beautiful disaster

BEAUTIFUL DISASTER




Prologue

It was a wonderful winter’s morning; the snow freshly fallen lay untouched like a giant blanket on everything from the great oak and yew trees to cars lying dormant in the streets as if hibernating through the winter and even the individual blades of grass had a glistening covering of icy snow. If one was to experience this scene, they may be quite disbelieving in all of the natural beauty. It was all so stunning. All so surreal.
Like it had been read straight out of a fairy tale.
Sammia awoke that morning to the chirpings of the very few birds that still insisted on staying for the frosty winter. She swung her legs out of bed and pushed them into her slippers which were waiting patiently by the side of her bed. She picked up the dressing gown that was over the end of her bed and wrapped herself in it, it had been he mothers, and hung too far to the ground and the arms were slightly too long. She clung to it; she could still smell her mother. Even though it had been washed several times while in her possession it was if she was still clinging to it unwilling to let go, and every time Sammia wrapped herself up in the dressing gown it was if her mother was there with her, wrapping her arms around her just as she had done when she was little and something had upset her, just as she had that previous year.
She walked over to the window and through back the curtains , she was just revelling in the beauty of that particular morning when she was, less disturbed by but greeted by a robin perching himself on the window ledge. Although the morning frost still hung in the air like a kite whisked off by the wind she promptly pushed open the window as to be able to hear the robins’ song better.
“Well a good morning to you Mr. Robin” she said in a mock tone of her aunt when she greeted strangers. Whether she was imagining it, she shall never quite be sure, but Sammia stared in disbelief as the robin hearing her greeting turned to face her and thrust out his bright red breast and curtly nodded his head. This may sound believable enough but it was done in such a way unbeknown by robins or any bird to that effect. The nod was less like a bird simply scanning the floor for food then hastily looking up, it was more human like, less animalistic and more human like, as if he was replying to her greeting with his own. Sammia wondered whether to mention it to her aunt that morning during breakfast but decided that no good would come of it. She was already considered a bit ‘different’ by the likes of her extended family and did not wish to give them more reason to exchange perplexed looks when they thought she wasn’t looking.
There came a sharp rap on the door, and a woman’s voice drifted through the wooden bedroom door.
“Sammia? Sammia it’s time to get up, breakfast is ready” the woman to whom the voice belonged had walked off before Sammia had had a chance to reply, or simply walk over to the door. She listened as the footsteps grew quieter as the person drew further away then went back to the window and the robin, but much to her disappointment the regal bird had flown away at the sudden distribution. Sammia heaved a sigh.
Sammia would not think about that morning or that robin until a year and a half later, the night of her sixteenth birthday.





CHAPTER ONE – UNINVITED GUEST

The hawk circling the tall oak tree, blackened against the bright sun. Its strong wings beating. It spotted something and plunged, its streamline body slicing through the air.
It pulled up, a snake in its grasp....but the snake suddenly struggled and started tearing at the hawk’s legs. He was immediately dropped…
Sammia woke, panting, sweat pouring down her face. It was that dream and several alike that kept Sammia up most night, afraid to close her eyes because if she did she would be back there, gazing up at that bird, that sun. It was like she could feel the snakes shock at being caught and experience the hawk’s anger at losing its prey. She could smell the scented flowers all around her choking her with their perfumed ‘beauty’, could taste the salty air as if by the sea. But stronger than that she could sense the shadow cast over it, something was happening right behind her yet she was unable to turn around, unable to take her eyes off that hawk and that snake.
It all felt so real.
“Why today?” she asked herself, pulling the covers up over her head, jus as the door to her bedroom was roughly pushed open
And in comes the parade thought Sammia as; her aunt Jules, cousin Phillip and the housekeeper Monica came in and all chorused: ‘happy birthday!’ with Phillip singing his own modified version involving a gorilla and some rather fowl words ordinarily never allowed to leave his lips. Just as they had for all the years she had been living there, as if by being overly happy would make her forget that her parents weren’t there, and every year she humoured them into believing that she did forget, as if just for the day.
“Happy birthday darling!” said her aunt swooping down to kiss her cheek. She was still in her pyjamas. A family tradition not to get dressed until the birthday girl was. Her light brown hair lay in waves to her shoulders, quite different to her own fiery red hair. She was pretty with the most beautiful eyes Sammia had seen, yet every time they looked into hers, all she saw was pain and sympathy. How she wished she knew what they looked like happy, truly happy.
