The Arrival of Lady Tremaine.

No turning back now, I said to myself as I watch the bus speed off down the road like the devil was at its wheels.

Come to think of it the leathery lined and crease wrinkled face of the old bastard with the straggly gray hair beneath the sweat stain cap was probably the old bastard himself, he knew how to come up from hell and drive me freaking crazy with all the mishaps and misfortunes he could pack into my daily existence and this bus ride had been one of those instances.

I stare at my surroundings and decide I best find myself somewhere hospitable as beside the lonely bench weathered by sun, rain, and time, where I stood, was not the place I wanted to stay.

I was here for a specific reason, and until the next bus arrives, which I was told none too nicely by the old goat 'three days time at this exact hour!' his watery cataract eyes shifty as if hiding something from me before he bellowed for me to get out. The arrival was very timely because it was only going to take me three days to accomplish what I came here to do.

I best get a move on. I hoist my battered carry all over my shoulder and head for the only clearing that I could see in the tall forest of pine and maple trees that border both sides of the road. I only hope whatever town was at the end of that road wasn't miles away.

The sun was blazing and its heat seeps through the trees that line the road here as well. It was as if these trees were a cloak that held coverage over what lay ahead because they offer me no solace from the heat as I trod the lonely road. At times I peer into its deep dark cluster and search with my gritty tired eyes, what I hope to see I could not tell. There seems to be a mystery about these tall motionless trees. It seems as if they were watching me as I walk on by.

Ten hours on a bus with nothing but one quick stop at the only pick-up that was made along the journey and the lack of proper sleep was taking its toll on my senses it seems. I was in no way prepared to walk no long mile either. I wish I had a watch at least I could know what time it was.

My stomach on the other hand made a deep rumbling sound letting me know that it was long overdue for a meal. I was grateful when the road gave way to a clearing that shows what appears to be a town. Here it was as if the forest was a hen that nestles it within the folds of her downy wing.

My feet lost all tiredness as I walk past a sign that reads, Welcome to Drakesville. I look about me and see a few cars parked by a diner. I saw a hair salon, an emporium with an old-time-worn Ford truck idling by its doors, stretching farther away from there was a hostel and what seems to be a tavern. I stand there for a minute and watch as the meager array of people went about their activities paying no mind to me a stranger in their town.

I make for the diner my body sweaty beneath the white shirt that I tied above the waist of my black ripped jeans that were tucked inside scoffed black combat boots, my hair which I wore in a high puff of coily curls was running rivulets of sweat down the side of my fair face.

My eyes which were a topaz blue search for an empty table as it quickly took in the yet again meager occupancy. Did this town have children and teenagers? I was surprised once again as no one stared at me with blatant curiosity, it seems like it was a norm for people to find their way into their town looking disheveled, tired, hungry, and sweaty so it garnered no interest.

I found an empty table and place my bag on the corner of my seat, I took up the menu and read it before I made a quick look around me to see that the sparse patrons had only cups in front of them they seem content to just sit quietly. It was as if a total stranger had not much long walk in.

My thoughts about this pushed aside as a waitress came to my table and smile sweetly at me. Her blonde hair was caught in a high ponytail showing off the cuteness of her round face. She wore a white stripe tunic over a black button-down shirt with puff sleeves and a matching ankle-length skirt. On her feet were practical black boots she had no name tag.

"Hello welcome to Tate's Diner, what can I get yah," she asks.

"I would like the chicken tortilla wrap with the avocados and a bottle of distilled water," I reply looking at her with a sense of curiosity.

It seems I was more concerned with them not reacting with curiosity towards me than they were with me. She smiles warmly at me and informs me my order will arrive shortly.

I took the time to look at each occupant which consists of four men varying from middle-aged to very old and they all seem content to drink. No one was eating. I look at the counter that separates the clerk from the customers and its vinyl stools were empty.

