The Story's Villain - part 1: A Fairy's Tale

By Valentina Linz

There are no doubts about Caetana Pimenta's normality, she's the most common girl you've ever heard of. The most boring sixteen years old that ever existed, without qualities or flaws. But impressions can trick you, and she knew it very well only by looking at someone's face. That's because she had the gift of knowing someone's desire, someone's deepest need, before even knowing their name. The problem was that the person's desire would torment her until she made it come true. On a common day, she crossed paths with a woman that would change her destiny forever: a stranger who needed another stranger dead. But Caetana didn't know who it was... and if she should make that desire come true. Nothing could get worse, because right after that encounter, she got the news that her paraplegic mother had entered a coma, without any apparent reasons. No, things could get a lot worse! The disasters in her life were complete when she was followed by a shadowy figure, that seemed to know that stranger's desire. And who thought that who should die was her!

• Language: English
• Publisher: BadPress
• Release date: Sep 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781547530878

Book preview

For all those who took this book to read

Summary

Chapter  1

Chapter  2

Chapter  3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

There's nothing harder than to start a story. I wrote and erased the first line at least ten times before deciding not to start with false assertions like any other fictional story, but rather with the honest thoughts of a writer. I read it and then it felt like it was the right thing to do. After all, you could be someone who judges a story by its first line, and in case it's stupid, you'll abandon it. I already wrote a first stupid line and I left it, which will determine whether you read the next paragraph or not. So, what will I write next?

Should I start with what happened before the story started? Should  I write a prologue or start with the first chapter? Albeit things like prologues and chapters are nothing more than a way to put starting and finishing points during the lecture, so that you don't have the agony of knowing that there will only be an end after a dozen of thousands of letters. Which maybe isn't that much, considering you've read up until this moment more than one hundred letters, almost two hundred... But if you look at the top of the page, you'll understand I already made a decision, we're in the first chapter, of many.

Should I start the story with a description of the place, so you can build a picture in your mind? Something like the description of what was seen through the window of the room, if there was a window, or if there was a room, which wasn't the case. I know! I'm going to be witty and write an incredible description of the place's smell. It's common to start your descriptions with images and sounds, but not with smells.

It's just that I'm too incompetent to write about smells...

Once I wanted to describe the smell of a perfume and all I could express was that it smelled like perfume. I have an argument my defense: few perfumes are special enough to talk about them in a different way than it smells like perfume.

Thinking about it, sceneries change. It would be interesting to start with the point that will remain the same through the story. We'll have a protagonist here. Yes, I'll start with an admirable description of her. Maybe it's better not to start this way, because she's in no way interesting, and she's the protagonist! Which would be considered a very bad beginning. Still, since we have to start somewhere, I made my decision. Since you read up until now, even if I wrote basically nothing, maybe I have the capacity to make someone feel involved. Who knows, maybe even improvise some charm...

I ask you to believe that there are people who are invisible. Not invisible in a sense that they are transparent, but that they aren't noticed even if they walk past you using that said perfume that doesn't smell like perfume. The best interaction you would have would be a sorry after bumping into them, and the said person wouldn't even have the skill to fall down. Let's call them common people.

Oh, yes! Unfortunately, I have to make this speech, or you'll never understand the soul of Caetana. It's the name of the protagonist. Caetana Pimenta.

Let's say these common people are the ones that we like, using the right word. We like them because we have to and because they don't give us a reason not to like them, or one to love them. They never did anything horrible to gain the apathy of someone, nothing good enough to make them happy. Their face wouldn't have beauty or ugliness, with two eyes and eyebrows, and they would only have them because a face, supposedly, should have eyes and eyebrows; a mouth and a nose the way a mouth and a nose are supposed to be. They are those people who are grey, not white or black and much less colorful.

Maybe I can improve this description: a common person is the one you never, never, ever want as a company to dine. Because there is no company as dreadful at the table than that, not when you're with a group of friends, but when you two are alone. Of course, eating with the person you hate the most in the world would result in many fights, and who knows heartburn, but a common person would cause worse pains. You would chew a little and then would come the following dialogue:

It's tasty, did you cook it?

No. This is your answer. And after some minutes of silence: Did you watch that show from yesterday?

No. This is what a common person answers. And after a few minutes of silence: Do you like that band?

Yes. But it doesn't matter if that band is your favorite band, in fact, it doesn't matter if you were secretly planning your wedding to one of their members, you couldn't say more than a simple yes.

There wouldn't have any answers besides that. They wouldn't come out of your mouth, or from your hands in case you used sign language.

And in the end, your greatest dream would be for them to hate you and leave before dessert, which you unfortunately know is a lie. Common people have common tastes, and it's a common opinion that dessert is the best part of any meal. You will probably spend all dessert thinking about all the other people with whom you've interacted to try to escape from the boredom that only one of these situations can bring.

The common is tedious, and we really don't like to get bored, we even count little sheep to escape the blank thoughts that occur before sleep. So we ignore the common and those people of flesh and bone, not translucent, become transparent. With name and presence, without voice or tact, and much less volume.

Well, Caetana could have been a very common person, even more than what you've heard about. The only things you can consider special about her are her first name and her family name because she would probably be the first woman you knew with less than fifty years, sixteen to be precise, that would be called Caetana. An uncommon name in today's world, unpopular with parents sixteen years ago. And we must still confess that Pimenta is a strong family name, at least in the category of plant family names, with fruits and boring trees like Pera or Pereira. Forgive me, Peras and Pereiras.

She owned one of the best names of call in college, parents weren't very creative with their kids' names in the area. She only lost once to a boy in seventh grade whose name formed a horrible pun. To his luck, that year he was finally able to make it change legally to another less offensive one. She could always count on the fact of having an interesting name. At least, in my point of view, of course! You are free to have your own opinion, after all liking a name is very subjective. Remember, I'm trying to make her sound interesting, and by saying she has a good name, maybe I'll convince you that it's incredible, the best you've ever heard, to the point of offending Peras and Pereiras.

The truth is that even if she lived in the same town since she was born, lived in the same house in the same neighborhood, studied at the same college with the same kids, few could say they knew her. They knew her name, that she was born in that town, that she lived in that house and that she studied at that school, but nothing more. Pedro – don't worry about remembering this name, it will appear only once – knew that she won a race when they were kids, but just because he won second place, and he was still bitter about having lost to such a normal girl.

At least it wasn't for being excluded by the other kids, or for not having friends, now that she was in her teenage years. Didn't I say there weren't any motives to hate a common person? Caetana had always been everyone's friend, intimate with no one. Like being a member of all the cliques, without knowing their secrets. Be invited to every party, but never to the movies one on one. She had nothing too bad to be loved, nor too good to be hated.

She wasn't captivating, her conversations were usually boring for the majority. It was possible that there was something in her intonation, that made any subject monotonous when it came out of her mouth. Not that was it irritating, it wouldn't even reach that magnitude, it was more irrelevant. A unique ability to only talk about what was irrelevant in anyone's life and therefore be the embodiment of such.

Even what could cause a stir in her looks, her eyes, would go unnoticed by most people. Only her mom told her she had beautiful eyes. Not that they were green or blue, and unfortunately they weren't a bizarre color like red or rainbow-colored. She had brown eyes, not one of those common ones you see everywhere, but with a very light tone, which could be called honey-colored eyes, because it was the exact color of a string of honey, a soft brown, almost yellow.

As much as I'd hope you would like her, I must say that her eye color is one of my least favorites. Maybe you'll sympathize, but I believe you'll soon find some attributes in Caetana that are more interesting, and that you will enjoy our protagonist.

No one would notice she had exotic eyes, because of the nonexistence of reasons to notice them. Besides that, she looked like the majority that composed her quotidian, that tended to be boring. Tanned skin that could be the definition of the Brazilian phenotype, neither white or black. The owner of dark brown hair, without enough appeal to compare it with anything else. The color of a kind of sour chocolate, but I wouldn't call it that as it didn't make me think of chocolate, it was weird. In case you are vain, you will surely understand me, it's not curly enough to be curly, much less flat enough to be straight, staying undefined.

Her height was also average, around one hundred and sixty something, varying from zero to nine, depending on your definition of average. Her body was also average, but I'm not going to give numerical values, so you can use your imagination. If the number is too small, it could be considered an anorexic pattern, the opposite will be called healthy, which could be offensive depending on the tonality used.

Like every common person, she had two eyes and eyebrows, and a mouth and a nose the way a mouth and a nose should be.

I dislike this conversation. Caetana is getting such a derogatory description that I'm starting to pity her! Maybe it's time to find an alternative exit so she becomes more appreciable, that wouldn't be for her physical aspect. To start, I have to break this theory, that I created myself, that common people are tedious and invisible and blah, blah, blah.

I imagine everyone already heard this sentence at least once in their life, but in case you haven't, I'll be the one to present it. We are all special. And I believe that, at least part of it. It's all a question of potential!