They soon left her, to allow her time to dress before breakfast and those days’ festivities. Reluctantly she got out of bed and pulled her simple summer dress over head she had picked out the previous night. She, like both her parents, liked simple clothes, her mother often made dresses for her-but they were all too small now- and they would spend the whole day pretending they were the women from the stories she often told her late at night, her mother was brilliant at telling stories, it seemed real as if she only had to look out of the window and she would be able to see the women in the courtyard washing clothes, or smell the bread from the backhouse wafting up through the craters. She still dreamed of the magickal creatures, some with their brightly coloured skins, talons, matted fur or simply faceless shapes only present in dreams but still deathly evil. No matter how scared she got of these creatures she still had a longing to see them as it would mean being closer to her mother, who had introduced them to her.
Then a thought came to her, her mother had also made clothes for herself, and Sammia had a trunk full of her mothers clothes, as well as her fathers ( although she kept that in the spare room)
Sammia walked across her room to her in built closet and hauled out the heavy trunk. She had only ever opened it on two occasions; when she first received it but it was too painful and was hastily shut. The second was to remove the dressing gown she treasured so dearly. Now as she pushed open the lid, she couldn’t stop the tears from rolling down her cheeks, she tasted their saltiness on her lips. But sure enough, folded neatly at the bottom of the trunk were the dresses: colourful ones, dull ones but they were all there, ready to be worn by those appreciative of their simplistic beauty and Sammia was just that. She pulled out a pink one as she took of her summer dress and redressed in her mothers as she was doing so she remembered the poem that her mother had loved, the one that had inspired the making of that dress:
‘Petals that cushion the beads of time
Of silk and as soft
Pink as harsh as a heavy tongue
Yet with all the gentleness of a tender kiss
It’s face burned by the sun, set alight with life and strength’
She wore her hair down and made her way down for her birthday breakfast of pancakes and possibly some early birthday fairy cakes. But when she walked into the kitchen every head turned to stare at her, quite disorientated by her mothers dress, her dress. No doubt sceptical thoughts ran through their minds.
No change there then thought Sammia. Even as she sat down her aunts eyes stayed fixed on her attire, horrified.
“Sammia, you look positively medieval” Sammia couldn’t help but laugh.
Just as she was tucking in to her second syrup covered pancake, their came a knock on the front door.
“Probably the post man” said Phillip before Sammia could rise from her seat “he could have a parcel for the birthday girl” she heard the front door being opened, but there was only muffled voices not the usual cheery tone of the postman. Phillip came back into the silent kitchen with a puzzled look on his face.
“Err…Sam, there’s a- man asking for you….I think” Phillip spoke as if his own words were confusing him.
“You think? Well what did he say?” asked Sammia taking her empty plate to the sink, curious as to whom this mysterious visitor was.
“Well, he asked to see. Urm, Bradahair, he said something about celebrations, gatherings and err….I can’t remember, I can only imagine he meant for you” said Phillip, Sammia was even more curios now, but there was something else in her heart, fear.
Bradahair, that was the name her parents had given her, they had never called her Sammia. Her fist memory of the name was when her parents died, people stopped calling her Bradahair and she became known as Sammia. She never once thought of asking her parents why she was called Bradahair and they never once thought of explaining. Slowly Sammia put down her pots, cleaned her hands and walked towards the door, wordlessly followed by her aunt and cousin. She opened the door and her breath caught in her chest. The wind whipped at the strangers face, yet he stood perfectly still, only staring at Sammia. Studying her, and she did the same to him. His hair flaming making it glow like a halo of fire around his head, not quite the same fiery red, that her mother had had, as she has, but she had seen no one else like his.
If Sammia had known then what she was soon to find out she probably would have described him differently. She most probably would have said that his hair was as red as the fire that consumed his life, the very whisper of a flame enticed his very soul, his hands were skilled and well practised, they spoke of courage and dedication. Yet his most distinguished feature by far was his eyes, as black as the feathers on a crows back, they seemed endless, like the lightless sky of night.
“Urm…hello” her voice was a whisper barely audible, carried away by the harsh wind. She silently cursed herself, willing herself not to show how scared she really was.
“You look exactly like your mother” the man's voice came out strong and the words seemed to flow from his tongue. Sammia swore she could see the words float in front of her eyes as if suspended in air, if not for a split second.
“I’m sorry intrude, especially on your birthday but we need to speak” he said with a sense of urgency, Sammia could see he was uncomfortable talking about it in front of Jules and Phillip.
“We can walk around the gardens, I won’t be long” she added to her outraged aunt. She didn’t know why but that fear she had once felt had vanished and was replaced with trust, unspoken words of trust.
