Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ A White Evening ❯ Prologue ( Prologue )

[ P - Pre-Teen ]

Thanks for viewing my story. I may not be that new into writing, but still, I'm not yet that experienced. Reviews and Constructive Criticisms are most welcome.

I hope you enjoy this. I already have a number of stories, but this one has been my first attempt.

Thanks again.

-karupin_019

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Chapter One

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Year 1989.

The night sky is in pitch-blackness, and snow is building up thickly on the windowpanes of the Smith manor, which stood at the tip of a small hill next to the town. Golden lights and sounds of music and laughter pouring out from the house break the gloomy ambiance of the cold wintry night, and the atmosphere around it is thick of mirth and joy.

A merrily crackling fire lit the dark cavernous library, and silhouetted in front of the mantelpiece was a high-backed chair where a young boy sat, deeply immersed in a large thick book entitled The World Atlas. In fact, he seemed too deeply engrossed in the book that he appeared to have barely noticed the noises coming from the floor below, and that he had almost jumped in surprise when the grandfather clock next to the fire suddenly chimed. He looked up at it irritably, and saw that it was already eight in the evening. He mused with amazement. So he had been reading for five straight hours. He got on his feet, carried the pile of thick books that had been lying beside him, and walked across the room towards the bookshelves. Once he had returned all of them to their respective shelves, he turned slowly to the nearest window. Everything beneath the black sky is heavily covered with snow. He sighed. With no particular reason, he disliked snow, ever since he first saw it. But before he could make much more thoughts and any movement, there was a gentle knock on the door. It opened without waiting for his reply, revealing a middle-aged woman in a pink, frilly dress, her hair tied in a bun at the back of her head.

“I knew it,” she said sweetly, closing the door behind her silently. “And what had you been up to for five hours, Yuri?”

“Reading,” said the boy called Yuri shortly, as the woman approached him and began straightening the slight creases on his tuxedo.

“That long?” said the woman, in amazement, now patting Yuri's neatly parted brown hair. “But you should have come down two hours ago. Your father's party began at six.”

Yuri said nothing.

“Why? Don't you want to go to the party?”

“What for, mother?” said Yuri coldly. “In what use would I be if I came down there?” He had always thought and talked too maturely for his age.

He saw his mother's smile falter slightly, but hitched it back up almost too quickly.

“Now, now Yuri, your father and our guests would love to see you.” Pulling Yuri by the hand, she led the way to the door and outside.

“Your father said that he missed you so much,” said his mother cheerfully, as they trudged along the dimly lit, carpeted hallway lined with doors similar to that from which they came from.

“Really?” said Yuri, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. They turned a corner and began to take the spiral marble staircase whose banisters were decorated with garlands of holly.

“Yes,” said his mother. “He's too happy to back in here.”

“Back?” said Yuri, flaring up. “If he misses us, then he should be not leaving us like this!”

His mother stopped in her tracks. She slowly turned to face Yuri.

“Don't talk about your father like that, he's only doing that for us.” Her smile and the sweetness in her voice are now gone.

“If he thinks this is the best way, then he should not have married you and have me! He only cares about the growth of our business! Doesn't he know what it is to have a family? Doesn't —”

“Enough,” said his mother. “Yes, he's going away for the sake of money, but that is for your future benefit! Think about it, how would you live without money? Tell me!”

“I would rather live with a father than to live with money alone,” said Yuri fiercely. His mother looked at him with despair.

“We're just the same Yuri,” she said, turning her back on him stiffly. Yuri can feel the pain behind her words. “But, you won't understand…” She resumed walking, and Yuri had nothing else to do but to follow her.

The hall is nothing but magnificent. Its high-mullioned windows are polished and curtained with elegant blood-red curtains. All circular tables that could seat ten were placed along the walls, leaving a large space in the middle where couples dance along the music played by an orchestra at one corner of the hall. Beside the orchestra were three long rectangular tables placed end-to-end with each other, heavily laden with all the foods one can ever imagine. A huge chandelier decorated with golden and silver foils hung from the ceiling, lighting up the whole room. The place is packed with formal-dressed people; some were dancing, some were eating, and some were standing while chatting with one another, a wine glass in one hand bombarded with gold and expensive rings. Yuri and his mother wound their way through the crowd, his mother (as though their argument had been wiped clean from her memory) greeting every single being that they meet. At last, after a few moments of pushing around, they came to a halt in front of two men, deeply absorbed in what it seemed to be a very serious conversation. One of them, Yuri recognized, was his father. Yuri greatly resembled him. They had the same eyes, nose and hair, though his father's was already graying. His father's face broke into a wide smile as he spotted them.

