The buildings of Manhattan were like pyramids along the night. She watched quietly from her bedroom window. What was it that she had once likes so much about this city? Was it the thousands of sparkling windows stretching across the dark mass of horizon, or perhaps, was it the mystery of those lights? Whether it was the landscape or the mystery, she didn’t know. She was never allowed out of the studio.

Knock, knock, knock... The pounding of flesh upon the massive door shook Camilla from her distant thoughts. Today was the day of parent visitation at the Jobet Ballet Studio for Young Girls.

She was not a dancer. No, Camilla Cohen could plié and sauter just as well as pigs could fly. With two left feet Camilla was seen by her Great Aunt Agatha as nothing more that a mere disruption in her perfect life. Then again, leave it to Agatha Cristophe` to find a usage for her dear dancing-challenged niece. Ms. Agatha began making Camilla spend hours and hours during afternoons when there were no scheduled dance classes, reading her the dullest of books from the Jobet library.

Well, for the most part Camilla made do with the time not spent reading to her Aunt Agatha or attending her own lessons given by a private tutor assigned to her. “You must not waist away all day and become a lazy ignoramus,” her aunt had said.

So, if it had not been that her grandmother was visiting on the parents’ day then Camilla would have been overjoyed to not have scheduled lessons or readings with her aunt. Her grandmother was Agatha’s younger sister by three years and even far worse in Camilla’s eyes. Adella Cristophe’, her grandmother, had been stern and overbearing ever since she could remember. She never understood how her sweet Grandfather could have put up with Adella’s cruel ways or why he had even married her in the first place. Camilla’s mother had obviously received most genes from her father’s side.

Camilla’s mother had once tried to explain the ways of Adella when she had been a young child and before her mother had grown ill, but she (Camilla) hadn’t understood. Telling a child why their grandmother hates them would be a hard thing to do, and was difficult to comprehend on Camilla’s part. Adella had hated the young girl and three months had not made that hatred any different.

It had been three months and she hadn’t seen her grandmother, nor her beloved mother or father. The last time she had seen them it was in Paris, France. Her mother had recently been diagnosed with cancer and her father had been summoned to the military. She did not wish to leave them, but her grandmother had to take care of her ever-sickening mother and did not have the time to also bother with Camilla. Their only option was for Camilla to be sent to New York City, where her Great Aunt Agatha could take care of her.

Camilla had been for the last hour straitening her room before Ms. Agatha came to her door. “Camilla, child?” she called. “Are you in there? Hurry and report downstairs. Your, uh-” she hesitate, pondering for the right word. “Your Grandmother Adella will be arriving shortly!”

Camilla could see her stern faced aunt with her hands on her hips through the crack in the door. She was silent and did not wish to answer Agatha.

“Camilla? Camilla! If you’re not down here in five minuets you are going to be in deep trouble.” Agatha paused, still waiting for an answer. None came. “Oh, and Camilla, you’d better not be wearing your green dress. You want to make a good impression as my Great Niece to all of the guests.”

She growled with fury as she heard her aunt’s retreating footsteps down the hall. She quickly tore off the dress [the green one] she presently had on. Though plain, it had always been her favorite because it brought out the vibes of emerald green in her large rounded eyes.

more to come...