Thursday, 8 November 2012

My Mechanical Heart - Chapter Two

It's hard to believe it's already been a week since Halloween, although with the Candy eaten and Christmas decorations going up...it's clear we're getting all geared up for the Holidays!

Of course, on November 11th, I would like to remind everyone take a moment of respect and silence for our veterans both young and elderly. Canada is a wonderful Country and we have these brave men and women to thank for their valiant actions.

As for me, I have a new Chapter of  "My Mechanical Heart" for all my readers! Just getting into the story, we're now presented with the story from Helena Cope's perspective...so read on and find out what the girl with the mechanical heart is really like.

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Chapter Two

-Helena Cope-

Helena watched in rapture as the lengthy, nimble fingers of a middle aged man worked expertly to repair gears and knobs. Setting them back in place, tightening and testing them separately to make sure that each functioned properly as a whole. Helena had tried this before on small pocket watches or music boxes but she would never trust herself to do such careful work as this man.
After all he was the one who had created this particular piece of machinery and Helena would hate to run afoul when fixing her own heart.
Indeed, as odd as it sounded; Helena was watching the man inserting wrenches and picking small pieces of glass out of a panel in her chest.
It was the morning after Helena's Friday encounter with Will. Unbeknown to him when he collided with Helena Will had accidentally smashed a fine window of glass which had been inserted into the left side of her chest.
Where her heart should be. But it wasn't.
Instead there was a collection of old machinery pieces put together, stained black and red and made to look like a human heart. It was typically locked behind a valentine heart shaped window but since it was now broken, Helena needed repairs.
The repairs didn't hurt, in fact they didn't feel like anything. What bothered the girl more than the inhuman qualities in her being repaired was the idle conversation. She had never liked talking but now that they had moved into a new environment it was almost impossible to get more than a word from Helena.
"Who did this to you?" The man queried, his voice mellow but scattered, each word betraying his muddled personality that Helena was already accustom to.
"It was an accident." Helena answered mindlessly.
"Yes, you already said that when you came home last night. Who did it?" He insisted.
"William Auditore." Helena finally volunteered the information after being questioned many times before this.
"So you know this boy?" He asked, with one eyebrow raised.
"No. Everyone just knows him. He's popular." Their conversation which was making Helena so ill at ease ended though with the door-bell ringing.
While in other homes this wasn't typically a catalyst for disaster, Helena always felt like that cheerful ringing was a deceptive way of letting in someone else she had to hide from. Despite her apprehension at the doorbell, as the tall, slender man repairing her heart left the den to answer the door she felt a surge of relief.
Which was in fact very short lived.
"Is Helena home?" She could hear William Auditore's voice from the Foyer.
Panicked, Helena quickly slipped her t-shirt on over the tank top she already wearing. She couldn't let him see her heart.
"Helena, there's someone here to see you!" Clarence Cope called out to her, she hesitated for a moment and considered hiding.
Still, her Father had gone to lengths in expressing his wishes for her to lead a normal life. So she forged on, hearing Will explaining that he was returning her school books.
As Helena filled the doorway, looking nothing more than a shadow in the dimly lit foyer, she watched Will. Outside of school he didn't seem as imposing but still there was something about his effortless perfection that terrified Helena into silence.
Her father cleared his throat, making Helena snap back to attention. "Thank you for bringing my books Mr. Auditore." She said distractedly, taking them from William.
As she reached though, Helena noticed that Will's eyes wandered to the sleeve of her t-shirt. From her elbow to her shoulder Helena's arm looked strange, like it was quilted together with industrial steel thread.
Her instinct was to act like a threatened animal. But the softness in Will's eyes soothed her into passiveness. Setting her books on the antique entrance table, Will lingered in the door, anxiously shifting his weight from one foot to the other.
Helena thought he looked like he was waiting to be dismissed but she knew better than that. Reluctantly the girl stepped back from the doorway.
"Did you want to come in?" She asked. Certainly it wasn't so much as being welcomed and more like she was wanting to know if Will was planning to impose on her space. Even so the young man stepped forward.
It might have been that he was oblivious or maybe just as self-assured as the rest of the school thought he was. But either way he was in the house now and Clarence was going about furiously flipping light switches on and tripping over his feet.
It only took Clarence Cope moments to arrange cookies and milk at the living room coffee table. Will sat down on the couch, eyeing the baked goods like they could potentially attack him.
"I baked them." Helena excused the misshapen, slightly burnt cookies. "Dad's are worse." She added and assumed from the frightened look on his face that Will wouldn't chance a cookie, but much to her awe he managed to not only hold it but in fact eat one.
Helena might have been quiet but she was smart and anything but slow by means of perception. She saw the way that Will was looking at her over his glass of milk, how he was studying her face like there should be more there than the scar across her pale lips. He had seen her arm and not recoiled.
So what did that mean?
"...The cookies, they're good." Will cut the silence between them which was fairly awkward with the way the two teens were studying each other more intensely than exam papers.
"You're lying..." Helena replied, her voice honest but she wasn't offended one bit. Much to her surprise William seemed bothered by her veraciousness. "Why?" Helena ventured, wanting to know what would make Will dishonest about his feelings.
"I'm not really lying...I just thought that being nice was something you would...like." William said, giving Helena a weird look.
"You mean people lie because they want to be nice?" She asked, entirely enthralled at the concept.
"Well yeah, it's called a white lie." William explained commonly.
"Are there other coloured also?" Helena asked, feeling very much like a student.
"No, just white lies. All the other ones are bad." William said shrugging.
"That's amazing." Was Helena's breathless conclusionBut a look of mischief crossing William's eyes and he continued on. "I...guess. Haven't you ever told a lie?" He asked, expecting an obvious 'yes'.
But when Helena said "No." the young man looked completely floored.
"Seriously?" He said in disbelief.
"Yes, ask me a question...I can be honest." Helena said, feeling offended at how Will refused to believe her.
"Does your arm hurt?" He said quickly.
"No." Helena replied just as fast.
"Really?" William quirked an eyebrow.
"Not really, I was just trying out a white lie. Did I do good?" Helena asked with innocence, her head tilted
"Kinda, but you shouldn't lie about stuff like that." William said shaking his head.
Helena was embarrassed, her cheeks certainly would have flushed red if they could.
"Okay, for real...why do you look so sad?" Will asked passively, acting as if he never expected her to answer.
But Helena felt she could give an honest response to him, she wasn't inhibited by truth. "I'll show you..." She said standing and leading Will to the stairs so that they could ascend them.
Once they had made it to the second floor, Helena turned to the right and allowed Will into a room which looked like a cross between a war-zone and Victorian bookstore.
Helena was mostly at ease in this space with it's boxes of old hard-cover volumes, paint brushes and general curios left about to stare at any visitors. Yet this wasn't why Helena had brought William to her room and so the young woman hesitated as she approached the object of contention in her room.
It looked like nothing more than whitewashed double doors at first glance but as Helena threw them back and took a few steps away it was revealed to be a massive, white walk-in closet. This particular closet was one that most girl's would have given up their whole house for. They would have lined it with clothes and spent hours using it as a personal dressing room.
But in Helena's room, with it's whiteness glaringly opposite from her eclectically insane abode something just didn't seem right.
"This is my closet now...I used to have a broom closet where I kept my books and read. Now this is my closet. This isn't a closet at all...it's just a big white box." Looking to William, Helena wasn't sure what to make of the expression on his face which was frozen in bewilderment.
"I can't believe I just heard a girl complain about her closet." He finally mumbled out, taking a sidelong glance at Helena which indicated to her that she had just said something strikingly peculiar.

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