“Eureka! And…gracious —” his brown eyes widened as they lingered on Yuri, “—Yuri! You've grown so much! I think you're a foot shorter when I last saw you!”

“That was two years ago,” said Yuri impassively, looking up at him coldly. “You must have a very sharp memory if you could still remember how short I was then.”

“Heavens, Richard,” said the man to whom his father was talking to a while ago, who has gray eyes and auburn, balding hair, “He looks exactly just like you!”

“Well spotted, Charles,” said Yuri's mother cheerfully.

“I'm Charles Gannet, by the way. It's nice meeting you, Yuri,” said Charles, holding out his hand.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, sir,” said Yuri automatically, almost idly, shaking Charles's hand. He had been trained to say that whenever someone is introduced to him.

“How old are you?” Charles asked.

“Twelve, sir.”

“Good, good.”

“Who're you with?” Yuri's mother asked Charles.

“I'm with my daughter,” said Charles, “And I think Yuri ought to meet her!”

I think not, thought Yuri. Why would I want to meet his daughter? But Charles had already turned around and beckoned someone Yuri cannot see at first. It turned out to be a girl, about a head shorter than him, wearing a dress of pure white. She had gray, almond-shaped eyes, and a long sheet of white-blonde hair tied in a ponytail. She approached her father and looked at them rather expressionlessly.

“Mary, these are Eureka and Richard Smith,” said Charles, referring to Yuri's parents. “They're family friends.”

“I'm Mary Gannet. It's nice meeting you, sir, ma'am,” said the girl, bowing. It is noticeable how bored her voice was.

“And this boy here is their son, Yuri!” Mary looked at him, and bowed again. Yuri nodded in return.

“Such a beautiful girl,” said Richard. “How old is she?”

“She just turned eleven last month,” said Charles. “Alas, if her mother had managed to live to see her grow up!”

Yuri saw something in Mary's face harden as Charles said that.

“Yes, I'm sure Hannah would be happy,” said Yuri's mother somberly. “Yes, Yuri?” she said, distracted, as Yuri prodded her lightly.

“I'm going to get some drinks,” said Yuri, and turned his back on his mother without waiting for her reply.

“Wait, Yuri,” said Richard. Yuri turned to face him. “Why don't you let Mary go with you? So she got someone to play with, right Charles?”

“Fascinating,” said Charles, nodding. “She's been a little bored.”

Yuri gave Mary a sideways glance before answering, “Sorry, but I prefer to be alone. Excuse me.” Hands deep in his pockets, he walked away, hearing his mother say, “He's like that lately, I don't know why. I'm so sorry.” But instead of heading towards the foods table, he walked his way to the door leading off the hall, ignoring the other guests' curious stares as he passed by. He found it standing ajar at one corner of the room, and silently went through it, later on through the open main doors and into the night. He strode through ankle-deep snow to the garden at the backyard, and paused to look at his surroundings.

Everything in sight was white. The icicles from the branches of bald trees glittered like diamonds in the night. At the center, an effigy of a woman suspended in the act of pouring something from her jar stood in the middle of a circular pool, which was bordered by identical park benches. Water usually poured out from the jar during spring and summer, but now it stood still and cold, partly covered with snow. The town at the foot of the hill was clearly visible from where Yuri stood, the lights coming from its houses and buildings and headlights of cars shining through the blackness of the night like little pinpricks. Everyone would be entranced by the beauty of the scenery, but it held no charm for Yuri. Broodingly, he went to the fountain and sat on one of the benches, glaring at the snow-covered ground. For few, long minutes, he busied himself mulling over the information he had read from the books in the library hours ago. But then, a series of muffled footsteps shattered the silence, distracting him from his thoughts. The footsteps became louder with every step, and they suddenly stopped. He curiously looked up at the direction of the noise.

