Chapter 2: Margrett
Margrett
"Margett?" A voice called. "Margrett!" It called again.
"Wh-what?" I responded.
"Are you okay? You were spacing out there for a moment."
"Yeah, Jenny, I'm fine."
"Is there anything I can get you?"
"A coffee would be fine."
"Okay, next up, a coffee."
I returned, looking out the window longingly. Watching the snowfall, the windows frost, and the breeze softly brush against the fallen snow. I saw the people walk with such joy that it made me feel sick. How could joy be shared at a time where nothing is alive? I wondered. I continued to look out the window, hoping to see something that would take this feeling away.
I closed my eyes. The windows faded into nothing. Although, I could still hear the laughs of the children running with their parents in and out of stores. I overheard the bells ring as each door swung open and then ring again as it closed. I felt my heart fade with every horse hoof pound the fallen snow into clumps as the wagons strolled the frigid streets. Then it began to blend with a memory that I started to recall. Though I didn't discern the vision until later.
A room appeared in my mind, though, it felt real. The sound of children running through the house laughing and whispering and laughing more. I heard the sound of bells coming from the living room. In the crease of the door, I saw lights fill the hallway. I looked around the room in which I stood. There was a queen bed in the middle of the back wall. Though, the room was in the front of the house. The bed had an old large blanket draped over it with the design of red flowers sporadically placed on it. The underside was white, the same as the sheets and pillows. There was an old chest with a large mirror atop of it. Jewelry boxes and toiletries filled the surface of the chest, and next to it was an old desk filled with files and letters. There was wallpaper sprawled on the upper part of the wall, and the bottom half consisted of thin mahogany planks. The wallpaper had the same flowers that were sporadically placed on the blanket on it. The door was the same mahogany wood as what was placed around the walls. The ceiling was a tinted white, and the edges were decorative cornices. In the center of the roof was a magnificent chandelier conceived of expensive crystal. The three windows, evenly placed above the bed, were frozen with the frost making the outside impossible to see.
I walked towards the closet door and slowed gripped the handle. The handle was a tinted gold that felt cold in my hand. I then pulled, but the door was locked. I turned to see another door placed just further down the same wall. I walked towards it and gripped the same gold handle that felt cold in my palm. I then turned it swiftly, hearing the door creak a little as it opened slightly. I took a step out of the room, looking down the hall. Suddenly, cheerful Christmas music gathered in my ears. The floor creaked below me as I walked to the stairs at the end of the hall. There was a vibrant red-toned rug. It ran from the window at the other end of the path and down the staircase. Various doors permeated the path, as well as blank canvasses and ornamental stands alongside the wall. I heard footsteps stumble up the stairs that I was heading too, and soon children's voices accompanied the steps. I then realized I was wearing a light yellow ball gown. It felt heavy on my shoulders as I continued to walk closer to the stairs. I had a feeling that I could not comprehend. It was a mixture of many emotions all scrambled into one. I felt the floor shake with the various steps, now running towards me. My eyes were wide open, but there was nothing to be found. The hallway was empty, yet filled with the voices of little kids. The hall became cold cries rushing passed me. I felt their cold hands pushed me, but there was nobody around. I continued to walk towards the stairs when a bell rang, then rang again. The sound of a door slamming followed the ringing. Then a voice called out my name.
"Margrett," a male voice called. "Margrett," it called again. I started to remember a familiar voice. But the room began to fade into white. "Margret," a more women-like voice called. "Margrett!"
"Yes! Yes, what is it?" I lifted my head from the table that it had rested on.
"Are you sure your okay?" Jenny inquired. "If you're not, maybe you should consider renting out a room. We have three vacant at the moment I could get you one."
"No, no, I'll be fine," I said calmly.
"You sure?"
"Yeah, all I need is the coffee, and I'll be fine."
"Okay, whatever you think is right. Let me know if you need anything else." Jenny placed the coffee in front of me.
"Alright, thanks, Jenny," I said as she walked away.
It steamed with the cold air. I felt bad for the coffee, steadily being threatened by the cold. Living its life for moments until people steal everything away from it. I pitied the cup of coffee because it was most like me. Always losing what it held most dear. I kept the cup in both my hands, trying not to let my mind drift. The warmth of the coffee was familiar to the heat of a fire. My mind drifted between two separate recollections. One that I saw myself laying in front of covered with a blanket. The fire was surrounded by brick that ran up the wall. It was imprisoned behind a metal fence that had two metal flowers lying at the bottom. The cold, dark wood that made the floor pressed against my fair skin. My long black hair was freshly combed and damp from water. My eyes closed in front of the fire. Then the other was of a house burning in the snow. I stood outside of it, screaming as sirens filled the winter night. Again, my mind refocused on the warmth of the coffee.
