Tales of Mofocity: Short Stories

HOUSE OF LA BIANCA

Rosalie was a beautiful girl. If anyone asked about her, that would be how everyone would describe it. But her mother, Emilia, had a much longer description about her daughter than anybody in the world.

Her natural auburn hair, soft and wavy. She loves combing Rosalie's hair especially on her wedding day. She wanted to have an updo hairstyle for the big day, so Emilia did her hair in an elegant timeless bun with strains of hair falls from the sides. It was a crown in itself, she will pin the veil when she's ready for the display.

She remembers how tender her skin was when she was a child. She bathed her everyday, she loved her bubble bath and played with the suds until she was all wrinkled. Now, her woman's skin is not so supple, but glowing none the less. Emilia powdered her face, her neck, her arms and hands. She covered all the places where her skin would show and made sure all her veins are not visible.

"Pascal did a good job with you," she whispered in her ears. "I couldn't have done it any better," she added. She was looking at her fingernails, manicured though not polished, they look natural and would look great with the vintage dress she had tailor made for her lovely Rosalie.

The dress is of course her specialty. She had her bridal shop even before she had Rosalie. She loves making dresses for that special day, the day when a woman gets to be a queen for a day. She sewed in all the pearls one by one, she picked out the laces and the fabrics. The best silk her money can buy and embroidery made for an empress.

Rosalie used to watch her sew as she played with her dolls and dresses them up all pretty. She used to dream of her wedding day and what she would wear. Having a mother who designed wedding gowns does that to a little girl. She used to try on the dresses at the boutique and danced around the shop pretending she was swaying at her first dance. She sang the song se would like to be played at her wedding and Emilia would laugh at her silliness. She couldn't have been older than fourteen.

When she was seventeen, her tall slim figure was perfect for her mother's gowns. She used her as a model to create some of her best work. Rosalie would stand in front of the mirror for hours just so her mother could finish a dress for her clients. She never complained, in fact she was happy to it. Rosalie was like a moth to a flame that was her mother. They were inseparable. She never knew a life other than the one where she's always with her loving mother, cared for her, played with her, read to her, sang her lullabies, until the day she met a boy named Xavier. A lovely boy he was too.

The day they met was the day her eyes gleamed for someone else other than Emilia. The boy loved her abundantly like a delicate rose that needed a gentle care. She threw all her affections to the boy and Emilia didn't mind the sweet smile he put on her face whenever Xavier came to see her.

Those eyes, her round hazel eyes which now left a hollow space on her beautiful face, can only be replaced with glass hazel eyes that will reflect the same glow as the real ones. "To gaze the town you loved so much," her mother said.

Rosalie was born and raised in Mofocity, a town as peculiar as it is captivating. A place though strange, it's the only world she had ever known. Where people locked themselves in after the sun sets, to hide from whatever is lurking in the dead night. She used to beg her mother to let her go outside, but a girl like Rosalie belongs only when the sky is bright.

She dreamt of fairies that might be dancing under the moonless sky, or perhaps something magical between the stars that kept the secret of why the moon had been so shy for the longest time. Xavier made her a promise that she shall dream no more and asked her hand in marriage, a stroll in the night as a gift to celebrate their love. The spell which he cast upon her is now completed.

"You will finally get what you've always wanted ... the sight of the night time where myths and mysteries shall reveal themselves to you ... but never their secrets," said Emilia as she brushed her cheeks with peach colored blush and a tint of plum on her lips.

She took the slippers and carefully slipped them on her feet, like the thousands of times she did when Rosalie was a small child. She stroked the mark made by venomous fangs only two days before she walked down the aisle. The bite that took her away. Her body fell on the ground before she went into convulsions, froth rolled out of her mouth, blood from her eyes. She'll never forget the sound of her skin rubbing against the floor, her hand hitting the chair next to her. It went on and on and on. She still hears them in her sleep. Just like that, she was lifeless. Like a thief in the night, death came tip toeing through her front door and left with her darling daughter without a chance to say goodbye.

She took the snake with her bare hands and pulled off it's head. Blood gushing out of the ends of it as it wriggled and shook without it's head. She screamed in pain, the kind of pain that does not bleed. She hit the snake onto the floor, stomped on it, ripped it in pieces, still her agony raged inside. She cried until she couldn't cry anymore. She mourned for weeks until her heart turns black and still she couldn't wake up from the nightmare.

Pascal did a wonderful job. He gave her the chance to accept reality, gave her time to adjust. She laid there on the bed with her mother beside her, caressing her hair as if she was just sleeping. Her last drop of tear had dried up when she decided that the best place for her to rest was right there by the window, where she can see all of Manson Avenue through her clear glass eyes.

She was erected in her best work yet, to show the people of Mofocity what beauty is all about. Standing gracefully on the storefront, admired by day, dazzled by night. The street light only turns on when a person is underneath it, and the street light in front House of La Bianca stays on all night. Rosalie La Bianca gazed at the streets of Mofocity, she finally looked out the window when the day turns dark. Her hazel eyes twitches and her lips curls when she sees something that she likes underneath the moonless sky.