A Perfect Reflection

So this is another Uni project turned blog post. I had to write 1200=1500 words based on the word 'mirror'. I wrote a lot more than that of course, and bulked out the centre a bit more - before deleting it all because word count, but I do now have that as an added possibility for a future project... might be fun :)

Hope you like it!

Watching her was like looking in a mirror. Everything you dreamed you would ever be, she was. She overflowed with charisma and grace, as though it was light, and she, the sun. People flocked to her, wanting little more than to bask in her presence, soaking up every little tidbit they could. No one ever realising how tightly wrapped around her finger they were.

It was fascinating to watch, how she changed herself like she was little more than a costume to be worn, a performance whose praises should be sung. She slid into each role like she was born to it, charming everyone no matter who(m) she was pretending to be. She just fitted in so perfectly, and no one was any the wiser of how easily she played them all.

Until she met him.

He stood out amongst a sea of well-dressed men, wearing black jeans and a leather jacket, the black mask hiding only half his face from view. She thought it would be easy to pull him under her spell, just like every other man. She could feel the way his golden-brown eyes followed her as she was passed from hand to hand and spun around the dance floor. The golden designs seeming to dance around her frame as she was twirled beneath arms and tugged into bodies, straining to catch a glimpse of the mysterious man whenever she could.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he stole her from the arms of her latest dance partner, his hands on her hips as he snuck up behind her, and distracting her from the man she’d charmed with a simple smile. His grip tightened on her as the song changed, keeping her locked to his side rather than changing partners as she had been all night.

“What brings you here tonight?” His head inclined towards her, a half smile on his lips as he spun her under his arm and back into his chest. She looked up at him as his hand returned to the small of her back, leading her with the slightest of cues.

“What else but a beautiful lady wrapped in red?” He was still smiling as he started to navigate them towards the edge of the dance floor, his hand staying on the small of her back so he could lead her towards a table in the back.

“Good company, better food, and amazing music?” She offered in return, picking up two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter with a smile, handing it over to the strange gentleman. He took it, if only to put it down at the table and pull out the chair for her.

“No, I came for you love. I’ve been watching you for a while, and I must say, you intrigue me.”  His presence at her back stopped her from getting up and leaving straight away.

“So I know you?” She forced herself to remain calm, taking a sip of her champagne as he took the seat opposite her with a chuckle.

“No, you don’t. We’ve never spoken before.” He leant back, the flute in his hand but his eyes locked on her.

“But you know me?” She didn’t let the casual way he chose to sit brush past her, trying to figure out where she could have run into this man before.

“No one knows you love, you hide behind masks much more realistic than the one you wear now.” He leans forward, his fingers running across the gold designs that hid most her face from view.

“I don’t understand-” She knocked his hand away, but his hand caught hers.

“Of course you do.” He pretended to admire her perfectly manicured blood red nails, but she pulled her hand back and set it in her lap with the other.

“I am curious love, who is the real you? Do you even know yourself?” He raised an eyebrow as he sat back and picked up her glass.

“This has been an... insightful... conversation, but I really must depart. Thank you for your time.” She reaches for her glass once more, standing with the intent to walk away.

“I’m not finished with you yet love.” His hand wrapped around her wrist once more, stopping her from leaving.

“But I’m done with you. Release me.” His thumb brushed along the inside of her wrist, turning her to face him so he could cup her face. His eyes locking on hers as he spoke once more.

“Aren’t you curious? How I figured you out? Saw through your little game?” His grip lessened on her arm, giving her the chance to walk away if she still wanted to. She stepped forward, tilting her head back so she could watch him closely.

“Tell me then.” He chuckled, wrapping an arm around her waist, tugging her slightly closer as he pretended her attempts to flirt were working.

“Only if you meet my conditions first.” He smirked down at her as her arm rested on top of his, ready to make a quick getaway should she need to.

“Conditions?” He glanced out towards the crowds of people, dancing to the small orchestra band, wrapped in expensive gowns and perfectly tailored tuxedos.

“You and me, one night, and you have to be yourself, no masks, no lies, no judgement.” He turned them both as a waiter hurried past, making sure she was out of their direct path.

“And if I am being myself, here and now?” He chuckled, dropping his head down so he could whisper in her ear.

“We both know you aren’t love... so do we have a deal?” She pulled away to look up at him, a smirk on his lips and a twinkle in his golden eyes.

“We have a deal.” She never realised what she was getting herself into, as he whisked her from the party and onto the back of a motorcycle. That, was where the world she’d built around herself, first started to crack. He took her out, shopping, drinking, dancing, all the places people like her never went.

At first, she tried to charm him, looked for the decisions she thought he wanted her to make. Always noticing the look of sadness that flashed across his face at her choices. It was strange, being so used to being able to play people like strings on a fiddle, to spending time with someone who was hurt when she played by his rules.

What he wanted to see in her was something she couldn’t figure out how to be. She was so used to being what others wanted to see, that shedding all of that seemed impossible. The attempt at making decisions for herself terrified her, and she found herself falling back on what she knew, reading him and picking the choices she thought he wanted her to.

In the end, she had mastered it, another mask she could call on in times of trouble. She went with the weird choice, the one her friends would have steered clear of by any and all means necessary. Only praying that she would have him fooled enough to reveal the information he held from her.

“So how did you figure me out?” She asked, sliding off the back of the motorcycle and handing him back the helmet. He placed it aside, half leaning against the bike as he looked over her, a sad smile on lips.

“Sorry love, you didn’t meet my conditions.” His arm wrapped around her waist, tugging her closer so he could whisper in her ear. “You’ll never be happy until you learn to live for yourself.” He looked down at her for a second, and she almost thought he was going to kiss her, until he pulled away, settling himself down on the bike.

“Goodluck.” She watched as he sped off into the sunrise, turning back to her house and walking inside. Eyes stopping when they found the mirror hanging on the wall of the foyer. She watched herself move closer, the mask from the masquerade ball still resting atop of her nose. Slowly, she lifted it off, and only I remained.

Spy Affairs.

I did the maths today... I’ve been knowingly creating stories for seven years. I have seven years of files that all have one thing in common. Strong female characters. I’ve noticed a reoccurring theme of playing with spies. The same story told twelve different ways with similar characters and plot arcs. This is one of those tales, a story I last edited in 2013... rewritten and brought back to life.

PROLOGUE

I checked my watch before looking back down the scope of my sniper rifle as the future king paced back and forth on the balcony of the palace he’d turned into a private all-boys boarding school. His hand ran through his wet hair as he spoke on the phone, drying it on the towel that rested over his broad shoulders and covered his otherwise bare torso.

“You sure about this?” Mandy, my partner in crime and best friend asked, sneaking back into the campervan I’d parked on the school's borders in order to spy on the kingdom’s heir and slumping back into one of the seats.

“We both know I don’t have a choice May. Are the girls in place?” I pulled my attention away from following the way his jeans sat low on his hips to look at the blonde woman as she picked at her blood red nails.

“In place and their covers are intact, you won’t be alone in this Amy.” Blue eyes looked up at me with a smile, glancing at the cameras before she pulled the dagger I had gifted her in Venice from her ankle to clean out her nails once more.

“My name is Sofia, May. Amy will be long gone by tonight.” I looked down the scope once more, before dismantling the gun, pausing when the van’s meagre light reflected off the huge emerald that sat, surrounded by diamonds and encased in white gold, on my left ring finger. This was it, the thing that ended my career, and would change my life forever.

“Amy?” May’s hand on my shoulder jolted me from my thoughts.  

“Sofia, May. You’re a world class spy, can’t you remember my name?” I teased, folding the last of the sniper that I owed my life to into the briefcase where it belonged, passing it to May before I could change my mind and run from my duty. “You should get back before they start to worry.”

“Of course, Princess; anything else?” May’s fingers brushed mine as she took the briefcase and stood.

“Thank you. For everything.” I wrapped her up in a hug, refusing to let myself cry until she had stepped out of the van and disappeared back towards the palace. Tears sliding down my cheeks as I drove away.

Chapter One:

Tears raced each other down my mother's cheeks, forcing me to turn around in the designer wedding dress so she could take it all in. I obeyed without question, my hands running down the lacy white gown. It wasn’t the simplistic dress I would have picked, and May would be laughing her head off if she ever saw me in the ballgown style wedding dress. The tradition that had been passed down my family line for centuries. Sheer lace sleeves practically danced their way up my arms and over my shoulders until they fused down the front of the corset-like bodice.

