The Coronation of the White Rose is a story that follows my first novel. The true meaning of the story represents peace after the tragedy of the people in the spring town of Virgin Mary. The story also represents a new beginning at the end of an era. When Isabel?who is a mute rich blonde girl?heard a bunch of rolling grains of precious stone making noise in the basement of her house on a dawn evening, she left her room and followed it to find out what it was. She discovered a bunch of rolling white pearls beads next to a white ballerina shoe with a long pink satin ribbon that holds the memories of a lost little girl. As she put her hand on the shoe?s ribbon, lightning strikes cast down from heaven through her dark vision, galloping horses? hooves with heavy breaths and neighing noises, begging voices of a praying woman, and a sniffing noise of a crying little girl invaded her ears. She gasped and choked as she discovered a new world that evening. As she went to bed that night, she dreamed about a singing little girl?s shadow passing through the cathedral?s stained glass windows in that town. The girl was singing and praying, and Isabel saw herself crowned as a new queen in front of the church. Without thought and doubt, she left the spring town of Virgin Mary in the morning to find out what her dream meant. And life arrived tracing its own path for her, used her as the gate of a new beginning, and crowned her as the new Madonna of the whole land. On the other side, wild, charming, and escape convict Badjo Badu was troubling the spring town and playing with the hearts of two beautiful women. Sandra Vedette, a beautiful, dark, fierce, mythical persona whom Badjo made a pact with to help her trace her way back to the flowering land, but instead of that, he found a girl in the spring town that he loved more: Anna Mariah, a beautiful Latina girl with long raven hair, red lips, and roses crowning her head, and gave all his attention to her instead of helping Vedette accomplish her mission. Read and find out about the game of these three lovely birds in the land of time.
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Read an Excerpt
The shadow of the miserable old widow's life in Spring Town of the Virgin Mary was gone with the dawn wind after the night of her death. Days went and nights came, switching with each other. Seasons came and went, disguising nature's view with ugliness and beauty. The ash of the tragedy still hung over the old widow's yard, overgrown with green grass and tiny blooming daisies and other small, colorful flowers, as if feet never touched the ground. Spring reclaimed the yard for its own. The decaying front porch, front wall, and broken roof of the attic were the only parts of the unpainted wooden house left standing alone in the yard. An unpainted wooden pillar supported the remaining peeling roof, and old, dry wheat bundles hung in the middle of the ceiling like a chandelier. The main door remained closed with dust and spider web designs all over it. White calla lilies, white roses, and sunflowers grew all around the foundation of the house, and creeping plants crawled up on both sides of the short, unpainted fences. Broken wooden barrels, broken grillage from the domestic bird cage to which dry feathers stuck, pieces of twinkling glass, and parts of the widow's shattered doll were spread all over the yard.
The Catholic Church's bell tolled over the town, made visible as the soft morning sun emerged. Roosters chanted the upcoming glory of the day. A low morning breeze awakened the sleeping branches, shaking them while crystal dawn dew ran down slowly from the leaves and blooming flower petals. Soft, chirping bird noise and low, indistinct morning conversation — "Good morning, neighbors. How was your night?" and "Have a nice day" — filled the somber morning air. Some villagers were starting their daily activities, watering flowers in their front yards, walking on the street, heading down to the church to pray. As the sunlight grew and cast shadows over the town, melting the rest of the dawn away, three poor boys sat in a doorway behind a huge, luxurious mansion on the main street.
The boys were playing on classical instruments, softly, with their eyes closed as if to call out the sunrays and bid them shine more brightly over the town so they could collect dimes and dollar bills from passing villagers. A squeaking noise above their heads startled the boys. They stopped playing and looked up to see a thick woman's arms thrusting out of one of the fancy gold windows. Her nails were polished red and shiny like an apple's skin. She threw six dimes into the air, sending the boys scrambling after the rolling dimes on the ground like dogs running after bones.
"Morning, pretty girl," the woman said, making sign language with her pretty fingers. "Girlie, girlie, girl, wake up, Isabelle!" the woman chanted in a lovely voice. She giggled, and the boys below lost sight of her as she left the window.
At the bed where Isabelle lay, she wrung out a white towel embroidered with pink cherry blossoms and red, gold, and green peacock feathers. A tall man entered the room, with dark eyebrows, light brown eyes, a short, ash moustache, and black raven hair. Dressed all in white with gold jewelry around his neck and wrist, he carried a golden bath bowl decorated with butterflies and blossoms and filled with warm water. He walked toward the bed, and the fat, motherly woman dipped the white towel into the bowl again and started to bathe the young girl. Isabelle moaned, yawned, and stretched out as the maid cleaned her.
"Fresh!" the servant said when she was done, and the man turned and left the room. She threw the towel on a chair next to the bed, then walked toward a golden four-legged night table that held a large, white porcelain vase. In the vase there was a white rose bouquet, and next to it a white peacock statuette, its long, ornate tail feathers hanging open and wide to the floor. The woman pulled a stunning sky-blue dress from the closet and looked back at Isabelle on the king-sized vintage golden bed. She smiled and said, signing, "Pretty, hmm, glamorous!"
Isabelle looked at the servant with an innocent face and shook her head no.
"Pink is pretty!" The servant giggled and pulled out another fancy dress covered in designs of pink cherry blossoms. Isabelle shook her head again. The servant signed a disappointed feeling and said, "Black?" Isabelle closed her eyes and ignored the maid. Then the servant said, "White?" and Isabelle opened her eyes, smiled, and nodded. The servant took a deep, relieved breath. She went back to the closet and pulled a large farthingale dress out that was larger than her hips.
"No," Isabelle said with her finger, then moved near the edge of the bed to get up.
"Nooooo!" the fat, motherly servant screamed. She started to mutter, her lips trembling. She ran toward the bed and fell to the floor so that Isabelle's feet landed on her fat tummy, prompting her to pass gas. She took a relieved breath and said tiredly, "Thank God your feet did not touch the ground!" The pretty girl giggled and climbed back on the bed, and the woman, who was breathing hard on the floor, muttered with her hand on her chest, "What a child!" She rose up off the floor and walked backward to the closet.
The woman reached behind her, opened the closet, and turned her head over her shoulder to grab more clothes. Isabelle moved slowly, and the bed squeaked. The woman stopped and turned her head back, worry on her face. "Do not move one inch forward. Stay still!" the woman warned. She then turned to the closet again, humming while she looked through Isabelle's clothes.
The woman stopped humming when the bed made another noise. She turned her head to look at Isabelle. "Don't move an inch forward."
The young girl was sitting calmly on the bed, staring at the woman and fidgeting her toes under the white blanket. The bedroom door opened slowly, and the same man entered, now with three other maids. One of the maids unrolled a little white carpet from the bed to the dresser with a round, golden girandole mirror. The second maid held a silver serving tray heaped with cold fruit: red and purple grapes, slices of grapefruit, halved strawberries, red pomegranates scattering their pulp, and yellow slices of pineapple. The third maid held two large, white feather fans; she stood next to the fat, motherly woman who still held the white dress. The man waited on the right side of the mirror with makeup tools. Isabelle rose from the bed and walked on the white carpet to the dresser.
"It's tiiiime!" the fat, motherly woman chanted." Finally, it is the time of day when we have to make the white flower bloom again and transform the old, green caterpillar to a new, white spring butterfly,"
In the yard, a white rooster with long tail feathers chanted, "Coocooricoo!" as if approving her words. The man gave a cute smile, lifting the right corner of his mouth. He fidgeted with his makeup tools as the beautiful, innocent girl walked toward him on the narrow white carpet.
The man started to fix the girl's bleached-blonde hair and makeup while one of the servants fanned her with the two large feather fans. When he was about to do her eyelashes, he said, "Blue," and Isabelle blinked her pretty blue eyes three times. The clock ticked away Fifteen minutes pass.
