Shattering Point: Part One

Every day people in our community look up to the hill on the west side of town and whisper. They look and they look, but all they can do is wring their napkins and worry. But worrying didn't save Jeremy_Brooks, a young blue Gelert whom my pet, Aranel was good friends with, and talked about often. On the thirty first of the month of Collecting, commonly known as Halloween, Jeremy and two other friends said that they were going up to the mansion on east of the hill. The two others emerged the next morning, blurry eyed and confused.

      "We's plannin' on goin' in since last year, but we'n never had the nerve to go bafore this. Jeremy tole me he knows his way aroun', said nothin' scaired him. It was dark, but I'm never gunna forget Jeremy's face. He was terrified, we alls were. But the worst part is I can't remember what we been terrified of. I just keep on seein' his face. All pale and drained," says Seymour1, one of the pets that accompanied Jeremy.

      Sam, a red Yurble, and also a proficient construction worker said that his brother, Jeremy, isn't usually very foolhardy, but for some reason he felt he had to do it. "It was still standin' there, must be for a reason, I don't like this stupid secrecy. I'm gonna find out exactly why it's still there," said Jeremy by Sam's account.

      We must destroy this menace to our community, this silent stealer of our beloved pets, and we must do it promptly. Whispering behind closed doors will not do. It is time for progress. It is time to shatter the mystery.

      I crumple up the old Neopian Times article into a ball quietly and try to toss it into the trashcan. I miss. Slowly, I pick myself up to put it in where it rightfully belongs. But as I bend down a glint of something catches my eyes. After putting the wad of yellowed paper into the bucket I stand up straight to see what is out the window. It is the ruins of the old mansion.

      The mansion stood like a parasite on the hill, unknown where everything else was known, a shadow where everything else was bathed in artificial light; it scared me to death. It still does. Even though now it is a pile of rubble, torn apart eagerly by the hands of construction workers, it still is the most frightening thing I have ever known. It was the clearest paradox in the world, a mixture of shadow and light so harsh that it burned to both look into the light and the darkness. But now, it is gone. Funny, the only thing I ever wanted was the only thing I ever purposefully destroyed.

      I look out of the closed window and grimace, fiercely aware of the destruction. Even though construction workers tore the house apart I was the one who shattered it.

      I pick up the newspaper and begin to reread the article, bringing myself to remember everything I have tried so hard to forget.

     *

      It was getting darker quicker as each day passed, and winter pressed its skeletal fingers into fall's flesh. Autumn was now fading to a distant memory and the large oaks stood bare against the dusk sky. Humbly the trees quivered with cold, shivering off new leaves with each gust of wind. I shivered with them; I was only wearing a short summer skirt and a thinly knit sweater. My owner only shrugged against the cold, she was donned in a thick red sweater that looked warm and fluffy, though slightly ugly and too big for her wiry frame. I shivered again. "It's such a run down place."

      The grounds were not well kept; the grass was dry and dead, but gardens were lively compared to the still house. It looked like an average mansion with a black, shingled roof and rectangular stiff walls. The fence was wrought of iron and not at all decorative, merely straight spikes caging the house. As if the owner thought that if the fence wasn't sturdy enough the house would grow like a curly vine.

      It was painted a peeling white and adorned by tall elegant columns. The columns were almost too tall, freakishly out of proportion, even though they were still beautiful. Tall beautiful pets that looked like they should be famous posed in stoic grandeur, entirely lifeless. What artist could create such cold beauty? "It's not really that run down." I turned to look at my owner who was dressed in only a short sleeved shirt and a summer skirt. She must be numb from the cold by now.

      My owner shook her head warily, her brown hair tumbling out of its stiff bun "Perhaps it isn't to you, but to me it looks about to fall apart."

      I expected my eyes to immediately find every crack, every falling shudder, to prove my owner's point. The last thing I expected to notice was the shadows. Long lean shadows trailed obediently behind the columns and statues, still and unmoving as their counterparts, or so they seemed. The porch was painted a stark white, just to showcase the shadows. They were the most beautiful thing of all and entirely devoid of any life while still seeming to move, even while being silent and still.

