Behold, my WIP | The Purple Eyed

@anyone-whos-interested

Hi there!

This is the first chapter of my current project called The Purple Eyed… (….I might change the name later….)

Anyhow, my mom and I already did a bunch of editing, but I do want some outer opinions…. so…. I can handle honest criticism, please be candid and point out as much as you want… heh heh…. 😜

Last thing: my story takes place in 2015, but there is a bit of a victorian/servants/maids-ish influence, and the country is ruled by a king…. so yah….

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CHAPTER I

The bright sun and the cloudless sky called to the children of Burne to come play under it. It was a beautiful spring day, and it alluded to summer. Flowers bloomed their pretty faces all over the grassy neighborhood yards, and the wind lightly whispered to the trees. The world displayed no favoritism to the Burnish people, despite their social divides. The divide was most evident in the city of Fremir, which was divided into three social classes: the poor who lived in Needslight, the middle class who lived in Greencoin, and the rich who lived Burnswell. Everyone knew about the divide, but nothing could change it.

Needslight was the most populated of the three districts, having a little over 32,800 residents. The name of the area reflects the ungodly ways of the people, who live dark lives despite having the sunlight. It was founded in 1643 by King Larch of Extroit, who built thousands of small houses for the civilians who begged him for a place to live. The people were content and safe in these buildings until 1758, when an unforgettable tornado tore off parts of their homes. The morale of the people dropped even lower when Walt Jefferson XII started importing alcohol into Fremir the same year as the tornado, and the unfortunate people turned to drinking instead of facing their struggle. Currently, Needslight has become the most avoided place in Burne, due to the major problems it faces. Those who aren’t intoxicated are found stealing and vandalizing the area, and very few of the children living there have a proper education. You can always tell if a person is from Needslight, because they walk around aimlessly, with hazy eyes and disheveled clothes and hair, mumbling unintelligently.

Then, there is the district called Greencoin, which had 25,394 residents. Greencoin was named after the Burnish coins called Sorets, which were made from imported copper, that turned green with tarnish over time. The district kept its name, even though King Rainer began making the Sorets out of silver because of the Burnish complaint against the ugly green coins. Greencoin wasn’t always a residential zone. In the year 1761, King Chervil marked out the area for commercial use. As the population increased, the people needed more places to live, so the king changed his plans and built more houses. In 1940, Walt Jefferson XIX bought all of the homes from the people, demolished the buildings, and built the large apartment complexes that the area is known for today. While the residents are cheerful people, the largest complaint against Greencoin is that one could hear every noise their neighbor made, including the important and embarrassing conversations that were carried on.

And lastly was the gorgeous neighborhood of mansions called Burnswell. Burnswell is where all the wealthy descendants of Walt Jefferson II lived, as well as other rich and influential families. While they never suffered from financial issues, they had broken relationships in their families, they were condescending towards other people, and lived materialistic lives. However, to understand the people of Burnswell better, we will focus our eyes on the most prominent family in all of Burne, and that is the Jefferson family.

 

 

“…The life of a rich fellow, living in a mansion tall and grand. 

He has carriages and horses, and his wealth’s in his hands…”

 

Sitting in the window of his room, a young boy read the poetic words from the small brown book nestled in his boyish hands. Although a youth by appearance, his voice was deep and husky. His two bright eyes stared at the words on the page, while his mouth silently shaped the expressions as he read and re-read each sentence. He enjoyed reading books and poems, especially the ones given to him by his tutor or great-grandfather. He would spend the whole day devouring the writings like a starved person would devour a meal. He used the stories and rhymes as a way to comfort to himself on rough days.

The boy was thirteen year old Blair Jefferson, the only son of Belle and Walt Jefferson XXII. Blair looked unreservedly like his mother, and people often wondered what of his father’s genes he had. His skin was pale, like that of a porcelain doll. Heavy eyelashes surrounded his dolphin blue, monolid eyes, and his nose held the signature elf-shoe shape that all the Jefferson family line had in common. His lips were thin, and his handsome smile revealed small white teeth half hidden by the braces he wore. A sharp chin gave him an alien-like head covered with thick black hair that hung long, loose and wildly, despite his governess’s attempt to brush it in a civil way.

 

“…Little did he know, that his riches were a lie. 