I pressed the cup against my lip. My lips painted rose-colored pink. The dark coffee filled my mouth and then warmed it as I swallowed. I looked around the shop. A few people were coming in for lunch. Others just there for the quietness that the shop brought at that time in the day. I watched some talk to friends at the bar that ran to and from each side of the shop. There was the white column radiator at the end and a window above. The shop was mostly the same color. It was mostly made of dark mahogany wood. Tall windows formed most of the exterior walls, yet they were rarely frozen over. The seats were cushioned with red padding, and the tables were a dark mahogany wood such as the door was. The door was the same dark mahogany wood with a gold bell above it. Paintings of coffee cups and cafes filled the blank walls behind the bar where the clerk stood counting the money and regularly asking for tips. Jenny attended to the empty tables with a rag and a bucket as she collected the dirty dishes. The bell rang again as a tall man walked in. He wore a long black suit with a monocle on his left eye. He reminded me of someone I once knew. However, the person he evoked me of faded from my memory.
He stood looking about the room with such wonder. He seemed eminently more mysteriously the longer he stood there. I stared at him for a long while, then, realizing it was rude of me to continue doing so. But I couldn't stop. He reminded me of someone who I desired to know, to remember. These memories had long since been pushed away. For some reason, I wanted the memories back even though I knew they were horrible. I knew why I forgot them and why I should keep them forgotten, but this man forced a craving for knowledge. I simply wanted to treat myself to an apple knowing the cost would forever scar me.
Our eyes met, his eyes were cold and heavy. Mine were somewhat the same. We both had a moment where we were standing in the same shoes. He took a step, and with hesitation, he stepped away. He returned his focus on me and took a step. He then hesitated again, but then took a deep breath and walked over a sat down at my table. I knew I should have said something, anything. Hey, what are you doing, or who are you? Something an ordinary person sitting in the Shop would do. I looked at him and saw that we were both trying to remember something. I started comparing the detail of our style. His eyes were a dark brown, mine an ocean blue. He wore an old black suit, I wore a cyan long-coat, buttoned at the waist. He wore a monocle on his left eye, and a tall top-hat on his head and I wore a light brown scarf and a navy blue hat. He wore long black pants and shiny black dress shoes, and I wore a black skirt and black heels. He looked out the window as I did too, he heard the same children laughing and the same doors ringing. He looked in dismay, as I had done.
"Is there anything I can get for you, sir?" Jenny asked.
"Yes, miss, I would love a coffee," He answered with an aged and deep voice.
"I'll get that started right away. And Margrett, anything else for you?"
"She'll get a slice of pie. A cherry pie. Isn't that right?" The mysterious man answered.
"Y-yes, that would be delightful," I answered.
"I'll get that started as well," Jenny said as she wrote quickly on a little notepad.
"Excuse me, just who are you, sir?" I asked, almost impatiently.
"It's funny, I was about to ask you the same question. You are familiar to me. I'm not sure why, but the color of your lipstick, rose-pink, is familiar. I can't say why, but it just is." He said kindly. Though, I could tell he had a bit of regret in his words and a little sorrow. "I wasn't sure if it was right for me to sit here, but I thought about all the silence and how it might be nice to talk for a change. I come here every afternoon and look out these windows, reminiscing past memories. I thought maybe we could reminisce together. You seemed to be deep in thought from the looks of it outside the window."
"I was indeed recalling my past, but why should I share it with you?"
"I never said to tell me, but just to think and maybe share a bit." His eyes appeared brighter for just a moment. I could see the light outside, reflecting from his eyes.
"Fine, but you start. Where the story goes, I haven't a clue."
