(Full!) chapter Eleven

Why, hello - dear readers of the world, who have chose to read this particularly tragic book of a certain little girl named Blodwena. I will now list - with a tear staining my pages as I write in the dim candlelight - what shall await you, not only in this Chapter but in the parts to come, forming together like a puzzle to create one, big, black hole in space that shall swallow up any living creature that dares come close - in the end. And it may not seem perilous - and there may be momentary laughs, and friendly exchanges of hugs and words and people with quite amusing spectacles sliding down from their noses - but all in all, who wants to read about a death, an evil being with hands like death, talk of self-murder, blood-stained scimitar? Who, may I ask, feels as if they were in need of reading through a duel, witnessing a woman with eyes like hellish tongues of red flame torturing - killing - an innocent man, quite noble for this world? And - lastly - would one enjoy to become part of something big - with scarlet blood and slit throats and bones covering the ground in white, silken strands - WAR - truly?

Because you can end this all right now.
You can put away your devise - your book - and step down on your glasses, if pray you have any - and, with your heel, you may watch the glass shatter and crack like a great iceberg. But if you do nothing... if you, oh! I shudder to think of it! - do nothing and, in the end, keep on reading, then it is entirely all your fault if ghosts haunt you for a long time afterwards, and if you are so afraid that you cannot look properly into a mirror again lest you see none of your reflection,  but truly something much, much worse.

You have just been warned, alas!

But step right in... turn the page... let your eyes dig into the information - let them scan and feast on the paragraphs below, and feel your rage coming like bubbling froth up to your throat with the end of mere chapters, when you want to tear anything and everything apart that dare put itself in eyesight.

Go. There is no turning back, now...

***

It was nearing December when Wen and her family trudged to the Sue house, looking grim. Our little heroine's looked quite broken-hearted, with a grey face, so dull-looking and prim, with her flat brows pulled right in, making her seem like a very proper child in this dull weather.

As the Trulegh family neared the Sue house, sighing, Father and Mother talking in painfully low whispers, Wen saw that many people were beginning to file into the courtyard of the rich Sue house. For once, the seemingly-insignificant family, proud, haughty, seemingly cold - has many a visitor, that day! - for an instance; Mrs. Bassalli, the school teacher, the Dori family (which consisted of three girls Wen had known from Daycare, and who had - until now - Maths sessions with Valentine Sue, and two very slight, proud-looking parents), a few boys (Edgarre, Sean,) that Val got to know at football practise which took place on the east-side of the north-west "forest", the doctor, Torri Frane, the baker from Dice St., Lemony Zolgee, and distant relatives of the Sues, some of which included Uncle Annatolii, a man with a perturbed look about his face, who had a scrutinised little beard, and who dared carry a thick pipe wherever he went, so that surely everybody knew of his presence when smoke began to float up, up, coating his face as though a cloud.
Also, there was Aunt Ronia, a woman who, though now old, claimed herself to be "quite grande" in her days, a word which means - surely - very big, or grand, in Italian.
There were too many shady personas hiding under large hats, dressed in tight dresses or suits, cigars brought to their mouth ever now and then.

Fifty people, all in all, that seemed quite phenomenal! - but what really made people feel queasy with suspicion and excitement at being called to the Sues to group outside, was when Mary Sue herself walked out and began addressing people one by one, so that all could come into the house to greet and wish good things to Valentine Sue.

So, soon, all had left - all but one family, whose last name I shall mention now, though to the utter disgust of Wen and humiliation of Mister —
And that was the Trulegh family.

However, sure as the sun (and believe me, I beg, I do not know what this term is for!) soon enough came out Mary Sue, for one last time.

"How.. is she?" Wen shouted out gladly, for she has felt until now the sob clogging up her throat - "How is she, Mary, tell me!" And she clasped the bony hand as she reached it, and looked up into the little, tear-filled eyes.
Wen would, for anything in the world, want to have the courage to squeeze past this little, motionless figure, and bound up the stairs and bang the door and jump upon Valentine's bed, so that they could cuddle up together and laugh and read magazines. But... what would she see in the little room?
Flowers on the table, with a bright, jolly, red-headed girl either watching television or playing the banjo?
She doubted it.

