| Fantasy Fiction posted January 20, 2019 | Chapters: |
-Prologue- 1... 
|
  |
Complete Prologue - please see author notes
A chapter in the book Renaissance of Enchantment
About six and a half years ago...
by Y. M. Roger
“But Dad, why? I don’t understand.” Maggie was choking on her sobs as her dad handed her suitcase to the government caseworker. Her step-mother remained in the car; she had been silent and unemotional the entirety of the horrible drive into downtown.
“It’s better for everyone, Magpie,” he said, his voice deep and sorrowful, his shoulders slumped, “safer too.”
That last part Maggie heard but just barely.
“Better for who, Dad? For that bitch you call your wife?” Maggie’s voice rose, the hurt at being put out of her own house roiling into anger. She tried to look him in the face, even though he kept avoiding eye-contact with her, “That’s MY house, Dad! Yours and mine! It was ours before her or the others even came along!”
She wasn’t pleading anymore, she was desperate - desperate not to lose everything she called home.
The caseworker’s assistant took her arms to restrain her as gently as possible. He tried to keep it light, but Maggie fought with everything she had as she continued to try to get her father to look her in the face.
She didn’t understand any of this. Her mind raced, trying to put any of this unbelievable scenario into perspective.
“I can’t keep up the charade, not after last week,” her dad sounded broken, “I’d hoped not, but you’re too much like your mum, Magpie, and I…I can’t...I can’t do this without her. Not with puberty and…” He sobbed as he kissed her cheek, the touch gentle, although he still would not meet her gaze.
Her father turned to the soft-spoken caseworker. “You’ll find the proper environment we discussed, yes?”
The government agent wore a warm smile as she put a hand out to reassure him with a soft touch, “We have already. Your Marguerite will be well-cared for, Mr. Atkinson. You have my word.”
Her father nodded his understanding. Then, without even looking back, he spoke over his shoulder in retreat, “Good-bye, Magpie.”
Maggie stood, practically catatonic, as the car pulled away from the curb. She was waiting for someone to tell her the joke was over.
Time to laugh. Time to wake-up. Something…
But the car disappeared into the crazy traffic that was so pervasive here near the Park entrance. And she was alone.
No one wanted her.
Her mother had left them. Her father had dumped her with people she did not even know.
Hurt. Anger.
“Come on, Marguerite,” the caseworker said as the much larger male assistant gently nudged her to follow, “the Center is—”
Maggie felt her body go cold and seize within her only to be followed by a searing burn that shot through every nerve ending she had. She screamed her pain and her anger, and she fought the hold the assistant was trying to maintain on her. Finally, her knees gave out with the emotional and physical tidal wave that rolled through her much-too-young body, and she fell to the concrete step on which they stood.
Then there were the whispers and the pats and the petting of her hair and the attempted reassurances from the government caseworker and the assistant, the tugs on her arm to try to get her to stand; the offers of what could be – food, snacks, movies, a new school, a new home….
It was all too much.
She didn’t want a new home. She wanted her home.
Maggie resisted their encouragement, hands covering her eyes, sobs wracking her small frame until, “Go. Away!” she screamed, “Leave me alone! And go! The hell! Away!”
Stillness.
Then, the sounds of the city: the buses, the cars, bells, and horns. There were no reassuring words, no tugs, no one nearby at all.
Thank goodness. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes to focus on the concrete. She really just wanted to be left alone and –
More footsteps. Only these belonged to smaller feet.
Now, the gentle voices of two, or, perhaps, three children. Young boys, to be specific.
“Miss?”
“Hey, Miss?”
“Everything okay? You need sumthin, Miss?”
Maggie wiped her face and looked up. The boys were all dressed like they were in costume for the 1800’s, two of them even wore those little flat paperboy hats kids used to wear. She figured they must be rehearsing for a play at the stage here in City Park. She might have laughed at them with their oh-so-serious little faces if she hadn’t been so wrung out.
Maggie looked around for the two government workers as she wiped her eyes and stood, but they were nowhere in sight. In fact, there was no one in their immediate vicinity - just her and the boys.
Oh, and, thank goodness, her suitcase.
Maggie glanced around at the boys again, not really knowing what to say next.
“Hey? You need somewhere to stay, Miss?”
The speaker’s little face was so excited, so expectant – like he was thrilled she was looking at and seeing him – and he could hardly wait for her answer.
“Uhhhm…, it’s Maggie,” she shrugged and sniffed, wiping her face one last time, “and, I guess so, yeah.”
“Well, follow us, Miss Maggie!” The three of them started off ahead of her. “You can count on us from now on!”
Maggie just nodded, glancing back one more time before leaving the park entrance behind.
Nope.
Nobody.
No caseworker and no assistant.
Only the two skateboarders that had just arrived and a couple pairs of shoes some crazy young couple must have taken off to enjoy the cool grass.
Huh. The government workers had left her, too.
Whatever.
She picked up her suitcase and followed the boys. It seemed that Miss Marguerite Atkinson was on her own now.
“But Dad, why? I don’t understand.” Maggie was choking on her sobs as her dad handed her suitcase to the government caseworker. Her step-mother remained in the car; she had been silent and unemotional the entirety of the horrible drive into downtown.
“It’s better for everyone, Magpie,” he said, his voice deep and sorrowful, his shoulders slumped, “safer too.”
That last part Maggie heard but just barely.
“Better for who, Dad? For that bitch you call your wife?” Maggie’s voice rose, the hurt at being put out of her own house roiling into anger. She tried to look him in the face, even though he kept avoiding eye-contact with her, “That’s MY house, Dad! Yours and mine! It was ours before her or the others even came along!”
She wasn’t pleading anymore, she was desperate - desperate not to lose everything she called home.
The caseworker’s assistant took her arms to restrain her as gently as possible. He tried to keep it light, but Maggie fought with everything she had as she continued to try to get her father to look her in the face.
She didn’t understand any of this. Her mind raced, trying to put any of this unbelievable scenario into perspective.
“I can’t keep up the charade, not after last week,” her dad sounded broken, “I’d hoped not, but you’re too much like your mum, Magpie, and I…I can’t...I can’t do this without her. Not with puberty and…” He sobbed as he kissed her cheek, the touch gentle, although he still would not meet her gaze.
Her father turned to the soft-spoken caseworker. “You’ll find the proper environment we discussed, yes?”
The government agent wore a warm smile as she put a hand out to reassure him with a soft touch, “We have already. Your Marguerite will be well-cared for, Mr. Atkinson. You have my word.”
Her father nodded his understanding. Then, without even looking back, he spoke over his shoulder in retreat, “Good-bye, Magpie.”
Maggie stood, practically catatonic, as the car pulled away from the curb. She was waiting for someone to tell her the joke was over.
Time to laugh. Time to wake-up. Something…
But the car disappeared into the crazy traffic that was so pervasive here near the Park entrance. And she was alone.
No one wanted her.
Her mother had left them. Her father had dumped her with people she did not even know.
Hurt. Anger.
“Come on, Marguerite,” the caseworker said as the much larger male assistant gently nudged her to follow, “the Center is—”
Maggie felt her body go cold and seize within her only to be followed by a searing burn that shot through every nerve ending she had. She screamed her pain and her anger, and she fought the hold the assistant was trying to maintain on her. Finally, her knees gave out with the emotional and physical tidal wave that rolled through her much-too-young body, and she fell to the concrete step on which they stood.
Then there were the whispers and the pats and the petting of her hair and the attempted reassurances from the government caseworker and the assistant, the tugs on her arm to try to get her to stand; the offers of what could be – food, snacks, movies, a new school, a new home….
It was all too much.
She didn’t want a new home. She wanted her home.
Maggie resisted their encouragement, hands covering her eyes, sobs wracking her small frame until, “Go. Away!” she screamed, “Leave me alone! And go! The hell! Away!”
Stillness.
Then, the sounds of the city: the buses, the cars, bells, and horns. There were no reassuring words, no tugs, no one nearby at all.
Thank goodness. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes to focus on the concrete. She really just wanted to be left alone and –
More footsteps. Only these belonged to smaller feet.
Now, the gentle voices of two, or, perhaps, three children. Young boys, to be specific.
“Miss?”
“Hey, Miss?”
“Everything okay? You need sumthin, Miss?”
Maggie wiped her face and looked up. The boys were all dressed like they were in costume for the 1800’s, two of them even wore those little flat paperboy hats kids used to wear. She figured they must be rehearsing for a play at the stage here in City Park. She might have laughed at them with their oh-so-serious little faces if she hadn’t been so wrung out.
Maggie looked around for the two government workers as she wiped her eyes and stood, but they were nowhere in sight. In fact, there was no one in their immediate vicinity - just her and the boys.
Oh, and, thank goodness, her suitcase.
Maggie glanced around at the boys again, not really knowing what to say next.
“Hey? You need somewhere to stay, Miss?”
The speaker’s little face was so excited, so expectant – like he was thrilled she was looking at and seeing him – and he could hardly wait for her answer.
“Uhhhm…, it’s Maggie,” she shrugged and sniffed, wiping her face one last time, “and, I guess so, yeah.”
“Well, follow us, Miss Maggie!” The three of them started off ahead of her. “You can count on us from now on!”
Maggie just nodded, glancing back one more time before leaving the park entrance behind.
Nope.
Nobody.
No caseworker and no assistant.
Only the two skateboarders that had just arrived and a couple pairs of shoes some crazy young couple must have taken off to enjoy the cool grass.
Huh. The government workers had left her, too.
Whatever.
She picked up her suitcase and followed the boys. It seemed that Miss Marguerite Atkinson was on her own now.
“It’s better for everyone, Magpie,” he said, his voice deep and sorrowful, his shoulders slumped, “safer too.”
That last part Maggie heard but just barely.
