The rain pounded mercilessly against her old glass window.
Somehow, the water had managed to seep through the old, deteriorated edges and drip down a cream coloured wall that was in need of being repainted. Stacks of books lay about messily, covering the entire space of both an old wooden shelf as well as a small desk. A worn out bed rests in one corner of the room dressed in simple plain white sheets, while an unused lamp lay beside it covered in a thin layer of dust.
A young girl no older than fifteen carefully walks across creaking floorboards, holding a lit wax candle. She makes her way to her desk and brushes some books aside to place the candle down in its holder. She wasn’t exactly sure about what she was doing, but something within her whispered to keep going. The girl takes a few steps back to ensure she isn’t close enough to affect the flame of the candle with her movements.
Strange things had happened recently, and she was determined to prove once and for all that she wasn’t insane, not entirely at least. She recalled on all the minor past events that had triggered her ever growing curiosity. One time, she simply waved her hand carelessly in the air, and with that simple motion every candle in the small two story house went out, leaving her in the dark. She of course immediately considered all the possible logical causes, though, none really gave a proper explanation. At first she decided to brush it off, but the small yet unexplainable events continued. She stares suspiciously at the flame unsure of what to do next. “This is ridiculous, what am I even doing?” She mutters, while shaking her head at herself. The girl turns herself around and slowly begins to walk back to her bed, then she stops, standing in the middle of the room. Turning her head to the side slightly to look at the candle, she raises one arm hesitantly, and repeats the motion with her hands that she has done so carelessly before. But the flame remains, still flickering, almost as though it were mocking her. With a huff of disappointment, she glares at the candle. “Of course…”
With determination, she tries again, and again, and again. But nothing happens. By this point she looked like a mad woman, waving her hands around in the air and muttering ridiculous threats to the flickering candle. Frustration engulfs her, and she angrily brings her hands down, ” Stupid cand-” She pauses for a moment, standing in her now unlighted room. The flame was out. A gasp of surprise escapes her and she looks at her hands in wonder while her mind is flooded with thoughts and questions. What happened? Did she do that? No, of course not…There’s obviously a logical cause to this. Perhaps the candle simply died. Perhaps she left the window opened and a breeze crept in. Perhaps…
A small pebble is thrown at her window, startling the girl out of her train of thought. Curiously, she walks to her window and opens it. Another pebble is thrown, only just missing her. “Bout’ time” A boy stands in the middle of the street, blonde curls frame his face and grey eyes peer up at her with a mischievous gleam. “Adrian,” She says in recognition and a her lips tug into a smile as she speaks, “You almost hit me.” He shrugs, “Hurry Belle, it’s cold.” The boy simply replies. Only now did she realise how drenched he was, and she wondered how long he had been waiting. “Why? What trouble could Adrian Winters possibly be up to at this hour?” she asks curiously with a brow raised. He flashes her his signature smile, “Why don’t you come see for yourself?” Adrian could use his charm to influence anyone, and because of that he was both well known and loved by the girls in town. Wherever he went, a train of girls usually followed, despite him not reciprocating their infatuation. Isabelle however, did not fall victim to her best friends flirtatious personality and Adrian was well aware of that, though, that didn’t stop him from feeling those things for her.
Isabelle smiles and shakes her head at him, “I might just have to” she states. “Well hurry before Margot wakes up” He replies rubbing the back of his head remembering when the old woman had chased him away with a broom on his last late night visit to Isabelle’s window. She quickly shuts her window and grabs her coat to put over her simple flannel nightgown that reminded her of a time that had long since past. Cautiously, she makes her way down the creaking wooden stairs attempting to not wake the other occupant of the house, Margot. Margot was the wife of her guardian, Pascal, who both raised Isabelle in her mothers absence. Isabelle reaches the front door of their small house and carefully closes it behind her. “Adrian, where are you?” She whispers into the night air. On cue, Adrian steps into view while extending his hand out to her. “Come on, before it rains again” He says. Isabelle places her hand in his, letting him guide her through the twists, turns and secret passageways of their town that the small houses created.
Fog drifts through the small town, leaving the two friends no option but to walk through the thickness of it. Puddles of water are found in every indent of the stone path. Adrian glances over to the brunette and she notices, “What?” she questions with a smile tugging at her lips. Turning his gaze back to the path he replies, “Oh nothing, Pascal wanted me to make sure you were alright since he’s working late at the bakery” “Is this why you decide to disturb me late at night and kidnap me? To make sure I’m alright?” She states while chuckling. “Not entirely” Adrian admits. “Then why?” Isabelle questions. Flashing her yet another charming smile, he says, ” Maybe I just missed you” Laughing wholeheartedly, she playfully slaps his shoulder. “You and your charms” She mutters, thinking nothing of her friends words. It wasn’t until now that the unlit path became familiar to Isabelle.
This was a hidden part of town that both Adrian and Isabelle spent their childhood. A small cubby house that they had made several years ago stood in front of them. The windows were in need of being cleaned, the paint had begun to peel off and parts of the wooden door were missing from age. “Why are we here?” She questions while looking at Adrian with suspicion. His smile only grows at her words. Adrian opens the damaged wooden door and gestures for her to step inside. “What are you up to, Adrian?” She asks while taking a step inside the dark little house. Adrian soon follows her walking to the centre of the room and pulling out a box of matches from his pocket, he appears to be carefully lighting a few candles that sat on a large table. The flame takes to the candle and a dim glow brings the table and what’s on it in view. More food than what Isabelle had ever since at one time lay on the table. A loaf of fresh bread, jars of butter and wildberry jam, a block of cheese, a wild roast duck seasoned with forest herbs, her favourite pastries from pascals bakery and a jug of fresh water. She smiles in awe while taking a seat at the table. “Tonight M’lady, we dine like kings” Adrian beams with an overly dramatic accent. “Where did you get all this food?” She asks in bewilderment. “I have my ways” He simply states with mischief laced into his words. Isabelle glances at him suspiciously, before join in on his theatrics. “Just kings, eh?” She says dipping her knife in the butter and spreading it on a slice of fresh bread. Adrian returns his gaze towards her with a brow raised in confusion. Taking his perplexed look as a sign to elaborate she continues , “What about queens?”
Adrian acknowledges her words before dramatically slapping himself on the head, “Ah, of course, how could I forget?” He continues, “And queens” he says with a feminine curtsy. “Sit down Adrian” Isabelle speaks with amusement in her tone. “Yes Ma’am” He replies, earning a sigh from her. She packs food onto her plate, it would be awhile before she would have a meal like this again. They weren’t particularly poor compared to others in the town. Many households, like Isabelle’s, were unable to obtain electricity, hence the candles. She knew if it weren’t for Pascal, they wouldn’t even have enough money to put food on the table, yet she was lucky enough to have the ability to read and write without attending a proper school thanks to margot. The access to education meant more to her than than any other luxury, and she was thankful to have it considering her status.
Isabelle lifts her eyes to Adrian, but instead they wonder over the candles resting on the table. Immediately, her mind is taken back to what had happened in her room. She stares at the candle, watching the small flame dance in its own strange little way.
The rain pounded mercilessly against her old glass window.