Adhara Martellini Martellini

“Beauty will save the world.” - Fyodor Dostoyevsky

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Ever since its origin, humankind has wondered about the meaning of existence. The ancient Greek philosophers, in their early quest towards the understanding of the world, defined the “transcendentals” as the fundamental and objective properties of reality.

While these transcendentals are closely related, they individually define separate categories among which Beauty (from the Greek kalon or “beautiful”), Truth (from the Greek alethes or “true”) and Goodness (from the Greek agathon or “good”) stand out to represent three main forms of aspiration to perfection.

It is believed that only through a complete experience of each one of these three dimensions can one reach a meaningful understanding of the true nature and structure of the world where our existence takes place.

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PART 1

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Prologue

Deep inside the universe, on the planet of a distant star, two beings were staring up at the sky. Night had come and coated their world with its ink-like shadows, but the beings had not stopped their day’s work. The two of them, unlike the younger ones who worked only with the Sun and were resting now, had learned how to manipulate the distant starlight.

That was how things worked. There was no rest for the older ones. Their eyes stayed closed and their minds had become insensitive to exhaustion or pain.

The silence was heavy, the beings stood still, and for a moment the whole planet seemed frozen in time. It was often like that, especially after sunset, when most life seemed to fall asleep and all was deeply, overwhelmingly quiet. The moment of silence lingered for so long it seemed like it would never end. Then, in a soft, careful voice one of the beings broke the charm.

“The human girl is lonely, and in pain. Years are long for them, especially for the young.”

The other being slowly unfroze, and sighed quietly before answering.

“I am also sorry for her suffering, but you know it is not yet time. There is not much we can do, and she must wait just like we are all waiting.” The being paused. “Now, be quiet, join our efforts. We must keep trying. Reach to the humans, and Sing.”

The first being obeyed, and, drawing the Energy from the light of the thousand sparkling stars scattered on the jet-black sky, Sang.

A little less than three human years later…

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Chapter 1

It was warm outside. Angela Fay would be fourteen in only a few weeks.

She braided her hair back slowly, enjoying how cool it felt through her fingers. She had slept well, which she was thankful for, as she was used to unhappy and restless nights. She had been woken in the morning by the usual screeching of Abigail’s high shrill voice, a screeching she often heard in her nightmares, but which had not been as horrible this time. As the first golden rays of the sun seeped through the short window and set the small bedroom alight, she decided she would do a bit of cleaning.

She pushed up her sleeves determinedly, ready to tidy up Abigail and Billy’s bedroom. When she had gone in there the other day, she had been truly horrified by the clutter she found. Clothes were thrown all over the floor, papers were scattered on the bed and on the small desk in the corner. Angela had no reason to do this for her step-parents, and as a matter of fact was not doing it for them but because the room needed tidying and it would take her mind off other things.

Today was her guardians’ day at the mall. Every week or two they would leave the house for the morning to go shopping, and leave Angela at home. She liked those days, liked it better when they weren’t around. Alone, she could pretend she lived another, happier life.

Before leaving her room, she looked out into the garden for a moment, at the light morning sky, at birds chirping on a nearby branch, and at the grass sparkling with fresh-fallen dew. And like every minute of every day, she thought of her family. Could her mom and dad see her from wherever they were? And what about her sister, her beautiful older sister?

It was incredibly painful to know they would never come back. She brushed a small strand of hair from her eyes and sighed. Things hadn’t changed since her first days in this house. Things weren’t any better. She still felt as lost and hopeless.

Angela stepped out of her room and ran down the long flight of stairs. She stopped in the kitchen, grabbed a piece of bread for breakfast, and went to Abigail and Billy’s bedroom. As she cleaned the place, she thought of Cinderella in the fairytale she had read more than once as a child. The princess in the story had been able to stay kind despite the terrible way she was treated, and Angela knew how hard that was.

She stacked the papers on the desk and folded the few clothes she didn’t throw in the washing machine. Most of Billy’s garments smelled awful. Then she passed the vacuum cleaner and dusted off the shelves. After a good hour she was done, and she realized it actually felt good to clean up when her guardians weren't requesting it and it came from her own free will.

Then she headed back to the kitchen to prepare for lunch. She didn’t particularly like cooking, but was forced to do it most of the time. The food they ate daily was not too bad, but Abigail and Billy never allowed her any treats. Almost six years had passed, and what she missed above all was the taste of a good raspberry tart. Her mother used to love raspberry tarts… The good ones, Angela remembered, would crack under her teeth and melt on her tongue, a tasty mix of sweet and sour.

