“Eye of the Tiger” is set as my alarm. It is also my ringtone for when anyone except my girlfriend calls. When she calls, it plays “The Bitch Is Back”.

It was very early, the sun was not yet up. It was 5:45, or 05 h 45 as they say in Quebec.

It was to be at the Underdog Gym by 7 O’clock, but I wanted to walk there, and grab a bit to eat first. It is not good to eat immediately before exercising, but if I eat now, I will be okay once I get there.

I did not feel like making anything, so I was hoping something would be open in the Place Dupuis.

I hurried out into the cold morning. According to the weather application on my Blackberry, it was only two degrees. Two degrees! It is only November! Wow, does it ever get cold in Montreal! I am glad I won’t be here during winter.  {35 degrees Fahrenheit}

Did did a fast walk, or slow jog to the Place Dupuis. Fortunately, the A&W is open for breakfast at 6 O’clock.

“Bonjour.”, I said happily to the woman behind the counter, “S’il vous plaît, saucisse et les œufs sur un petit pain. ”  {Good day…Sausage and eggs on a bun, please}

“…et le café. Lait et édulcorant.”  {…and a coffee. Milk and sweetener}

“Cinq quarante quatre, s’il vous plaît.”, she said with a smile.  {Five fourty-four, please}

 I gave her six dollars, and she gave me the change as I waited for my food.

After I finished my sandwich, it was almost 6:30, and I knew it would take at least fifteen minutes to get to the gym, and I did not want to be late on my first day.

I arrived at the gym just a little before seven, and the damn place was shut! Damn it! Coach Jim was supposed to be here by now. 

There I was standing on St. Catherine Street, early on a fall morning, freezing my tail off! 

I walked around to that back of the building to see if there was a way I could get in. 

The gym was on the second floor, and there was an abandoned store on the first. I noticed the door to the abandoned retail space was ajar.

I managed to find my way into the old storefront. I know its trespassing… True or false? I care?

The room was completely empty. I looks like this had been vacant for a very long time. I was surprised that the gym did not want this space.

At the back, I found a small washroom with something indescribably disgusting in the toilet. Beyond the bathroom, I found stairs going down and up. Well, up is the only way to go.

The top of the stairs exited into a small hallway with an empty office room on the right, and the other side…a bricked up doorway! That’s fine, I could search around for a sledgehammer, smash down the bricks and enter the gym from here, then just put back all the bricks after…

…or I could just go back downstairs and wait for Jim.

By the time I got back to the front of the building, Jim was there, “Vous êtes en retard!”  {You are late!}

“Fuck you.”, I said very quietly.

“Puisque vous êtes en retard, vous pouvez commencer avec une centaine de push-ups.”, Coach Jim said with anger.   {Since you are late, you can start off with one hundred push-ups}

He continued, “Ensuite, faites trois tours de saut à la corde, puis boxe de l’ombre … cinq tours…”   {Then do three rounds of jumping rope, then shadow boxing…five rounds…}

He paused to take a short breath, then continued, “Je veux cinquante sit-ups, un certain travail médecine-ball, puis de quatre tours sur le sac…Compris?”    {I want fifty sit-ups, some medicine ball work, and then four rounds on the bag…Got it?}

“Je suppose que.”, I said.    {I guess}

Jim gave me a dirty look, “Puis six ou sept tours de sparring lorsque les autres gars arriver ici, et encore une centaine de push-ups pour être un sage-cul.      {Then six or seven rounds of sparring when the other guys get here, and another hundred push-ups for being a smart-ass}

What the hell just happened here? This coach was cool yesterday!

TO BE CONTINUED…

Apes in The Aether: Chapter II

Jeremiah sat up for a few moments, then collapsed back down onto this bed. He stared at the cracked, egg white ceiling, and the softly creaking fan as it spun and wobbled in the dark, and became lost in thought. He struggled to wrap his brain around the apparition on the bridge, and the vision in his dream. What did it mean? His grandparents told him little of his mother, and nothing of his father, so this had left a void that for most of his life was left ignored. They both strongly discouraged inquiry. Grandma would say “She’s with god now, boy. That’s all you need to know. Now let it go.”, while Grandpa would simply threaten to “give him five across the eyes” if he didn’t hold his tongue. They not only kept him in the dark about his parentage, but also about everything else. They went to great lengths to keep him sheltered and isolated from the outside world, to “protect him from a world of sin”. As a result, poor Jeremiah was a simple and naive child, with little knowledge or understanding of anything.

Jeremiah sat up for a few moments, then collapsed back down onto this bed. He stared at the cracked, egg white ceiling, and the softly creaking fan as it spun and wobbled in the dark, and became lost in thought. He struggled to wrap his brain around the apparition on the bridge, and the vision in his dream. What did it mean? His grandparents told him little of his mother, and nothing of his father, so this had left a void that for most of his life was left ignored. They both strongly discouraged inquiry. Grandma would say “She’s with god now, boy. That’s all you need to know. Now let it go.”, while Grandpa would simply threaten to “give him five across the eyes” if he didn’t hold his tongue. They not only kept him in the dark about his parentage, but also about everything else. They went to great lengths to keep him sheltered and isolated from the outside world, to “protect him from a world of sin”. As a result, poor Jeremiah was a simple and naive child, with little knowledge or understanding of anything.

