flicker halted less than five seconds before going out completely. The clouds which glorified the warm sienna sunset got banished by the unwelcoming darkness. There competing with the mesmerizing blackness stood Jared Washington, in black Germanian suit when Vanilla opened the door and he welcomed himself in.
The house was faintly lit. The hearth was raging. There, in front of it sat Nina Windsy, legs crossed, with furry slippers on. She was in a rose red robe with white Jasmines printed on it. Her eyes were transfixed on the fire that was producing warmth for the house. Her feet were extremely white and cold despite sitting near the fireplace. Her nails which were beautifully done by Vanilla two days ago, were now faded with uneven edges and brittle. Everything that once welcomed pink in her frame were replaced by white. She was chewing on her nails absent-mindedly.
Upon hearing mild footsteps something shifted in her eyes and her movements became rapid as if she was appointed for this task of nail biting. She was now swinging her legs and the long vintage mirror which was at her left reflected a vile menacing smile. Vanilla gestured for Jared to lounge on the settee. But he didn't. Instead he turned his waried eyes at his fiancee, who was now laughing, shivering and the swinging of her legs continued. She didn't acknowledge his presence at all and muttered something indistinctly under her breath. Vanilla eyes him a little too spicuously, then proceeded to understand what she said by edging closer to her ears. She muttered again, "Red stone...black stone...blood wine..." she cackled, "Black...onyx."
Jared had a perplexed look in his eyes. He was too aghast by her demeanors to do anything except standing. But Vanilla decided to intervene. "Lord Washington, she's been like this for a while now."
He barely reacted. With clenched jaw he flumped on the other end of the settee. As soon as he did that Windsy ran out of the chamber aberrantly.
"Nina—" Jared ran after her only to find her breaking the incense sticks which were halfway to their burn. The fragrance was of sandalwood and rose. Her chamber was disorderly but the hurricane lamp by her bedside table was elucidating it perfectly.
After the deed was done she spun her head at her dismayed fiance. "Jared...please take me away," she pleaded. But there was no change in his expression. "Now the stone...then the totem... Onyx... Onyx must perish," she muttered randomly.
Minutes after Vanilla knocked then entered. Jared came out of his mixed bewilderment and asked, "Nina...what are you saying? Are you alright?" He cupped her face.
Vanilla pretended to be unaware of anything what Nina had been doing or speaking weirdly. "Vanille, eradicate the Onyx, I beg of you," Nina whimpered.
"What Onyx, Nina?" Asked Jared.
"She must be speaking about the cat that came this morning. His name is Onyx," Vanilla reasoned. It was no cat but a black bird totem which Vanilla used to carry even before— But it was only that until I became her acquaintance.
"I was never aware of her dislikes of cats," concluded Jared. Then holding her wrist he asked again, "Nina...love, do you feel sick?"
"Sicker... Sickness that befriends the being existing in Onyx. The incense intensifies the ill," she grumbled on.
"I promised to take care of you, love. But you aren't fine."
"Sickness hovers in the air... Jared, take me with you." She buried her little dried up face in his chest. Her hands grabbed his exquisite suit causing creases to form. He guided her to the other chamber and waited until she fell asleep.
The storm enraged outside Windsy's house. Vanilla went to the kitchen. Jared was beside Nina, on a chair watching her sleeping form.
Suddenly he got up and came out of her chamber, as if he was pulled by an invisible beckoning. The storm that was dancing like a mad-man didn't scare him. The wild gusts, untamed pouring, dirty and perished leaves...the light cracking from under the black foamy clouds... All the stars were long departed.
The night sky somehow soothed him. He wasn't aware that Vanilla joined him in the open balcony. The placement of her hand on Jared startled him. "Miss Vanille Scorpio..."
"Jared, Vanille should suffice."
"Vanille...I... Only two days left before our wedding...and Nina...she's... It's as if I'm looking at some stranger."
"Do you feel that way about her?" She asked sympathetically.
"I don't want to. But I can't help..."
"Fortune couldn't forbid our encounter, Jared. I feel she's holding me responsible for something that I'm not aware of."
"What was she talking about earlier, Vanille? She looks really sick to me. Her hair—intriguingly scary, her lips sealed, faded...her skin much too flawless...like ceramic. And her eyes—petrified, as if hiding something and at the same time..." He paused.
"Cruel? Ferocious?" She finished his line.
"I could say that," he sighed. "She told me about you, Vanille. That in the past, you were her close companion... But you disappeared from her life like the mist of an winter evening," he said slowly.
"I... Fate out me through much tantrums," she replied. "But you know what they say... That when you got business unfinished, you get another chance."
"Why she's becoming like this?" He asked again, this time looking straight in her eyes.
"She went on an evening walk, the day after I came to live with her. She returned with her usual same demeanours except her mind," she answered. "Why don't we have supper since I'm finished with that certain business of mine?" Vanille requested.
He smiled faintly then both of them gathered around the table but something very obnoxiously disturbing snatched their will of speaking. There on the dining table was Windsy, already present. The red wine was dripping down her neck and was being absorbed into the front part of her dress which was lacerated this far. Her dress was lacerated by herself. Her hair was shredded by the front—the scissor was incurvated, settled on one of the plates. The chicken half eaten was thrown few feet away from the table. She was licking the sides of her lips as her eyes twinkled with an unknown tenacious desire. Her hair like a bundle of dirty ropes, swayed mysteriously.
She jumped off the table and ran towards her bed chamber. Jared with his clenched fist gave Vanilla a sceptical look. He followed Windsy again. He found her standing in front of the mirror with bloodshot eyes. "Bloody mirrors! I despise them!" She yelled aggressively. Then out of nothing she began laughing. Jared would have called it a Maniac laughter but then again...he wasn't prepared for the situation. Pathetic!
She glared at her own reflection. "Jared Washington, my love," she murmured. The corner of the mirror—a part of it fell out. It surpassed his enervated eyes. Seeing his reflection on the mirror she turned—the laughter ceased all at once and was replaced with an eerie silence. Her eyes were fuming yet her lips barely moved. The stains were still conspicuous. A tear rolled down her left eye. And then his gaze reached to where her hand rested, by her side—bleeding. His horrid glance didn't stir any feelings in her fanatic mind. The blood extended to the corners of the door. It wasn't like any of the England roses being grinded along with some lavender essential oils for the necessity of possessing an exquisite youth embracing mist. Instead it was like burnt umber toppled with crushed onyx in a thick paste concocted with whisky.
Her failed body battled against her will, causing her to fall hard on the wooden floor. Jared crawled to her aid holding her in his arms but her eyes refused his awakening call.
_to be continued.