I look out the window as the people inside began to lose my interest and I was too hungry to grapple with their lack of interest away.

Outside fewer people were milling about still. If they went inside an establishment it seems they just ensure they made their purchase and head on out. No small talk for these town folks.

I cram my neck to see if any children were with the few adults but all I see were busybodies entering and leaving someplace or another to walk away or slip behind some old-fashioned car.

It gave me a sense of apprehension and suddenly a chilling feeling grips me as if someone had touched me with cold bloodless fingers. The street was now a lonely trafficless field and when I turn to look about the diner again I saw an old woman standing by my table staring intently at me.

I gave a startled yelp and glared at her for sneaking up on me. I was about to chastise her for this when the waitress return with my order. I watch as she hastily places the plate in front of me and hurries off.

"Can I help you?" I ask non too politely as I was not in the mood for creepy grandma and too hungry to care about my manners.

Her eyes which were a bright, clear, and lively sapphire blue stare at me with such scrutiny that made up for the other diner's lack thereof. I find myself thinking how fresh and young her eyes were. It seems so out of place in her withered crease face. Her lips were thin and coated a bright red and her face which was mostly cheekbones, chin, and striking eyes had on an ample amount of rogue.

"I see you made it," she drawled her voice tinted with a bit of accent I could not place. It was deep and aristocratic.

I squint at her before my eyes travel over the thick wool baby pink cotton skirt suit she wore. Is she not hot?! Her fingers nails I see were a matching red to her lips each finger was bejeweled with a ring fancier than the other.

She held a black cane with a silver handle that glistens. It bespoke wealth and style. The liver-spotted hand that held it had on a peculiar bracelet of silver with bizarre writings and drawings etched on its broad surface that belonged on the medieval walls of ancient caves of olden days.

She pulls the sleeve of her ugly pink jacket over it as I stare bringing my attention back to her haughty face. I could however not help but be amazed by her eyes. I was affixed to them as she said.

"We spoke over the phone two days prior."

I was shocked and did not hide it. This was not how I pictured her, she wipes away my image of a motherly being all serene and warm, here was the live replica of Cinderella's Lady Tremaine minus the gaudy red dress.

"Do you care to have a seat?" I offered as I pulled myself together.

She looks at the leather padded seat with disdain and said. "I have been here long enough but as for you stay to where you belong."

I made to speak but she cast me a look that said she was not through speaking. "It's no use wondering around Drakesville this little town and the few houses are all there is to see. The people here stick to themselves for a reason and I suggest you do the same. A room awaits you at the inn just go there and give the desk clerk your name."

She stares at me as if silently willingly me to grasps a clear meaning from what she had said. I on the other hand was too hungry and tired to care about the old hag and her aristocratic rambling. Despite whatever she believes I was darn capable of taking care of myself, and besides it was not like she was an altruistic character.

I however just nod as I look to see the waitress timidly approaching my table, this causes my food to get my attention, and pretty soon it was all that matter. I was hungrily bitting into the tasty wrap as she approaches. The old lady turns on her heels her stance regal and poise as she left without another word. I ate my mind not taken in with all the concerns that should have come with this venture I had decided to take upon my lonesome self.

I drank thirstily from the glass that timid waitress had just placed there. She stood to watch as the woman made her way to an awaiting porch of jet black and gleaming chrome rims. I watch as she slips inside and the figure who closes her in then turns to stare through the diner glass at us.

His body was tall but slump with age. His face beneath the peak of a pristine white uniform hat however was as fresh and young as that of a spry youth contrasting with his ash color skin and the salt and pepper bowl cut strands of his strait hair.

The waitress shiver but I just look on intrigued by the characters that I was now a part of their world. I swallow the last bite of my wrap and turn to ask.

"Who is that lady?"

Something you think that I should have already known right?

"The sole survivor of The House, her name is Scarlette Ruins," she answers quietly.

I already knew her name, what I suddenly want to know was who is she.