The sun was sinking below the horizon, calming nature's vibe. The wild western wind hid behind the mountain, giving freedom to the chirping crickets of the silent evening. Isabelle was sitting on her bed peeping at the passing villagers outside her window and listening to the somber, indistinct nature sounds. The fat, motherly woman was snoring softly on the chair next to the bed. As Isabelle got off the bed, the woman startled slightly. She started to take action numbly and snorted, "Don't, don't mooooove ..." But her voice died as she fell back asleep. Isabelle stopped walking, waited for the woman to be lost deeply again in sleep, and then stood by the window. She put her hand on the windowsill and leaned her head out to peep at the old village.
A black bird flew by and then perched on the windowsill while fidgeting, breathing hard, and chirping in a worrisome tone. Isabelle leaned farther out the window as she heard a running, patting footstep accompanied by a heavy breath under the tree clumps. Then she heard a deep voice mumble in anger, "Where did it go? I lost it! Greedy bird!" She looked but didn't see anyone. She gave her attention back to the little bird, reaching out her hand to touch its black feathers. The bird flew away and headed down to the tree clumps.
"Look, Mom, look!" a blond boy shouted with excitement under the tree clumps.
"What, honey?" a woman replied.
"A bird, a bird ... a bird of a feather!" the boy shouted in excitement, jumping next to his mom on the sidewalk as the little bird came toward him with its wings wide open, hopping from branch to branch.
"Yeah, sweetie, I see it. It's a nice birdy, a black birdy," the mother replied. "It must be looking for food. Throw him some of your nuts — it looks hungry."
Other children who were passing by with their parents were also curious about the little, fidgeting bird, and all ran toward the tree to get a better view of it. As they approached, an arrow whistled above their heads and pierced the little bird right in the chest.
"It's coming down! It's coming down toward us! Yay!" All the kids shouted with happiness. They were shocked a moment later when the hopeless bird fell on its back with its two feet up in the air and an arrow stuck through its chest.
"Is it okay, Mom?" a brunette girl with a doll in her hand asked. Her mother gave her a sad look and shook her head. While staring at the arrow in the bird's chest, the girl embraced her doll sadly.
"Poor bird. It must have gotten poked by a branch," the mother said, trying to cover the truth.
"It's not breathing," a dark caramel skin boy with black curly hair shouted. He looked at the others sadly, tears rolling from his eyes.
"Yes, I got you!" a deep, angry voice shouted. All the kids turned to see a tall, sweaty, sticky man with a mean look on his face. He was dressed in yellow pajamas with red and black stars and wore a joker hat on his head. He was holding an old arrow in his hand.
"You!" an aged woman said angrily, pointing her finger at the man. "Heartless! You took the little animal's life away for no reason. Why?"
"Because it ate my nuts and sunflower seeds," the man replied with an angry look on his face.
"Your nuts ... your sunflower seeds ... yours!" The woman walked toward the man, her voice and body shaking in anger.
"What have you created to claim 'yours,' destroyer?" "Nothing!" another person who was observing replied angrily.
"This devil has been in our town for years. No one knows anything of his past, and since he got here, he has been destroying our property. Look at you!" the woman said, staring the man right in the eyes with a disgusted look. "Soul of a convict, bad blood!"
"Sir, you under arrest," an officer far away shouted. The man took off running. "Stop him!" the officer called, and everyone launched after the man, vanishing from Isabelle's view.
The evening was almost gone, and Isabelle was still standing at the window. A low, gusting wind pushed the window toward her. She was about to push it back when she heard three bouncing, tinkling noises from behind her. She looked back in the room and didn't see anything rolling on the floor. She turned her head, and there was another sound like a bunch of falling pearls. She closed the window, looked back at the room curiously, and walked toward her dresser. She opened the cabinet to check on her jewelry, which was okay. She opened the door, and as she walked out of the room, the tinkling chime noises grew louder.