Since Angela’s birthday was coming soon, maybe she would ask for a cake. Maybe, for once, Abigail would say yes to a small treat.

She finished eating the fish and peas she had prepared while she thought of all the rules there were in this house, and how unfair it was. For example, the attic: Angela had never actually gone up there. Her guardians always locked the door and kept the key firmly away from her. They barely even let her look at it. She had glimpsed it once or twice though, and she knew it was tiny, and rusty. In reality, Angela had never really cared about the attic. Her guardians acted strange sometimes – maybe they had forbidden her from going up there purely to annoy her. They were very capable of such pettiness.

Just as she finished clearing out the table, she heard her guardians’ car’s muted hum as it advanced down the driveway into the front yard. They were home. She sighed a little and looked at the clock. It was just past noon.

Outside, the car stopped and she could hear Abigail and Billy’s footsteps crunch on the gravel as they got out. The skinny figure of the woman strode in first. Abigail had very high, pronounced cheekbones, a long, sharp nose and small gray, squinty eyes. Her thin, hay-colored hair was always pulled up in a tight ponytail. Nothing escaped her hawk-like stare.

“Go help carry the groceries,” snapped Abigail just as her husband walked in. Billy wheezed and puffed as Angela helped him carry the bags to the kitchen. She stared at the man as he went to the living room and sat down on his chair, where he spent most of his days. Billy Vorish was a plump, short man who tended to get red in the face when angry. He had bits of puffy black hair on each side of his head, light-colored eyes and a blank stare.

Angela sighed again, then obeyed, and carried the groceries back into the house. Then, she closed the front door and ran up to her room, stretched and sat down on her bed, looking vacantly at the wall. She grabbed a book from her small shelf and stared at its cover for a while.

“Angela?” Billy’s outraged voice echoed from below. “Come here, right now.”

She bit her lip, a little worried, and slowly walked back down the stairs.

“Angela, where are my slippers?” whistled Billy, who was trying to look menacing, but failing miserably at it.

“I’m sorry?” Angela asked, very bewildered.

“My slippers. My slippers have disappeared.” Only then did Angela remember she had cleaned their room. She frowned.

“Oh… I put them in the cupboard, at the bottom. That’s where you usually put your slippers.”

“No, I usually put them next to my bed.” Billy snorted.

“Well, sorry,” Angela replied a little sourly. “I just meant to tidy your room up a little. You should be thankful.”

That’s when Abigail came in. “Don’t be insolent,” she told Angela icily. “And I can’t find those documents I spent hours filling in yesterday night. Couldn’t you just have stayed in bed instead of messing everything up?”

Angela backed away slowly. She looked down at the floor, the back of her eyes stinging. Of course, she should have expected this kind of reaction from her heartless step-parents, but it still hurt. It still sent a fresh sharp pang of pain to her aching heart as a reminder of how radically her life had changed and how miserable it had become. Don’t cry, she told herself. Don’t cry. Then she spun around and raced back up the stairs.

Abigail Vorish always spoke unpleasantly to her, always in short, clipped words. It was as if she wanted to speak as little as possible to her. But why? Why had she agreed to let her live with them if she couldn’t stand the sight of her? Angela didn’t know, and thought she would never know.

With a lonely hiccup, she sat down on the floor in a bundle, hugging her knees and burying her face in her arms, and wished she had a family and a friend. Just like every day since the accident.

⚝⚝⚝

It was Wednesday, which meant her tutor would come shortly after lunch, just like every Wednesday. Angela waited by her window for his small black car.

She had spent entire days looking out that window, at the same familiar view. Abigail and Billy’s house was located in a rural area near a small town, and the short buildings were visible in the distance. Between the house and the town was a little pine tree forest. On the opposite side, however, was a winding road that Angela knew led to bigger places, cities with more people and more buzzing life.

Angela never went further than the garden in front of the house. She hadn’t forgotten what the outside world was like, though. She just didn’t really want to go there anymore, and didn’t really have reason to since she was home-schooled. Anyway, it wasn’t like Abigail and Billy ever offered to take her out anywhere. The last time she had walked down a busy street had been with her family, her true family, and the fading memories of those moments that she was still clinging on to were the most precious thing she owned.

Angela was not satisfied with the way things were, but she held on to the certainty that soon, it would somehow change for the better. She liked being certain of things, and in a desperate way she believed that her life would turn around and prove to be worth it. That one day it would all make sense, and there would be some explanation for what had gone terribly wrong. One day she’d be older and wiser and capable of finding a meaning.

A black car rolled into the front yard, and Angela half-smiled. Maybe this would somehow cheer her up. Her tutor had arrived.

⚝⚝⚝

“Angela, pay attention, please.” The tutor chided in a mechanical voice.

“Yes, sorry.”

Angela had once thought that having a tutor would be great, like having a friend who came to see her every week. He would be someone she could confide in, someone who would understand her. Someone she would wait for impatiently. Oh, if only he could be sweet, caring, more like a father than Billy – or at least would listen to her. Talk to her. Like two normal people having a normal conversation.

But no, of course not. Her tutor, an average-looking man with short brown hair and wide-spaced brown eyes, taught her what he was asked to teach in a flat, emotionless tone. He never spoke about anything other than what he had come to talk about: History, Geography, Science, Math, and English. Angela had tried starting a real conversation numerous times, but he would always come back to the lesson.

Angela actually did not feel like learning today. Sometimes learning was fun, but today she was just bored. Her tutor had started speaking again but she was still not paying attention, and as his words blended into a dull stream of sound she started doodling on her paper. She drew stars – or tried to draw stars. Stars were so hard to draw. Whatever Angela did, the little pointy forms on her paper did not look like the stars she saw twinkling and winking at her from the heavens every night.

“Angela? Angela, please, are you even trying to listen?” The tutor sighed, looked hard at Angela who hadn’t taken her eyes off the paper, then sat down on his chair. He ran his hands through his hair.

“Well, anyway, it doesn’t matter,” he muttered to himself as he put his pens back into his small pencil case, and Angela froze on her seat. It was the first time she had ever heard him say his teaching didn’t matter.

She continued doodling.

“In a few weeks I’m done,” he was mumbling. “Less than a month is left, Mrs. Vorish said, then no more classes for good…”

Angela looked up and their eyes met. He blinked almost guiltily as if he had said something he shouldn’t have. She frowned. Abigail had never said anything to Angela about her classes ending soon. They had been going on for years, it would be absurd to stop so abruptly.

“What do you mean?” she asked sharply. “Why will you be done in a few weeks? Why in less than a month?”

The tutor stayed frozen for a couple seconds, then finally shrugged wearily, as if he had suddenly decided it was of no importance anyway.

“Nothing,” he answered mechanically, and stood up, gathering his stuff. He put the books back in his bag.

“The class is over. Next time pay more attention.”

“But–”

The tutor had already left the room. Angela stared dumbstruck after him, then looked back at her paper, the stars on it swirling before her eyes. Why would her tutor be leaving? They still had many things to study. No more classes for good, he had said. Maybe this meant Abigail was going to send her to a real school, a boarding school even, to get her away… But why would her step-mother keep it a secret? Angela blinked. Was something she didn’t know about finally going to happen?

She closed her eyes tiredly. She was probably making a big deal out of nothing. She shrugged, stood up and stepped out of the room.

⚝⚝⚝

“Angela, I want you to behave during your lessons. Your tutor was very unhappy with class today,” Abigail barked from the other side of the table. Billy wheezed in agreement. They were sitting, eating their dinner, a few hours after the tutor’s rapid departure.

“But I didn’t do anything,” Angela protested. “He suddenly stopped teaching–”

“Shut up, I’m talking,” cut in Abigail. “He told me you weren’t paying attention. Do you know how much we pay for those lessons?” Abigail raised her eyebrows.

Angela stayed silent.

“Spoiled brat,” Angela heard Billy say. Dismay built up in her stomach, reddening her cheeks. Billy never said much, and sometimes she told herself that he was actually nice inside, just bullied by his wife. But, as she kept being reminded, it wasn’t the case.

“Sorry,” she finally answered quietly. “Can I go to my room now?”

Abigail eyed her for a good minute then finally nodded.

“But first, clean up the table.” They had finished eating. Dinner was over.

Angela did as she was told as the adults left the kitchen. If she concentrated hard, she could remember how dinners were, back then, before. When they were still alive. She even remembered the day she had learned how to properly use a knife and a fork. She had been so proud of being able to eat all by herself.

Her sister would come home from school, and ramble on about what had happened during the day, while her mother smiled and wrinkled her eyes and her father laughed heartily. After dinner they would sometimes sing together, too. Her father always told Angela that she had her mother’s beautiful, clear voice… Angela remembered her mother’s voice, which lulled them to sleep, always with the same song.

Twinkle, twinkle, little star…

The clock started ringing, and Angela was pulled back into the present. It was late. She had to go to bed. She dragged herself up then changed into her pajamas.

She slipped into her bed, snuggled under the covers and slowly, let out one, deep sigh. Then she closed her eyes and fell asleep. Angela dreamed. …