      "It's so majestic," I whispered, admiring its numerous wooden spires and elaborate gargoyle statues.

      "It's so dangerous," she warned, her eyes glinting with danger.

      "No it's not, it's beautiful." I couldn't tear myself away, I was being drawn in. It was just like every fantasy book I had ever read; the strange old mansion where something amazing was going to happen. I could feel 'amazing' in the air, in the house.

      Sarah turned from the house abruptly as if I had just slapped her. Though instead of walking to me, and retaliating she took a step closer to the house. Perhaps I imagined it, but I saw a tiny flicker of interest in her eyes. "Do we really have to go over this again, Aranel? Pets come up here all the time on dares, light fires, get in trouble. Some never come back."

      "They're just stupid then, aren't they?" I mumbled, angry at Sarah's logical, strict attitude. I too had heard the stories, but it was just like Sarah to extract only the facts she wanted to use.

      "It doesn't matter, Aranel. I refuse to have people disappear in this community. Promise me you won't enter the house. " Her gaze shone with fear and worry for me. She drew me up into a warm, comforting hug. Unsaid promises rang in the air like notes on an out of tune piano.

      "I promise." I wasn't even sad before. I didn't even feel worried about entering, but now fear gripped me. What if I didn't return from the house? That was exactly what she wanted me to feel, fear. But I was not afraid. I refused to fear something so beautiful.

      I pulled out of her grip; she was smothering me. Sarah frowned, but made no move to pull me back into a hug. The wind brushed its coldness against my Kougra fur and I trembled, even though I was in still warm from Sarah's embrace and rough red sweater.

      Any vestige of calm was destroyed the moment Sam trundled up towards us followed by his rag-tag entourage. With each step he took, the ground shuddered a little at his large mass. He wore his tool belt with an unabashed grin, and looked down to it proudly every couple of seconds. He didn't really need to be that excited about getting something new. I frowned. Sam was the brother of Jeremy, that Gelert who disappeared. Was he the only one brave enough to do the job, some village idiot? "A bit unsteady eh, wouldn't want to enter that meself."

      Sarah smiled benevolently, and drew out a bag of neopoints. Sam's eyes went wide and he nodded to the others subtly. "We'll first have to do some measurements and such but this little annoying buzzer should be fly swatted by the end of next week." He grinned at his own 'intelligent' metaphor with all the grace of a Mortog.

      "Sarah," I whispered through my teeth and gave an annoyed glance to the workers. "You're not really going to let them…" I trailed off and jerked my head to them.

      Sam turned a light pink in the morning light and flew into a fury. "Dun think I can't hear you missy faerie Kougra. Just because I ain't all fancy like an' got an nice resume n'all dun mean I'm bad at tearin' down a house." He stopped, embarrassed to be lecturing me right in front of Sarah, his employer.

      "Yeah anyone can tear down the house," I retorted. Who was this Yurble who thought he could destroy this magical place without a care or an intelligent thought? I turned away and felt my face go red with anger. I tried to take a deep breath but his next words just pushed me over my edge.

      But he didn't stop. "At least I go out and talk to people. I heard about Aranel, the lonely faerie Kougra who spends all of her time with her owner and ain't got no friends. She just spends all her time dreamin'. My lil brother, Jeremy, the Gelert, apparently he tried to play with you one day but you just pushed him away and told him he was a gruesome Esophagor with the vocabulary of the Spardle. Oh don' look surprised; every 'un knows every UN here."

      I couldn't breathe; everything he said was true. Sarah had lied about me in the article she wrote for the local edition of the Neopian Times. I wasn't a light faerie, setting out to do good in the world and didn't really like feeling portrayed as one. I felt so alone. Even though I knew Sarah would fire the Yurble, his words still stung. "Sarah," I whimpered, but she was just staring at the Yurble, jaw opened as far as it could go. Silence reigned the cold autumn day with a stiff hand.

      And by the time the silence was even slightly shattered, I was long gone, my feet pounding frantically against the freshly frozen ground.

To be continued...