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Casus Belli
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Prologue: All the
World is Winter
Once the sky was azure blue…
… now the day grows dim…
Bid the golden sun adieu…
… let the gray begin…”
-“All the World is Winter”
Ruth Elaine Schram and Celsie Staggers
It was
winter in
However, this
excitement and merriment was not shared by every person. One such person was a
brown-eyed woman of twenty-one. Unlike every other person in
The woman,
as we mentioned before, was not a happy person. True, she had believed herself
to be happy before, be she never really reached that moment of contentment that
distinguished her life as merry versus melancholy. Of course, when certain
things came to pass in her life she was finally able to say that she was truly
miserable, she fully embraced that misery, and moved on to things that would
allow her to change this misery into productivity, a sort of silver lining to
her whole despondent persona.
Heels
clicking loudly, the woman passed through a large crowd of carolers on the
street. Their eyes sparkled brightly, filled with the holiday merriment
that only came one time each year. The woman let a tired groan escape from the
depths of her throat, and then turned her heels towards her apartment building.
“Evening
Miss Granger,” the bellman said cheerfully, opening the large glass door for
the brunette. The woman smiled back sadly, pulling off her gloves as she began
to walk into the apartment complex. “Have a nice evening?”
“It could
have been better,” the woman replied, sighing heavily as her hands reached for
the sapphire scarf on her neck. “Much, much better.” She waved a nonchalant
goodbye to the bellman and headed for the elevator door.
Once inside
the luxurious elevator the twenty-one year old caught sight of herself in the
mirror. She frowned at the image, disgusted by the frightening state of her
long brown tresses and her makeup, which she had, up until this year, believed
was totally unnecessary. Her figure, which most women in
“No,” the
woman whispered to herself, forcing her eyes to leave the reflection. She had
refused to think about… then for so long that she wasn’t about to let
herself think about then now.
Luckily
enough for the woman, the elevator had finally stopped on her floor (the
seventh to be exact) and had kindly opened for her. Feeling a bit flustered,
the brunette smiled bewilderedly at the family entering the elevator, and
turned right towards her apartment. Grabbing the brass handle, she inserted a
copper key, turned right until it clicked, and pushed the heavy door open.
The woman
felt a small amount of contentment hit her heart when she looked at her
apartment’s layout. True, it was both luxurious and comfortable; three large
couches adorned the outskirts, and a suede recliner sat on the middle wall. The
entire room was painted a deep burgundy as per her first request of the
apartment when she put in her first bid. The drapes over the triple-paned
windows were silk, the finest made in all
Sighing
again, she threw her leather purse on the maroon couch and looked at the
blinking light of her message machine. Having so vague idea about who the
callers had been (unfortunately), she pressed the button lightly and waited for
the message to begin.
“Hey
Mione, love, it’s Dave. Listen, we got a might bit worried when you left us
during the middle of your presentation this evening… Nathan’s practically
ripping his hair out in the loo… anyways, we told the guys that you just felt ill
and had to get going. They’ve requested a meeting with you on Thursday at
seven. We’ve reserved the whole bottom floor of the building for you. Anyways,
hope you’re up to it. ‘Night mate.”
Hermione
groaned heavily, forcing herself to laugh. Dave was one of the true gems in her
life these days, and Lord knew that if he wasn’t dating that devilishly
handsome film director from
“Hermione?
It’s Richard. I’m ever so sorry that I didn’t reach you while you were home.
Anyways, about tomorrow night… well um… this meeting… yeah, this meeting that
just came up out of the blue and I won’t be able to make it to the show until
quite late. So… I guess I’m calling to cancel. But how about Thurs….”
Hermione
clicked the red delete button on the control panel. Though she wasn’t quite
ready to admit it, this was the third date that had been canceled this week.
She didn’t want to listen to another half-excuse from somebody.
Looking back
at the machine, she saw that one more messages had not yet been listened to.
Dropping her pencil, she pressed the blue button and sat back on her soft
couch’s material and waited.
“Um…
Hermione?”
The pencil
from the woman’s hand dropped to the floor at the sound of the all too familiar
voice.
“This is…
Ron. Well, I know it’s been forever… four years or something like that… and I
know that we didn’t leave one another under the best circumstances… but I
really do need to talk to you about something. I know that you never wanted
to…”
Click. Hermione,
eyes filled with tears, took her finger off the recently pressed delete button.
She didn’t
want to hear any more.
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Hermione
finished brushing her teeth, and took off her soft terrycloth robe. Underneath
she wore a long black shirt and a pair of red flannels, which she had recently
picked up from one of
A loud
tapping noise suddenly caught Hermione’s attention, gripping her heart with an
iron fist. It was a well-known face that
There was
nothing there.
Looking
around one more time, Hermione smiled uneasily and stepped towards her bed.
Pulling the heavy woolen blankets back from the pillows, Hermione laughed and
uncertain laugh, tension filling her stomach like water in a bath. Gently
drawing back the covers, the twenty-one year old forced herself to lift the
covers over her body, and slip into a restless sleep.
As the woman
slept, her sheets fitful with movement, a small, snowy-white owl carrying a
rather large parchment envelope landed next to her window and waited outside in
the cold
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