"Splendid! Well, Thinking back, I remember a house. The house was my home. It was always warm and cozy. It always had happiness within its walls. It was never dull of voice. Children, always laughing and whispering and laughing some more." Margrett was dragged back into her memory of the house she was in. "I recall the smell of freshly baked cookies, chocolate chip cookies. I remember tasting the hot chocolate that filled my mouth with its rich tone. I see a fire against the wall in the fireplace. But that's just the beginning. The house was beautiful, always there for my family and I. Sheltering us from the outside. I never said thank you." He started to tear up as he now refrained from making eye-contact. "Isn't it funny how common things are forgotten. We never take a moment to think about what it is like when things are gone. People expect to thank people. Why thank something that isn't alive? However, things that aren't alive can become alive if you are living. The laughter of the children was its voice. The cookies were its smell, the hot chocolate was its taste, and the home was its feeling. Oh, how I miss it so much. But never mind that, it is your turn to share a story."
"Okay, but I must say I'm not too sure where the story begins."
"That's alright if you can't start at the beginning then start in the middle." He said wisely.
"Okay, well, it starts in a room. The windows are frosted over and impossible to see out of. The walls are patterned with roses, and the bottom of the walls are mahogany planks. There is a chest with a big mirror set on top and a desk right next to it. There are children laughing and whispering and laughing more. I was wearing a dress, though I now forget the color. Or was I wearing a dress? Oh, I can't remember. I swear I had it a second ago."
"It's okay, just forget about the room, what came next is important."
"Let's see, I walked out the door of the room and heard music erupt spontaneously in my ears. The halls were lined with decorative tables, doors, and pictures. Though the pictures were blank. I was walking to the stairs when the laughing became louder. The footsteps were running up the stairs. Soon it had reached the top, but there weren't any children. After that, I have nothing else. I can't remember what came after."
"That's alright, you have shared enough. I think it's my turn to continue this story."
"Here's your coffee, and here's your cherry pie," Jenny said as she set the dishes on the table.
"How did you know cherry pie was my favorite pie?" I inquired.
"Well, you see, you remind me of my daughter. Cherry pie was her favorite. I guess I just thought you might be the same," he answered, bringing a light smile to his face. He was pale and had a wrinkly face, but he was gentle and kind. Something about his smile made my desire for memory evermore avid.
"Can you tell me about her?" I ask carefully, hoping not to have struck a nerve.
"Oh, she was the most beautiful thing. She was a knowledgeable young lady with a whole life ahead of her. She loved to read. I don't recall a single day when she didn't have her nose in a book. She was humorous and loved to tell stories. She looked like you. She loves cherry pie, but she loved sweets alike. She always wore a smile, even when things were hard. She never let people drag her down, and she was the toughest person I knew. However, one day, there was-" he stopped abruptly. I could see tears filling the brim of his eyes. The brown looked dark and more dismal.
"She sounds lovely. I wish I could have had the chance to meet her."
"Oh, I'm sorry, my tears might have signaled the wrong idea. She isn't dead, but she was caught in a fire. Our entire house was set ablaze. She was trapped by the fire, and the flames scorched her pearl skin with scars. The doctor didn't think they could do anything. She now lives every day with scars of where the fire burned her. Every day she is constantly reminded of the awful disaster. She lost her smile, hope, faith, love, everything. I just wish to take her pain and suffering away. I miss her smile."
"I see, maybe, if you consent, I could meet her?"
"She isn't too keen on visitors at the moment. I'm just not sure if this is the right time for people to see her. It was this time of the year when the fire happened."
"Well, if she needs a friend, I'll be here every day at noon. Hopefully one day our paths will align again and I shall meet your daughter. What's more, we might be able to reminisce more. I truly did enjoy this evening with you." I said as I stood up.
"You're leaving so soon? You haven't even touched your pie." He stated worriedly.
"Take it home to your daughter I'm sure she will feel better."
I then walked towards the door while waving to Jenny. I then heard the door ring as I opened it and heard it ring as the door shut. The streets had quieted down since before but I could still hear a burst of faint laughter coming to a little ways away. The sky was a bright orange that flourished upon the clouds and soon fanned out into a tranquil pink. Blue outlined some of the clouds and cast shadows upon the small city.
I made my way home to a small house a few miles away from the shop. I stood outside looking at the house. I felt the frigid snow drifting in the wind scrape against my skin. For a moment I remembered what the old man had said and realized I had never cared to learn his name. Thank you a small house, I thought to myself. I slightly smiled as I walked in. The house was cold and small. It had no more than a bedroom, fireplace, and kitchen. The kitchen was more of a dining room, and the bedroom was simply a bed. There wasn't anything fancy or special that I held dear. Although, I was thankful to have a home.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone