Book One In The Ahh-Ness Of Things Series: April & Donnie were once inseparable, but now almost six years have passed since she left NYC. What if April O'Neil could set the record straight, once & for all! The only girl down enough to chill with the...
***BTW yes I could listen to a 2min Joji track on loop for an hour! Normally I would leave this in Turtle Talks; but before you read the below entry, please take a moment to read this msg from your friendly author: If you've never listened to Joji; his music inspired a lot of the mood for this story. He's an actual musical genius, & kinda in his own way, a music version of a Donatello type. You should honestly just crank this one & pay a attention to the lyrics; its sung like a cute little love song but it's profoundly raw & brilliant. (I consider that a lot of opinion, considering I'm a classically trained violinist) If you haven't been paying attention to the playlist included, you're missing a good quarter of the story. I include songs that either provide an underlying msg for the part you're reading, or emphasizes a character's inner dialog for that section; even giving clues to what's really going when I drop hints. Like any soundtrack; certain references & characters have their own themes. Joji is Donnie's theme, particularly pre April leaving NYC.
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We slept, unapologetically, through the next day & into early evening. A sleep for years. No one bothered to try to wake us; no early morning shouts to breakfast, or irritated growls that we were missing training. Not a single demand that chores needed to be done. The whole house just let us be, for a day. Every couple of hours, there would be a soft tap at the door, & a tray would be waiting with little portions of whatever meals we'd missed. Donatello barely stirred to notice; leaving me to fall back into a more restless sleep as the day drew to an end.
I dreamed those horrid nightmares; somewhere between reality & memories. I would feel his arms wrap around me to comfort me, but he was never really awake, & I never really fell completely unconscious, once night came again. I was hungry; I knew it was almost time for dinner, & I suddenly craved my mom's homemade peach cobbler. I hadn't thought about it since, probably before I had even lived here, but I could almost taste it! The hot, sweet compote & rich, cool, vanilla ice-cream.
I remember sitting straight up in the bed; almost as if I were greeting someone who had come into the room. There was no one there. Yet for a moment; I was so certain someone had been watching us as we slept, & their presence was all too familiar, if not recognized. Someone instinctively threatening, but carrying with it wisdom so absolute, that their truths were unwelcome to the point you would deny them.
In my enervation I was unable to be concerned, as long as I knew we were not in any immediate danger, & though I knew I should address whatever reached into our world to invade our seclusion; there was nothing more enticing than the warm blankets around me. I laid my head against Donatello's shell & traced my fingertips sleepily, in the grooves; listening to the echoing clatter of dishes far off in the kitchen. When I placed my hand on his arm, to snuggle close & dream of peach cobbler; I was startled to find his skin was cold & clammy.
