Villian

So this is the opening of a story I wrote for my English class. Please do tell me how it is. I want to continue the story, posting bits occasionally, but only if you think it sounds interesting. If it doesn't please tell me and I won't do it.


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        The clock chimed the hour and he knew that he was in the wrong century.  He landed with a thud on the cold floor of the abandoned Church. He painfully brought himself to his knees, wincing and looking half dead. The effort seemed to be too much for him, as his eyes rolled up in his head and he exclaimed, “Oh, shoot!” before collapsing in a heap, unconscious.
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I toyed with my food, vigorously nodding to whatever my father said. He was rambling on and on and on about some unfortunate nameless person who had died at the hands of The Dictator. Ugh, he was starting to sound so monotonous. My twin sister didn’t even seem to be paying attention, her daft little brain preoccupied in some useless thought that brought a frown to her face. I smiled internally. It was the perfect opportunity for some harmless fun. I snapped my fingers lightly, and my father’s hair caught on fire.

         My father yelped in pain, drawing my sister’s attention. Before she could move to his side and put the fire out, I was already there. I put on my most innocent and worried face as I got rid of the fire. “How could you do this to our own father, Valkyrie?” I demanded of my sister. She looked at me wide – eyed and confused. Then realization dawned on her and her face contorted into a mask of anger. “Shut up, hag. Don’t frame me for what you did! Father, I heard Rosalind snap her fingers right before your hair lit up.” Ah, damn it. She wasn’t as oblivious as I thought she was. My father looked at me suspiciously.

It was time for Plan B. My face crunched up and tears began rolling down my face. “I..I..didn’t do it. I..I..swear. Why….why…would I? She probably did it because your words reminded her of her jealousy towards me because she isn’t powerful enough to be the one killing The Dictator.” I said, gasping for breath for emphasis. My father looked at me with complete love and trust in his eyes and I knew I had won him over. “Valkyrie Andreyah, how dare you misuse your magic to harm someone else and then blame it on your faultless sister?” my father thundered. I sniffled pitifully, looking believably hurt and shocked that anyone would ever dream of convicting me. Then, for a final stamp of authenticity, I ran out of the house, sobbing uncontrollably.

I stopped crying the second I was out of earshot, reconsidering my actions. Sigh, I regretted putting out the fire. I should have just lit him up like a burning star and watched the light drain out of him, leaving only ashes. But then again, that would just be a waste of my magic on worthless scum like him. My feet carried me towards the old haunted Church, a place I used to vent my anger. Which powerless animal would I hunt and incapacitate today? A squirrel? A nightingale? A deer? I walked inside and whistled softly at the sight before me. A boy about a year older than me lay unconscious on the ground, a gift from the Gods themselves for me to amuse myself with. It seemed like my torture methods would have to be more advanced today.

Oooh, how I would enjoy seeing his muscular frame squirm under the tendrils of my magic, as I scarred his lovely face with my knives............
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That's all. I hope you like it!

Masinagudi

          Imagine my excitement when I realized my three year old favorite cousin, who I barely see more than two days a year, was finally coming to India for a whole two months! And then imagine my disappointment when my parents informed me that he would only bring light into my life for a week. Sigh.

          However, my cousin was not the one whose arrival I looked forward to the most. I had an inexplicable longing to see my marvellous uncle - father to my cousin and younger brother to my mother - as it had been even longer since I had spent a reasonably long amount of time with him due to his and his family's residing in Luxembourg. Therefore, we planned a trip to Masinagudi, a town in the middle of the jungle.

          Masinagudi, which is in Tamil Nadu, is the most calming, relaxing place I have ever been to. At first, I must admit, I was reluctant to go, as the alternative destinations we had considered seemed far more intriguing, but I was not foolish enough to miss an excellent opportunity to explore a new place. I was lured in by promises of living in a tree house and trekking.

          First, we travelled to Mysore in the care of my father's driving expertise, leaving at around 7:00 am and arriving at 8:00 pm, to meet up with my grandparents, uncle, aunt, and cousin. I spent a day reminiscing over fond memories and making new ones and on Monday, December 26th departed on our car trip to Masinagudi. My excitement to explore the tree house we would be spending our nights in was great, although my family advised me to not keep my hopes up too high, for, after all, this was India and we doubted anyone was entirely sure of what a tree house was.


