Don't Let Me Be Afraid

"I remember. I remember the smile she always gave me. And I remember the laughs we shared. I remember that I wasn't afraid. We planned our lives together. We were full of a brilliant light that sometimes dazzled and stunned me to the point I couldn't even speak. Nothing could touch us. We were free and we were in a world where not even the sky was the limit. Now it's gone and I can only see that distant and dream-like world from behind a dusty, and nebulous window. The light is too blinding for my eyes now and it hurts. I am a prisoner to my own demons and the ghost of her lingering whispers and tender laughs." -Mathilda Goodwin Suspecting You Main

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

Painting for Art Class

[tawbrey]

[sits in silence for a little bit to let her draw before speaking up again] I bet it’s gonna be good.I had - have a brother. He liked to draw too.

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

Do you? [asks and begins sketching the rest of his figure] 

What was he like?

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

Painting for Art Class

[tawbrey]

I’m trusting you. [sits still again, hoping that talking doesn’t disrupt the process] If it’s really good, I’ll buy it off you and hang it in the pub! It’ll be, like…an official statement of ownership. [grinning at the thought]

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

[begins to sketch] That'll be nice. [hiding her grin from behind her canvas]

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

Painting for Art Class

[tawbrey]

However you want. [shrugs] I can’t say I’ve ever been drawn before…I guess I’ll just have to figure out my best look, huh?Oh, just don’t make me mad. Like, rabid-mad. That wouldn’t be pleasant. I guess.

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

[almost laughs, but smiles instead] I'll do my best then. 

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

Forest

Mathilda had started wondering what heaven really was. There were so many interpretations so many things to be said and read, but heave was usually always in the sky. 

It was growing warmer, almost barely, but you could tell spring was approaching as the animals and the birds begin to appear again day after day. The blue tits that had been here all winter frequently bounce in and out of gardens. Mathilda didn't like to walk alone, but while he parents were out there was something that had been tugging at her mind. Two girls dead and one missing and quite possibly dead. 

Mathilda's hands warmed inside her gloves as she groped at the frosty tree trunks and pushed away low branches. She was in the forest where they found Anwen's body. In truth she had been debating on whether she should go or not. To do what she didn't know. She thought, perhaps if she went there she might feel something - might learn why she was out there. 

The sound of a creek trickled and flowed through her ears, Mathilda had bundled up thickly today, but she couldn't stop shaking. Her hands though warmer than they had been all winter were shaking and her body was quivering with nervousness. She froze at every sound that might signal she wasn't alone, but there was no one. Absolutely no one. This made even more alert.

Mathilda descended to the bank of the creek, its dark, ominous waters greeting her like old demons. She knew this creek was shallow and it would be easy to cross it and go deeper into the woods. Mathilda was still near the entrance, close to town. Think, broken sheets of frozen ice floated down the creek. She stood there contemplating on whether or not she should cross it. Before any decision could be made a voice interrupted her and she jolted in surprise, a wear cry dying before it could be sounded. Before her, across the creek already was someone else.

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

Painting for Art Class

[tawbrey]

Oh, it’s fine. It’s been a quiet evening, anyway.So…you going to study art? [tries to compose himself mock-seriously, breaking down after a moment with a little grin]

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

[waves her hand slightly, dismissively] Kind of.

[brings out a light pencil to sketch with first] It might just be a spur of the moment thing, but I've been drawing recently. A bit poorly, but that's all right. [glances up and raises her brows] How do you want me to draw you?

[augustgrunewald-blog]

a fancy meeting

[augustgrunewald-blog]

Reaching the store’s door before the Mathilda, August quickly went to hold it open for the girl.

“After you, Miss,” he said with a smile.

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

"Thank you, fair sir," she said and returned the smile faintly. 

Mathilda went in and motioned to the old man behind the counter that was reading a book and hadn't taken a notice to their arrival. "You'll have to ask him. He'll be able to help you if it's clay or anything else." 

[di-johngoodwin-deactivated20130]

“That’s good.” John smiled warmly at Mathilda, “Shakespeare? If you need any help, I can probably help you with some of it. Literature was always my favorite subject in school.”

John took a sip of his coffee before looking down at his watch, he let out a sigh when he saw the time, indicating he needed to head into work soon. Lately work was becoming the last place he wanted to be. Ever since finding Annie, John was having even more trouble baring the job. Especially since recently his nightmares had changed from that of finding Mathilda’s bedroom empty to imagining finding his daughter how he found Annie. The image became imprinted in his mind and he couldn’t look at the crime scene photos at work without seeing it. 

“Poppet, I’m afraid I’ll have to head out.” John sighed and looked over at the girl. He realized it wasn’t good for him to worry as much as he did, but if anything were to ever happen to her, he wasn’t sure how he’d he’d go on, or even forgive himself for not stopping it from happening.

Getting up from the table, John walked over towards Mathilda and pressed a kiss on the top of her head. Rubbing her back, he smiled at her paper stars, “You’re getting quite well at those.” He said before knelling down beside her. After admiring the stars John took another look at his watch, “I better go… come here.” John held out his arm, motioning for Mathilda to come in for a hug.

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

"Alright," she replied with a chirp. Mathilda returned the smile gently the turned her gaze to the jar and thought, briefly, how wonderful it would have been to be in it. A world full of colorful starts growing and growing. Infinite without dying. Like a turbulent sea that threatened to soak the paper stars, her father stood up with an almost heavy sigh. 

He moved toward her and she almost moved back like a child by the sea, escaping the tide with a bubbling giggle. Mathilda sat still as he pressed a kiss to her head. Was she a child still? She didn't know. He rubbed her back soothingly and she smiled at his compliment. "Alright," she replied again and reached to embrace him. "Have a good day." She said and pulled back. The jar was cold in her hand. 

[augustgrunewald-blog]

a fancy meeting

[augustgrunewald-blog]

The way the girl’s voice was pitched surprised August as he realized how odd his request must have sounded.

“Clay for sculpting,” he clarified, even though there really wasn’t the need. “Not for… repairing walls… or the like.”

He decided to quickly change the topic.

“You look cold, Miss. We should get inside.”

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

She could have almost laughed at his struggle to clarify his actions but she only smiled softly.

  "Yes. That sounds like a good idea." She agreed.

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

Painting for Art Class

[tawbrey]

I dunno, I guess that makes sense.I mean, I uh, guess I could sit. For a few minutes. I’ve never done this before. [smiles awkwardly]

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

[smiles kindly and moves away] I'll try not to keep you too long. [quickly sets up her materials]

[augustgrunewald-blog]

a fancy meeting

[augustgrunewald-blog]

“Thank you so very much. I wasn’t going anywhere in particular; I just needed to know where I was.”

August studied the young woman. She looked like the artistic type, with her paint-splattered jeans and soulful expression. Maybe she could be of even more help to him.

“Miss… do you happen to know where the nearest art supplies store is? I’m looking for some clay…”

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

"Clay?" She asked faintly, her voice a bit higher than she had meant to sound like. Mathilda tucked her hands into the pockets of her coat, glancing at the forming and disappearing wrinkles that appeared on the man's forehead as he spoke. 

"Yeah. It's not that far from here," she said, pointing across the street. "It's just around the corner there. I can take you there." Mathilda tugged her coat closer to her as a gust of wind flew past them. 

"I was going there anyway too."

[di-johngoodwin-deactivated20130]

John smiles lightly at Mathilda and shrugged his shoulders, “If you did we could always switch them out every day, almost like it’s own wardrobe.” 

John folds up the morning paper that he’d been reading and smiles at the girl. With his job he’d barely spent enough time with his daughter as is, so whenever they were both free he made sure to direct his attention towards her. “So how has school been going? Everything going well?” He always worried about Mathilda, and how she was doing after Anwen. The two were inseparable, and he couldn’t even imagine what she was going through right now. Despite his worries he never came right out and asked Mathilda how she was doing after Anwen, he figured the she would talk to him about it whenever she was ready.

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

Mathilda almost grins. "That indeed is an interesting idea." She says nodding. She watched as he folded the morning paper, the pleasing crinkle of paper popping in the air. His hands were big and calloused. Mathilda remembered how much she loved those hands when she was still little. How they would stroke her head and pinch her cheeks as she smiled widely and laughed. 

She played idly with the jar of folded stars in her hands. Earlier, a week after they found Anwen deep in the woods Mathilda had started making these small stars she learned from a paper folding book.

"School's good," she replied, folding an orange star and dropping it into the jar. She closed the lid tightly. "We've started reading Shakespeare." 

[cedricllewellyn-blog]

Cedric felt extremely embarrassed to have fallen in the first place, let alone before a young teen. When she offered to let him sit with her, his eyes widened. “R-really? Okay, awesome,” he replied. He had his drink in his hand, and he set it carefully, as carefully as he could, onto the table. He tied up his shoelaces and slid into the seat across from her.

