Coal Part 4: 1st Draft

"No." Ciara turned to see a short woman who looked startingly like the pictures of her mother. Long braided hair, dark eyes, wide nose, full lips, and of course dark skin. Her dress was strange, a white linen shirt over a leather skirt. "I believe you're the one who sent for me."

"Aunt Zene?!" Ciara felt weakened. She knelt down, trying to catch her breath.

"Yes." Zene embraced Ciara immeditely. "There are so many people waiting to meet you. Do you still want to go Swaziland with me?"

Ciara was silent for a while, enjoying the hug. Her aunt smelled of natural flowers and grass, but somehow, she smelled better than anything in the world. "You mean there's a place for me there?"

"Of course. You've inherited your mother's title of princess."

"Princess?" That word sent Ciara's head into a tale spin. "I thought she was a duchess." She staggered out of her aunt's arms, suddenly needing air. It was too much!

"She still has that old piece of paper lying around?" Zene shook her long flowing braids. "Amara always was nostalgic. That's the title she inherited from her cousin. She was born a princess, and she would have been queen if she wouldn't have left."

Ciara sat down, dizzy as hell. "But if that's, true, why did it take you so long to come for me, Aunt Zene? I've been waiting for you for so long..." She covered her face in her hands, trying to hide her tears.

Aunt Zene rubbed Ciara's back. "I'm sorry for all the pain you have suffered, nieces, but I only recieved your letter two weeks ago. It must have been lost in the mail all these years." Aunt Zene smiled brightly, like the sun chasing away the last clouds of a storm. "You'll only be happy from now on. I promise." She pointed to her hover car. "Come with me."

Ciara almost said yes. But she had some loose ends to tie up first. "I'd never thought I'd say this, but I can't go with you." She explained Debra's obsession with trying to get a prince. "...So if I leave Wachovia, I know she'll have him."

Aunt Zene nodded. "That's very unselfish of you. I'll help."

Ciara hugged her hard. "Thank you! You're a dress maker?"

Zene shook her braids. "No, but I can make one for you all the same. What do you have in mind?"

Ciara looked at the remnants of her lovely peacock gown. "Well, I guess peacocks are bad luck. What about a flamingo?"

"A flamingo?" Aunt Zene asked goodnaturedly. "That's not very dignified for a princess, is it?"

Ciara's cheeks heated out of embarrassment. "No. I guess not. What do you have in mind?"

Aunt Zene raised her right hand. "Marta!" she called. A large predatory bird with bright scarlet feathers flew from a tree and landed on Zene's outstretched arm. Ciara took a step back. The bird was both dangerous and beautiful, with a slightly curved beak made for tearing, and those strangely attractive feathers that almost seemed to glow. "My niece needs a special costume. Do you mind if I use you?" Ciara cocked her head. Zene was talking to the bird! The bird bobbed her head as if to say yes. "Thank you Marta." Zene turned and hurled the bird straight at Ciara's head. Ciara shrieked and ducked, but the bird exploded, showering her in it's brilliant feathers.

What resulted seconds later, was, for lack of a better word, the most beautiful cocktail dress in the world. It was sleeveless, but the extension of Marta's flight feathers across Ciara's chest gave the illusion of short sleeves from afar. It was backless as well, dipping low almost to the point of indecency, but the short train in the back, consisting of Marta's tail feathers, made up for it. Marta's feathers had even taken care of Ciara's need for body paint. They glowed like lights, giving her skin a dark red hue. Her face was covered with Marta's beak as well. But what was most amazing, was that it was made entirely out of feathers, held together by some invisible force.

Ciara looked at herself, amazed. "How'd you do that?"

"Magic. It's pretty rare in this country. You use something called 'science' here instead."

Ciara nodded. Made sense. "I don't mean to be ungrateful, but I need a few more things." said Ciara looking at her bare feet.

"Shoes?" Zene walked over to her vhicles and pulled out a pair of clear-looking heels. "They're made of reinforced glass. Practically unbreakable."

Ciara put them on, and twirled around. "They feel absolutely perfect!" She hugged her aunt. "Thank you so much! Now I need a ride." She pointed at her aunt's floating car. "That's way too obvious."

"Why would you want to hide your identity? You are a princess of Swaziland. You can go to any place you want with pride now!"

"I guess it doesn't really matter now, but I want the Vicks to be suprised and humiliated. I'll feel much better."

Aunt Zene nodded. "Well, they do deserve it. All right. Bring me a gourd and whatever four legged mammals you can find. I can't give you anything modern, this way, but a horse and carriage is good enough."

Ciara got a gourd from the garden her mother had started years before, and caught Ashton and Ashford's pet albino chihuahuas. Once the gourd was hollowed out, Zene turned it into a grand gold-lined white carriage. The two chihuahuas became two large horses, snorting and pawing impaitiently.

"Wow!" Ciara exclaimed. "I'm definitely going to Swaziland when this is all over, to find out how you did that!" She ran her hands over the plush enterior, made of gold thread. Everything felt so real!

"There is a catch. You have to be back here by midnight. This kind of magic has a time limit."

"That's all right. This shouldn't take long." She started to climb in. "But wait! I need a driver!"

"Done." Zene stretched out her arms, then brought them to her sides. In that moment, she transformed into a middle aged, male, carriage driver from the 17th century, complete with powdered wig and white suit. Zene bowed. "At your service." Oddly, her voice was the only thing that hadn't changed.

Ciara reached out to touch Zene's vest, still checking out her aunt's magical skills. It felt like velvet, definitely expensive. "It's real!" she exclaimed.

"Most magic is." said Zene, helping CIara into the carriage. Zene took her place in the driver's seat. "We'd better go." She slapped her reins against the backs of the horses, and off they went.

Enough of this mushy crap! Things heat up in "Coal Part 5: 1st Draft"