“But you don’t even know him!” her aunt shouted after her as she led the fiery haired stranger down the pebbled garden path.” You don’t even know his name!” but all her protesting was in vain, Sammia carried on walking, mesmerised by this uninvited guest.
Did he know her parents?
What was this about a gathering?
She longed to know the answers
“How do you know me? How do you know my name?” asked Sammia. It had been a long time until she had got used to people calling her Sammia, and she still didn’t like it. She had preferred Bradahair but her parents had warned her about letting anyone else know about it.
“You don’t know what dangers lie behind words; believe me, as innocent as they may look.” Her mother had warned her.
“My name is Braeden, and there is much I need to tell you, but first you must tell me everything you know” Braeden thought Sammia, it seemed familiar somehow yet she could not place it. His questions struck her as odd.
“Know about what?”
“Your heritage, your destiny, your power” said Braeden, surprise shown on his face. His eyebrows rose even higher as the look on Sammia's face went from confused to utter astonishment and finally disbelief.
“Are you telling me” started Braeden “are you saying that you know, nothing, about this? You don’t even know why I’m here? I could tell, when I saw you, you weren’t too certain, but then you walked with me, how could you not know? Did your mother, did she not tell you anything?” he stopped so abruptly, making Sammia take a few steps by herself. She turned back.
What had she been thinking? Walking out, with this strange man, talking of her destiny, her power?
Braeden waited, he bent down to smell the honeysuckle that were climbing up the garden wall. When he looked up, he saw that Sammia was studying him once again.
“How do you know me?” Sammia asked again, she played nervously with the hem of her dress, how much she wished her parents were here.
“I am, was, a friend of your fathers, both your parents, I was their personal messenger-” he paused thinking of how best to phrase his words; Sammia was becoming more sceptical with every word spoken.
A voice in the back of her head said: liar, liar!
“Why are you lying? Please don’t lie to me” said Sammia sounding older than her sixteen young years. Braeden just looked at Sammia for a moment then threw back his head and gave a throaty laugh. Sammia would have been more prepared for him to have brought out a gun then to have laughed at her.
“You are just like your mother, she could always tell when I was lying, and she hated it just as much as you do” Sammia couldn’t take anymore, she had to know, she felt like screaming WHO ARE YOU? At the top of her voice until he gave her a straight answer he could sense her anger and frustration at his obvious stalling, he sighed, it was obvious that before anything must happen she has to know.
“Bradahair, I am Braeden” she stood impatient, why was he telling me this again? “Your uncle” then she knew.

CHAPTER TWO –

With books as her oldest friends, ink and the words they made felt like a cool breeze on a hot summers day; refreshing, familiar and welcome, always welcome. She looked down at the book in her hands. It was old now, the soft paperback covers bent at odd angles from where she had so many times stopped reading for such trivial things as eating and sleeping. The tenderness as she turned the pages was apparent, the old memories flooding back. This had been the first book she had read, the first book to capture her mind, to lure her. This book started her whole magical outlook on life. It was a simple book; she was seven when she read it. She came from a family of readers from her mother’s side, especially her grandmother. But although with the strong connection reading books gave people, she always felt most distant from her grandmother. To her, her grandmother read for the sake of reading, each book was venial, but to her, to Sammia each book was an important steeping stone, each book a chapter in her own life, each chapter of each book a significant moment in her life. She replaced the book on her bookshelf.
It was now well into the afternoon, and the stranger with the fiery hair had long since left, although he would be returning early next morning, unbeknown to her aunt. Sammia had taken that mornings news surprisingly well, even if it did leave her with more questions than answers.
Sammia stood in front of her full length mirror and examined herself. She looked the same as she always did, her red hair falling just below her shoulders not straight yet not curly, merely with the occasional wave. Her chestnut brown eyes, prominent nose and delicate chin were all unchanged. As she was looking at herself she was also looking for any resemblance to Braeden. She didn’t see any.
“Who was he?” asked Phillip not long after she had entered the kitchen for something to eat. She turned to face him.
“Who?” Phillip just heaved a sigh
“Fine, don’t tell me just…be careful ‘k?” even though he was barely a year older than her, he always protected her like an older brother. Touching as it was, it was not something that she needed to hear, she knew to be careful, but she also knew that she had been living a lie for the past two years and needed to know why.
“He’s just has important things to tell me, about me” she decided to tell him some truth if any
“The gathering?”
“It’s complicated, a lot complicated, but yeah about the gathering…I think” it had began to snow again, and Sammia could barely see out of the kitchen window, but only the reflection of her troubled cousin standing behind her.
“Is aunt Jules in the study? I need to talk to her” the clock above the sink chimed to show it had just turned 6 o’clock, the day had slipped away from her.
