Note: All characters, ideas and the like are copyright of Zeb Merkx 2008. Please do not copy this or any other works by her without written permission.
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The Twilight Tales
Volume I
The Glass Prison
Chapter 1
The school bell rang out loudly and the classroom erupted in a cacophony of elated chatter, chairs’ legs scraping the stone floor as the students moved to a stand, closing shut of books and the sound of the teacher – Mrs. Huggins – trying to calm the students down. After a few moments, she gave up and turned around to wipe the whiteboard clean.
Tarja quickly gathered her things and swung her backpack onto her right shoulder, before straightening the skirt of her dress. She wore a black dress which curled around her legs. The sleeves were long and wide, which gave the impression that she had much thicker arms than she really had. The top was tight and hugged her slim stomach, while the corset itself lifted her breasts and gave her only a bit of cleavage – she didn’t have that much breast to lift, so the effect of the corset was kind of lost. Her hair was long and sleek, coming to rest on her lower back and black fringes lay on top of her thin eyebrows. Her lips were also black, and thin – she always looked as if she were scowling for some reason, as she didn’t smile a lot. People always told her to do that more often. Her eyes were adorned by black eyeshade, mascara and pencil lines around her eyes. All this make-up made her green irises stand out even more.
Mrs. Huggins turned around to face the class and her eyes looked around quickly, before she spoke, “Tarja! Come over here for a second..” The gothic girl whirled around and nodded quietly, before trudging through the class and towards her Arts teacher, dodging happy students on her way there. Once she arrived, she replied, “What is it, Claire?” She asked with a soft, yet mildly masculine voice. Because of many talks with her teacher, Tarja was one of the few students who was allowed to call her by her first name; a privilege she had accepted gratefully. She never quite understood why teachers had to be addressed by their last name. After all, they were only human.
“Well, it would be better if you’d actually paid attention during class.. yes, I know your grades are great, but if you insist, please just pretend you’re paying attention.” Claire said when they were alone in the classroom. “Can you do that?”
The youth seemed to think for a bit, her teeth on her bottom lip as she thought about a suitable answer. Better to just give them what they wanted. “Yes, I can. Can I go now?”
“Not yet..” The teacher sighed and she moved behind her desk. Tarja quickly realized that her attention-span wasn’t why she was here. Claire opened a drawer and took out a single sheet of paper. She seemed to look at it with sad eyes, before she turned it over and showed the pupil what was on it.
Tarja immediately recognized her own drawing, and she smirked softly before realizing smirking was not the best reaction to this. And so her face became neutral again. “What is this supposed to be?” Claire inquired, regarding the girl over her small glasses. With a lazy eye, the student looked at the drawing, even though she already knew what it looked like; There was a girl in a knee-length white dress, her hair tangled and twisted, as if it had not been combed for years. Her make-up had run, which had turned her cheeks a charcoal black. The dress was stained with red and brown, and in her left hand was a long kitchen knife, red and dripping blood. In the background one could see trees. Big and old, their vines and branches twisting and deformed. In the lower right corner, a small autograph could be seen in red ink. In all respects, the details of the drawing suggested that the artist was very talented, if not with a bit of a weird taste of art.
“You gave us the assignment to draw what you drea—“ “This is not what I meant, Tarja!” The teacher interjected coldly, scolding the girl with her gaze. “Well, this is what I dreamt about doing, a few nights ago. That was the assignment, Claire.” Claire sighed and shook her head, before taking off her glasses and looking directly into the girl’s eyes. “Alright.. I’ll grade this drawing this time.. but you have to stop making these death-themed pictures, okay? It’s not good art, and if other people would see this, they would think you’re crazy.” The girl looked skeptical for a moment, before nodding. “Alright, Claire.”
Ten seconds later, the goth closed the classroom door behind her and she looked around the hall. The most pupils had left already, although there were still some hanging by the lockers nearby. Silently, Tarja made her way past the group and approached her locker. But no matter how quiet, the group turned to her and moved in to prevent the girl from arriving at her locker. And now they surrounded her.