Let's imagine one of those common persons meets with someone who is about to drop a bomb on a huge line because huge lines are stressful and he has a bomb to direct his rage, that it would be at least a plausible explanation. Imagine that person mentions she wants to drop that bomb during one of those exchanges of words that usually happen in those situations. It doesn't matter whether she ran away or tried to negotiate fervently for the person to drop the bomb somewhere else, that common person will become an interesting one in a matter of seconds. Everyone will want to know how she felt, what she talked about and how she had the capacity to stumble three times during her escape, or maybe something a little less embarrassing like Drop it outside, drop it outside! The important part is they never gave her an opportunity to face a terrorist before!

Maybe that unpleasant company for dinner was the long-lost childhood love of a member of your favorite band. Who knows if they might have met again and married the day before, in secret. Maybe that said person with such a common look you saw on the street was your idol, but he didn't stand out in a crowd without his stage costume but sang wonderfully.

Anyways, it's not that every person is special, they possess potential. They could be extremely interesting, but no one knows it, or they didn't have a good opportunity to prove it yet.

This was the case of Caetana.

I would even say that she was slightly more interesting than other common people, or even those that are highlighted. Let's say that after a boring dinner you would be happy to dismiss the dessert and leave. You would lose the opportunity to know that she had an incredible ability to make puddings. It was the only thing she knew how to make in the kitchen, but let's see it from another angle, she specialized in it.

No one would look at Caetana in the street, with honey eyes and the rest of her being average, walking like she was part of the scenery, and say:

You know that girl over there? She makes a great pudding. At least if you don't want to be a joke to your walking partner.

She also had an out of the common ability to crack her fingers. In fact, when bored, she used to create good melodies. But to the opposite of playing the violin or sing well, no one would mind listening to a good music made of finger cracks. This can be an activity that is only fun for yourself, like for example, being a great player of patience. Would there be anything more boring than observing a game of patience?

Yes, eating with someone common, or Caetana, without waiting for your dessert pudding.

As I already said, she had prominent eyes that no one would look at twice to notice their emphasis. They don't value brown around here, or in any place in the world.

What I mentioned could even make her as a girl to look at twice, worthy of a little interest. However, she had a little something special, that was pretty uncommon. She would call it a secret, thanks to the fact no one would take her seriously if she talked about it out loud, or they might even take her for psychiatric treatment. Ah, she thought she was crazy more than once!

That was what made her look to the other side of the street, that afternoon, directly to a woman who seemed to have around twenty and a few years, well dressed and carrying a bag of plastic. Pretty, light eyes and curly hair, tied up in a scarf. She had a tan skin of a darker tone, but also had many Caucasian traits that suggested she was of mixed race. She was really pretty, beautiful. That ability forced her to stay put and look at her pass by, looking at nothing when the women turned around the corner. And it made her discover that people could be awestruck and lost in their thoughts because that's how she felt. That woman, Caetana was sure of it, was not a common person, at least not for her. She was very, very, extremely uncommon.

This is because interesting would be a euphemism for someone that needs more than anything in the world that someone else was dead.

There are facts in the world that you know of. You knew since the first seconds of your life you had to inhale and exhale, inhale and exhale and that you could never fail that task. Maybe you learned that if you didn't do it, you would feel bad, but you can't deny no one gave you a lesson on the seven best methods to breath on your first day of life, they never thought you how would be your first breath. You only breathed and continued to do it until wasting your time in said class. Sure, maybe after an accident, someone might need to learn to breathe again, but it wasn't the case for a healthy person.

But I believe that what I want to explain is easier to understand with another example: you know my name. I know my name. Caetana knows her name. The crazy person does not know why they call him an unknown name, but he knows his name is Da Vinci and that he has a musical ability above average. That's easy for us because as soon as we're born, someone chooses between a couple of phonemes, one that will be used when referring to us, and since that day we hear it directly. When someone calls your name, you won't make a huge effort to discover who they are talking about, you know it's you. Knowing your name is as ordinary as knowing how to breathe.

More interesting than that – if we can call that to something so boring like that – is being hungry, thirsty or cold. A feeling you know with certainty, but that nobody taught you.

So basically you know some things in this life. Let's join it with another fact.

There is something about you that only you know, or that you never even understood yet. We all have a dream, something we want above everything else to happen to us, or that we need desperately. Like a job for someone unemployed, a push towards the sidewalk when you're about to get hit by a car. It can also be something we don't even know about. For example, discovering that the love of your life that you love so much is cheating on you, and unfortunately you need to know about it before you marry him and he strikes to keep all your money, which will make you fall into a depression and you'll need the said push because you were so crestfallen you didn't even notice the truck coming your way. All that would be something we really need to happen.

Let's call it a wish, that need for something we know about or not, but that we need. Caetana