Isabelle followed the noise downstairs. When she was about to enter the elegant living room, she noticed her granny was lying on the fancy, vintage, two-seat, gold sofa. In front of the sofa was a five-foot-long, white porcelain coffee table. A large number six had been made atop the table with red rose petals. She stopped, grunted softly, and tiptoed after the noise until she arrived in front of the white basement door. She stopped and listened carefully. The sound was growing louder. She looked back at the living room to make sure no one was watching and then slowly pushed the white door open. The noise stopped right away. Old, soft dust covered the white wooden floor and danced in the soft-orange sunset ray that filtered into the room. The left corner of the basement was full with pieces of white furniture piled on top of each other, and in the center of the basement was a table covered with a white silk blanket. A white vase filled with blooming white roses sat in the middle of the table. A shimmering crystal chandelier swayed slowly from the ceiling, like a bird of prey circling in the sky. White spiderwebs dotted all four corners of the ceiling. She took a few steps forward, and the wind of her landing feet sent the dust rising up from the floor. A bunch of thin, white pearl beads rolled across the floor like wild animals toward the east side of the room. She kept walking, following the pearls until she arrived in front of a bunch of furniture covered with a white silk blanket.
Isabelle looked behind her, took a deep breath, and pulled the large, white blanket off. The blanket rose in the air with a fast wave, and a low, gusting wind rumbled underneath it. Isabelle gasped and stumbled backward, her arms and her hair waving in the air as she tried to escape from under the cloth and keep herself from falling. She tripped and fell to the ground with a grunt. She looked up to see a tall, white piano with a large, white harp next to it. She got up and tried to see what else was in the dark room. The low, gusting wind slammed against one of the basement window and opened it in half, letting the late-evening light break through the room.
Some feet away from the piano there was an old Singer sewing machine with some haute couture tools on it and two busts, one black-and one white, both with red lipstick and rose-shaped diadems on their bold heads. Isabelle walked close to the golden sewing machine and started looking at the tools. She noticed a portrait lying on the floor next to a round, golden hand mirror and bent for a closer look. Upon the white-and-sky-blue canvas was a blonde woman wearing red lipstick and a single strand of white pearls around her neck. Isabelle stared at the portrait and then looked at her own reflection in the mirror, seeing a reincarnation of the woman in her reflection.
A woman's voice filled the room, and the sewing machine began pedaling softly. "Blonde girl, Latina and color girl dancing at the dawn light, smile and giggles with crown of roses on their head. From the heart of spring through the mid of summer till the end of fall, girls were in bloom in color. Polka dots, white satin dresses with blossom prints, and denim blue all came under my sewing needles' teeth. Little girl, innocent girl, girlie, girlie, girl — all were here in this room. Flower girls, ring bearer, groom, and bride all visited here like a Museum. They prayed, sang, and wished on the stars to get their clothes!" The voice died along with the sewing machine.
Isabelle stood up, touched the sewing machine, and inhaled with her eyes closed. She could see rows of clothes, finished and unfinished dresses of all type. Then she saw a woman's hands fixing them and pulling the unfinished dresses from shelves. She opened her eyes and turned her head to the left as she heard the pearls rolling toward her. The pearls were headed toward a white satin ballerina shoe with two white ribbons spread wide. The wind moved the ribbons on the floor as if it were making love to them. Next to the shoes was a platform with a bouquet of white calla lilies.
The pearls came to rest next to the shoes, and Isabelle bent and reached out her hand to the shoes. As soon as her fingertips brushed one of the white ribbons, a lightning strike cast down from heaven into the dark room. Dark ash blocked her vision, and loud neighs, galloping hooves, and the heavy breathing of horses formed a chaotic music that filled her ears. Far and deep through all the noises, she heard a screaming little girl and the whisper of an old woman praying for help.
The basement door squeaked and slammed against the wall, and Isabelle gasped, let go of the ballet shoe, and escaped from the terrible nightmare.
"What you doing here, Isabelle?" a man asked worriedly behind her. When she looked back, she saw it was one of the servants. The man grabbed her from the floor and started to pat the dust from the hem of her white dress. "What were you looking for here?" he asked as they headed out of the basement. He slammed the basement door and headed upstairs to her room.
Excerpted from "Coronation of the White Rose"
Copyright © 2017 Vendens H. Pierre.
Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
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