“I’m Cedric,” he told her with a beaming smile. He took a sip from his latte, now with the lid open, and hummed a single note in pleasure. It was truly a good latte, especially as it had fallen to the floor. 

A worker from the cafe begrudgingly came to clean up the small mess, grumbling the entire time. Cedric turned and gave a sheepish smile, trying to apologise. The worker would have none of it, and sloppily finished cleaning the mess. 

“What’s your name?” he asked her curiously.

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

Mathilda watched him tie his worn shoe laces. The mug of hot cocoa had gone cold now. His smile was bright and Mathilda could swear that the sun was glinting off those teeth. She smiled back without a thought, loosening her hold on the mug. 

He had tried to apologise to the worker, but was quickly rebuffed. Mathilda shook her head as they finished cleaning messily. This man- Cedric was too quick to apologise, but of course if it were her she would have apologised too. Ah well, he just seemed too kind. 

"I'm Mathilda." She smiled again at him as she introduced herself. Mathilda brought the mug to her lips and sipped at her cold cocoa. "Nice to meet you Cedric." Mathilda said, falling into a soft laugh. 

"Do you come here often?" She asked, glancing quickly out the window and back at him. Sometimes she didn't know what to do with herself when she spoke to people so she would fidget or glance here or there. Though she could never stop herself from talking sometimes. Anwen had always said she liked that about her. 

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

Painting for Art Class

[tawbrey]

We all start somewhere. [shrugs]Why can’t ya just paint a lighthouse or something anyway?

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

Well, I want to try painting people, you know?

It has always been kind of hard for me to draw or paint people so I want to try getting the hang of it without it becoming abstract art. 

[incasabil]

Visit Original Link

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

Painting for Art Class

"Is anyone willing to be the model for my painting for art class? I'm just a beginner though."

[augustgrunewald-blog]

a fancy meeting

For a man so great at telling direction, August seemed to lose his way around town a lot. He often got addresses mixed up, and the street numbers seemed to mean nothing to him.

Today was another one of those days. Stuck in a tiny part of an even tinier town, the man didn’t know most of the people there.

He decided to ask for directions from the next person he met.

“Umm… I seem to have lost my way. Could you possibly tell me where I am?” he asked the stranger that walked past.

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

She was just getting back from school. Mathilda had stayed after school after trying her hand with some painting which didn't turn out as well as she wanted them to be. 

As she was walking down through Dulas street by town hall she was stopped by a stranger asking directions. 

"Oh yes, you're on Dulas street by town hall and at the center of the town here." She wasn't very good with giving directions to be honest. 

"Is there somewhere you need to go and can't find? I could take you there if you like."

[cedricllewellyn-blog]

Cedric had been in line at the cafe for over three minutes now. Usually, it was pretty quick; the line would move at a steady pace, but today…The line hadn’t moved since he got in it.

When it was finally his turn, he ordered a simple latte with a shot of vanilla and he paid quietly. Thanking the cashier begrudgingly, he began to walk towards a seat by the window.

Knowing he had to tie his shoelaces, he tried to shuffle his way towards the table as quickly and as carefully as he could. But of course, with his goddamn luck, he tripped and the latte went flying. The lid stayed on, but there was a loud enough racket to awaken the dead in Holyhead. He let out a yelp and fell to the floor.

He picked up the cup and felt terribly sorry for whoever had to clean up the small spill—thank god for strong lids.

Cedric looked up to meet the eyes of a younger girl, one he had known in grade school. She must have been about fourteen or fifteen, and he eyed her trying to figure out what her name was.

“Sorry, um, so sorry, I hope I didn’t get any latte on you?” he asked sheepishly, standing up and brushing off his trouser knees.

[mathilda-goodwin-blog]

It was a glorious trip he made. Mathilda couldn't deny that. The way he tripped on his own shoelaces and flew forward in the air like water bursting from a balloon could have been the highlight of her day. 

Oh,and his face. There was a sharp cry that followed him as he fell and though she knew she shouldn't have found it amusing, she couldn't help herself. It was damn good luck his latte didn't go splattering everywhere. A smile ghosted the corners of her lips. She shook her head to his question. 

"No, I'm quite alright." She reassured with a light smile. "It's you I'm more worried about." Something seemed familiar about him. He did look a little older, but not by many years. Maybe a few, a couple? 

Mathilda motioned to the seat opposite of her, glancing at his sheepish smile. "You can sit with me if you want. That was a great trip." His dark eyes were clear like little pools of water, rippling with a warm, chocolate brown humor that seemed almost infectious. She liked him. The almost messy hair and tamed curls that were richly dark like his eyes.