Hi all, this is one of a few fics I'm working on (slowly) right now. It's an AU set in So-Cal (because I miss it) and it's supposed to be a kind of modern Snow White with a certain twist. The title is from an Imogen Heap song of the same name... if you look over the lyrics of the song, you might get a feel for the overall theme of the story.
I think it's a little more melodramatic than it needs to be, but I wanted to maintain a darker/angsty atmosphere because IMO, Snow White is not as happy yaywoo a story as Disney would like us to believe.
So without further ado, here is the first part. (The second probably will not be up until Thursday or so because I'm busy with pharm school apps.)
~
Speeding Cars
Once upon a time on a midsummer day, when the waves of the Pacific rolled in gently to shore and the hot sun shooed the clouds from the sky, a young housewife sat on the porch of her family’s beach house, enjoying a rare breeze. With one hand on her swollen belly and the other resting on the arm of her chair, she mused to herself that a girl born in this heat would probably have an equally hot temper and fiery personality. She hoped that a dip in the ocean would be enough to cool her down, and so she headed inside to change into her bathing suit.
As she stood, she felt a sharp, unusual prick in her abdomen, and panic raced through her. She desperately called out to her husband, who, sensing the urgency, came hurtling down the stairs. Within minutes, they were on their way to the hospital. Soon after that, their little girl was born by caesarean, and when the child was born, screaming as if the hounds of hell were at her heels, her mother smiled and died shortly after.
17 years later
The bed was still warm. Minutes ago, a girl had rested against its headboard, staring aimlessly into space until a maid knocked at her bedroom door to announce the arrival of a guest in the driveway. The haze had slowly cleared from the girl’s eyes as she squinted in annoyance, brow furrowing in an attempt to ignore the disturbance and return to her previous state of nothingness, but the knocking became more urgent, each rap piercing through her like gunfire, and she resigned herself to her fate.
The girl now stood in the foyer, awaiting the entrance of the visitor. She knew this caller was no unexpected guest, but someone who would soon be a new occupant of the spacious Newport Beach mansion she called home.
She willed herself to maintain a cool composure, though fires of reflexive loathing coursed underneath it. She was sure that the blistering hate showed in her eyes, that her eyes would melt from the heat and run down her face, darker than any tears could ever be.
But she had promised. When her father told her he was remarrying, she had promised that she would try to like her new mother. She had renewed this promise every year or so, each time he brought a new wife home. The meaning of the promise had begun to crumble a long time ago.
She had truly tried to love the first one, anxious to know a mother’s affection, but the woman was more interested in the liquor cabinet than her stepdaughter. The second was warmer, even taking her to the mall or the movies on occasion, but her halfhearted kindness was offset by the young men she was fond of entertaining in her husband’s absence. After a subsequent string of new mothers to try to like, the girl had given up the pretense of keeping her promise to her father.
This one would be no different than all the rest, she was sure of it. More trash dumped onto the pile of shit that was her life. She fleetingly wondered how long this one would last, but quickly dismissed the thought, reminding herself harshly that she didn’t care. After all, the Earth does not stop to think about the gophers digging holes into its back, nor does the sun pay any mind to the random meteors that sacrifice themselves on its surface. She must remember that such creatures as this new woman should be beneath her notice.
Immersed in her thoughts, she almost didn’t notice the front door opening to reveal two young women, both about the same age as herself. She grimaced in disgust. She knew her father’s taste was really something lately, but she never expected that he would take to robbing the cradle.
The girls approached her uncertainly, stopping a few feet away. They reminded her of the little rabbits that infested her school, and she wondered if they would also run away if she made a sudden movement. One of them shuffled her feet uncomfortably, fixing her gaze on a nondescript tile for several minutes before the other scowled and elbowed her sharply. Reluctantly, the former looked up and cleared her throat.
In heavily accented English, she began, “Ah, nice to meet you. Ano, my English… no very good. Japanese ok?”
The bitter girl stared at the newcomer. The bitch didn’t even speak English. Way to go, Dad. What a winner. But she grudgingly admitted that she was pretty, at least. She nodded and replied as flatly as possible, “Un. Hanashimasu yo.”
Relieved, the other girl switched to Japanese. “I’m Fuji-… well, no, I guess not anymore... Um, I’m Goto Miki. Pleased to meet you.” She bowed deeply. “This is my older sister, Mira. You must be Maki…-chan?” She tested out the suffix questioningly.
“Maki-san is fine.”
Miki smiled uneasily. “Well, Maki-san…considering our ages, it would be pretty silly for you to have to call me ‘mom’, and I would never think to replace her, but I hope-”
Maki cut her off brusquely, annoyed at her attitude. “Look, you don’t have pretend you aren’t here just because you want my father’s money, ok? This is how things are gonna be. You don’t fuck around in my business and I won’t fuck around in yours. I don’t want anything to do with you. Do whatever the hell you want, but stay away from me. I don’t want to see you and I don’t want to talk to you. We are not friends and we never will be. Got it?” Without waiting for a reply, she turned away and stormed up the stairs to her room, slamming her door.
The two remaining young women looked at each other in bewilderment. Mira eventually spoke. “Well, she seems nice, eh?”
~
Tell me what you thought! I'm still working on my writing style, so any advice would be welcome.
Topic: Speeding Cars (Read 3188 times)