Chapter 1: Waxen Smiles of Womanly Grace

Peppermint Canes and Frosted Snowflakes

Ennui.

What a wonderful time of the year, indeed. The most marketed, overrated day of the year that encouraged the good youth to become greedy and lazy swine, animalistic in their endeavor to obtain the latest plaything. Amber was astounded that she, too, had once solicited to the percolating disease of Christmas. However, the emotions of hatred was absent in her avoidance of the holiday- a peculiar occurrence, really.

The problem is that Amber can't think. Thoughts and emotions have been repressed;  a stoical mask reinstated for an expressive canvas. The canvas has been wiped clean and refurbished into a drab shade of grey, with all splotches of color removed from her life. No color, whatsoever. To anyone else, her life could be considered boring, but Amber preferred the expected monotony of 'a blank slate', as philosopher John Locke would refer to it.

It wasn't always shades of black and white, however. Amber's life used to be streaked with different shades of intense red, vibrant blue, and vivid yellow- and every shade in between. He always insisted on including the lesser known and equally beautiful colors of saturated fuchsia, energetic turquoise, deep crimson, and even asparagus green. He was quite partial to asparagus green, for some reason Amber could not fathom.

Smudges, dabs, and marbleized swirls littered her canvas and lured Amber into a fictional world filled with incomprehensible feelings and emotions. Even the dictionary and thesaurus weren't able to satisfy every description of Amber's thoughts.

Soft smiles, carefully tossed towards her heart, never failed to make her swoon.

But nothing gold could stay. The colors disappeared, bleeding into each other and shaping Amber back into her mask. The world fizzled out into a filter and emotions became non-varying. She tried, honestly, to become normal. All efforts were futile.

At any rate, grey is a comfortable color, easy to camouflage blemishes. She could hide behind faked enthusiasm and false smiles.

Gray is also the color of the slush littering the sides of the road as Amber meandered down a lightly traversed street. The bitter winter wind attempted to nip and bite at her exposed skin,  eventually ripping her scarf from her neck and thus sending her scampering after her runaway warmth. The cream colored wool pillowed into a neat pile on the sidewalk as Amber was sent tumbling into a freezing puddle, graciously assisted by a slick patch of ice.

Any other individual would have immediately sprung backwards and bellowed curses to the heavens. Perhaps they would have cried for such misfortune, or dramatized their situation with quotes from Shakespeare- "Twas merely an uncommon occurrence!"

However, Amber remained kneeled on the frozen, merciless concrete; despite being immersed in six inches of filthy slush, she continued to be unfazed from the drastic temperature change. Nearby pedestrians merely spared her a parsing look, too occupied with shielding themselves from the winter haze dusting the streets.

Mechanically, Amber slid her gaze upwards in a feeble attempt to regain awareness of her surroundings. She grimaced against the wet seeping through the knees of her jean as the cold bit at the pliant flesh exposed to the ice. It was so cold, so hellishly bitter.

Despite the brewing snowstorm; despite her fall into humiliation; despite the disgrace that swept away life itself- Amber grinned.

Without understanding any of the extraneous context, one would be led to believe Amber had-delicately phrased in a colloquial term, of course- lost her mind.

But, had she really? Amber's eyes gleamed as she stood up and carelessly brushed at the mud clinging to her jacket. She stumbled away from her puddle signifying her own personal sufferings, and towards the light. All sense of self and the acknowledgement of others faded away as Amber strode forwards, suddenly convinced with a burst of self-confidence.

A forgotten cashmere scarf laid carelessly on the sidewalk.

She could see the light. It was beckoning her forwards, persuading Amber to forget all miseries and relinquish control; Amber couldn't resist- she was so weary, so exhausted from living; Amber simply wanted to disappear from her own mind, the memories that kept her chained to the past, never able to move forwards. She closed her eyes and stumbled forwards, a diminutive smile lingering at the corners of her lips as Amber faced her twisted fate.

The bell on the door to the toy store twinkled as a grimy female staggered inside.

 

~*~

 

Five years ago, the world was whole.

Serene, tranquil, and absolutely frozen in the turn of time. The clock had slowed; the minute hand seemed to gradually elongate the seconds. Time, itself, had ceased motion.

Five years ago, the snow shone pure, glistening like crystallized diamonds underneath the light of the full moon. 

All children were already tucked away into their beds, noses red with the nipping frost as they scrunched their eyes in an effort to fall asleep. Thoughts of anticipated presents and new playthings filled their minds, threatening to keep sleep at bay.