“Umm no she said she was going to see some old friend in Churchinville I think?”
A thought had just occurred to Sammia, what if her aunt knew something? Something about her past?
This was the perfect opportunity to find out.
If aunt Jules isn’t in her study, maybe I could be. With that thought Sammia turned around to the leave room but her cousin laid a hand on her arm,
“I wouldn’t try, it’s locked” Sammia just nodded, she didn’t even ask how he knew it was locked. She sat down at the table and broke of a chunk her uncut birthday cake.
“Happy sixteenth Bradahair” she half said to herself half to the silence of the room.
It was only after many hours of Sammia sitting at that kitchen table aggressively picking at he birthday cake did her aunt walk back though the door. By that time it was well into the evening and Sammia was not at all in a pleasing mood, she sat rigid; she had made up her mind she knew that her aunt knew something-whatever it was that Braeden had come to talk to her about-she knew about it.
“He’s coming back-tomorrow and he’s going to tell me, since you obviously aren’t” said Sammia, her aunt just looked back at her, there was no surprise shown on her face she didn’t look distressed or confused or…anything. Sammia could feel her blood boil. When was she going to get some answers around here? Before he aunt could say anything Sammia stormed out of the room and up the stairs to her room.
The fierce winter wind crashing at the windows, making the old window covers creak was no match to the sombre scene now dominating Sammias bedroom. where only that morning the same people had been crowded in not to explain the consequences of her pre-set destiny but to simply almost innocently wish her a happy birthday although due to what was revealed next to the mislead sixteen year old, she found it hard to believe anything was done innocently or indeed honestly anymore.
“You must understand that when I, when we, took you in it was made known at the time that there was a child believed to be in grave danger and we had it in good authority, though this was never completely confirmed, that you were that child.
“Luckily they were not looking for a child in the sense of an eleven year old but of a baby of some sort so we were able to disguise you as our own” Aunt Jules sat across from Sammia at he desk, Phillip was sitting next to his cousin on the bed and Monica was hesitantly hovering at the door much as if she did not feel at all comfortable being there but she made no attempt to move.
After everything that she had been through in the past twelve hours, Sammias brain could not process all the information suddenly thrown at it. It managed a few words.
“We? Them? Explain?”
“Well when I say we, I am talking about Me, Phillip and Monica of course, and-”
“You’re not really my aunt are you?” The words were barely a whisper but they stung the ears of everyone that was there.
“Don’t be so stupid Sam, course she’s your aunt, and I’m your cousin. Stop trying to scare us all” but she understood, she finally understood. She had never seen it before even though the signs were right in front of her face.
Sammia stared at the impostor she once called aunt, just as she had looked at her that morning. Everything about her was different, her hair, her eyes her…everything. She neither looked like her mother nor her father. Why hadn’t she seen it before? She just believed what she was told.
“You’re not my cousin, she” she gestured to the now concerned and slightly panicked woman sitting by her desk “She is not my aunt, did you even know my parents or are you just some random people ordered to look after me?” The woman she regarded as her aunt sat rigid, Sammia knew she was carefully choosing her words, even now after all that had been said she still felt like she could not let the child know too much.
“I am no child” said Sammia as if reading her thoughts, it was that second that Jules knew that she was ready, only someone that had come into their powers could read someone’s thoughts. It had to be said and she had to say and explain it all before that retched man came back the next day and jeopardised her five years of hard work.
“I am not your aunt and Phillip is not your cousin-”she raised her hand to silence Phillip whom she knew would try to protest “please, let me finish” she pleaded with him
“I am part of a, I don’t know, a sort of society whose main priority is the protection of the other world” a needle could have been heard in the seconds following Jules words. For a split second all Sammia could think was she’s crazy, my aunt has gone mad.
“What ‘other world’? What are you talking about?” Although she was thinking those words she was surprised to hear that they actually came out of Phillips mouth and not her own.” There is no ‘other world’ there is this world and we are a family”
“I will not ask you again Phillip, Sammia must know, your mother and father were in a tragic accident whether intentional or not I don’t think we’ll ever know but…you were brought to me by another member of the society and I was instructed to raise you as my niece I was told you held the key between this world and yours. You showed no idea of being here or of you previous home to you it was all the same. I was worried that you were going to be in grave danger and forbid the mention of your name even in this house and I told no one not Monica o Phillip of your name.
“and then this morning that ludicrous man came to the door and dared to utter those words at my house and then have the nerve to try and pollute you against me, but I will NOT have my hard work undermined” Sammia then realised that her aunt was scared, scared of what Sammia knew for Sammia had not said any of what Braeden had told her while walking around the garden. She suddenly felt fearful she knew none of the people in the room and they did not know her. The night was long, for Sammia and everyone else in the room that night; it seemed as if time stood still as if it too were listening in on what was happening.
