Post by Deleted on Sept 24, 2017 14:09:56 GMT -5
She was fresh. She was new. And most of all, she was something special. But somehow, it didn't all add up. Where did she come from? And why?
ZENOBIA.
2003
The television blared loudly over the ice machine in the kitchen and the yowling of Buddy, my dog. My earbuds blasted vivid rap music, but I quickly yanked them out as a familiar face appeared on the screen—it was Charlotte. Tony turned the volume up. I looked at him, and then back to the screen.
AUBREY CORNWALLIS: So tell me, Miss Rutherford, what was your first encounter with Miss Smith, and how did it change your life?
CHARLOTTE CAMRY: Well, Miss Cornwallis, I was 7 years old and I was playing in the garden when this young girl around 12 appeared. She was green, from head to toe—not in the manner that she looked sick. It was just that she was covered in green paint, so that I could barely even tell her emotions; and she looked right at me, and I said, The hell are you doing? The girl replied, Personal affairs, and walked away. Her dress was made of some sort of animal skin, I could tell, but that was covered in green paint too. It was strange. I went in and told my mother and she said, Charlotte, you best get a bath and a bit of "shut-eye", as she called it—even though it was the middle of the day. I just laughed. And I learned that day that anything could happen. It opened up my mind.
AUBREY CORNWALLIS: [Laughs] And what did you find out later about Miss Smith?
CHARLOTTE CAMRY: What are you talking about—Oh! [Laughs] The world is crazy, ain't it? Because the next day I found out that girl was nothing other than a little rebel who ran away from home; and she was painting her a green house. And it looked as if she had dipped herself in paint and splotched the walls. Some technique.
Me and Tony shared a look. It was thundering outside, and that made me even more nervous. I had always been scared by storms. Especially when the sun was shining like this. Two different kinds of weather, at once. It was like an omen.
Then the power went out, and a cloud covered up the sun, and just gushed rain. Buddy ran in from his crate, shivering. Once a dork, always a dork, I thought. I stroked his little ears as he looked nervously up at the ceiling and glanced at the rattling windows. Thunder shook my home, but the rest of the world was oddly hushed. I turned on my cellphone and looked at the time. It was almost 5.
"I don't think you should go out in that storm," I told my brother. He looked at the window and shrugged. "Guess not, but I did have plans."
I did too—with Sid, who I'd gone on a few dates with so far. But I wasn't complaining. Sid could be a little...overbearing sometimes.
My house was on stilts and up on the beach, right in front of the water, which I could see was thrashing and tossing in the midst of the powerful storm. It gave off an element of suspense, because we had no clue what would happen next. I heard the back porch door click open and shut, and someone going down the steps. Tony must have been determined to see his date, whoever that was. I, myself, felt at no loss.
Tropical depressions like these were what made me regret living on the shores, but moving would be too much work, I was so settled. Besides, on a beautiful day, it was paradise, Buddy and I kicking up sand on the beach, his little terrier fur snagging on driftwood and debris, and compelling me to free him with those little button eyes; collecting shells, taking photographs, the salty, fresh waves. Thunder crackled and a car motor revved.
The television blared loudly over the ice machine in the kitchen and the yowling of Buddy, my dog. My earbuds blasted vivid rap music, but I quickly yanked them out as a familiar face appeared on the screen—it was Charlotte. Tony turned the volume up. I looked at him, and then back to the screen.
AUBREY CORNWALLIS: So tell me, Miss Rutherford, what was your first encounter with Miss Smith, and how did it change your life?
CHARLOTTE CAMRY: Well, Miss Cornwallis, I was 7 years old and I was playing in the garden when this young girl around 12 appeared. She was green, from head to toe—not in the manner that she looked sick. It was just that she was covered in green paint, so that I could barely even tell her emotions; and she looked right at me, and I said, The hell are you doing? The girl replied, Personal affairs, and walked away. Her dress was made of some sort of animal skin, I could tell, but that was covered in green paint too. It was strange. I went in and told my mother and she said, Charlotte, you best get a bath and a bit of "shut-eye", as she called it—even though it was the middle of the day. I just laughed. And I learned that day that anything could happen. It opened up my mind.
AUBREY CORNWALLIS: [Laughs] And what did you find out later about Miss Smith?
CHARLOTTE CAMRY: What are you talking about—Oh! [Laughs] The world is crazy, ain't it? Because the next day I found out that girl was nothing other than a little rebel who ran away from home; and she was painting her a green house. And it looked as if she had dipped herself in paint and splotched the walls. Some technique.
Me and Tony shared a look. It was thundering outside, and that made me even more nervous. I had always been scared by storms. Especially when the sun was shining like this. Two different kinds of weather, at once. It was like an omen.
Then the power went out, and a cloud covered up the sun, and just gushed rain. Buddy ran in from his crate, shivering. Once a dork, always a dork, I thought. I stroked his little ears as he looked nervously up at the ceiling and glanced at the rattling windows. Thunder shook my home, but the rest of the world was oddly hushed. I turned on my cellphone and looked at the time. It was almost 5.
"I don't think you should go out in that storm," I told my brother. He looked at the window and shrugged. "Guess not, but I did have plans."
I did too—with Sid, who I'd gone on a few dates with so far. But I wasn't complaining. Sid could be a little...overbearing sometimes.
My house was on stilts and up on the beach, right in front of the water, which I could see was thrashing and tossing in the midst of the powerful storm. It gave off an element of suspense, because we had no clue what would happen next. I heard the back porch door click open and shut, and someone going down the steps. Tony must have been determined to see his date, whoever that was. I, myself, felt at no loss.
Tropical depressions like these were what made me regret living on the shores, but moving would be too much work, I was so settled. Besides, on a beautiful day, it was paradise, Buddy and I kicking up sand on the beach, his little terrier fur snagging on driftwood and debris, and compelling me to free him with those little button eyes; collecting shells, taking photographs, the salty, fresh waves. Thunder crackled and a car motor revved.
BEING THE DAUGHTER OF A CASTAWAY IS NOT ALL THAT EASY FOR SAMARA SMITH AND HER FAMILY.
ZENOBIA.
2005 (TBA)
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