Emmeline and Julian Carax

OoT:Okay just so you know the bit in italics is a flashback

A quavering hand turned the yellowed page of a book, too old to remember, filled with things that were too new to forget. Glossy pictures covered the pages of the book, which was covered in black silk and embroidered with stars. A tear fell onto a picture of a girl with black hair and brown eyes. She was smiling at something behind the camera and holding a rosy-cheeked toddler. The pale hand brushed the tear away and turned the page, on this there was a picture of a girl and boy, arms on each other’s shoulders blowing out 18 candles.

His blonde hair fell into his face covering his, deep chocolate brown eyes, as he saw this and he didn’t move it. Julián, unlike his sister the Norm, had run from reality burying all thought of normality. It had lead him to this island, this place of mystery, steeped in secrets, lies and betrayal. Something had brought him here, caused him to leave his son and fiancée, it had clawed and dragged and pulled until the night when things began to change.

He closed the book and wrapped it up in tissue paper. Memories were no good here, not if you wanted to survive. Julián placed the book, in its box, in his wardrobe on the top shelf with all his other memories of his past life. His driving license and passport were all that remained of his past life. Those and one framed picture. A woman with chocolate brown hair stared, lovingly, out from the ebony frame. Julián turned it down, it could stay out but he wasn’t going to look at it. He grabbed his army style canvas jacket, shoved his passport and his driving license into his pocket, went out the door and slammed it.

**
A dancing figure swirled and pirouetted gracefully, dancing the swan’s last steps. Emmeline was a dancer, Ballet at that. She loved to dance, she lived to dance. Not a single pirouette went wrong. Each foot placed itself in front of the other. Toe-heel, toe-heel. Her straight, almost poker straight, blonde hair, was always in a bun or plaits not a wisp out of place.

The studio she rented for dance was above some offices, whose workers complained that the constant tapping of her point shoes disturbed them, so she danced barefoot. Her black, Lycra trousered legs glided gracefully across the shiny, polished laminate wood floor. The tape in the music player got stuck and she tripped and collapsed in a heap.

“Damn tape!” she muttered crossly and swiftly moved across the room and switched the tape off. She looked at the clock
“Bum, I’m late,” she said loudly, her voice ricocheting of the mirrors which covered all but one of the walls. She changed quickly into a pair of blue jeans and a short sleeved beige T-shirt, locked the door and hurried down the stairs, her heeled boots tapping furiously. Before she left the building, she put on her emerald green hooded cloak and fastened it with a gold ballet-shoe broach.

She stopped on the way at a flower stall and bought a bunch of red roses and deathly white lilies. The money had barely left her hand when she was off again, her cloak swirling in the dust. She arrived on the beach, its normally gold sand looking pale in the moonlight. A lone figure stood at the edge where the midnight black waters gently rolled against the sand, a contrast to her arrival on this strange island.

The waves crashed against the beach tossing the sand everywhere, like a baby throwing it’s toys. Far out at sea a cruise liner navigated its way through the rough sea. A large crack sent the passengers flying left, right and centre and families were split up as everyone scrambled for the lifeboats and jackets.
“Julián?”
“Emmeline? Take mum, get on a boat!”
“But Julián?!”
“ GO!”

The next day as an old hermit walked along the beach, trying to see what he could salvage from the wreck for his home, he found a girl aged about 20, wearing a life jacket, lying just a little way from the water, barely breathing. He found a bottle of water in his back pocket and poured it all over her face to try and revive her
“Julián?” she said hoarsely her lips barely moving.
“No. Shh you’re gonna be ok”

A few weeks later he had sent her of into town to meet up with people her own age and start a new life. She had been grateful for all that the men had done for her and had gone to visit him, but when she found the place it was burnt out and looked as if no one had lived there for years.

It was there she had met Julián and there where they were meant to meet tonight, but he hadn’t been there so she had wandered down to the beach and seen the lone figure.
“Julián?” she called nervously, chewing her lip.

The figure stirred and turned round, his eye’s filled with tears.
“Emmeline?” he said boldly
“Oh Julian!” Emmeline said as she ran towards him and flung her arms round him “I’ve missed you. Have you got a place to stay?”
“Shh keep your voice down. I’m fine, I’ve got myself a pad in Anti City wherever that is.” He said and pulled her face into his shoulder sheltering her from the bitter salty wind.
“Have you got the flowers?” he questioned, his sister may be blonde but she had the brain’s of a redhead and a brunette put together. But even they could forget some times.
“Yes they’re here” she said.

They began walking along the beach stopping at every palm wood cross, to place a single Rose or Lilly, to remember those who had been lost on not just their boat but every boat or plane ever. They finally came to the last grave ,where, Emmeline fell to her knees and began to softly cry.

“Oh Julian why didn’t they see the rocks?”