As he was about to drift off back to sleep, a noise roused his awareness; a low murmur. He listened intently while his eyes scanned the room in an attempt to identify the source. A sudden thump right above his head startled him. “Did that come from the attic? Perhaps grandma or grandpa is up there? What would either of them be doing up there at this hour?”, he wondered. He continued to lay in bed and listen. Again, he heard thumps. A series of softer ones that sounded like footsteps, and went from one side of the attic toward the other. This continued for about an hour until Jeremiah finally crawled out of bed. He peaked his head outside his bedroom door and  peered down toward the attic hatchway at the end of the hall. He was frightened, yet was again overcome with a will, not his own, that compelled him to investigate. There was a beckoning whisper.  He couldn’t tell if it was external or in his head, nor could he make out the words, yet somehow he knew what it was conveying to him. 

Jeremiah began to slowly walk toward the hatchway, taking much care to be quiet as he passed his grandparents bedroom, glancing quickly out of the corner of his eye. His grandmother was sleeping soundly, alone. “Perhaps it was grandpa who was up in the attic?” he thought, but then he heard someone coming up from downstairs. He quickly ducked into the bathroom across the hall and hid behind the shower curtain. Moments later the bathroom light came on and his grandfather came stumbling in, cursing and mumbling incoherently. Jeremiah stood as still and silent as possible, knowing that if grandpa caught him out of bed he would surely feel the sting of his belt. His grandfather relieved himself, then stumbled back out and across the hall into their bedroom, clumsily closing the door behind him. Jeremiah waited a few moments, then slipped out of the bathroom and down the hall until he found himself standing beneath the hatchway. He peered upward at the dangling chord, then reached up and slowly pulled it down. The hatch popped open and the ladder unfolded. He began his climb up into the attic. As he stuck his head up through the hatch, he paused nervously and peered into the darkness while listening for the sounds. All was dead silent. He was afraid to go up, but even more afraid of his grandfather waking up and discovering him, so he decided to continue upward.  There was enough light from below to allow him to spot a hanging bulb. He pulled its chain, which illuminated the attic with a dim, flickering light that created dancing shadows upon the surfaces. This created an uncomfortable ambiance, but regardless, he wasted no time pulling  up the ladder and closing  the hatch. The musty odor and disturbed dust agitated his nostrils. There were stacks upon stacks of chests and boxes of all sizes. There was, however, nothing in sight that would’ve explained the earlier noises.

As he was contemplating returning to his bedroom, something at the far end of the attic caught Jeremiah’s eye. Upon one of the overhanging beams was an inscription etched in the wood. He slowly tiptoed across the floor, as not to wake his grandparents below, to get a closer look. The words were scratched out, but still legible for the most part. It spoke of loneliness, suffering and a longing for death, and it hinted at things unspeakable. Jeremiah mouthed the words silently as he reread the poem, contemplating their meaning and their origin. It panged his heart, yet he felt that he shared in what the words conveyed, as if they were also his own. Did his mother write this? Perhaps she found the attic to be a sanctuary; a place of escape and solitude. He stood there, staring at the words, but looking beyond them,with his eyes out of focus and lost in thought. In that moment his sense of time was gone. It could’ve been two, ten or even twenty minutes that had past, until the light abruptly went out. He paused and waited for it to return, hoping that it was merely due to the same faulty wiring that had caused it to flicker, but he waited in vain. He stood there in silence, in the pitch black. The air around him grew cold, and he heard a creaking noise from the other side of the attic, and then another, and another. They were the sound of footsteps, and they slowly grew closer to him. Jeremiah tensed up and held his breath, frozen in fear. He felt cornered by this thing that he could not see. The sounds continued to slowly progress towards him until they were mere feet away. And then, there was silence once more. Moments passed, until Jeremiah finally exhaled, but it was followed by another breath not his own. It felt as cold as ice upon his face. Jeremiah’s heart jumped into his throat, and he whimpered as he mouthed the question “…mom?”

“No.” replied a raspy voice that didn’t quite sound human.

Jeremiah began to panic, and swung wildly through the air in front of him, hitting nothing. Then he felt a cold hand tightly grasp his shoulder and then he heard a whisper in his ear; “I was a… friend… of your mother’s.. She called out…for me.. And I came.. but she turned inward.. succumbed.. and left.. but I can… help you, give you… what’s needed… to turn outward.. overcome.. take it… let me in…” The hand released its grasp, the lights came back on, and there was silence once more. Jeremiah stood there, alone, breathing heavily and shaking, with his face soaked in sweat and his pants soaked in urine.

