Eboella

Chapter 1: Love-In-A-Mist

Eboella knelt in the grass, black gloved hands clasped tight in her lap. Her slowly streaming eyes observed the humble stone marker before her. It was so small- so meaningless before her father's death. How could this stone possibly allow anyone to know about all the long stormy evenings they had spent sitting in flickering candlelight making shadow puppets on the walls? Warm sunny days chasing down butterflies as the knees of his trousers quickly stained a disgraceful green? Winter nights before the toasty fire when he read her faerie tales as she shifted into slumber? All the wondrous things her father is—was. Now only a stone marked his passing—a bare patch of Earth soon to be covered in grass. Eboella started as a tear dropped onto the Love-In-A-Mist flowers draped across her lap—she hadn't realized she was crying. She gently stroked the sky blue petals and looked up into the angry gray sky. Her darkened gossamer veil distorted her vision—or was it her tears? She wasn't sure. She started for a second time as a voice called through the pre-storm tension.

"Eboella! Come away now dear." Eboella turned her head to see her stepmother several feet away, her face somber. Tear tracks were faintly visible to Eboella even from this distance. With the back of her hand, Eboella dashed away her own tears. Spilt tears for a lost cause—how foolish she felt; how had she forgotten? Languishing over one who is gone—it is only those for are left behind that feel the pain. It was selfish to carry on in such a manner, not when she had her stepmother and stepsisters to care for. That's right! How could she have possibly forgotten, felt so alone? She was not alone in her pain, she had a new family and they weren't so bad. A mother and two sisters. She'd never had a mother; her own had passed away of tuberculosis shortly after her birth. Her father told her many a story of her lovely mother whom she so very much resembled. Eboella was petite and fair skinned with hair the shade of honey in the night. Currently she stood on wobbly knees and righted herself by grasping her father's tombstone. Her head spun for a moment then finally settled while her stomach flopped; it was then that she remembered she had yet to eat anything that day—she just hadn't the appetite that morning. If she carried on as she was she would surely waste away before too long. How foolish she thought to herself, and waste all the effort my father took in raising and caring for me? Posh. I must truly take better care of myself.

"Eboella?" her stepmother questioned, her voice wavering in emotion.

"Coming stepmother," she answered in her soft voice. Eboella lightly kissed the blue Love-In-A-Mist flowers and laid them on the dirt of the fresh grave. She placed two fingers to her wine red lips and placed them first on her father's marker then the marker beside it—that of the mother she loved but never knew. At least they are together again, Eboella thought and at last turned away and strode toward her stepmother, flanked on each side by her two daughters. Her younger daughter, just Eboella's age, had a comforting hand on her Maman's arm. Her older daughter, if only by a single year, stood to the side—she made no move to comfort and her eyes were hard but Eboella pushed such thoughts away. Different people dealt with pain differently.

"Let us return home now," her stepmother's voice shook lightly.

"Yes Maman," Malariana, the older daughter, responded, but made no move to help her maman as she walked away. In the wake of Malariana's ruffling skirts Eboella heard the sharp strike of her stepmother's cane meeting concrete, the sound reminding Eboella how very fragile her new maman was. The woman was still fighting the vestiges of polio; she would require her cane for the rest of her life. Eboella's own father had shaped the cane himself.

The woman's second daughter, Coliadne, gently grasped her maman's other elbow and lead her after Malariana. Eboella followed demurely, never glancing back, not even after they had climbed into their carriage—one that would return to their large home, now seemingly so empty with the death of Edgar Belladone weighing so heavily on everyone's spirit. Or so it seemed to Eboella. She turned her dark eyes, rimmed in even darker lashes, away from the window to take stock of her new family. Though they were not 'new' she supposed. Her father and Aniridia had been married more than a year now, but their house was large and it was as if her father had acted as a kind of barrier. She had him, what need had she of a new mother? Or so she had thought.

Her stepmother was not tall, yet by no means was she short, though it was difficult to judge her exact height as she had a small stoop caused by her need for her cane. It was easy to see through the lines on her aged face that Aniridia had once been beautiful young woman, though strife and disease had stolen that from her. Her hair was fine, thinning with her years, but it was still as rich a brown as it had been in her childhood. Her gray eye seemed world-torn and weary. 'Eye' because only one was visible, Eboella did not know the cause, but Aniridia had sustained damage to her right eye and as such wore an eye patch to disguise whatever it was that remained. She donned high-collared dresses—remnants of a time before Eboella and her stepsisters, marker of age and stubborn loyalties in the face of changing fashions.

Her daughter's felt no such loyalties--both bore more modern dresses, boxed and lower necklines, bordered in laces. Eboella's own clothes were rendered in much the same way.

Her first step-sister was beautiful. Her flaxen hair was pulled back and her complexion was flawless. She was intelligent and had a sharp wit. Everything about her was perfect except in one thing she was lacking. She had no heart. Without a heart she could not love nor feel. And so she was terrible and cruel, lead only by her mind and desire for advancement. Her intellect and wit became weapons, her tongue a cutting knife. And contrary to what many may believe, she was not selfish, for who could possibly love themselves if they hadn't the heart in the first place?

Her second step-sister was beautiful as well, and yet to anyone's knowledge, she never spoke a word. None knew what her nose or mouth looked like for she always wore a mask. When questioned, her sister scathingly replied that Coliadne had a terrible fear of germs and infection and so wore the mask. On the subject, much like her second daughter, Eboella's stepmother said not a word.

Eboella was startled by the abrupt stop of the carriage, so lost she was in thought. She gazed out the window to see she was home. The carriage door opened and Malariana hurried out without a backwards glance. Coliadne exited next and helped her maman out of the carriage. Eboella followed and thanked the footman gently as he closed the door. He nodded smartly then the carriage was driven to it place in a nearby carriage house. The Belladone's maid held open the house door, waiting for Eboella to enter.

"Thank you Hélène," Eboella told her as she shut the door behind her.

"No problem, Miss Eboella. Though I do so wish your stepsister were so kind. You always give thanks, as your papa taught ya, but that Malariana, she does nothing but demand."

"I am sorry Hélène, I will speak with her on your behalf." Eboella had always been fond of the woman, she had been there for all her life it seemed.

"Ah, that would be most gracious miss, but I fear it would make no different to that young miss."

"I shall try anyway."

"Thank you miss."

"Have a good day Hélène," Eboella bid then walked up the stairs as if in a trace. The house seemed so very empty. Malariana and Coliadne stood at the top of the stairs, her stepmother was no where in sight.

"Poor, poor Eboella. You so miss your father don't you? Now you haven't a father or a mother."

Eboella shook her head, "They may be gone but I have you, and Coliadne, and your maman-" Malariana began to laugh, but there was no humour in her voice.

"Me, my maman, my sister? What are we to you?" She questioned, looking down her nose. Coliadne was shaking her head, eyes wide above her mask, but was silent as always.

"As far as I am considered the only thing that made us 'family' is dead. You shall never be my sister." With those words, Malariana turned on her heal and sauntered away. Eboella watched her leave, a look of despair on her face. It was so cruel and sudden that she didn't know what to do or think. Coliadne gently took one of Eboella's delicate hands and patted it to show her she did not agree with her sister's harsh words.

"Thank you Coliadne," Eboella said softly and Coliadne nodded and walked silently away, even her feet made no noise on the hard floor. Eboella continued on to her bedroom and collapsed onto her bed covers. There she lay until she drifted into a dreamless sleep, too exhausted by grief to care she was still fully dressed.

(A/N Yes it is my own version of Cinderella. (as if the 'ella' wasn't enough to give it away) i really like all the plans in my head for this so we'll just have to see where it goes! P.S.: Love-In-A-Mist is a flower. 'Maman' is a french word for 'mother' in case you were curious.)