Her wedding day ruined, Lucia had no where to run, or any clue where to go. Standing outside in the beautiful white gown, her veil floundering around her face clumsily, she glanced behind her at the mall. The sliding doors slid open, breathing the draft of air conditioned air towards her while she stood and savored the feeling for the moment. The curious glances and stares, she was oblivious to, but the stifling heat of Suva's afternoons choked her with the embarrassment of having been stood up. At her own wedding! She had to get away.
This was not what she expected. Not her fairytale happy ending. The buzzing sound of the street lights startled her and she swept across the road holding her gown up away from the crowd of people.
Why not a Prince Charming? She wondered. Horses, princes, knights, magic..love.
She wiped the perspiration off her forehead with a swift movement of her thumb, racing along the street, past the coffee shop and towards the ivi tree.
"Lucia!" She heard her name. Her sister maybe? Her best friend? She didn't want to face any of them. Desperate to get away, she ignored the red light and jay walked across the empty road. She hurried past the bank towards the sea wall, where she saw the glitter of the ocean, beckoning her.
"I wish," she muttered under her breath, the sorrow of being let down by the one person she trusted, fueling her. "I wish.." What did she wish? She came to a round about, glanced around for a crossing and found none. Another round of jay walking was needed, and she stopped, skidded, hurried across the busy road. Stopping by the wall, she threw her hands up in exasperation, oblivious to the strange person beside her.
"I wish I lived, in a different world. A medieval world-" her sentence was cut off abruptly with an "oomph!". The old man who bumped into her withdrew almost guiltily, in his hands a curious shaped wooden container once filled to the brim with the brown powder. The powder of the traditional drink covered her once immaculate bridal gown and at first she was horrified but then realized, she wasn't supposed to care. The man spoke a different dialect, apologizing profusely and ushering her towards the wall to sit.
"It's alright," she insisted, looking over his head to see if any one from the wedding party had found her. None. No one. The relief flooded her instantly but disappeared in a second when she was shoved over the wall. Panic seized her and her flailing arms did nothing to aid her as she felt herself fall back. The surface of the water slapped her, robbing her off her breath and surrounded her in darkness. Tangled up in the mass that was her dress, she fought to the surface, confused at how deep she seemed to have fallen. There was no wall that she could feel to guide her up. The darkness closed around her, straining her lungs and energy.
As upset as she was, depressed even, she refused to die. Not like this. Not because a little old man shoved her over the sea wall. She kicked with what was left of her and propelled herself to the surface, fighting the urge to just give up and sink. The bright light that pierced through the water encouraged her and she swam, breaking the surface in a series of gasps.
"What IS IT?" The voice sounded funny. Talked funny. Lucia waded around for a while, confused. Where was she? She saw the islands in the horizon and the sparse area of water. No sounds of cars. No sounds of people except for the strange voice. Glancing behind her she saw the shore. Again she was confused. Had she died? The black sand was unfamiliar to her and the grass...the plants. Again she wondered where she was. Then suddenly she saw movement. A woman and a man emerged from behind some trees. They were dressed peculiar too. He wore a brown loose shirt with puffy white pants, holding what looked to be a fishing net. They were white people, Europeans... She realized it must have been his voice she heard.
"I think it's a woman," the lady spoke. She had fair hair, plaited and her dress.... They looked like..they'd stepped out from the old century Britain.
"I wish I lived, in a different world. A medieval world-"
Her words flashed back at her. No way...So she had died! Or maybe she was in a coma.
"It is not of this Earth," the man said, vehemently. Huh what? Was he referring to her? "Look, her skin is brown-"
"It is only tan-"
"It does not speak!"
"I do speak" Lucia yelled back. The two froze in their spots.
"It speaks funny too," the man whispered.
Realization dawned on her, and she realized her mistake. These people have never seen coloured people.
She turned to swim away but she had realized too late. He cast his net over her, trapping her and tangling up her limbs.
She started to sink and terror began to sink in.
This was not what she expected. Not her fairytale happy ending. The buzzing sound of the street lights startled her and she swept across the road holding her gown up away from the crowd of people.
Why not a Prince Charming? She wondered. Horses, princes, knights, magic..love.
She wiped the perspiration off her forehead with a swift movement of her thumb, racing along the street, past the coffee shop and towards the ivi tree.
"Lucia!" She heard her name. Her sister maybe? Her best friend? She didn't want to face any of them. Desperate to get away, she ignored the red light and jay walked across the empty road. She hurried past the bank towards the sea wall, where she saw the glitter of the ocean, beckoning her.
"I wish," she muttered under her breath, the sorrow of being let down by the one person she trusted, fueling her. "I wish.." What did she wish? She came to a round about, glanced around for a crossing and found none. Another round of jay walking was needed, and she stopped, skidded, hurried across the busy road. Stopping by the wall, she threw her hands up in exasperation, oblivious to the strange person beside her.
"I wish I lived, in a different world. A medieval world-" her sentence was cut off abruptly with an "oomph!". The old man who bumped into her withdrew almost guiltily, in his hands a curious shaped wooden container once filled to the brim with the brown powder. The powder of the traditional drink covered her once immaculate bridal gown and at first she was horrified but then realized, she wasn't supposed to care. The man spoke a different dialect, apologizing profusely and ushering her towards the wall to sit.
"It's alright," she insisted, looking over his head to see if any one from the wedding party had found her. None. No one. The relief flooded her instantly but disappeared in a second when she was shoved over the wall. Panic seized her and her flailing arms did nothing to aid her as she felt herself fall back. The surface of the water slapped her, robbing her off her breath and surrounded her in darkness. Tangled up in the mass that was her dress, she fought to the surface, confused at how deep she seemed to have fallen. There was no wall that she could feel to guide her up. The darkness closed around her, straining her lungs and energy.
As upset as she was, depressed even, she refused to die. Not like this. Not because a little old man shoved her over the sea wall. She kicked with what was left of her and propelled herself to the surface, fighting the urge to just give up and sink. The bright light that pierced through the water encouraged her and she swam, breaking the surface in a series of gasps.
"What IS IT?" The voice sounded funny. Talked funny. Lucia waded around for a while, confused. Where was she? She saw the islands in the horizon and the sparse area of water. No sounds of cars. No sounds of people except for the strange voice. Glancing behind her she saw the shore. Again she was confused. Had she died? The black sand was unfamiliar to her and the grass...the plants. Again she wondered where she was. Then suddenly she saw movement. A woman and a man emerged from behind some trees. They were dressed peculiar too. He wore a brown loose shirt with puffy white pants, holding what looked to be a fishing net. They were white people, Europeans... She realized it must have been his voice she heard.
"I think it's a woman," the lady spoke. She had fair hair, plaited and her dress.... They looked like..they'd stepped out from the old century Britain.
"I wish I lived, in a different world. A medieval world-"
Her words flashed back at her. No way...So she had died! Or maybe she was in a coma.
"It is not of this Earth," the man said, vehemently. Huh what? Was he referring to her? "Look, her skin is brown-"
"It is only tan-"
"It does not speak!"
"I do speak" Lucia yelled back. The two froze in their spots.
"It speaks funny too," the man whispered.
Realization dawned on her, and she realized her mistake. These people have never seen coloured people.
She turned to swim away but she had realized too late. He cast his net over her, trapping her and tangling up her limbs.
She started to sink and terror began to sink in.
I'll probably rewrite this with a totally different scenario but it depends on whether or not I actually pursue the writing project.
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