Standing three feet away, looking straight at him, was Mary. Her appearance amused Yuri for a short while. Then she turned to look at the town below.

“It's beautiful,” she said simply, her breath rising into a mist.

“What are you doing here?” asked Yuri curtly, ignoring her remark.

“I saw you go out of the hall, so I followed,” said Mary as she looked back at him.

“Why?”

“Because I want to.”

“I enjoy this place when I'm just by myself,” said Yuri, every sign of iciness present in his voice. “if you get my point.”

“I got it very clearly,” said Mary, “but I think it would be more enjoyable when you've got company. It's just a matter of personal opinion.”

“Whatever you like,” said Yuri frigidly.

“Would you mind if I sit down?” she asked.

Yuri really would mind, but otherwise, he said, “No.”

The girl sat beside him. He edged an inch away from her.

There was an awkward pause.

“You know, your house is very ugly.”

Yuri looked at her in slight amusement. He could not remember any guest not gaping in awe at the beauty and classiness of the Smith manor.

“I'm sorry if I had offended you, but it seems not fun to live in.”

Not fun to live in? Yuri agreed, though privately. He doesn't want to show any sign of inclination to a conversation.

“But at least you have your mom and dad,” Mary continued.

“What's the big deal with that?” Yuri blurted out, “What's the use if they had failed to make me feel what a son must feel?”

Mary stared hard at him, and Yuri felt slightly taken aback.

“You shouldn't talk about them like that,” she said calmly, though there's a hint of sadness in her voice.

“Who are you to say what I should and shouldn't do?” he snapped. “Besides, what do you know what's happening around here?” Her calm voice, her sad face, her disappointed gray eyes, how can they be so annoying?

“If you think you're the only one like that, then you're terribly wrong,” said the girl mulishly. “You only think about yourself. What if they had not existed? You don't know how it is.” She took a deep breath, and then continued. "I grew up under the care of the maids. Father is always gone for work, and I have no brother or sister, so I'm always inside the house all by myself, with no one to talk to and play with. But unlike you, I have no mother. No mother to be at my side at all times, no mother to worry when I'm sick, no mother trying her best to make me happy when I'm sad. You might have not noticed it, but your mother is doing what she can to fill in your father's absence.”

Yuri considered her for a moment. Little by little it dawned on him: yes, his mother had always been there for him. He recalled each and every day that has passed, and she was always there, making him blissful as possible as it could be. But he had always ignored her efforts, focused on the untimely absence of his father. A surge of guilt went through his insides, and he secretly swore to thank his mother as soon as he met her. However, despite of this resolution, nothing had changed in his ill feelings toward his father. Nothing, not even a little.

It seemed Mary had taken his silence as a yes. It was almost two minutes later when she spoke again.

“It's snowing.”

Yuri looked up, and saw that snow was indeed falling. He felt a twinge of irritation as it touched his bare hand.

“I always liked snow,” said Mary, with a small smile. When Yuri said nothing, she said, “Why, don't you like it?”

“Well, let's just say that it was just a matter of opinion, and we don't share the same view,” said Yuri tonelessly.

“Why?” asked Mary.

“I can't tell you because I don't know,” said Yuri, “Besides, what do you care about it?”

”It is most unusual for you not to like it,” wondered Mary.

“How can you say that?”

“It's just like you,” she said, shrugging, “Cold and sad.”

Yuri cannot find any suitable reply for her statement, so he just said nothing and looked pointedly away. It just occurred to him that this was the first time that he had a conversation with a stranger this long, and it isn't that bad after all. He thought—

Splat. Something cold and coarse hit the side of his face.

“What the—” He turned and saw Mary aiming another snowball at him. He hastily jumped onto his feet and ducked to avoid another snowball. “What did you do that for?” he said angrily.

Mary broke into laughter. “You l-l-look fu-funny!” she choked. “If you could see what you looked like when you shunned the snow ball, ha ha—” But a snowball hit her squarely in the face.

It was now Yuri's turn to huff. "Caught unawares."

“You cheated!” said Mary angrily, then ducked as another snowball darted toward her.