“Better for who, Dad? For that bitch you call your wife?” Maggie’s voice rose, the hurt at being put out of her own house roiling into anger. She tried to look him in the face, even though he kept avoiding eye-contact with her, “That’s MY house, Dad! Yours and mine! It was ours before her or the others even came along!”
She wasn’t pleading anymore, she was desperate - desperate not to lose everything she called home.
The caseworker’s assistant took her arms to restrain her as gently as possible. He tried to keep it light, but Maggie fought with everything she had as she continued to try to get her father to look her in the face.
She didn’t understand any of this. Her mind raced, trying to put any of this unbelievable scenario into perspective.
“I can’t keep up the charade, not after last week,” her dad sounded broken, “I’d hoped not, but you’re too much like your mum, Magpie, and I…I can’t...I can’t do this without her. Not with puberty and…” He sobbed as he kissed her cheek, the touch gentle, although he still would not meet her gaze.
Her father turned to the soft-spoken caseworker. “You’ll find the proper environment we discussed, yes?”
The government agent wore a warm smile as she put a hand out to reassure him with a soft touch, “We have already. Your Marguerite will be well-cared for, Mr. Atkinson. You have my word.”
Her father nodded his understanding. Then, without even looking back, he spoke over his shoulder in retreat, “Good-bye, Magpie.”
Maggie stood, practically catatonic, as the car pulled away from the curb. She was waiting for someone to tell her the joke was over.
Time to laugh. Time to wake-up. Something…
But the car disappeared into the crazy traffic that was so pervasive here near the Park entrance. And she was alone.
No one wanted her.
Her mother had left them. Her father had dumped her with people she did not even know.
Hurt. Anger.
“Come on, Marguerite,” the caseworker said as the much larger male assistant gently nudged her to follow, “the Center is—”
Maggie felt her body go cold and seize within her only to be followed by a searing burn that shot through every nerve ending she had. She screamed her pain and her anger, and she fought the hold the assistant was trying to maintain on her. Finally, her knees gave out with the emotional and physical tidal wave that rolled through her much-too-young body, and she fell to the concrete step on which they stood.
Then there were the whispers and the pats and the petting of her hair and the attempted reassurances from the government caseworker and the assistant, the tugs on her arm to try to get her to stand; the offers of what could be – food, snacks, movies, a new school, a new home….
It was all too much.
She didn’t want a new home. She wanted her home.
Maggie resisted their encouragement, hands covering her eyes, sobs wracking her small frame until, “Go. Away!” she screamed, “Leave me alone! And go! The hell! Away!”
Stillness.
Then, the sounds of the city: the buses, the cars, bells, and horns. There were no reassuring words, no tugs, no one nearby at all.
Thank goodness. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes to focus on the concrete. She really just wanted to be left alone and –
More footsteps. Only these belonged to smaller feet.
Now, the gentle voices of two, or, perhaps, three children. Young boys, to be specific.
“Miss?”
“Hey, Miss?”
“Everything okay? You need sumthin, Miss?”
Maggie wiped her face and looked up. The boys were all dressed like they were in costume for the 1800’s, two of them even wore those little flat paperboy hats kids used to wear. She figured they must be rehearsing for a play at the stage here in City Park. She might have laughed at them with their oh-so-serious little faces if she hadn’t been so wrung out.
Maggie looked around for the two government workers as she wiped her eyes and stood, but they were nowhere in sight. In fact, there was no one in their immediate vicinity - just her and the boys.
Oh, and, thank goodness, her suitcase.
Maggie glanced around at the boys again, not really knowing what to say next.
“Hey? You need somewhere to stay, Miss?”
The speaker’s little face was so excited, so expectant – like he was thrilled she was looking at and seeing him – and he could hardly wait for her answer.
“Uhhhm…, it’s Maggie,” she shrugged and sniffed, wiping her face one last time, “and, I guess so, yeah.”
“Well, follow us, Miss Maggie!” The three of them started off ahead of her. “You can count on us from now on!”
Maggie just nodded, glancing back one more time before leaving the park entrance behind.
Nope.
Nobody.
No caseworker and no assistant.
Only the two skateboarders that had just arrived and a couple pairs of shoes some crazy young couple must have taken off to enjoy the cool grass.
Huh. The government workers had left her, too.
Whatever.
She picked up her suitcase and followed the boys. It seemed that Miss Marguerite Atkinson was on her own now.
 Recognized |
#218 2019 |
At exactly 950 words, this will most likely be the longest of my postings. I just didn't see how to 'split' this important introduction without losing something in the process. Thank you for your patience! :) Make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position and that your seat belt is securely fastened. Welcome to Maggie's story!
Image of 'Merchant's Gate entrance to Central Park in New York City' from Google images.
Pays
one point
and 2 member cents. Image of 'Merchant's Gate entrance to Central Park in New York City' from Google images.
You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.
© Copyright 2024. Y. M. Roger All rights reserved. Registered copyright with FanStory.
Y. M. Roger has granted FanStory.com, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.
