Refraction of Beauty

By Shaanzae Shahid

Carolina G. Phoenix and her four sisters are faced with unspeakable challenges. Having witnessed the murder of her parents’ and discovering the empty grave of her beloved sister, she discovers that her Aunts are far worse than what meets the eye...Carolina must use her wits to understand her family’s past before she and her sisters get consumed in the evil forever. She journeys forward to the infamous Holstridge Manor where the horror unfolds.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Vohh
• Release date: Jul 15, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301900114

Book preview

Refraction of Beauty

Shaanzaè Shahid

Published by Vohh Books

Smashwords Edition

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Copyright 2013 Shaanzaè Shahid

Discover other titles by Shaanzaè Shahid at Smashwords.com:

The Magic Building

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

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Table of Contents

Memories

The Meeting

The Past

Strange Reality

A Huge Traumatic Blow

The Next Transaction

Destination Holstridge Manor

Coming To Terms With It

Wandering

Getting Hotter

The Transformation

End of Flashback

Reunion

A Brief Meet

On and Beyond

About the Author

-- CHAPTER ONE --

Memories

Whenever we look back and try to replay our memories; a sense of indifference envelops us. Unless you’re one of those people who look back and savour honey coated memories, where you did everything judiciously and just couldn’t believe your luck with all its richly bore fruit and everything…then don’t think you will be capable of understanding what I am experiencing. Are you a psychiatrist? A know-it-all ‘analyzer’? One who delves into people’s minds and heroically claims to find the point of irritation and befuddlement? If yes, then I’m afraid I can’t be helped. All that I mean to say is, I have long foregone that time of my life when I would care about whatever the hell people would have to offer me. Good advice, alternative suggestions, the painfully clichéd ‘forget it, don’t think about it and move on’ consolations and those dreaded comparisons with ‘ordeal-conquerors’; are all time wasters for me. It’s pitiful, disgusting and pathetic. I don’t need it. I feel like my heart was dipped in lye and the rest of my skin succumbed to its excruciating corrosiveness. Like a thousand forks, bleeding with hot, boiling wax were repeatedly casting crescents of blood on my face, and then filling a crescendo of pain by wrenching the flesh off my bones. My soul is on fire; I’m burning. Don’t you see? I’m already in Hell, because I’m not dying. Because, I’m cursed to living a wretched existence in a capsule of gory memories. My mind has been forever coated with black glitter. Glitter that is pukingly blinding it from seeing clearly…preventing me from resting. It’s like mental seizure that won’t stop because the constant infernal shining and glitz is madness, driving you off the edge every second of your creation. Black because of death; that refuses me.

As usual, it’s raining. My window is stained with the bluish-grey dews of pelting water from the bluish-grey sky. It’s exactly 4:33 p.m. and it feels like time had been paused and been coloured by a singular grey crayon. My apartment is dark from the inside. It feels like those mid-nineteenth century rooms where electricity was a novelty and dim, dull candles illuminated the way; except, I have not candles either. The only light that prevails is the half-glare of my window, which will soon evaporate and leave only further darkness to permeate my room. The halls of this building are as silent as a graveyard. My television set is a big box of concentrated blackness that looks as if it will switch on automatically, just to scare me. There is so much horror to be found in them. Tomorrow the people will come and take it down and rid me of its presence forever. Nasty thing was never really used by myself either. Always observed its screen from the corner…for not even the slightest, smallest crack. That’s why I need the ghastly contraption out of my domain as quickly as possible. There is not a single mirror in my room. No bathroom mirror and certainly no small pocket mirror either. There can never be a crack on the side. Thus forth, I have never looked at my face. I feel my hair around to tame any unruly or electrified strands to their limp, dead and hanging positions. Next I use my fingers very precisely and circulate them all over my face for trace of any extraordinary minute defect that could render me incapable of public presentation. And clothes, I believe they look the same as they are off me. Red is not a part of my wardrobe and I refuse to wear anything that is of the particular hue; at least, ever since those…eyes. It is useless to bring it up. A blotched recollection of nails scratching a blackboard…and your own long, sharp nails perpetrating the act is all that’s left of it. A feeling of immense irritation that is almost palpable. Irritation, pain and fear. But not your average kind of fear, either. It is instead, the kind that can leave you wide-eyed in a never-ending and inescapable nightmare. Imagine the overwhelming terror of actually never leaving it. Having it go on and on…and on.

-- CHAPTER TWO --

The Meeting

I must get my purse ready. And I must also get an umbrella. Not to forget my signature, rectangular black spectacles. It’s exactly 4:56 p.m. now and I have a meeting scheduled at 5:10 p.m. at News Grove Garden, North London. A meeting, with my sister. It’s a freak of chance that we premeditated a get together in the first place, having awkwardly run into each other on the sidewalk. This is the first time in 4 months that I’m meeting one of my only existing relations in the world. Last time we met was at the funeral…last time she or any of my two remaining sisters ever met each other or me. All I can think of right now, is hurrying, as I will need to get back to my apartment before 7:00 p.m. since my entire building is almost deserted and the ‘guards’, a pair of disgusting sleazy drunkards come out at that time. So in order to avoid potential rape, I need to get there before they do. Arrangements for my shifting apartments have been incessantly unsuccessful. I have meant to move out but fate just hasn’t interwoven this scheme into my life yet. Anyway, who knows? Maybe after meeting Josephina, a setting for my new, even if temporary, abode might be made. Everything is so dreary. Crossing the road is such a nuisance as well. Of course the chivalrous drivers don’t cease an opportunity of un-aiding a helpless, guardian-less girl on the street; so just at the nick of my proceeding onwards, hit acceleration to keep me grounded on one side. Prowling my way, eventually, all I need to do is look for her in the park, as it’s right across the street. There she is. She’s sitting in that same way. Even time couldn’t erase that. Joe…

With the large tent as shelter, I lowered my umbrella and quickly patted my hair with my hand, as a way to secure a tame appearance. I had always had dead straight brown hair, so it was easier to keep them…well, dead straight. Approaching her with a weird nostalgic feeling, I am going to try my best to keep things formal.

‘Hi? Josephina?’ I began in order to signal attention.

‘Carolina…hello. You made it!’ She half saluted