Jeremiah hadn’t budged an inch, still frightened and confused, when suddenly the hatch violently swung open, and up popped grandpa’s beat red, scowling face. He snarled, “Jeremy! You. Little. Shit! I knew I heard something up here! What the hell you think you’re doing?! Boy, you’ll be feelin’ it for weeks once I’m done with ya! You’re gonna learn, and you’re gonna know your place!” Jeremiah’s heart sank. Overcame with dread, he braced himself as his grandfather made his way up into the attic. He would trade his earlier fear of the unknown for this fear of the familiar any day. His angry grandfather unfastened his belt as he approached. He stopped and stood before Jeremiah, who lowered his gaze. “Little shit… little shit… Ohhh you are gonna regret this…” he said softly as he shook his head. As his grandfather raised the belt above his head, Jeremiah turned his head away with his eyes clinched tightly shut. 

“Let me in.”

It was the raspy voice from before, now a whisper in Jeremiah’s mind. The belt came down, but was caught mid-swing by Jeremiah’s hand. His grandfather simply looked down upon him stunned and dumbfounded. Jeremiah, too, was stunned and dumbfounded. Then, he saw a look of fury in his grandfather’s eyes  that he had never seen before. He face contorted in rage as he balled  up his fist and swung. Jeremiah hit the ground, but immediately stood up. In fact, he even smirked and let out a little laugh. But internally Jeremiah was still reeling from everything that was transpiring. Everything felt like a bizarre dream, as if his actions weren’t his own, and he was watching himself in the third person.  His grandfather, flailing his arms and about stomping his feet, let loose with a string of obscenities at Jeremiah’s uncharacteristic display of defiance. As he was doing so, Jeremiah casually reached up to the support beam that had the poem etched into it, and pulled down a rusty, jagged piece of metal that was resting along the top of it. This must’ve been what was used to carve the poem. He had no idea that it was up there before, yet somehow now he knew.  His grandfather, seeing it in his hands, immediately lunged for it, where upon Jeremiah quickly plunged it into his stomach. He lurched backwards, clutching his wound, and fell upon his back. Jeremiah was beside himself. “Is…is this really me?” to which the whisper in his head replied “It is…us.” His grandfather groaned and writhed on the attic floor as blood ran down his side and began to slowly pool beneath him. As Jeremiah silently stood over him, he gazed up and said “You… worthless little shit… what the hell have you done?! What are you thinking?! What do you think I’m going to do to you?!”

“What do you think I’m going to do to you?” Jeremiah calmly replied.

(Previous chapter: http://authspot.com/novels/apes-in-the-aether-chapter-i/)

It would be a fools gamble to go riding off at that time in the night, so Captain insisted that Timira spend her night there at camp. She was nervous, terrified even. She’d never spent a night away from home, yet here she was amongst strangers.

Damyx walked her to the tent where the Captains wife, who everyone called Ophelia, was sound asleep. The tent was bare, a pile of old blankets laid down as a makeshift bed, a couple of pots that were spotless in the corner, along with a trunk full of neatly folded clothes and uniforms.

“Timira, promise me something.” He looked at her, his blue eyes glowing in the dark. “Promise me we’ll get married. That we’ll live happily ever after.”

Timira smiled, hope filling her soul. “I promise, after the war we’ll settle down and raise a family.”

Damyx grinned in return, he leaned down and kissed her. The girls heart leapt into her throat, she stepped forward slightly to leave no room between them.

A voice cleared its throat behind them. “Now, now you to. I’m a fan of Romeo and Juliet but y’all should probably wait till y’all are married like they did.” Captains laugh echoed the empty space as he took Timira by the shoulder and led her into the tent.

“Good night, Mathews.” He said teasingly, using the hand holding the lantern to swing it around briskly.

“G-good night, Captain!” He said quickly, waving sheepishly at Timira before walking away quickly.

“He’s a good kid, take care of him for me.” Captain said, taking his hand off of her shoulder.

“I will, sir.” Timira’s voice resumed its soft tone as she stood their awkwardly.

Captain smiled and laid out a few more blankets in the partial walking area of the room and tossed her a pillow. “Little Lady, I hope you don’t mind spending the night with strangers but I thought it would be more proper like than you rooming with y’alls betrothed.”

“Its not a bother, Captain. Thank you so much for letting me stay.” Timira knew she had to be polite, it was her way.

Captain smiled at her before taking off his jacket and throwing it on top of the trunk. He sat down on the one chair in the room and tugged off his boots, throwing them under the chair with a grin. “My wife, Ophelia there. She hates it when I do that!” He laughed.

Timira grinned and sat down on the blankets, laying her pillow on one side. “So you do it on purpose? I’m surprise she hasn’t killed you yet!”

“She’s probably planning on it, good night Little Lady.” Captain said, blowing out the lantern and crawling into the bed with his wife.

“Good night, Captain.” Timira said with a small smile, lying down. She sighed and burrowed into the blankets and thought to herself. ‘Mrs. Damyx Mathews? Mrs. Timira Mathews? No, Mrs. Timira Lorde Mathews.’ 

          I was always one who wants to help people and advise as i have being through alot.I make no excuse about the things that i have done to myself .I realise that i have done things To escape the pain i have felt since my parents went their separate ways.I judged them and blamed them for my failures ontil i found myself separated.Only then did i realise the pain and helplessness involved.Everyone is a loser and the children never get over it.Knowing this is a terrible pain to bare and you spend your life trying to make up to you children for this failure.The thing my parents didn’t realise is as a child all i wanted was for them to carry on with their lives and be happy.The biggest stumbling block for a child is watching a parent or parents wasting time with excuses and sickness.Its like watching a very slow death of a body and soul and there is nothing that can be done.Its certainly stopped me from doing the things i wanted to do.I spent most of my life making suggestions to my parents to get up and start again only to be disappointed with sickness of the mind and body.Death is a mere formality after that.

       I found my children starting to advise me about my health and i was horrified to think that maybe i was stunting their growth with my inability to move on and reinvent myself.I have being separated for almost ten years now and i can say honestly that i haven’t improved myself one little bit.What must my children think and how has this affected their lives so far.Its true that my heart was truly broken and i did everything to save my marriage.I suppose i held out a little longer than most as i knew how i had felt when my parents split.I didn’t want that to happen to my children.The pain is too great.I moved to England,Spain and many towns in Ireland to find money to keep my family home for my children.Being away from them was a pain i cannot describe.I realise that my ex wife was also in pain but she at least could look at her children every day in her own house.I was forced to drift from place to place and nowhere was a home to me.I lost years of looking at there faces as they grew to young women.I do have one thing though and that’s all the precious letters sent to me everywhere i went.Each one has its own personality and innocence to it.I used to picture their faces as i read their beautiful words.They have grown up to be wonderful young women but i cant help feeling that there is a real sadness there.They live with their mother who if I’m being honest is not easy to get along with.She has alot of things happen in her life and will not move on.She lives in the past and spends her time crying alot.The girls are almost immune to it now but after living away from that situation i can see that its having a real impact on their everyday lives.Ive tried talking and she has being to counseling so its become a situation of just living with a person with depression.This is a serious problem all over the world and i would like to do something about that.Maybe someone who reads this will be inspired and move on with their lives.That would be a great achievement for me.

                          I didnt really want to get personal when i started this book but i realise that i must write about myself so the reader can experience my situation and understand where im coming from.In fact just writing about these things make me feel alot better and encourage me to write more.I have no idea how long this transformation is going to take but i feel that it has begun already.Its amazing how a few changes so far has made such a difference to me .I’m feeling better,look better,have more energy and cant wait to write my list out.My list will be realistic and not off the wall but at the same time i want to challenge myself and do something special.There are so many things i would love to do.I have spent half my life doing the things i didnt like so lets do things a little different and see where it brings me.

Latino Children Play Swing (Photo credit: epSos.de)

“Come closer kit…”

Right now, Naruto has never felt so much fear. What he was looking at right now, was the Kyuubi, the Nine-tailed fox, and the strongest of the Nine Bijuu. The pair of crimson eyes, with black slits was truly menacing, the  malicious grin, with teeth bigger then an average person, and tails that can demolish mountains. This beast of amazing power, in front of Naruto, and calling him ‘kit‘?

Sensing the boys confusion, it decided to have a little fun with it’s container. He extruded his paws and slashed at the poor kid, scaring him shitless. “Wh-what w-was that fo-for!” he stuttered, then pouted “That wasn’t nice…”

With that, the strongest of the Nine Bijuu, started laughing hysterically, rolling across the floor. Naruto just sweat dropped. It’s not everyday you see the most powerful demon laughing. “Oh kit, ha… ha… that was classic…” Kyuubi said between breaths, “You… haha… shoulda seen your face… then… haha… that pout… ha… made me loose it!”

Naruto just Hn’ed, obviously annoyed by that laughter. He decided to have a little fun of his own. He kicked the water below his feet, and what happened amazed him, a larger wave, twenty times bigger then what he was expecting formed. It drenched the mighty beast. Now he was laughing, holding his sides. “Ahahahahahaha, that’s pay… hah… back…” he said between laughs. Kyuubi decided to join in on the laughing. The two laughed for a good minute.

“I haven’t had  so much fun since I was sealed inside of you, it was quite boring you know…” said the Kyuubi, but it’s voice lacked malice, and had a hint of a feminine  tone? Naruto was trying to discover the gender of the great beast in front of him. What happened next, would completely blow away anything that he thought the demon was. The demon seemed to have shrinked, white energy engulfing his vision. A half-a-minute later, stood something even a five year old would call beautiful. A women, around 5’6 was standing where the demon previously was. Silky red hair dominated her head, reaching down to her lower back. Her eyes were of red and black slits, giving an almost feral look with the whisker marks that accompanied it. Her body was slender, with a sizable bust to boot. Her legs were shaped almost seemingly by a craftsman. Naruto was awed, scared and a new feeling, aroused? “Like what you see kit?” she said in a innocent but seductive tone. She giggled after seeing the reaction. A little blood dripped onto his lips, previously in his nose.

“A-a-a-amazingly…” he paused, “beautiful with a capital B.” he said wiping his nose, while trying to force away dirty thoughts. (A five year old pervert?) After regaining his composure, he asked, “So you are the Kyuubi, eh? I thought you were a big scary ass demon who wanted to kill everything?” asked Naruto, and noticed the wince that the Kyuubi that came after the question. “Hmm? What really happened that night Kyuubi?” asked Naruto, “because you aren’t what the history book says you are.”

“Well it all began when…”

Naruto History Section: The Tailed Beasts
During the beginning of the shin obi era, multiple centuries before the founding of the five great ninja villages, existed one great Bijuu. This was called the Juubi or the Ten-Tailed beast. The Sage of Six Paths, also known as the founder of ninjutsu, defeated the enormous beast, and sealed it within himself. The Sage, being wise, knew that when he would die, the beast would once roam the world again. Therefore, the Sage used the ability Creation of All Things to divide the Ten-tails into nine separate beings. These beasts arrange from order of weakest to strongest as in chakra and strength.

One-Tailed Shukaku

Nine-Tailed Kyuubi

When the Sage split the beast, he used the technique Chibaku Tensei to store away the physical body of the Juubi.

“Uh, old man,” Naruto said sheepishly, “The Orphanage kicked me out a year ago…”

What happened next, almost made Naruto soil himself. The KI (Killing Intent) released by the Sandaime was almost enough to kill him right there in the spot. You could hear gasping and thumps from outside the door, the nurses and medics falling over from the KI. Naruto, often used to KI, wasn’t as effected, but it was still intoxicating. His hands grasping his throat, gasping for air. After a minute of the exposure, the Sandaime stopped. Multiple ANBU arrived to find what was causing such KI.

“Hokage-sama, what is the situation!” yelled the tiger masked ANBU.

Slowly finding his voice, the Sandaime replied, “Nothing… Nothing, go back to your posts.” With a chorus of ‘hai’s,’ the ANBU disappeared. “Sorry about that Naruto, I’m going to have a ‘talk’ with the owner of the orphanage.” Sarutobi then sighed, “Naruto, I’m getting you your own apartment. I would be more then happy to give you the inheritance from your father, but with the enemies he has gained from the Third Shinobi War, that would not be wise.” He paused to look at Naruto’s reaction, which consisted of a slight grumble, then ended with a nod. “Along with the apartment, I will be giving you a monthly salary of 25,000 ryo, which should be able to pay for your expenses for each month.”

Naruto lightened up, but that disappeared. “Old Man, all the stores that I go to, always charge inflated prices, and they still give me inferior products.” Naruto explained.

Sarutobi just sighed. ‘What reason did this kid deserve this fate.’ thought the professor, as his face softened into a sad, but understanding posture. Sarutobi thought very hard for the next minute, as Naruto was waiting patiently for his reaction. “Naruto…” he paused, “…Every month, I will go with you to these stores that overprice you, and ‘teach’ them a lesson,” he said with more of a grin, which was mirrored by the blond.

Naruto was on the verge of tears, nobody has ever treated him like this, the only ones remotely close enough was the owner of Ichiraku’s Ramen, Teuchi, and his daughrer, Ayame. Naruto ran up to the man he viewed as a grandfather, but wincing every time he applied force to his left leg. He wrapped his arms around the mans legs, crying into his thigh. The Sandaime just chuckled heartily. “Thank you… Thank you… Thank you…” he mumbled into the robe.

After a minute of the embrace, they slowly parted. Sarutobi ruffled his hair affectionately, chuckling as he pouted. “Naruto, it’s time for you to go to bed, tomorrow is a new start to your life, I promise that.

After the Sandaime left, Naruto jumped up onto the bed, pulled the blanket (If you can call it that) over his body, and leaned back on the mattress. He drifted off into sleep, replaying the events of that day.

*Naruto’s Mindscape*

Drip… Drip… Drip…

Naruto found himself inside, what looked like a sewer. ‘What is this place, it looks like Konoha’s sewer.’ thought Naruto. ‘I just fell asleep, so this must be a dream…’ he pondered over the idea. He decided to explore, following the many pipes which illuminated a sky blue. Deciding to find the source of the flow, he decided to follow the opposite of the flow. Observing the many different pathways, it was almost like a road system. After what seemed like fifteen minutes, he came across an enormous clearing, with a large double doored gate decorated in the middle. Darkness reigned in that area opposite of his position. Fifty feet above the floor, was a piece of paper, that had “seal” on it. Naruto sweat dropped, an enormous door, staying closed entirely by that piece of paper?

Naruto, the curiosity getting the better of him, slowly approached the large cage. He felt something dark inside the cage. ‘This is only a dream… this is only a dream…’ trying to reassure himself that this was merely an illusion. When he was five feet away from the cage, he heard a large, dark and demonic voice. He froze in fear.

“Come closer kit…”

Jutsu/Technique list:
KI (Killing Intent): The simple process of exuding pure killing intent, along with combining chakra to increase the effectiveness. More experienced shinobi can even temporarily paralyze enemies.

            The room was dark. The curtains were drawn and only the dim lights of the street peeked through the cracks between the edges of the fabric. Although it was winter outside, inside the temperature was a toasty 75 degrees – Ava’s way of sticking it to the man, and by that she actually meant sticking it to her land lord. The air was stagnant and it smelled of a blend of lavender air freshener and the odor of a girl who had not left apartment for the past week. Ava felt as though she was cooking in her own stink. She stared blankly at the ceiling and heard the soft sound of her cat lapping water. 

            Ava wondered, ‘is it morning?’

            Her first instinct was to get up and feed her cat, a Russian blue with the personality of a spoiled child. If she didn’t put out food soon, Ava knew that her cat would start exfoliating her face with its sandpaper-like tongue. But wait, what exactly happened the night before? Ava remembered taking a nap, and then… nothing. It dawned on her that it may not have been the wee hours of the morning. Ava blindly searched the head of her bed for her cell phone, clumsily running her hands under her sheets and her pillows in the dark. 

            The time was 8:38 P.M. It was Thursday. Ava groaned, “Seriously? It’s Thursday already?” Ava took to talking to her cat and she scanned her room for a pair of glowing green eyes. “Prrrr?” The grey cat trilled as it jumped onto the bed. The cat’s intelligent eyes seemed to demand food. “And while you’re at it, go clean mylitter box too.” Ava laughed at the personality she concocted for her own pet. Being as groggy as she was, being silly was second-nature. 

            Ava slowly sat up with her feet hanging from the edge of the bed. Her body and her joints ached. It may have even been safe to say that her fat ached as well. The air in the room seemed to sting her eyes . Everything about the environment made her feel greasy, lethargic, and bored. Being bored led to thoughts. The thoughts led to panic. Mechanically, Ava took a few steps into the kitchen and filled her cat’s food and water bowls. She knelt down to get closer to her cat, who was avidly eating and could not be bothered to acknowledge Ava. “Good kitty,” Ava crooned as she petted her cat’s satin-like grey fur, “I love you.”

            Ava got up and reached above her fridge, where she kept her medicine. She found her sleeping pills and popped one in her mouth. Ava ambled her way to her bed and laid back down, the imprint of her body seemed embedded into the mattress. Like the last piece of the puzzle, Ava made herself comfortable under her blanket, stretched the entirety of her body, took a deep breath, and let out an even bigger sigh. Soon she’ll be back to sleep again, and when she wakes up it would be morning. 

Chapter 2:Punishment

Charles sat in his chair looking at the floor. He felt as though he could never move. He felt cold, alone and angry. He pulled his heavy fur coat around him and slouched. His tall backed oak chair creaked under his weight. He was getting old. He had felt it creeping up on him for a while now, just refused to think about it and let it take over his body. He got to thinking. Thinking about how long he had left and how his son could have betrayed him in such a way that was unthinkable. His heart started racing, he felt his blood boil with the rage that was inside him. It felt like a dragon was racing in his veins and setting fire to him from the inside out. He grabbed his goblet. It was cold to the touch; he held the weight of it in two hands and took a gulp from it. The wine left traces of red on his moustache making him look like a savage cannibal. He knew he would have to face his son sooner or later, he just didn’t know when, he didn’t know how he would react. Not tonight though, tonight was not the time. Now he needed to feel the warmth of human flesh against his, he needed to remember there was something more than anger and old age to life. He put down the goblet and forced himself away from the chair that had held his body for far too long now. He stormed through the hallways and stopped outside his chamber. He could hear a soft feminine voice coming from behind the heavy door and he chuckled to himself. He would be okay for tonight. Tonight would keep him from thinking. He threw the door open and slammed it shut behind him, the girl jumped. She said nothing and went straight to Charles’ bed, she knew what she was there to do, she knew she was not there to speak.

Charles awoke. Sweaty, shaking and panicking. He sat upright, looked around quickly. The girl was gone. Good. He didn’t want people talking about how he woke in the night terrified. How could he control a household who saw him as nothing but a frightened old man? He wiped the sweat off his brow, pulled off the covers and went to the desk on the other side of the room. He slumped himself into the chair and poured himself a drink. He sat there for what seemed like an eternity, thinking…What was he to do? How could he punish his own flesh and blood? Someone who had brought so much shame upon the family name, someone who had made him look like a fool. It was eating him away, just thinking about what Trey had done. It was hurting him to think the boy who he had raised, shown how to swordfight, shown how to ride a horse, had stabbed him in the back. However, it hurt far more to know that he Trey had shown he had no idea why his Father was so disgusted by him. Charles got up, he paced back and forth. Sighing, snorting and holding back the anger. He shouted for one of the guards to come into his chamber. The door opened, the guard stood to attention awaiting his orders. ‘BRING ME THE GIRL’ He wanted to be back where he had no thoughts on his mind. The guard left the room, closing the door behind him. Charles went back to his chair and looked outward to the sky, it was pitch black, and the clouds were covering everything. 

Charlotte Bronte’s 1847 Bildungsroman Jane Eyre provided a drastic departure from its contemporaries. Through the titular character, Bronte questions the accepted norms of the time – the class system, the subordination of women, the role of religion and how one interprets the teachings of the Bible, and finding a balance between passion and duty, amongst other things. The second chapter of the novel, which sees Jane wrongfully imprisoned in the ‘red-room’ of her childhood home, Gateshead Hall, serves to foreshadow coming events in the work and Jane’s tumultuous life.

Even the first five words of the chapter can be seen as a microcosmic reflection of the book: “I resisted all the way”[1] is a phrase that can be attributed to Jane’s experiences throughout the novel. Jane’s resistance takes a number of forms: physically, she here resists Bessie and Miss Abbott’s removal of her to the red-room, and she later resists both the outbreak of tuberculosis at Lowood and the ill effects of the food and sleep deprivation she suffers after fleeing from Thornfield. Resistance is also evident in her initial reluctance to pursue her feelings about Rochester when she deems them impossible to pursue, her refusal to be spoilt with riches and jewels (“Jewels for Jane Eyre sounds unnatural and strange: I would rather not have them”[2]), her resistance to the easier option of settling down out of wedlock with Rochester, and her refusal to accompany St. John to India for it would represent a life without passion, representing the opposite of a potential marriage to Rochester on the spectrum between love and autonomy by which Jane measures all her experiences. Thus, the line “I resisted all the way” could quite easily fit in at the climax of the book as a summation of Jane’s experiences between her imprisonment in the red-room and her return to Thornfield and Ferndean Manor.

One could be forgiven after chapter two for expecting something from Jane Eyre that never fully comes to the fore, but remains prevalent in the tone of the piece throughout. Never more so than in chapter two are the elements of Gothicism which pervade the novel more evident: the term ‘red-room’ immediately evokes imagery of blood in the reader’s mind, and red is also the colour most readily associated with the novel’s themes of love and passion, which it shares with its contemporary Gothic works such as Dracula, Wuthering Heights, and Bleak House. Many Gothic elements run through both chapter two and the novel as a whole. The ‘Mad Woman in the Attic’ is a role fulfilled by Jane in chapter two as she passionately rages against her plight before screaming to be let out of the red-room, which is “remote from the nursery and kitchen,” before being fulfilled more literally by Bertha Mason later on. The Gothic staple of the manor house is also present in Jane Eyre, with Gateshead here and later, Lowood, Thornfield and Ferndean Manor supplying that motif threefold. Occurrences which could be construed as supernatural also happen throughout – in chapter two, the overwhelming sense of dread and terror that Jane experiences, which the older Jane rationalizes in her narration as probably “a gleam from a lantern carried by some one across the lawn,”[3] but which is never explicitly debunked, and in the novel as a whole, several occurrences such as lightning striking a tree at the moment Mr. Rochester and Jane become engaged, the “Christmas frost at midsummer,” the solitary day in June which so unnaturally manifests in the weather Jane’s feelings  - observe the deliberate similarities in description of Jane’s prospects –“her life was pale, her prospects desolate,” having been “yesterday so blooming and glowing,” much like “the woods, which twelve hours since had waved leafy and fragrant” but now “lay stark, chill, livid corpses that could never revive.”[4] The occurrence which serves as a catalyst for Jane to ultimately reject the advances of St. John Rivers and to once again seek out Mr. Rochester is the most overtly supernatural and most difficult, if not impossible, to rationalize of them all – her and Mr. Rochester hearing each other’s words over a distance of many miles brings events to a climax in much the same way that Jane’s seemingly supernatural experience in the red-room started the chain of events which led the character on her journey.

Eric McMillan said of Jane Eyre: “When reading it for the first time, you keep thinking Jane Eyre is going in a certain direction, but then it changes,”[5] and chapter two draws extensively on fairy tale imagery to portray Jane’s vulnerability. Jane’s woes in chapter two can be compared to the plight of several fairy tale damsels: she possesses Cinderella’s abusive mother figure, she is locked away like Rapunzel, and she later finds herself mirroring “the universal “Cinderella” success story, in which the heroine…” is seen to be “overcoming the social competition of the mean stepsister figures.”[6] Jane describes herself in chapter two as a “strange little figure,” with “the effect of a real spirit,” “like one of the tiny phantoms, half fairy, half imp.”[7] The comparison of Jane to these fairy tale staples continues throughout – Rochester describes Jane as “provoking puppet,” “elf,” “sprite,” and “changeling.”[8] Jane even herself literally becomes a fairy tale character at one point, as Rochester euphemises to Adele his and Jane’s engagement – “it was a fairy, and come from Elf-land, it said; and its errand was to make me happy.”

Whilst one cannot truthfully describe Jane Eyre as an out-and-out Gothic novel in the way that one could about, say, Dracula, one could more accurately describe the novel as a Bildungsroman containing elements of romanticism, realism, and of course Gothicism – and it is not only the Gothic elements of the novel as a whole which are alluded to in chapter two. The reader unconsciously makes the aforementioned connection between the colour red and the themes of love and romance, and Bronte’s lavish description of the room: it is “one of the largest and stateliest chambers in the mansion,”  “bed supported on massive pillars of mahogany, hung on curtains of deep red damask,” “covered with a crimson cloth,” the “piled-up mattresses and pillows of the bed” and the “ample cushioned easy-chair” which looks “like a pale throne”[9] could just as easily describe a honeymoon suite and certainly initially makes the reader wonder just why Jane objects so strongly to being placed within it. But it is what the room represents that Jane objects so strongly to, and will continue to object to throughout the novel. The feeling of ridicule and being singled out amongst others her own age that Jane experiences in the red-room again occurs at Lowood, when Mr. Brocklehurst warns the population of Lowood against her and implores them “not to allow the waters to stagnate around her.”[10] The strength Helen Burns’ wordless support imbibes her with soon evaporates, and, much like in the red-room, Jane loses control and succumbs to “overwhelming” grief – “nothing sustained me”[11], much like “endurance broke down”[12] in the red-room. The bed and bedroom, which often in literature represents a safe haven, is not regarded as such here, despite its luxurious nature. After her pleas for help and her release are ignored, Jane does not retreat to the bed, instead fitting and passing out. The lack of refuge Bronte affords beds is further evident throughout: Bertha Mason attacks Rochester and Jane herself in bed and Jane rarely finds seeks nor finds solace in sleep – finding only, as Rochester puts it, “visionary woe”[13] in her dreams.

The aforementioned simple use of the colour red in chapter two, more than the Gothic, fairy tale, and romantic elements, is, however, the most prevalent foreshadowing of events in the novel as a whole. The red-room not only represents the mental change of Jane’s epiphany as she rails against the injustices of her life, but also the physical changes Jane is about to go through as a girl on the cusp of puberty, the term red-room hinting at menstruation and thus Jane’s coming maturity. The colour red also evokes imagery of fire, an element which continues to appear as Bertha sets Rochester’s bed and later the entirety of Thornfield ablaze, and the narrator frequently describes Rochester’s eyes using adjectives such as “flaming,” and “flashing”[14] – “fire is used throughout the novel to represent passion as an uncontrollable force.”[15]

The events in chapter two are the catalyst for the journey Jane goes on throughout this Bildungsroman – elements of every theme the novel possesses are present here, and truly, “”I resisted all the way,” Jane Eyre states at the beginning of Chapter 2, and this attitude, this declaration of a unique and iconoclastic female rebelliousness, strikes the perfect note for the entire novel.”[16]

Bibliography

Bronte, Charlotte. Jane Eyre (Kindle edition). Public Domain Books, n.d.

McMillan, Eric. “The Greatest Literature of All Time – Jane Eyre.” Editor Eric. n.d. http://www.editoreric.com/greatlit/books/JaneEyre.html (accessed November 17, 2011).

Novelguide.com. Jane Eyre: Metaphor Analysis. n.d. http://www.novelguide.com/janeeyre/metaphoranalysis.html (accessed 11 17, 2011).

Oates, Joyce Carol. “Romance and Anti-Romance: From Bronte’s Jane Eyre to Rhys’ Wide Sargasso Sea.” Virgina Quarterly Review, Winter 1985.

Sullivan, Paula. “Fairy Tale Elements in Jane Eyre.” The Journal of Popular Culture 12, no. 1 (1978): 61.

[1] Bronte, Charlotte. Jane Eyre (Kindle edition). Public Domain Books n.d. 4

[2] Bronte, Charlotte. Jane Eyre (Kindle edition). Public Domain Books n.d. 199

[3] Bronte, Charlotte. Jane Eyre (Kindle edition). Public Domain Books n.d. 8

[4] Bronte, Charlotte. Jane Eyre (Kindle edition). Public Domain Books n.d. 227

[5] McMillan, Eric. “The Greatest Literature of All Time – Jane Eyre.” Editor Eric. n.d. http://www.editoreric.com/greatlit/books/JaneEyre.html (accessed November 17, 2011).

[6] Sullivan, Paula. “Fairy Tale Elements in Jane Eyre.” The Journal of Popular Culture 12, no. 1 (1978): 61.

[7] Bronte, Charlotte. Jane Eyre (Kindle edition). Public Domain Books n.d. 7

[8] Bronte, Charlotte. Jane Eyre (Kindle edition). Public Domain Books n.d. 210

[9] Bronte, Charlotte. Jane Eyre (Kindle edition). Public Domain Books n.d. 7

[10] Bronte, Charlotte. Jane Eyre (Kindle edition). Public Domain Books n.d. 49

[11] Bronte, Charlotte. Jane Eyre (Kindle edition). Public Domain Books n.d. 51

[12] Bronte, Charlotte. Jane Eyre (Kindle edition). Public Domain Books n.d. 9

[13] Bronte, Charlotte. Jane Eyre (Kindle edition). Public Domain Books n.d. 217

[14] Bronte, Charlotte. Jane Eyre (Kindle edition). Public Domain Books n.d. 221

[15] Novelguide.com. “Jane Eyre: Metaphor Analysis.” n.d. http://www.novelguide.com/janeeyre/metaphoranalysis.html (accessed November 17, 2011).

[16] Oates, Joyce Carol. “Romance and Anti-Romance. From Bronte’s Jane Eyre to Rhys’ Wide Sargasso Sea.” Virginia Quarterly Review, Winter 1985.