“So what did Mrs. H. have to talk to you about?” said a big, short-haired boy with a black t-shirt on. His eyebrows furled into a frown as he regarded the goth. “None of your business, Eric!” The girl hissed, and tried to move past the group forcefully. Unfortunately, the boy had anticipated this and pushed her back to the middle of their circle.
“Come on, little Tarja.. you can tell me..” Eric cooed her, which made the three other boys snicker coldly. The girl looked at the group’s leader with a death stare and shook her head. “You all are so sad. Why don’t you just go outside and enjoy the sun for once?” “I could say the same to you, stinking vampire.” Came the immediate reply from the leader. The girl stood motionlessly in the middle of the group, her anger rising slowly, but this could not be seen on her face. Down the hall, a door opened and the sound of steps could be heard, and they quickly approached the group.
“You four!” The voice of Claire called out, “Don’t you have anything better to do than pick on girls like Tarja?” “Nope, H.” Eric said boldly, just before he realized he had just made a mistake. “In my classroom, you four.” She commanded sharply, and she gave an apologetic look to Tarja, as if to say ‘I should have come earlier, you go home now’. And then she turned around and led the boys out of the hallway, where they disappeared out of sight, closing the door so their voices wouldn’t carry far.
With a soft smirk on her lips, she opened her locker and took out her coat, a long black leather coat, and put it on quickly. She looked like a spy in a bad movie that took place in the 60’s. She also looked at the inside of her door for a few moments, where a picture of a black-haired woman hung. She seemed young, perhaps seven years older than Tarja was. The features in her face seemed to mimic the girl’s. “Well, mum.. at least that scum is getting a private lesson right now..” She murmurs to the picture, before closing the locker and locking it.
Tarja’s mother had died two years ago, when the girl was fourteen years old. She had been a good woman, although a young mother. When she died, the girl’s outlook on life changed drastically, and she turned deep within herself. This was also the time when she would start dressing in black, which eventually evolved in the long dresses and black make-up she was wearing that day. Even now, the girl struggled with the death of her mother, and she would often visit the graveyard to see her mother’s grave, along with her grandfather’s. Then she would imagine what they looked like when they were young, and that was what they looked like in heaven, now. Happy and peacefully waiting for the rest of their family to cross the veil of Death. Sometimes she wondered how it felt to die.. but then she would quickly shake the thought from her head, knowing it was not her time yet. She still had something to do on this world. What that was, she couldn’t say, but all she could hope for was that God would arrange a quick and painless death for her, instead of a long and arduous one.. like He had for her mother. Cancer claimed so many undeserving people, of that she was sure.
Tarja was awakened by her memories and pondering by the sound of a pair of girls walking behind her, talking loudly amongst each other and barely noticing the lone girl. The girl took the time to look at her watch and her eyes grew wide with shock; nearly ten minutes had passed. Quite hastily the girl turned away from her locker and made her way to the bicycle racks. She was fumbling around in the pocket of her coat to find her keys, when a red-haired girl called her name.
“Hey Amanda!” Tarja replied with a fake smile, a cleverly hidden fake one at that, and she deviated from her path to her bike to where the girl was sitting on a bench. She always sunk in a rather sad mood when she thought of her mother.
“You’re coming to my party tonight, right?” Amanda inquired cheerfully, oblivious to her friend’s gloom. She was wearing a white dress, of which the skirt reached just below her knees. Her hair was brown and wavy, and was worn in a long pony-tail.
“Yes, of course..” she replied, equally cheerfully, even though she didn’t feel so cheery at the time. The prospect of going to the birthday party lifted her spirit though, and made her forget what she had been thinking about if only for a time. “But, uh.. I need to go home now,” she added, “My dad will be furious if I don’t make it home in time.”
Amanda agreed, and stood up from the bench. “I know.. I should be getting home as well.. got to make some preparations for the party.. of course my mum will help..”
Tarja bit her tongue to prevent herself from letting her friend know what she felt, and she just nodded. Together they walked to the racks and retrieved their bikes. Soon after, the girls were on their way home.
TO BE CONTINUED