Storm Reawakened

The Reawkening

"Do you think she'll make it?"

"Sssh, you know we're not supposed to speak about the young lady."

Who the hell is young lady? Did I leave the TV on last night? Don't tell me some Jane Austen adaption is running this late or worse, Reign. I never understood that show and all its inaccuracies. I mean sure, I'm no historian, but still.

Drowsily, I stir in my sleep with my eyes tightly sealed to fight off any chance of being fully awakened by a stream of lights and colour that'll come pouring through the LED screen. One crack of an eye, and I'll be fully awake and sourly disappointed. The effort it'll take to try and go back to sleep is not worth muting whatever juicy dialogue is running in the background. Searching for the remote can wait till the morning.

"Yes, but the rumours are that she wanted to off herself!"

"Why would she want to do that?"

Yeah, why? Ugh, my head is pounding like the worst hangover in all my life. I need to swear off alcohol and late nights out. I swear, I'll never agree to planning late evening events especially ones concerning spoilt sixteen year old girls in outrageous princess dresses. The fake tiara doesn't mean you're royalty, little girl. You're smiling now but wait till you're a full fledged, tax paying adult—the smile will slide right down your face.

"Well, some of the maids say that she couldn't win the love of Duke Hawthorne and decided to end her life."

"Oh dear. She had so much to live for."

This is sad, whoever this unfortunate woman is—was. To end it over a guy? Sis, was he even worth it? Probably not.

"But she won't be sorely missed, at least not by the aristocracy."

Damn historical courts and conspiracies. Poor woman, she sounds like she was a handful but that's not to say she isn't worth crying over.

There's a tremendous sigh that heaves, and the quality of it is so real that my brows furrow. I'm losing it. I really am. There's no way that could have registered as being so near and practically tickling my skin. That's it. No more alcohol at all.

It's either that or this TV is beyond what I paid for.

"It's just been so many days and she hasn't awakened. The Master is beginning to lose hope and the head is merely awaiting orders to adorn the estate in mourning colours."

"She's his only daughter! Of course he's shaken, the poor Master."

Another sigh and this time, my body reflexively goes rigid.

No way.

I can feel it. Actual, literal hands that touch the fabric of my blanket and softly touch a pillow to fluff the edges. As if powered by fear and a surge of adrenaline, I finally do what I should have done minutes ago and yank my eyes open. I stare agape with eyes bulging at a woman in a maid's costume and she mirrors my expression, gasping audibly.

"Young lady!" she screeched, tears of relief mingled with genuine joy crinkling the corners of her eyes.

"Who the hell are you?" I burst, spluttering out the words as if I haven't spoken in days and then bolt upright to stare at my surroundings in awe and astonishment. No fucking way. What elaborate ruse is this? Why am I in a bed made for royalty? Why are there women here in maid costumes that are detailed to perfection? And why is this room bigger than any of the apartments I've ever lived in?

"Young lady? You don't recognise me?" the maid questioned, a fleeting look of insult passing over her.

Laughing, I dismiss her award winning acting. "Is this a joke? Where's Stevie? Did he put you up to this? Look, I know I was complaining about a girl's sweet sixteen party and how I thought I was babysitting a bunch of brats, but that doesn't mean he has to fake it with the false princess treatment to prove a point."

Stunned, she glances at the other woman dressed as a maid and they exchange a look of perplexity. "Stevie, young lady? Who is that? Is that who pushed you into the lake?"

"Wah-what? Look, this is a sick joke if you're going to continue to play along," I said, crossing my arms.

Stevie is a great colleague but his rapport for elaborate pranks has now gone too far.

"Ellis, what do we do?" she whispered, turning to the other woman for aid.

The woman named Ellis finally speaks, quickly placing a glass carafe down. "I'll go call for the doctor, she might be going through the notions of hysteria from the experience. Try to calm her down."

"Hysteria? You think I'm being mad? Hello, you guys are basically acting roles straight out of a scene from a movie!" I squawked, watching her retreat through the most stunning set of doors that probably belong on a Disney set.

"What in heavens is a movie?" the remaining maid muttered, shaking her head.

"Oh my god, where did I wake up to? The nineteenth century? Narnia?"

"I am not sure what you mean, young lady but please do try to calm down. Why don't you take a seat in front of the vanity and I'll do your hair."

Sighing, I throw my hands up dramatically and roll my eyes. "Whatever, I'll play along until Stevie shows up with a camera to catch me off guard and screams, surprise."

I yank the expensive sheets aside and plod over to the gold vanity that looks like it's worth my entire life's worth of savings and then some, but my ill humour at being toyed and made fun of ends and the blood on my face drains as I stare into the hanging mirror.

The face staring back at me isn't mine.

Gone is my short black hair, dark brown eyes and haggard look from intense work. The woman reflected in the mirror has long flowing hair the colour of rich mocha, smooth skin celebrities would kill for, and holy shit. Amethyst eyes. They illuminate with flecks of iridescence, bespeaking of an etherealised quality that simply cannot exist.

I must still be dreaming. Pinching my cheeks, both arms, and pulling at my hair yields disastrous results. This is reality. The face is real, and I'm trapped in another woman's body.

"Ah, I see you've finally awoken young lady Storm."

"I guess I have," I stammered out, meeting the eyes of a man dressed in a waistcoat and breeches.

Where the hell am I?

And why am I a lady named Storm?

************

𝐀/𝐍: 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐛𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲, 𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛 𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐧! 

𝐏𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐍𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝/𝐨𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦, 𝐰𝐞𝐛𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞, 𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐃𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐦.