Today, I wrote more of Chandelier--that's right, you get to see it--and spent a lot of time editing the translations of LABB which I shall never write the full title of ever again, never (unless it comes up again in the essay). Made lots of funny/sarcastic comments. ...Since that really is pretty much all I did today, onto Chandelier!
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She was in those golden halls.
Instead of electricity, sunlight made the crystal shine, and the walls seemed to give off their own light as well. Rae could see a reflection of herself on every facet of the crystal walls—like a hall of mirrors meant not to confuse, but to amaze.
She began walking.
Her heeled shoes clicked softly against the floor, reluctant to add sound to the vision. But it was more dramatic that way, Rae thought, to have that solitary sound among the grand quietude of the castle. She was a brave heroine, about to reach the end of her quest.
She was heading toward the throne room of the castle, of course; she knew this in the same way that she knew, without looking up, that the ceiling of the hall rose cathedral-style into a taper. She had imagined it so.
Next came her imagined door, a grand affair carved, as everything else was, from crystal and trimmed with gold. She paused a moment to collect her thoughts before she pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the throne room.
On crystal thrones sat the King and the Queen.
Rae sank into a low curtsey before them, bowing her head steeply. She dared not look up yet, but she could see them in her mind’s eye: a young couple, both clad in white and gold. His scepter lazing in one hand and his thin gold crown oh-so-slightly askew against his blond hair, the King sat casually, but even that had an air of regality. He wore a gold coat over shining white shirt and pants, and the buttons and cuffs on the pants were also gold. His boots were as well. The Queen, on the other hand, sat dignifiedly in her throne, looking the part of ruler perhaps even better than her husband. Her long white dress, embroidered with gold, covered her feet, and her golden hair fell in soft waves, as long as a cape.
“Rise, my child,” said a warm male voice, and Rae pulled out of her curtsey. Carefully, she dared to look towards the monarchs’ faces.
She saw there something she had not expected to see.
Both the King and Queen were pale, almost as white as their clothes. The Queen’s lips were painted gold, but the King’s lips barely showed in his face; they were the same pallor as the rest of his face. And both sets of pale, pale white-blue eyes—they shone, not cruelly, but not with kindness or with heart either. They shone as a diamond would, simply catching the light, turning it and sending it back in all directions.
They were beautiful, noble, undoubtedly royal faces, but Rae felt that they lacked something. Quickly she tried to imagine a correction to this, but before she could add soul to their eyes, the Queen spoke.
“Why have you come, child?”
And suddenly Rae was no longer a grand heroine; she was herself, small and out-of-place. “I didn’t fit in where I was,” she confessed. “And your home seemed so beautiful. I had to come see it. Forgive me,” and she curtseyed again.
“You are forgiven,” the King responded. “All are welcome here.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“Have you traveled far?” asked the Queen.
“Oh… no,” Rae said, unwilling to admit that she had imagined all of this.
But those crystal eyes seem to know anyway. “There’s no need to go back to the real world,” the Queen pointed out softly.
Rae drew in a sharp gasp. “I can’t—I can’t stay here. I’d be considered mad,” she protested—but it was half-heartedly that she did so.
“We wouldn’t mind,” the King said with a smile.
With a shake of her head, Rae said, “No. This is a fantasy. This is a fantasy.”
“This is beauty,” responded the queen. “Who would choose ugliness over beauty?”
“I know some people who would.” Rae grimaced, thinking of the girls on her team.
“And you…?” The question hung unasked. Would you do the same?
Rae wanted to live here. Of course she did; it was her own mind—her own imagination—offering the choice, after all.
Fantasy or reality.
Beauty or ugliness.
Happiness or ostracizing.
It was practically a simple matter.
The Queen held out her hand, but as Rae reached out to take it there was a noise of shattering.
Rae gave a jolt. “The castle—!”
Shards of crystal fell around her. The castle was collapsing. Collapsing around her because she had strained against the tether that bound her to reality.
She had no place here.
Rae dropped her chin and directed her vision outward once again. There—on the ground. The shards of the castle. Voices clamored around her, but she didn’t hear them; she dropped to her knees and desperately clutched at the shards. They cut her fingers but she ignored that until at last someone pulled her away and wrapped her hands in a cloth napkin.
The coach called her parents to pick her up. The shards hadn’t been from the castle—the chandelier after all. The coach had upset his wine glass by accident. That was all.
“Honey, what did you do that for?” asked her mother, stroking her hair.
Rae sighed, seeing the crystal castle shatter to pieces before her eyes again. “I guess I really didn’t belong there,” she mumbled. “I should have known that from the beginning.”
“Oh, Rae,” her mother murmured, assuming that Rae was referring to the team. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t get along with those girls—girls’ sports are often that way. Catty and nasty, especially to anyone who stands out. I’m sorry, sweetie.”
But Rae was certain of one thing.
She did not belong in this world either. She couldn’t. She had to be destined to something greater than dirty fluorescent lights and high-school halls with fading carpets. She had to be. So she assuaged her mother’s worries with a word, and then she looked out her window and went walking among the clouds.
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