The
city’s bells were clamoring all throughout the streets and alleys. People were everywhere.
Hands, feet, arms, legs, and such were (if you were in the streets) all you
could see. The people were frantic. The city bells signified a battle somewhere
near. From where I was sitting I could glimpse the people, hear the bells, and
sense the vibrations they were causing, and feel the cobblestones shiver as if
they were catching cold.
We were just sitting there, at home
awaiting Marie and Papa’s arrival. I was perched on Marie’s bed. Marie had left
to find Papa only fifteen minutes before, and I was becoming worried that they
would never return for the minuets dragged by like hours. It was like waking
from a slumber when I realized that if they never returned Lyra, Jacob and I
would be orphaned. Lyra was only 18 months old and motherless as were Jake and
I for or mother died in child birth with Lyra (Papa is still in a living coma
from the abruptness of it). Jake was 7 and I was nearing 14, Marie was the
eldest – she was 17 and not yet married because of her limp.
There was a crash interrupting my
worries, and in stumbled Papa through the doorway. No longer was there a door
to muffle the ringing bells or to keep the frenzied people out. Then I truly
noticed Papa, and he was drunk on fear. I was wrought with it. Lyra was crying,
for what I did not know, but I assumed the noise from the bells and people were
damaging her delicate ears. Jacob was trying so very hard to be brave. “Papa!
Where is Marie? Papa! Papa!” I screamed above the noise. But my questions were
useless, for Papa was just as hysterical as the people outside. As I gave up
Jacob came and told me that he had seen Marie from the window. I asked for
details, he replied saying that Marie was calling out for Papa and following
him but looked as if she got lost in the merciless crowd. Upon hearing this I
ran out of what was once our door.
I could hear Jacob calling me “Lilly, Lilly don’t go!”
but I paid no heed to his plea for me. Looking back I wish I had, but now is
not the time for regrets. I was running as mindlessly as the people around me
hoping I could find Marie.
As I ran I
thought about my family. My Mama was a beautiful lady, with the most perfect
Jet Black hair, with eyes the same color. Papa had Chestnut Brown hair, and
Emerald Green eyes. Jacob looked more like Mama than the rest of us. Lyra had
Mama’s hair, and Papa’s eyes. Marie looked like Papa all the way through. I was
(and am) the misfit, with my Gold-Blond hair, Ice Blue eyes, and skin so pale
it could hurt your eyes if you looked at it too long.
As I staggered back to reality, I
found myself standing under the Clock Tower. I had always felt drawn to the
Tower, but since Mama died I hadn’t had time to visit the grand thing. The
Tower had always seemed magical, with Gargoyles encircling the clocks face, and
Jewels embedded in each number.
I stood there remembering a time when I had
tried to ask Papa about the Tower, and he (for the-first-time-but-not-last time
in my life) faltered with his words. In the end what I got out of that
particular encounter was that I was to never visit the Tower ever again (first
he said that I was to never climb the tower, {I had never thought of climbing
it till then} then he changed his request to never even visit the tower)
(actually he said it was forbidden) (this commandment was broken nearly
instantaneously), and that I was to NEVER mention the Tower to Mama. As I was
struggling to understand him I detected many hint that led to my conclusion that he was in a rage due to my
simple question about who had built the Tower (for it was pure genius the way
it had been built). Because of this rage, this frenzy, I had ran toward the
Tower and in what seemed like seconds, I was standing below the Tower, just as
I was when the memory came to mind. Climbing the Tower was not an option the
day of the memory, people would have most definitely noticed me, but it was
then with the bells ringing, for the people were mindless and would pay me no
heed.
Imagine me there, coming out of this
realization, standing below the very tower I needed to climb, and for a moment
it was a normal day. No one was franticly running, Marie was safe at home with
Papa, Jacob, and Lyra, and the bells were not ringing. In that moment of calm,
peace, and clarity, I saw what I needed to do.
What I had
to do.
What I
wanted to do.
I meandered around the tower looking for a
way up, dodging people, and forgetting about Marie. There was no way up that I
could find. There was ivy encasing the tower up until about the halfway point. I
knew I could climb the ivy but that the ivy wouldn’t get me all the way to the
top of the Tower.
I decided that the only thing I
could do was climb up using the ivy like a ladder. I grabbed on to the first
vine and it gave way in my hand. This was going to be more difficult than I
anticipated… I felt around for a thicker strand of ivy and upon finding it
began my climb. Placing one hand, one foot above the first I climbed up. I
finally reached the top of the ivy. Unfortunately, I still saw no way into the
tower. As I climbed down, suddenly I slipped, lost my grip or the vine
snapping. I fell, I screamed, and once again time slowed. As I fell, I spotted
a less dense portion of the ivy. In this timeless time I snatched at portions
of the ivy until a strand bailed to break away. Grasping this life-ivy tightly,
I regained my bearings and time returned to its normal, quick pace.
I made my
way to the less-dense portion of ivy that I had spotted while I fell. As I
prodded at this abnormality, my hand passes through the wall! I climbed lower
so I could place my head through the opening. I peered in and saw the winding
staircase that can be found in any clock tower. I lurched forward, tumbling
into the tower’s interior.
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