Fiction: A Chance Meeting
by: Vermie
The only time Grace met the “prince” of their land, she had paint on her face. A dramatic slash of blue - green -- cyan to name the color -- that started from the tip of her nose to the right cheek and managed to weave its way to the corner of her eye. The year was 2008, the setting a bus bound from Davao to Surigao. The heroine, a girl whose paint - splattered face was the least of it. There was also a dab of yellow on her hair, a streak of black that ran from her sleeve to her forearm, and orange on her shoe, and it would be impossible to name the colors found on her hands and under her fingernails. Grace herself was aware of the colors that adorned her shoe and her forearm. She had been admiring the combination of shades on her fingernails, and she had seen her face and ear reflected in the window when the bus passed under the bridges. No wonder a few of the other passengers had been staring at her as she walked down the aisle, searching for a seat; that the conductor had been smiling as he punched her ticket was completely understandable.
Still, what could she do? She had tried rubbing the cyan off -- such a cool and serene color but to no avail. So with a shrug, she left the cyan to glow dramatically -- but also with serenity and coolness -- on her nose and cheek.
An artist, Grace was dressed in what she considered a nightmare -- a uniform. Grace loved her school which was tiny and select, attended by scholars who passed the national competitive exams. But uniforms?! She was an artist! Artists were supposed to have freedom! Plus, the color of their uniforms were unique, making it hard for her to blend in, and harder, now, that her uniform had paint splattered on all sorts of places. She gazed out the window to pass time and dozed off once or twice, and dreamed of vivid colors swirling. Unlike other girls her age, Grace never dreamed about boys.
They arrived, with the conductor calling out Surigao bus terminal, and with a screech, the bus came to halt. Waking up, Grace shook herself, rubbed her eyes and stared wistfully at her paint - covered clothes, wishing that she brought a change of clothes. She gathered her bags, which were light, since she would only be staying for the semestral break, and walked down the aisle and out the door. The haze Surigao sunshine made her feel as if she was still dreaming.
As she walked out the bus terminal, she heard the conductor telling other passengers that the prince would pass through this very station. She can’t help but feel a twinge of curiosity.
The terminal had been freshly swept and scrubbed. It was the fact that the terminal was empty of people that Grace’ s curiosity for the prince vanish. As if the prince belonged to a higher form of life, as if he was too valuable to breath the air of the common people…the prince led a sheltered life. His home, a grand palace surrounded by acres of land -- gardens on one side, riding stables on another -- for his riding club, the Twilight Riding Club, an exclusive club for nobles who knew how horseback riding. His home occupied multiple precious blocks right in the center of the city. Its privacy was so closely protected that even the great roads were forced to bend to its will because it had not been allowed to be too close to the palace. Grace believed in efficiency and the location of the palace went against her stand for efficiency.
She started thinking about the prince. What is it about him that made the girls talk about him? Well, sure he belonged to the riding club, which she heard was filled with good - looking guys but… is he that special? Thinking these thoughts, Grace ran to catch another bus to her quarters.
The prince dressed in their school uniform was the first thing Grace saw when she arrived in the waiting shed. She was so close and her approach was so swift that he was startled and pulled back. There was a murmur of concern from his body guards, who stood two meters behind him. Grace also noticed that although for their concern, the men made no attempt to bridge the gap between her and Prince Ren.
She was a commoner, someone who walked on regular basis, was probably breaking some rule by standing so close to him. She and Ren were no more than a meter apart, close enough for her to observe that he was of medium height, slightly taller than her. He was every bit as her girlfriends promised. Who would have thought that his skin be fair, his eyes deep, his body lithe like a dancer, at the same time, lanky like an athlete?
They were also close enough to let him see that she had paint on her face…
Grace covered her nose with her hand but it was too late; in a moment his mouth broke into a crooked smile and his eyes shone with laughter, and as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. No longer shy, rather humiliated, Grace felt her face grow warm.
How dare he laugh at her! Who does he think he is?
A god perhaps, or a noble’s son… Grace bowed deeply.