She was amongst strangers and the only person she felt comfortable talking about this was her uncle, her real uncle. She didn’t entirely understand why but none of what Jules had said had fazed her. She was slightly taken aback to hear that Jules knew about her real name and that she was the reason she had to change it permanently. The anger in her voice was apparent. Sammia wanted nothing more than for these impostors to be out of her room but she didn’t want to raise suspicion. She knew that her aunt would be waiting for Braeden that next morning and would do anything within her power to stop him from telling her any more.
“Can we do this tomorrow please I can’t take this today” she lied, she needed time to plan her next moves, and it did not involve spending the night in her bedroom with or without her fake family occupying it. She hoped her aunt would not be able to tell she was lying to her, Jules’ eyes looked unconvinced as if she could sense things were not alright.
“You don’t want to hear more? This is your story your past” said her aunt.
She stood up slowly and started to slowly approach the bed.
“I know, and I do want to know it. All. Its jus it’s my birthday and I want some time to think about my parents…cause there you know-not here. Dead” she tried with all of her might to cry but only managed a dry sob. It seemed convincing enough and she saw her aunt immediately soften.
“Of course sweetheart will continue in the morning, umm when is that man coming back?” oh right thought Sammia I told her that he was coming round tomorrow
“well, uhh not until the afternoon, he said any time after twelve” Although she knew it was the right thing to do she still felt a sense of loyalty to this woman as she had for five years been her aunt and this stranger had only been her uncle for less than a day.
“Well then…we’ll go, leave you-with your thoughts” and they all piled out of her room.
That was too easy thought Sammia, and sure enough when she went to her door, she sensed someone standing there. They think I’m going to leave; well they’re not wrong there.
She walked over to her wardrobe and pulled out her backpack, she turned it out on her bed being careful not to make any unnecessary noise that would raise suspicion. She then took out two tee shirts and a pair of jeans and put some leggings on under the dress she was wearing. She also placed in the bag her watch, compass and the pocket knife she had borrowed from Philip earlier that week. She walked over to her lamp sitting idly on the bed stand and unscrewed the bottom, out fell around £200. it was all of her savings, she had been saving up for a few months now for a new bike as she only had Phillips old hand-me down bike which was not comfortable for any girl to be riding. She quietly put on her coat and walked back over to the door; she bent down and looked under the door. A shadow was flung upon the opposing wall.
Right she thought to herself looks like I’m going to have to climb out of the window, great.
She threw open her windows and peered into the still darkening night. She put the backpack on and heaved herself out of the window.
Just as she was lowering herself onto the window ledge and praying that she didn’t lose her footing it occurred to her that she had not thought about where she was going to go after she had successfully reached the ground. The only place she could think to go was her best friends’ house but she knew that when her aunt found out, that would also be the first place she would think of so she would only be able to stay there for the night. As the family would certainly realise that she was not in her room that next morning if indeed they did not check up on her in the middle of the night. The thought just made her panic more, and she was glancing back over her shoulder on her way out of the house she had once called home.
A soft crunching of gravel beneath her feet told her that she was on the ground; she slowly crept over to the shed and took out her bike, being careful not to let the wheels creak too much. Once she was outside of the garden she got on the bike and rode without as much as a second thought or a backwards glance. She was not normally such a rash person but today something inside her changed.
The wind whipped at her face as she darted downhill, causing her hair to become a tangled mess around her head. Although she knew her skin was probably turning icy cold from the wind that rushed against it, all she felt was the blood pumping through her veins, the sound of her racing heart echoing around her head, feeling as if it were to burst out of chest right there. Yet she did not slow for a second, the thought of what may lay behind more frightening then the unknown dangers of what lay ahead.

“What the hell do you look like?” were the first words uttered by her bewildered friend and probably the ones she least expected as after the half an hour cycle to her house Sammia had had the pleasure of not having to look at the slightly crazed look she had now acquired.
“Umm yeah…I’m sort of in a bit of uh trouble” Sammia whispered after having got her breath back. “Luke I need your help” the bewildered look turned at those words to a look of feigned understanding.
“Ah I see…dear old aunti-kinns finally pissing you off? Or is it sweet lil Philly-”
“Luke this is serious, I just need a place to crash tonight and I’ll tell you okay? Please” she tried hard to not to sound as desperate and scared as she was coming off but her voice failed her and cracked several times during her plea.
“Of course…I was just kidding, come in”