“You look stunning, Sofia.” Her hands reached for my cheeks, but I stepped back before she could grab them, feeling the fabric of the gown catch beneath my bare feet.

“My makeup, Mother.” I reached for her wrists, wrapping my own hands around them in place of allowing her to grab at my face. Father would destroy me if my makeup was smudged, revealing the large bruise that sat there, especially just before my wedding and the uniting of my kingdom with that of our oldest enemy.

“Of course darling. Sorry, I forgot. You just look so grown up.” She smiled at me, grasping my hands through her tears. “I wish I could have seen you grow up.” The whisper that passed her lips was not one I was meant to hear, so I ignored it.

“Excuse me, Your Majesty, may I?” My mother was shuffled aside as the team of people assigned to get me ready for the wedding returned with more boxes of things to force me into before the hour arrived.

“Of course. Your father wanted me to stop by and tell you we were going ahead to the church with all the paperwork and everything. We’ll meet you there.” She squeezed my hands before turning and walking out of the room, hands wiping her tears away as she went.

“Your father will not be accompanying you to the church, Your Royal Highness?” The makeup artist was gentle as he rested a finger beneath my chin to lift and turn my head.

“My father prefers not to be seen with me; I am paying the price for the gender I was born with,” I replied as he reached for a brush once more. Someone else gently reaching for my hair and running a brush through it as a curler warmed. Another set of hands placing a necklace around my neck before looking for emerald earrings.

“My apologies, Ma’am. I should not have asked.” He averted his gaze from me as if I would yell at him for his curious question. A frown on his face as he searched through his vast array of powders and creams.

“No bother, is everything alright?” My gaze followed him as he started to move things around, looking around the room as if scared he had forgotten something important elsewhere.

“The black eye is harder to hide than I first anticipated, nothing I can’t fix. Pierre will be here shortly with your shoes and veil. Everything is under control, Ma’am. May I request you close your eyes?”  I closed my eyes feeling the feather light touches of a brush beneath my left eye as I silently reminded myself of the lie I would be living for the rest of my life.

My name is Sofia Amelia Calder. I was raised in a convent that taught young women to be the perfect wives at the insistence of my father. I was taught everything I needed to know to be useful to my future husband, the king. All things I did learn, in between missions and training so that my father fell for the lies we fed him whenever he paid a visit to the sisterhood. It was this woman that I was to be now, the life of the spy I had lived was no longer mine, the defeat of the brotherhood no longer the sole purpose of my life.

“Ma’am, might I present the designer of your wedding gown, Master Pierre.” I turned as the door opened, watching the man as he rushed into the room with three other women. They cradled a large box between them, holding it like it was about to shatter into a thousand pieces.

“Your Royal Highness,” Pierre turned to me once he had ensured the boxes safety, sweeping into a low bow before studying how the dress rested on my frame. “You look stunning, how does everything feel?” I ran my hands down the fabric once more a smile tugging at my lips as I looked at the white fabric that surrounded me.

“I feel like a princess,” I replied honestly, and he beamed back at me, pleased with the answer I gave.

“Well we have to be rushing you off to the cathedral, so final touches everyone.” The room burst into a frenzy at his statement. My makeup artist quickly stepped back so that Pierre and his team could take over. Shoes were strapped on my feet while a tiara placed on top of my head, the veil and train carefully fastened around it and arranged to rest on me as the official photographer was finally allowed into the room where I was getting ready to take the pre-wedding photos.

“Ready Your Royal Highness?” Pierre asked, carefully moving the gown around me once more as he offered me his arm. I rested my own hand on it letting him escort me to the car that was waiting out the front.

I shouldn’t have been surprised at the open-roofed car that waiting for me at the hotel's entrance. Nor at the multiple palace guards that had joined with the police to control the thousands of people that had lined the streets in an effort to meet me. As someone who had lived her life in the shadows, this all scared me, as someone who had taken a life I could see how easy it would be to rob me of mine.

“Princess?” Pierre’s hand tightened around my arm, I glanced up at him with a smile.

“I’m good. Let’s do this.” No one would dare harm the Princess on her wedding day. It would cause a war between two kingdoms that had finally found peace, and no one was that foolish. Attendants followed after us, helping me and my gown into the car and arranging it around it before we started on our short trip down the road to where I would be wed. Pierre shutting the door and waving me off once I was settled, waving to those who lined the streets as I passed by.

I could see the giant cathedral the second we turned the corner. Large barriers lined with guards prevented anyone from breaking through. A red carpet had been rolled down the stairs and onto the road where the car would no doubt pull to a stop. Children and adults alike were waving the flag that would define both countries by the end of the ceremony, calling my name as we rolled past. The cathedral was practically glowing in the sun’s light, large flowers dominating the sides and overflowing from the balconies and packed into the spaces around stain glassed windows. Everyone had gone all out for the royal wedding.

My father was waiting on the cathedral's steps, a crown on his head as he adjusted his black suit. My mother standing at his side with a handkerchief pressed to her face. Footmen rushed to get the door and help me out of the car, offering me a hand as my feet threatened to tangle in the overly large gown.

“Thank you.” I picked up the front of the gown as I started to walk up the stairs to where my parents waited for me. The flash of camera’s reflecting off of the silver heels peeking out from the end of my dress.

I curtsied once I reached my parents, my father’s hands on my shoulders allowing me to look up so he could inspect me and how I looked before the ceremony started. His eyes scanned over me, and despite the years of training I’d put in to look fit and the massive team of people who had made sure I was ready for the wedding that would go down in history, I still felt incredibly self-conscious

“You’ll do. Come, it’s time.” He offered me his arm as tradition dictated, and I took it, using my other hand to hold my dress out of the way as we climbed the last of the stairs. My mother walked at the other side as young girls raced out from the doors of the cathedral to help with my train like they had no doubt spent months practising.

The music was already playing as I stepped into the church, dropping the front of my dress and smoothing it down. My father paused as I did, releasing my arm so that I could fix my dress properly. Before his fingers closed around my arm hauling me upright so he could speak to me without anyone overhearing us.

“If you let this kingdom down or disrespect your husband in any way. Your eye will be the least of your worries. Understood?” I leant forward, kissing my father's cheek as cameras flashed around us.

“I have trained my entire life for this one job father. I will not let my kingdom down.” I whispered in his ear, slipping my arm back through his and smiling at my mother. I had not lied to my father, I would protect my new kingdom to the best of my abilities, though it might not be the way my father intended.

Nauta Versus The Storm

So I had to write a one thousand word short story for Uni this week and decided to take Nauta for another spin. It's not quite that many, but I thought I'd share it with everyone as this weeks Blog post. I also accidentally included a few tongue twister like sentences, which, if you're reading this aloud, I apologise for.

Nauta wasn’t even five when she started learning to steer a ship. Her father using one of his ships many tenders to teach his only child to navigate the oceans. They’d chosen a quiet day, the crew of his ship sleeping through the pinks, oranges and purples that danced before the sun’s gentle rising. Waving as they embraced the oceans caress upon the horizon. Stretching towards Nauta as she settled herself down beside the till, gripping it in her left hand like she’d seen her father do many times before. Ocean blue eyes settling on the horizon as she twisted the throttle in her hand.

Laughter peeled from her throat as she put the dinghy through its paces, fast and slow, round in circles and backwards. Mimicking everything she’d watched the crew do her entire life. Her father watching with a proud smile as she took to it all like a natural.

“Okay Nauta, let’s head back to the boat for breakfast.” He spoke as the sun rose higher in the sky, it’s gentle warmth turning harsh against his already leathered skin.

“Aye Papa.” The tender turned easily in her grasp, pointing towards the magnificent hardwood ship they’d left anchored in the bay. The throttle turning once more in her grasp as she speed up. Her home looming closer and closer as they sailed over the waves.

“Kill the engine Nauta. We’ll drift in alongside.” Her father yelled over the roar of the engine, but she didn't catch the words that tangled in his beard. Twisting the throttle up higher rather than turning it lower as she approached the massive ship. Any crew that were still asleep in their bunks woke with the resulting bang.

It was this incident that plagued her mind as she took the wheel of her father's ship. Watching him go down to help his crew fight against the giant sails as the storm ripped them from their grasps.

The storm had pounced upon them quicker than they expected, what started as a few grey clouds on the horizon now overwhelmed the ship. The howling winds whipping up waves that washed over the decks and tried to sweep sailors from their sea legs.

The safe haven they’d hoped to reach before the storm hit had hidden itself in a haze of pelting rain. Nauta struggling to see the front of the ship, let alone the bay she needed to navigate into. White-knuckled hands turned the wheel ever so slightly, combating the push of the waves attempting to change her course. Using the compass’ needle as a guiding beacon into the bay.

Nauta knew of the rocks that guarded the entrance to the harbour. The scattered attempt at a manmade reef to protect the ships that sought sanctuary near its sandy shores. She remembered the crunching feeling of wood scraping against wood. The splash as her father fell overboard and the laughter from the crew as they scrambled down the netted sides to help her. Guiding the tender into the boat lift as they hauled her father back into the boat. His dripping wet frame draping over her as he laughed and told her the tale of his first time in control of a ship.

She didn’t have time for that memory now, the fear that accompanied it plaguing her mind. The stakes were much higher this time around, and despite all her successful sailings, it was the one failure that stuck in her mind. Numbing her brain and robbing her of her concentration.

“Nauta! You got this!” Her father’s voice roared at her, wrestling the sail under control as the engines started beneath her feet. Sparring her into action. The crew needed her, her father relying upon her, she had this.

She felt it the second the massive ship slid into the safety of the harbour. The harsh waves that were trying to rip the wheel from her grasp settled until they were barely a caress on the side of the ship. Harsh winds settling to nothingness once they were nestled within the safety of the nearby mountains. Words that had been yelled could now be spoken normally, able to get the sails down and put away safely without the gusts that whipped them out of their hands and threatened to throw the ship off course.

“Well done Nauta!” Her father and the crew praised as the sound of chain links sliding through the metal grate sounded, the anchor splashing down into the calm bay as she slipped the engine into neutral. Squinting through the rain until she locked in a transit line, a flick of her wrist sending the ship’s engines into reverse as she tested if the anchor would hold.

“Totally makes us for the time you crashed and threw me in the drink.”

Kill'em with Kindness.

Heya Everyone. So I’m rather ill - again. So, in all honesty, this is absolute gibberish.... I can’t concentrate long enough to write a sentence. Hopefully, it makes sense? I was tasked with killing someone with kindness, and I think I achieved that.

She assumed it was a challenge, the way the words fell in a sneer from his lips, leaning over the dusty bar as if it would help her hear the words that accompanied the stench of alcohol.

“I said, you should kill him.” The words were repeated as if she hadn’t heard them over the pulsing bass beat that blasted out of the club's speakers. “Did you hear me child?!” His hand reached over the bar, wrapping around her neck. “Kill him.” Her face was slammed forward into the bar, forcing her to cry out in pain and drop the bottle she was holding.

“I heard you. I’m a bartender, not a murderer. Get your hands off me.” She tried to break his hold, but he pulled her closer, squeezing her neck until she gasped for air.

“You are what I say you are. If I say you're a murderer you kill whoever I say.” His hand tightened, and she starts blindly searching for something behind the bar. Praying her hands could grasp onto a bottle she could smash over his head. Force him to release her whatever way she could.

The only thing within her reach squeaked as her hand wrapped around it tightly. The rubber chicken they’d confiscated off an overeager patron earlier. Her vision fading, she had no choice but to use it, repeatedly whacking him in the head with it until his hand loosened. An effort to defend himself from the rubber that wrapped around his head. Smashing against his head with enough force to rip the chicken apart. Her hands picking up the squeaker as it fell from the chicken, shoving it down his throat as he started to scream at her once more.

His hand finally released her throat, going to his own as he started to choke. She slid down behind the bar, avoiding the glass and spreading liquor beside her. Hearing the club's bouncers make their way through the club, her coworkers trying to calm her down. Kneeling beside her as she tried to calm down, rid herself of the feeling of his fingers around her neck.

"Aww, kindness, no!" The cry rang out above the fading music.

"He named the chicken?!" The shock kicking in, she started laughing at her coworkers whispered remark.