And a fierce snowball fight followed. Yuri realized that he never did something like this before. He never had the chance to play and interact with the children he only sees on the streets downtown from inside their car. He had met with the children of his parents' friends, yes, but they were just like him, trained to act refined and educated. Kids like him were not allowed to spend their childhood like a normal child. But her, Mary Gannet, wasn't she in the same situation? How come she seems so different from him? Why is it that he feels weird? Why is it that he seems...to be enjoying it?

In his absentmindedness a snowball hit him. He lost balance and sat on the ground painfully.

“I won! You lost!” said Mary happily. she continued to boast about her win, when she noticed that Yuri hadn't stood up from the ground. "Yuri?"

When he didn't reply, she slightly frowned. “Are you alright?”

Yuri remained still. Now deeply worried, Mary hurried to his side.

“Are you hurt?” she asked further, shaking his shoulder gently. She panicked when nothing happened. "Y-Yuri?"

Without any warning, Yuri suddenly sat up, making Mary yelp in surprise and sit painfully on the ground. "You look pathetic," he said nonchalanty.

“What?” said Mary revoltingly, standing up, all worry gone. "I thought something already happened to you!"

"What could happen to me in a childish act like snowball fighting?" Yuri said, his eyebrows raised. Mary's flushing face somewhat amused him, though.

"You're just fooling me! That's so rude!" Mary scoffed. But then, she noticed that he was still staring at her with that blank face. “W-What?" she added.

He continued to look at her, as if she was a problem he needed to figure out. Then he shrugged and got onto his feet. “Nothing,” he said, brushing off snow from his suit. He walked back to the benches, and Mary followed him cautiously.

“Are you sure you're alright?"

"I am. Why did you do that?” Yuri said, trying to sound as indifferent as possible. He hated to admit that somehow he…alright…enjoyed it.

“Oh,” said Mary, and she smiled. Yuri hated to admit even more that he found her pretty with it. “I had not tried to do that before. I don't know why, but I felt like doing that during that time.”

Yuri paused in thought. He was sure it felt very weird. But what's so weird about a simple snowball fight? “Me too,” he found himself saying. He surprised even himself. That was about the friendliest statement he ever said in his whole life.

Mary gave him a sideways look. “Why do you say so?”

Yuri didn't say anything. Silence began to engulf them again, save for the faint symphony playing from inside the mansion. But unlike earlier, the heavy atmosphere was gone. It was a comfortable silence.

Yuri did a double-take when Mary leaned her head on his shoulder. "W-What are you doing...?"

"I'm sleepy," Mary said silently.

"Then just go back inside!"

"I don't want to." Mary edged closer to him for warmth. "I want to be with my friend."

It was a moment before Yuri realized that she was referring to him. "What?" He hadn't noticed that he had blushed deeply at this.

"I never had a friend before," Mary muttered. "Father said I should not trust others too much. Not that I was allowed to go out. It was lonely inside the house. Isn't it, Yuri?"

Yuri couldn't bring himself to answer. Yes, it was indeed very lonely. It was very lonely to compare himself to the other kids he could see. It was painful that he felt alone, like he was on a different world from around him. It was sickening on how the others would react whenever they see him and his mother walking into a shop, how they treat them as if they were a different race from humanity. It was lonely to only find this sickly, large, dull house as the only place he could go to. He understood her completely.

"Yes," he finally said, bowing his head. "It was lonely."

He didn't look at her, but he knew Mary's face had unfurled into a grin. He let his own lips betray a hit of a smile as he closed his eyes.

"Say, do you have friends?" Mary's question brought him back to his senses.

He shook his head. "No, I don't have."

Mary giggled slightly. "That's good."

Yuri looked down at her, intimidated. "Why?"

Mary looked up at him with a very sincere smile. Yuri tried to hold back the heat that was creeping up his neck when he realized the little space between them.

"I'm glad to be your first friend."

Yuri stared at her, mildly surprised. Then, after a moment, he looked above at the sky, watching as snow slowly descended around them. He closed his eyes again.

So this is how you feel when you are happy.

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Author's Notes: Whew! That's Chapter One for you!Hehe. I hope you enjoyed yourselves, readers! Reviews are not really necessary, but if you want to, free welcome to do it!

See yah!

- karupin_019