Chatterbox: Inkwell

Story

Hi, I am writing a story! I'm in the middle of a paragraph so thats why it ends so weirdly. I just wanted to see what y'all think of it. I've never been to england and I don't know much about this period in history, so this is definitley not accurate. At all.

Prologue

"Boy!" said a voice from behind me. I slowly turned around, expecting a beady eyed Councillor-but I instead found an eerily ice blue cloud, with gleaming hair that seemed to blind me. "Weakling," sighed the woman, snapping her fingers and making her hair become a natural brown. "Who, What are you?" I snapped. I didn't care about manners, I cared about my life. All the clouds I had seen were a fluffy white or heavy gray, but blue? This woman must only be here to hurt me! "No, I'm here to give you a life," answered the woman, and only then did I see the glowing golden eyes that had started boring into me. The woman must have been able to read my thoughts, so I acted quickly, responding,"I have a life, one that will most definitely not include you!" Then I spun around, flailing and trying to float out of there. Of course I couldn't, because I was a cloud and the only thing I could do was float to make sure I didn't have biased decisions. Not that I would make any decisions, because I wasn't high enough in nobility.

 "That is what I mean", the woman sneered, and I stiffened up. She could still read my thoughts, she would always read my thoughts. She gracefully made her way over. "I imagine a world," she started, ice sprouting out of her fingers to create a ball, "No, a utopia. Every cloud has a solid form." As she talked, this utopia formed in her ice. "We live in mansions. Have things to do all day. We can run. Swim. And those rascal humans-" "What! Those humans aren't rascals because we chose not to tell them who we are, what we do! They didn't make their own ignorance!" I had snapped out of the trance that she had put me in, and was making my way towards her. "WHO ARE YOU?" I screamed, pinning her as much as I could whilst floating in the air. "If you must know," she replied, again gracefully floating away, "I am Oralie. I am from the north. And we don't have to do what I am saying. We will create this world, if you just help me with one little project." 

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Oralie told me that she was sure the humans were destined to end us. Since she was from the north, she said, she couldn't look into the future like I could. So she made me do it. And what I saw horrified me.

    Humans were burning up the earth to run machines and heating up the atmosphere. I couldn't let Oralie see this, she would surely do something horrible. But she could read my mind. "Don't worry" she smiled, "All you're going to do is make an extra human!" I exhaled a sigh of relief, until she added, "To kill the one who made all this! She will control mist, and she will be able to send an arrow through his heart when she calls out his name! " As I scrambled out of the exit, though, she reminded me of my utopia. And honestly, I thought, one less human wouldn't kill anyone. Or well, actually it would, but I didn't let that worry me. I followed Oralie's instructions and created the girl the way normal clouds did. We watched over a village on the Thames as the life slowly drifted to a couple, who named her Concetta, Concetta Gill. "Well done, lad", Oralies icy voice whispered in my ear. And that is when the whole brouhaha started. 

Ch. 1

The harbor was a noisy, crowded place that smelled of rotted fish. And on most days, Concetta would give anything to trade places with her brother, who got to sit in school all day. But not today. That morning, when she had walked to the docks with her father as part of the morning chores, she had seen the boat launch into the stormy water, confident her dad and his crew's only worry would be how much fish they caught. The last thing she saw was her father's usually cheerful face turn serious before he was swept away in the waves. 

Her mind kept replaying the scene, doubts poking her mind likey icy blasts, making her shiver in a way that had nothing to do with the howling wind. Despite how her mother had assured her, she couldn't believe that they could possibly be alright. The only way that she hadn't rushed right to the docks after she had informed her mom was because no one would know the difference between lost and the ussal fishing. Until now, when the boats came in.

Her brain made every face she saw be the face of her father, she was so hopeful. Even Mr. Blake at the fishery turned into her father, for a moment. Then finally, she saw him. The real him. She had to blink a few times to make sure. But there he was, smiling, and it seemed… a little too gleeful. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Father, what happened?" "Oh, no need to sound so surly!" laughed her father, sounding rather drunken as he threw  nets of fish  onto the deck. "Okay," said Concetta, trying, and mostly failing, to lighten her tone, "But what is it?" "Ah, but see, if I told you now, there would be no suspension" said her father heartily, nearly tipping the boat as he clambered onto the dock. "You'll have to wait until our walk home". He looked over at Concetta, no doubt expecting to see a look of excitement on her face, but was met with puzzling concern. "Oh, don't worry. It's good news!" he added, his voice growing a little more serious. Concetta wasn't sure she would agree. Her fathers view on good news was a bit twisted. 

And she soon knew that she had been right. On the walk home, her father, trying to fill the silence that he presumably found exiting, said, "Well, after we got swept away by that wave, do you know what happened?" Concetta didn't respond. She would not give in to the game he was playing. "Ah, fine, okay, i'll just tell you." her father went on, waving his arms excitedly. "We met a prince! Out on an island next to a castle, you could practically see the glory radiating off him. And you know what he said?" At this he gestured excitedly, missing Concetta by inches. "He said that such a man as me must have a beautiful daughter. And I said, 'Well of course I do, and a well bred one too!' And he told me that such a daughter really shouldn't be wasted, and didn't have any idea what he was going on about! But then, you see, he showed me what he meant. And you know what he said, Conny, you know what he said?" He didn't wait for her to answer as he went on. "He said he'd be willing to marry anyone like that. I nearly died of laughing, but he was serious. So you know what that means, Conny?" He waited, suspending the time to when he would say the answer that Concetta was dreading. But he did. "You're to be married to a prince!" 

"A prince, what is this nonsense?" said a familiar, shrill voice from the back garden they were entering. Concetta's mother, a woman of sharp features and similar personality, came hurrying towards them. "Don't get her hopes up, Jason," continued her mom, eyeing her husband. "He's putting my hopes down, I don't want-" started Concetta, but she was cut off by her father, who said, "But it's true, I met a prince, Harry's the name, and he could tell I had a great daughter by the look of me!" At this he looked down at Concetta, proud, and she was finally able to get her word in. "I don't want to be married to the Prince!". 

A stunned silence followed, her father looking horrstruck and her mom having one of those rare moments when she was caught of guard. Her mother recovered quite quicker than her father, meeting Concetta's eyes to quietly say, in a tone that made Concetta scared for what was about to come, "Let's go inside to talk about this, Concetta". Concetta dutifully followed her Mother, only stopping when her father, who was still rooted to the spot, his mouth agape, seemed to realize what was happening and scurried to catch up with them. The look in his eye made it seem like he wanted to talk to her, but he also seemed in no hurry to break the suffocating silence that was engulfing them. When they got to the house, Concetta and her father made for the Keeping Room, but her mother cocked her head to the side, towards the Parlor. Concetta gulped. The Parlor was the fanciest room in the house, and she and her brother were never allowed in it. For her mother to want to speak in there, well, Concetta didn't want to think about it.