That all of his fortunes, would one day pass him by.…”

 

Blair’s bedroom was large and could easily have been mistaken for being the master bedroom. It had an empty airiness, high ceilings, and a smooth, black, wooden floor covered by a large, square, beige rug. A large white chandelier hung from the ceiling near a bisque colored wall. The wall displayed a fireplace that his governess would light for him on cold nights. Above the fireplace was a shelve that held the little inventions that Blair built. Blair sat in a small lounge chair in front of a large window draped with light fawn colored curtains that filtered the sunlight in the room, and books lined the walls near his king-sized bed that was covered in an uncountable mountain of pillows. Two small lounge chairs were placed in front of the fireplace, facing towards the bed, and although no one except for Blair and his great-grandfather ever sat in these chairs, they added a very hotel-like feel to the room that Blair liked. And lastly, a door on the eastern wall lead to a large personal bathroom.

 

“His days of luxury, and opulence and ease… 

Would soon become nothing, but distant memories…

The life of a rich man is fleeting, with no support. 

His fortunes are gone, and his life is cut… short.”

 

Blair lifted his head, and sat up straighter. He ruminated on the poem for a long time before moving to another. Before long, his mind was fully wrapped in the activity, and was too deep in thought to be distracted by the sounds of footsteps approaching his door or the knock which came after the steps. Though the knock was loud and clear, Blair did not hear it, and his focus switched to the visitor at once when the door was opened. A sweet, kind, familiar voice sang, “Blair? Are you in here?”

 

“Oh, Shannon.” Blair said coolly as he slid out of his chair and stood up, advancing towards the door, “I was not aware that you knocked.”

“I can tell! You are always absorbed in a book.” A woman stepped into the room and put her hands on her small hips. “I might have to ring a loud bell next time!”

 

The woman, Shannon Palmer, was Blair’s governess. She was hired by Blair’s father, to care for the boy, so that Belle wouldn’t be restrained by the affairs of motherhood. Shannon had been caring for Blair since he was weaned, and she knew him better than the his own parents. She was the one he ran too when he was scared, she was the one who made sure he had eaten and bathed, and she kept him on a daily routine.

Shannon was a short, willowy lady. Her tiny frame and hands made her appear very kind and sweet. Because she was partly Eldanian, she appeared to be in her early thirties, though she was actually a little older than forty. Her shining gray eyes and slender nose complemented her rosy round face. She pulled her blonde hair, which was so pale that it could’ve easily been mistaken for white, into a small bun on the back of her small head. She wore one-inch tear drop earrings that dangled near the edge of her soft jawline. She always wore a gray fit-and-flare dress, ballet flats, and a white apron.

 

“Your mother has asked for you.” Shannon put her warm hands on Blair’s shoulders, and walked him to his personal bathroom. She handed him a gray suit top and matching trousers, and exited the room so he could put on the clothes in private. While she waited, she informed him, “Your mother is in the kitchen’s lounge, and her friends are over.”

“Oh, no.” he murmured, his words hidden under a sigh. He wasn’t allowed to see his parents unless called for, and often that was when their small talk entertaining had run dry, and he would be the focus of their practiced “constructive criticism”.

 

“You say ‘oh no’ about visiting your mother?” Shannon asked, as she brushed a few fuzzes off of Blair’s  broad shoulders when he exited the bathroom, “You rarely see her.”

“I know, but I really hate visiting.” He moaned, “I never feel like I can express my opinions or talk about deep subjects. It’s much less enjoyable than talking to you or my tutor or great-grandfather. My mother doesn’t talk about anything important, and my father won’t stop pushing our family history at me. I know it by heart. Walt II was a founder of Burne, Walt  III named the first commercial district, Walt IV built the first mansion in Burnswell, and it goes on and on and on. Do they even know me?”

“Oh, Blair.” Shannon sighed as smoothed his loose hairs down to the best of her abilities and kissed his head, “I’m sure they don’t mean to make you feel this way. Now, hurry on down to your mother. At least you can make her feel loved by being obedient to her wishes.”

 

***

 

“There you are!” Belle’s quiet, slow, tantalizing voice sent a ripple of irritation down Blair’s spine. She signaled for him to come sit down next to her by patting her gloved hand on the couch.

Belle’s appearance was considered the highest form of physical perfection by all the vain people living in Burne. Her skin was pale, and her monolid eyes were dolphin blue, surrounded by heavy eyeshadow and mascara. The heart shaped lips that surrounded her bright-white teeth were covered in reddish-pink lipstick, and sat below her very-slender nose. Her medium length black hair was very thick and loosely curled, hanging past her small ears and down to her petite shoulders. Her chin was pointed, and her thin neck was attached to her hourglass shaped body, which was always covered in sparkly, enchanting outfits. Mermaid dresses were her favorite, and she always wore them, no matter the occasion.

