Chapter 1
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In all her dreams everything is much brighter. The world becomes a clear and polished obreton state. Coraline can still taste Muscat Du Ventoux when it touches her lips. A sweet rich purple grape that grew all around the valleys. Even her fathers estate held some that were as wild as the stinking hellebore that grew all around the trees. Or even the yellow foxglove that danced with the stinking iris rich and full of sweet smelling scarlet berries in the bloom one would not dare try to eat. Later in the year mother Rose would gather the berries for turning the clay in her pottery studio a darker color. Or even the flowers to press gentle worn patterns into her work. There was never a thing in the world she wanted for. She didn’t even have an idea of what poverty was.
When her home was new to her it shone like a newly minted coin right down to the lathyrus vines in full bloom that burst of notes of springtime and hues of hot pink, magenta ,white and violet. The staff was asleep of the night and The Le Doux boys ran around together in merriment, their voices rich as the stars came out to do their nightly ensemble in the sky.
Silas was the oldest of the boys still living at home, at sixteen, he had no interest in the nightly family gatherings. Often locked away in his room at the top floors of the house reading about star charts rather than looking at them. Etienne and Doom were still out fishing; he had just turned 14 last month and the two often stayed out all night.
Rose pulled Coraline though the wild flowers by the side of the property that led out the back entrance to the wood. She was only 8, while her last two brothers closest to her age were Yves at 12 and Lance at 10. Trailed behind Coraline recognized this now as a dream as Lance has not yet lost an eye. Coraline was trying to catch as many fireflies as possible. They were seen as invasive but beautiful. The boys were smashing the little bugs with sticks laughing with ease. While Coraline and her mother gathered a jarful to sit back together alone on the wrap around porch.
It was summer nights like this she often dreamed of sitting with her mother on the back steps as the skies faded away to pink and mauve. The smell of flowers fresh on her bare feet and in her hands where she’s been smashing them for most of the day. The jar is so full it lights up both their faces. Coraline giggled as her mother shook the jar to daze the little bugs, then took out one small bug at a time and had her close her eyes, smashing the bugs on her eyelids as well as her arms making glowing patterns.
As the skies darkened to a full mauve it was time to wash up with rose water in the kitchen of the home. Coraline had never seen her mother cook a day in her life, though she always made tea every night. They washed with the floral bowls staff left out and sipped and talked most nights. Tonight was special as a parcel sat near the kitchenette that held the tea Rose was working away at.
“J’ai un cadeau pour toi ma fleur de lys.” When Rose spoke it was almost like the sound was underwater murky hard to reach her but she understood clearly still her mother had a gift for her. This was from a night she had suppressed.
“Votre grand-père Mad LaVey vous a envoyé une boîte de Chopine et veut que vous les portiez lors de votre prochain dîner de ballet avec vos amis.”Coraline’s violet orbs lit up not only from the fading bug glow but with thrill and excitement as she heard about the silk highlength shoes she had been begging her grandfather on her mother’s side for weeks. All of her older friends had them and she had borrowed a few but never had her own.
Coraline made her way to the shiny parcel with its lace ribbon and fine postage from Spain. Coraline found herself tracing her grandfather’s name over and over before ripping the paper open with fervent greed. Inside was a stunning pair of silk and lace baby pink chophine shoes. They stood very tall with white lace all around them and even a few pearls. It was before the bigger fashion laws to be placed just a few years later. So they were incredibly tall in length. As well as far more luxurious than most of her friends. Love and contentment bubbled inside her now. Until she heard the white raven. Calling. Hawkling into the night bursting her from her dreams of peace.
Suddenly it was 1924 again, she was in Aswan Egypt. In her ice baths. The staff had brought up heart shapped cubes today; only now the room was hotter. Moisture clung in the air and her hair to her cheeks. The heat of the day had sunk in melting away the ice even with the modern new and improved air conditioning units she had used to replace the Refrigeration Compressor she had been using before. Her princess style draped black out curtains hung all around her and she was submerged in darkness. It was time to begin her day.
Coraline pressed her violet orbs shut and she was trying her hardest to picture Rose’s face. Her mortal face. Back before film was ever real and only a painter’s touch could emboss someone’s face forever in the world. It had been at least two centuries since then, she could barely recall the features of it. The way an elderly woman struggles to tell you about her childhood home other than in fleeing memory. Still she focused looking there in the darkness for Rose’s face.
With golden hair that shimmered like spun silk under the sun’s embrace and eyes of blue that sparkled like distant stars on a moonless night. Her slender frame, adorned in simple, homespun dresses of muted greens and browns, moved with a quiet elegance that belied the strength within. Alas the fine details of her face only blurred outlines now, worn down by time into faded smooth lines of mystery.