Five years ago marked their first Christmas away from home.

 It wasn't much of a celebration, to be honest. He absolutely couldn't afford to be extravagant this winter, what with all the expenses he'd have to pay for his student loan and mortgages on the new house.

However, Henry could have been with Amber on the moon, in Antarctica, wherever one could dream possible- and it would have been more than enough. Love is comprised of two souls inhabiting one body, and the body craved to be complete, along with the mind and the spirit.

Henry dreamed of making their love official by branding Amber with his claim. He, in turn, would belong to Amber through ancient decrees officiating their love for each other. He longed to make Amber his bride, his husband, whatever- it didn't matter. As long as Amber was his, and he was Amber's.

Such thoughts brought him to his current situation- Henry was standing absolutely clueless with small boxes littering the floor as they spilled out over his arms in the midst of a jewelry store.

"Can I help you, sir? Is there anything you would like for me to get?" A flustered clerk asked, hands wringing frantically as she tried to scoop up the discarded boxes.

"No, not at all!" Henry swung around, dropping a few more boxes until he was clutching the right one. Inside laid two silver rings nestled in a bed of silk pillows; a twisting and climbing vine inscribed into the bands. It wasn't ostentatious, it didn't have diamonds, it wasn't flamboyant, but Henry knew that the ring was fated to be Amber's.

He only hoped she liked it.

Henry left the jewelry shop with the tiny velveteen box shoved deep into his coat pocket, as if he hid the tangibility of the event, he could eventually suppress the thought from his mind and prevent anxiety from settling in. He stumbled around on the sidewalk, drunk with happiness that he was finally going to propose to the woman he loved. Dancing in the snow always seemed like an scene out of a Korean Drama, but Henry supposed that he was going to put that one to good use. He managed to successfully complete The Boogie and The Michael Jackson Slide before ending up on his bum in front of a store front. The lights were still on; the store sign was flipped to "Open!".

Bizarre, since most stores were closed on Christmas Eve. It was virtually a miracle that Henry managed to find the jewelry store, but perhaps they figured a lot of males would be completing last-minute preparations for romantic proposals to their girlfriends.

Like any other mildly intelligent male, Henry decided to walk inside the store, and was flabbergasted with the sheer amount of stuff that litters the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling. He blinked rapidly, eyes misting up with the effort of taking in all of the items scattered across the inside, their rainbow shades creating the appearance of a miniature explosion.

"Are they... toys?" Henry whispered, mouth forming an 'o' shape as he gazed up at all of playthings scattered about.

And just like any other mildly intelligent male, Henry was excited with the prospect of exploring the entire store. Though he was a bit too old for playing with the GI Joes and the Legos, it wouldn't hurt to investigate their stocks, right? He took a few steps inside, ensuring that his snow-covered boots weren't crushing the heads of Cabbage Patch Kids littered across the floor, as if a young toddler had thrown them carelessly about.

The golden flecks within the half-hidden oak floorboards reflected the shine from the lamps. It appeared to present an almost mysterious allure to the quaint shop. But another glimmer shone brighter, reflecting the light from the single chandelier dramatically placed in the middle of the ceiling for a impressive effect.

The shimmer from the corner of the room was revealed to be a large glass jar stocked full with unsold candy canes. Henry hadn't even seen them since his childhood back in Canada and decided to take advantage of their presence to surprise Amber with them. She'd be delighted, wouldn't she? A memory of their childhood together, sprinkled with the promises of an eternal love; it was every female's dream.

Henry purchased the entire jar- nearly 150 peppermint sticks in total, a grand sum- at the golden counter where the cashier halfheartedly hides a knowing smile.

"For the lady, I presume?"

Henry gave a tight nod, eyes cast downwards bashfully. He was too cute, really.

The cashier grinned again, smile splitting through the prestigious moustache he was sporting. "I'd suggest you write a hundred different reasons why you love her- it's so much more romantic for the ladies."

Henry pondered for less than a minute, then looked directly at the cashier. He'd made up his mind- it wasn't too hard to express one hundred different reasons why he loved Amber. It was possible he had enough reasons for nearly one thousand peppermint sticks, but he didn't think his wallet could take the strain.

A thoughtful question followed the pause.

"Do you have a pen I could borrow?"

 

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A/N:

Well, that's a wrap for the first chapter! I hope you enjoyed it.

As always, comments and reviews are welcomed.

Definition of "Eunni": a feeling of listlessness and dissatisfaction arising from a lack of excitement.

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