Blair smiled unenthusiastically and walked to his mother, glancing around the room before he sat down on the couch next to her. Several of his mother’s friends, unfamiliar to Blair, sat on the couches surrounding a coffee table, and were dressed extravagantly. Some held glasses half-full of wine, and others had their hands in their laps, but all of them watched his moves, smiling —at least as Blair perceived it— rather insincerely.

 

“Tell me, my friends, isn’t he such a fine boy? A pure reflection of his mother!” Belle laughed. Blair kept his eyes locked with his mother’s, cringing as all the annoying ladies  complemented his face and stature and smile. He wished he could escape this torment, and run to his room, where all of his books would be waiting to be read. Where he could escape his life, and live in the stories that ended perfectly.

 

“Blair,” Belle looked into her son’s dilated eyes, “would you mind reciting a poem for my ladies? I told them all about your love for poetry, and they are longing to hear you recite it.”

Belle looked around at her friends and they all laughed at her exaggeration of their eagerness. And then, her thin brows dropped as she stared glacially into Blair’s eyes, giving him a look that demanded obedience to her question-like command.

Blair took a deep breath and matched his mother’s cool request with an even colder, “Because you’ve asked.” Blair stood up. He couldn’t tolerate sitting while reciting poetry. His great-grandfather always told him that poems contained more dramatic power when delivered while standing.

 

“It’s a heavy weigh within us,
A muscle to be flexed and honed,
Life throws punches we must accept,
As we become grown.

It takes form in steadfast bravery,
Glimpses of faith, no matter the stakes,
Nothing can stop us from achieving our goals,
If we have courage, we can’t break.

It’s the spark that drives us eagerly,
A reminder that this too shall pass,
We never know what the future holds,
But courage can bring change at last!”

 

When he finished the first poem, the ladies begged to hear another. And another. When it was obvious that Blair was growing tired of this activity, Belle spoke.

“Alright, my friends, the child is tired. Blair, come kiss your mother and you may go.”

 

Blair walked to his mother, kissed her cheek and exited the room, while the ladies picked back up their conversation about the pleasant, and well mannered children of Burnswell.

Outside of the door, Shannon waited patiently for Blair, and put her arm around his shoulders. It was a comfort to Blair, to be back in the warm arms of of his governess, far away from the emptiness of his mother’s conversations. Shannon’s chatter about some innocent little joy she had seen outside was far more delightful than the vain talk of the ladies in the lounge, but Blair found both to be annoying. Shannon lead him back to his room, where he sat in the chair facing his window.

“Now, now, Blair,” Shannon said sweetly, as she folded some clothes that sat on his bed, “tell me. Are you feeling… alright?”

“Perhaps.” Blair answered coolly, lacking enthusiasm for anything, “I could feel better.”

He slouched in the chair, wrapped his arms around his legs, and stared out at the world beyond his large home. A world he hadn’t seen much of, but desired to view and experience. His tutor used to tell him about the world outside of Burnswell, but the topic was forbidden by Belle when Blair asked her to take him to Needslight. The memory  frequently played in his head:

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“Mama!” Blair called childishly as he ran to his mother’s room. She was laying on her bed, admiring her face in a mirror, with a glass of wine on her bedside table. She gasped as her five year old son threw his body into her lap, knocking the mirror out of her left hand.

“Blair, I am very busy!” Belle sighed as she impatiently placed him onto the ground. “What do you want, child? Can’t you go whine somewhere else? Where is your governess? Shannon!”

“I’m sorry, Mama. But please! I want to see the world!” His starry eyes filled enthusiasm as  Belle stared blankly into them. She thought for a few seconds before she replied.

“Oh. And what part of the world do you want to see?”

“I want to see Needslight!” Blair laughed, and let out a baby-like squeal of joy.

“Oh, no! Why, who told you about Needslight?”

“My tutor.” Blair said sweetly, with a lift of his right shoulder, “he always tells me about far away places when I’m not busy. He told me that the people there need help. Mama, why don’t we ever help them? Don’t we have the—”

“Oh stop, Blair!” Belle exhaled. She turned her pale face away from the child and said, “I don’t ever want to hear you speak of those… those people again! You tell your tutor not to tell you anything else about Needslight! Now, go find Shannon and tell her you’re bored.”

_____

 

“Blair? Did you hear me?” Shannon’s voice brought Blair out of his thoughts. She tucked the clothes she was folding into his drawers and said, “Well, I was thinking I could make some lemonade. Would that brighten the moment? I will bring you some, and maybe the blues will go away.”

“Perhaps.” Blair said thoughtfully. When Shannon left the room, he retrieved the brown book that he was absorbed in earlier, and resumed his reading.