Then she lowered her hand from her face, lifted her head high and walking rather than running for once, swept past him, the cyan still glowing dramatically… so cool and serene… yet also… so satisfying…
The only time Grace met the “prince” of their land, she had paint on her face. A dramatic slash of blue - green -- cyan to name the color -- that started from the tip of her nose to the right cheek and managed to weave its way to the corner of her eye. The year was 2008, the setting a bus bound from Davao to Surigao. The heroine, a girl whose paint - splattered face was the least of it. There was also a dab of yellow on her hair, a streak of black that ran from her sleeve to her forearm, and orange on her shoe, and it would be impossible to name the colors found on her hands and under her fingernails. Grace herself was aware of the colors that adorned her shoe and her forearm. She had been admiring the combination of shades on her fingernails, and she had seen her face and ear reflected in the window when the bus passed under the bridges. No wonder a few of the other passengers had been staring at her as she walked down the aisle, searching for a seat; that the conductor had been smiling as he punched her ticket was completely understandable.
Still, what could she do? She had tried rubbing the cyan off -- such a cool and serene color but to no avail. So with a shrug, she left the cyan to glow dramatically -- but also with serenity and coolness -- on her nose and cheek.
An artist, Grace was dressed in what she considered a nightmare -- a uniform. Grace loved her school which was tiny and select, attended by scholars who passed the national competitive exams. But uniforms?! She was an artist! Artists were supposed to have freedom! Plus, the color of their uniforms were unique, making it hard for her to blend in, and harder, now, that her uniform had paint splattered on all sorts of places. She gazed out the window to pass time and dozed off once or twice, and dreamed of vivid colors swirling. Unlike other girls her age, Grace never dreamed about boys.
They arrived, with the conductor calling out Surigao bus terminal, and with a screech, the bus came to halt. Waking up, Grace shook herself, rubbed her eyes and stared wistfully at her paint - covered clothes, wishing that she brought a change of clothes. She gathered her bags, which were light, since she would only be staying for the semestral break, and walked down the aisle and out the door. The haze Surigao sunshine made her feel as if she was still dreaming.
As she walked out the bus terminal, she heard the conductor telling other passengers that the prince would pass through this very station. She can’t help but feel a twinge of curiosity.
The terminal had been freshly swept and scrubbed. It was the fact that the terminal was empty of people that Grace’ s curiosity for the prince vanish. As if the prince belonged to a higher form of life, as if he was too valuable to breath the air of the common people…the prince led a sheltered life. His home, a grand palace surrounded by acres of land -- gardens on one side, riding stables on another -- for his riding club, the Twilight Riding Club, an exclusive club for nobles who knew how horseback riding. His home occupied multiple precious blocks right in the center of the city. Its privacy was so closely protected that even the great roads were forced to bend to its will because it had not been allowed to be too close to the palace. Grace believed in efficiency and the location of the palace went against her stand for efficiency.
She started thinking about the prince. What is it about him that made the girls talk about him? Well, sure he belonged to the riding club, which she heard was filled with good - looking guys but… is he that special? Thinking these thoughts, Grace ran to catch another bus to her quarters.
The prince dressed in their school uniform was the first thing Grace saw when she arrived in the waiting shed. She was so close and her approach was so swift that he was startled and pulled back. There was a murmur of concern from his body guards, who stood two meters behind him. Grace also noticed that although for their concern, the men made no attempt to bridge the gap between her and Prince Ren.
She was a commoner, someone who walked on regular basis, was probably breaking some rule by standing so close to him. She and Ren were no more than a meter apart, close enough for her to observe that he was of medium height, slightly taller than her. He was every bit as her girlfriends promised. Who would have thought that his skin be fair, his eyes deep, his body lithe like a dancer, at the same time, lanky like an athlete?
They were also close enough to let him see that she had paint on her face…
Grace covered her nose with her hand but it was too late; in a moment his mouth broke into a crooked smile and his eyes shone with laughter, and as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone. No longer shy, rather humiliated, Grace felt her face grow warm.
How dare he laugh at her! Who does he think he is?
A god perhaps, or a noble’s son… Grace bowed deeply.
Then she lowered her hand from her face, lifted her head high and walking rather than running for once, swept past him, the cyan still glowing dramatically… so cool and serene… yet also… so satisfying…
Labels: fictional horizon, sci-wings, story
posted by The Sci-Wings Staff at
12:19 PM
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