          My hopes were not in vain, as the tree house really was something to behold. It was entirely made of wood, yet was still unfathomably strong and sturdy. I fact, it was luxurious. My family and my uncle's family lived in a double tree house, which meant that it had a large outdoor aerial platform to meet on with two doors leading to two rooms that we occupied. Ah, what rich wood and what splendid sense of style!

           We crashed the minute we stepped inside, only awaking later to head downstairs and explore the forest resort. A homely reception cum dining area greeted us with its soothing ambience and a lovely bookcase beckoned me to lose myself in its eternal pleasure. The food was not particularly spectacular, but it was quite passable. The games section was nothing unique, but somehow playing there was the most fun I had throughout the entire trip. Perhaps it was due to the fact that I got to see a whole new side to my grandparents.

           After a long and tiring day, we returned to our tree house and sat for a while, pondering the one inescapable, insurmountable question that boggles our minds every single time we go for a trip - Where would everyone sleep? The adults have it easy, as their sleeping arrangements are always taken into consideration when booking a place to stay, and children can fit in anywhere, but we teens must make the most of whatever leftover space is present after the adults and children settle. Usually the only habitable place is the floor, if you don't count the bathroom.

           My parents offered to let me sleep with them, but my teenage sense of independence shuddered at the thought. I offered to sleep on a mattress on the ground, but my parents refused to let me, as they insisted that it was too cold. So, there I was, at 12:00 in the night, tossing and turning because it was far too hot under the thick blanket, between my parents. I couldn't stand it anymore, so I crept out of bed and slept on the mattress. It was a bad decision. The nights in Masinagudi are no less cold than the nights in Ladakh. So, the next hour I spent freezing my toes off, trying to cover myself with my hands as much as I could due to the lack of an extra blanket. I eventually made my way back to the bed and finally slept.

           The next day, we woke up early to trek up Neelgiri Hill. My mother and grandparents went up in a jeep while we trudged along. It was really fun, until we got to the foot of the hill. Then, the catastrophes started happening. I had been feeling for a while that something had been poking me, and when I put my hands in my pocket and dumped out the contents I found a cactus branch. By this time, my hands were already infested with thorns and I spent the rest of my trek pulling them out.

            At the top of the hill, a breathtaking view was available, but my eyes were more interested in the boulders that covered the other side of the hill. They beckoned me to climb on them and I willingly agreed. I climbed nearly halfway down the hill with my grandparents screaming at me to come back up, scared that I would fall. As I sat on a ledge, my legs dangling dangerously off the edge, I was filled with a sense of belonging and peace. I wanted to come back someday with plenty of books to read, write in and draw in to my heart's content. Unfortunately, that dream would have to wait, as it was time for the photo shoot that is compulsory for every trip.

            When we came back to the resort, we immediately had breakfast and made our way to the indoor games area. I ran back to the tree house for a second to get something, and when I came back I saw that we were preparing to take an unplanned trip to Ooty. We got into the car and were on our way. The high temperatures in the supposedly chilly hill station of Ooty disappointed me and the only highlights were our paddle boat rides and the horse riding. Finding a restaurant to have lunch in was an ordeal and we ate heartily after we found it because we were horribly hungry.

            Eating a little bit too much had its side effects. My sister threw up all over the backseat of our car. This triggered my aunt, who has motion sickness and had been holding it in, as she vomited not much later, this time outside the car. My mother tried cleaning the car to the best of her abilities, but the stench was unbearable for the rest of the ride. Upon reaching Masinagudi again, we simply had dinner, relaxed in front of the bonfire, and slept.

            The next morning we were up early again, preparing for our departure back to Mysore. It  saddened me to leave the tranquility of the forest and once again run headlong into the race that is city life. I vowed to myself to construct a wonderful tree house like these tree houses when I grew older. On the way back we stopped to see a small dam and played in the river's water.

            This trip to Masinagudi was probably the best, not because the place was exotic or the luxuries were great, but because of the wonderful family members I went with. They turned what would otherwise be a dull trip, into an adventure that I am not likely to forget. I thank them heartily for it.