Chapter One - рака Роуз
Word Count: 1,565
Claimer: The world and everything in it, especially the characters, are mine.
The day was crisp and chill, despite the sun that hung bright in the sky, like the moon painted gold. Its rays flew down through the atmosphere to touch the snow that covered every little thing. It seemed as if the sun’s rays were magic, for as soon as they landed upon the snow, it seemed to turn into sparkling, glittering, diamonds. Of course, it was still snow, but to a person with a childlike love of snow, they would fancy it was diamonds instead.
Rollik was always a childlike person in that way. When he was younger, he had believed his mother’s tales of the sugarplum fairies who came around at night and dropped little bits of icing until the world was covered with it. When he grew older, he had calmly told his mother that while she was correct about the night snow, the snow that fell in the day was made by the Snow Queen and King. He would go on to add that the day snow was actually made of little diamond people. He had always entranced his siblings with this tale, just as his mother entranced them with hers.
It soon came around to be obvious to everyone that Rollik and Abigail were kindred spirits when it came to Christmas, giving, and snow. Abigail was a single mother, who worked for Women Helping Women. Every day she would go to help them, and every night she would come back to see that everything was fine, having been taken care of by Rollik’s steady hand. Even if it meant sleeping during school, Rollik would patiently stay awake and watch over everything in the house to help his mother.
Perhaps that was why, even at the young and successful age of twenty two, Rollik valued family and giving most of all. If asked, he would say that he had many families. He had his blood family, his library family, and his families at all the places he donated and volunteered at. The last family he would tell you of was his favourite though. And it was to this family that he was traveling.
His breath was a clear puff of smoke every few seconds, like a little white cloud escaping his mouth, and carrying his breath off to heaven. The wind blew softly, enough to shift his longish black hair, and to carry enough cold to turn his pale complexion a soft red from the n**. It was not hard enough to knock him over, or to send thick gusts of snow at him, which Rollik thanked the Snow Queen and King for. Ice had not covered the sidewalks and pathways badly, indeed, it was very much sparse. Where it was, however, it glittered and glowed, like patches of moonbeam fallen from the heavens to bless the walkway of humans.
To the normal watcher, whose gaze would travel over him absently, it would almost appear as if he was dancing across the sidewalk. The normal watcher would chuckle, and say something about the infection of Christmas spirit, before continuing on their way. To someone with Rollik’s point of view, however, would know that he was avoiding the puddles of moonbeam, and be glad that someone else could share their love of the beautiful gift from God.
Rollik was pointed at a tall, beautiful building. It was twisted and curled, like a strand of DNA, only more abstract. The building was made entirely of glass, with steel supports in between each delicate pane. It was set on a long, rectangular block of silver and steel. To the incompetently taught person, it would seem to be more like a prize for winning the science fair then a building for the arts.
But for the arts it was.
It had been created long, long ago by a man named Henry Wilhem. Henry had been a successful scientist for much of his life, with work in front of him always. However, after events unknown to us happened while he had been in Russia, Henry had come back to his home to give up being a scientist for a long while, and build this building. He named the building рака Роуз. Those who could translate it, from the Russian it was in English, would just say that it was honoring someone he had known. No one decided to argue this, or ask who it was. Most knew that it was best not to ask.
The building had become a refuge and a learning center for people who adored the arts but could not afford the best training. Famous artists, dancers, singers, actors, writers, musicians and such came from across the world to teach and lead in Henry’s building. Ever since the beginning, рака Роуз had been famous for the shows that they would host there. Many people would be willing to pay millions of dollars, just to enter the place.
Rollik looked up at the famous building. It towered high into the sky, through the clouds. The light sparkled off of it, making the building shimmer. A feeling of breathlessness and wooziness overtook Rollik, just looking at the magnificent building. It seemed to look down on him, like God watching all of his angels. A smile overtook Rollik’s face, his pink lips pulling up playfully as he quickened his step. The closer he got, the farther away his breath got. Though he had been traveling along the same pathway for around three years now, he was always affected.
The door slid open, a panel of glass that made it seem as if the building had no door at all. Out stepped a young woman, whose black skin became instantly affected by the cold, turning ruddy, like Rollik’s. She looked at him, and her hazel eyes widened in recognition, before she quickly loped towards him.
“Rollik! Thank god.” She breathed, slipping and almost falling as she went over the ice covered walkway. She slid to a halt beside him, looking half worried, but also amused. “I got worried when you didn’t arrive on time.”
“I’m sorry.” Rollik answered, tearing his wide, doe like blue eyes away from the building, and focusing them on hers. “I had to put baby Lily to sleep." His mind fled to the image of his baby sister, Lily, lying in her crib, asleep. She looked much like him, which had been the first thing out of Abigail’s mouth when she had first held the babe.
“Lily isn’t your responsibility.” The woman objected. Her thick, blonde hair lashed around her face in the wind, dancing the same dance that Rollik’s hair was. “Why couldn’t Abby do it?”
Despite his cheerful attitude, Rollik always became a bit withdrawn when it came to his mother and his siblings. “She had, the first time. But then she was running late. Honey, I couldn’t let her go to work late. She’s doing something good for the world.”
The woman, Honey, rolled her eyes, and tossed an arm around Rollik’s shoulder. She guided them both up the silver and steel stairs, and into the building. “So are we, Rollik. We’re making the world more joyful with our performances and our Christmas decorations.” She then grinned, and hugged him. ‘Which we didn’t put up, so you could be a part of it.”
Honey was obviously unsurprised, but very happy, at the excitement and joy that filled the younger man’s gaze. “Thank you so much, Honey.” He breathed, returning the warm hug. “You didn’t have to, though.”
“No one has to do anything, except maybe get their paycheck on time.” She assured him easily, letting out a high pitched giggle that contrasted with her low and grounded voice. “Besides, the important thing is that we wanted to, Rollik. So don’t make us feel guilty.”
“Never.” She chuckled, and kissed his forehead, before grabbing his hand and starting to walk. She had to pause, however, as he was transfixed, staring around the beautiful building.
The room was, indeed, beautiful. The floors were a pure white, like the most unblemished ice. Across the ceiling hung swoops of white, gauzy fabric. Images had been printed onto some of the windows, unable to be seen from the outside, but clear on the inside. The images were of many performances by the people of рака Роуз, as well as images of the people working, or just having fun.
Rollik’s mouth quirked upward at the sight of the newest one. He, Honey, and a few other friends were all sitting in the restaurant, arms around each other, and matching grins on their faces. They were all most certainly buzzed, but that was forgivable, they had been celebrating that Honey had gotten her first CD released.
Honey leaned in to look at it, and exclaimed, “Goodness, we were drunk back then!” Leaning back, she added, “first time for you, I think.” A roughish grin was aimed at Rollik. He turned and gazed at the female coolly.
“Do you not remember when I turned twenty one?” His voice was full of fake anger. Honey grinned. Of course she remembered. That had been one damn wild night. She coughed her laughter, though it did nothing to remove the grin from her face.
“Course I do.” They looked at the picture for a few more moments. “Come on, Rollik, let’s get going.” He nodded, and they headed out of the room.