Perhaps... instead, perhaps a pale girl wrapped in a blanket, sitting on her bed, drinking hot chocolate? Yes... for, Wen had heard people talking, back when the front yard was filled -;

"She looks deathly pale, but boy is she fat now!" One of the triplets spoke, a hand cupping her mouth - no doubt she thought that nobody would hear her, that way!

"Hah - her hellish parents 'ave done nothin' but feed her oodles 'n oodles 'a' food... pathe'ic!" Ejaculated the mother, who was known to have a bad history with Mary Sue - for the other one had been said to steal the cotton shawl, beaded with pointed rubies. Of course, the piece of clothing had never been not found, but the woman still felt as if she had survived a terror filled night at a burning house.

"It does not matter if dear Miss Valentine is - fat - now, for if it has made her feel wholesome and rightly nice, then surely she may eat a whole deal more!" Spoke the kind-hearted Mrs. Bassilli, one woman who had had the mind to bring along her Socky, a sharp-eared, thin Sosoke who at that moment had decided to give a long and monstrous yawl, all the same proving his owner's

"But, the shame... she shall die..." murmured the mother, feeling rather sorry suddenly.

"She won't, she won't, not if we help her get through this!" Said Wen, feeling as though she would suddenly cry out in agony. In her flower-print dress and pink stockings, Wen looked as though she had put on the first things that she'd seen lying about on her bed/wardrobe. On even closer observation, even a doctor would feel humiliated if he could tell not what was bother his little patient, for the face of Wen showed inexplicable pain - tears - sobs and sniffles.

There was snot coming out of her nose now, and she let out a growl, much like a dog.

"There, there..." spoke Eddy suddenly, as he pulled his sister into a large hug. She dug her face into his jumper, feeling it prickle her, which made her laugh wholeheartedly. Eddy, however, shot Mrs. Dori a snap -
"That is no way to talk of a suffering child!"

"Blodwena what's-her-last-name speaks absurd, for all you know..." Mr. Dory squared his shoulders and clenched his jaw.

"I meant not literally, however that would help too. Morally - let us help her all, and try to be funny and cheery and next time you see her, give her some flowers or bake her a muffin!"

"You might not see her, again..." spoke the second of the triplets loudly, squaring her shoulders. And that made Wen want to dig her face even more into the prickly jumper, and when laughter came up once again she wholeheartedly embraced it in a large hug.

And now, as Wen stood there, she agreed with herself that probably-upstairs, a little girl was sitting with plump hands holding unto a cup, possibly full of steaming green tea.

"She is... hanging, there..." Mary Sue whispered, with trembling lips. "Go see her."

Wen nodded her head, eyes fluttering shut. She wanted for this to be over - for everything to be gone. All the pain. But something kept the girl awake - like a metallic, forcefully hand which pushed to stay together and keep calm. "Did she... ask for me?" That was the question that needed an answer.

Mary Sue shook her head bitterly. "She... she said she'd rather you did not come near her."

"Oh." Wen nodded again. Tears stung at her eyes - her friend was going to die, all because of that dumb Terry boy that Ksenia so carelessly "ooooh"ed about! Maybe, she did not have much a chance because it was cold, billowing Autumn - because after she got out of the lake, with the help of her best friend, she refused to go home into the warmth but stayed outside, and played When Love Strikes And Rickety-Thump - but... all that seemed quite minor.

Why wouldn't Valentine Sue want to see Blodwena Trulegh, her best friend? Maybe, she looked so small and pathetic that she did not want Wen to be there for her... but that was an absurd theory, and it wound deeply into Wen's heart.

She raised a trembling hand, pointing a short finger at Mary Sue. It shook. But then, she let it fall down beside her - her hand sliced the air and the bitter wind kicked at the exposed skin as if she was scum. The trees shook - the hemlocks, standing close about the Sue house, moaned to her.

"I don't want to see Val any more than I want to see Terry Dunton." She whispered.

Ksenia flinched.

With a cold hand. She grasped Wen roughly on the shoulder and stepped forward. "She is talking absurd, this little girl," she pointed. "Terry did nothing... Absolutely, I can assure you! He don't even know why your daughter is feeling so bad."

Wen let out a gasp. "He pushed her into the water. It's time everybody knew. And it was Autumn and Val was drenching with water - and her skin stung from the bitter cold - but Val decided  to play games instead of going home!"