www.whyville.net Mar 28, 2010 Weekly Issue

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A silver wave crashed against the jagged rocks, creating a shimmering picture that reflected in Sable's dark blue eyes. The glowing effect that the moon had on the frosty ocean made it seem fluorescent. Sable's heart fluttered as the whirling foam gave another turn, forming the continuous shapes that enchanted the night. The washing sound echoing throughout the landscape was led by the wind, leading it by the hand until it reached Sable's pale little elf-like ears.

Those ears . . . they were always a little pointy, which was unusual for the Rhodenbok family. The Rhodenbok's often had rounder ears that pointier, and many of her distant relatives peered at Sable with quizzical eyebrows pressed together in puzzlement when they first met the orphan. Whenever they looked her over, they shook their big heads and frowned, refusing to accept her into the family.

You see, long ago, when fourteen year old Sable was three, her parents died in the fire that caused their old, three-story house to collapse. The young couple had then been set to rest, leaving their dream to adopt many children unfinished. Ironically, Sable was put in an orphanage due to their deaths while she waited, and waited, and waited for grown-ups to find her relatives, contact them, and wait for their long travel from Scandinavia to finish. As such, she has now been in the orphanage for eleven years.

How Sable survived the collapse is unknown, but she survived, being found squalling in the rubble. Some claim that she had a fairy godmother or was magical, but that is just a fictional theory; at least, that's what the people believed. It was never proven to be untrue, but grown-ups were so logical those days that the idea was immediately dismissed.

However, Sable had always avoided too much physical contact, and preferred to stay alone and ignore the continuous bustle. Instead, she normally was out with nature and peace, which is why she was staring at the rolling Atlantic Ocean.

"Oh, mother." The whisper spilled into the night air as a wetness began to form and create little droplets on the girl's long lashes. Sable blinked once or twice, savoring the freshness of the chilled darkness; but she was still sad as her heart rate hastened and her chest heaved. Sable didn't remember her mother much; but the sweet, pearly white smile and the long blonde hair so common of the Scandinavians was forever engraved in Sable's brain. In contrast, Sable had dirty brownish-blonde hair in which she was disgusted at. Longing for the presence of her mother, Sable often resorted to Mother Nature instead to hold her in its warm arms. However, the sky blue eyes would never look into Sable's dark ones ever again . . .

The heaves and deep breaths that Sable's lungs were forming now turned into weeping. This was not very uncommon of Sable to do; she did this almost every night, going back to the orphanage with red puffy eyes and thus getting the caretakers concerned. Continuing her speech, she let the whisper go on. "Mother, I miss you so much! Please come back. I'm all alone and everyone is so mean and strange. I don't like the noise that they make--"

An abrupt pause was caused by a loud noise, coincidentally as she was speaking of noises. It was more of a thump, which could be perceived to be a dropping coconut or something. But for some reason, Sable's skin prickled with suspicion. Her narrowed eyes kept a careful watch as the slender girl stood up and looked from side to side, keenly listening from those hated pointy ears. "Who's there?!" the girl commanded, tossing her head and messing her bangs. Desperation could be noted in her voice if you listened carefully, but Sable wasn't just about to admit that. Clenched fists were evidently ready to fight, if necessary. And Sable had a feeling that such was so.


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