The Feed of the Fledgling

Gothic Design



“I told you…” Chelsea sounded defeated as we all began to leave her bedroom.

I looked up at her and felt sadness course through me. It felt like I had disappointed her by not choosing any of her outfits. I frowned.

“Hold on.” I pushed past the two as I went towards a black ripped up top in the corner that I hadn’t seen. The closet was a huge walk-in so I wasn’t surprised I hadn’t seen it. I touched the fabric and rolled my hands over it. It was soft. Softer than anything I’d ever worn until today.

“What about this?” I said as I pulled the hanger up to show the two.

Chelsea seemed to beam with pride. Tory looked surprised. She was the first to say something.

“You want to wear that? I thought with everything happening so quickly you’d want to avoid showing anything off.” She looked towards the ground.

The clothing on the hanger was a tad revealing, so I understood where she was coming from. It was a soft fabric that was originally a slightly revealing V-cut top. That was, until someone attacked it with scissors. The neck line was cut to reveal more cleavage and the length was altered to reveal a midriff. There were little cuts and distresses in what looked like random places.

“Maybe you take more after me than I thought?” Chelsea seemed happy. “I suggest you wear an undershirt and a bra though. You might send the wrong message, especially on a walk at night.” She looked at me expectedly.

“Oh, yeah. I kind of figured. Do you have the two things that would go with this then?”

“Duh.” She quickly went to another part of the closet and pulled the two aforementioned items out.

For someone who was supposed to be ‘my creator’ she seemed to switch personalities. One second she’s just like my old mom. Kind, loving, caring. The next she’s just a twenty-something hanging out with friends. I really didn’t get her.

The undershirt she held were just fishnets with a hole for a head. I looked confused.

“That’s the undershirt?”

“Yeah? What did you expect?”

“Something with a bit less holes I guess,” I rubbed my arm as I spoke.

Tory spoke up.

“If she’s not at work, Chels pretty much only wears black and everything she owns has holes,” she said looking at me. She turned to Chelsea and continued, “I swear, you lose out on money. You buy clothes that are missing a quarter of the material!”

“I just like how it looks!” Chelsea said defensively.

I waved my hands to get their attention. While they had bickered I had put on the bra, undershirt, and shirt. The bra was easy. Just clasp it then twist. At least, that’s how Hazel had put it. We had been friends since birth until her family moved away at 16. I haven’t seen or heard from her since. It was weird to think that something she had said to make me uncomfortable when we were 14 was helping me now.

I was still in my sleep shorts but my top half was looking more presentable. The two gawked at me. Chelsea spoke up.

“Wow, it’s almost like looking in a mirror! The face is a tad different but that’s good! It would be a little weird to have an exact clone.”

Tory looked proud of me and Chelsea’s praises made me feel happy too. I turned around to face the full length mirror and was awestruck. Earlier, I was in pain so I didn’t truly take it all in. This still felt so weird. A gorgeous girl stared back at me. The two behind looked like my sisters. We all looked to descend from some family with fantastic genes.

“Want to finish the look with my classic? Skirt, platforms, and lot’s of accessories.” Chelsea looked at me with a predatory smile.

“I think I’m okay. I just want to stick to some nice jeans and sneakers if I can.” I spoke softly. It felt like I’d be disappointing Chelsea if I didn’t agree with her.

God, why does it feel so weird to do anything that she might not like. Did I lose my free will or something?

I began to process, but Tory interrupted me.

“That would be my department. Let’s go.”

Chelsea did look a little sad, but we all filed out of Chelsea's closet and fantastic master bedroom. I got to see the living room again. We were on the second floor where Chelsea and Tory had their rooms. I looked over to see a different view than I’d seen from walking out of my room. The gorgeous flooring and windows were the main talking points. It was like a Greek temple. The marble was fantastic. The windows took up an entire wall. It was clear we were in a penthouse. The whole of New York looked miniscule from up here. A grand piano took up a massive part of the space along with a giant leathery L-shaped couch. The TV was inlayed into the wall. I couldn’t really see the kitchen from where we were, but I’d remembered the metallic appliances with dark cherry wood and marble. There was an island with bar tables if I remember correctly. Another section held a large dining table that looked like an antique. It stood out compared to the modernity of everything else. The stairs took up another huge chunk of space. They were a grand staircase and faced the front door (which was the elevator designed to look like doors). A nice mix of modern and old art littered the house’s walls. Even on the second floor. We walked to Tory’s room and went to her walk-closet the same as we’d done for Chelsea’s.

The process was quick. We were only getting jeans and shoes after all. Chelsea and Victoria tried to get me into dresses, but I didn’t want to change too much. They’d convinced me a few times, but it made getting back into my ‘walking’ outfit slowly more annoying.

Finally, we all made our way out of Tory’s room and down the stairs.

“Ready to go, Isabelle?” Chelsea asked, almost ready to hit the call button on the elevator.

“Sure.” I opened and closed my hands, trying to get the sweat to stop.

“Gonna need a little more conviction than that.”

I looked up at Chelsea. She wanted excitement. I could tell. Almost like I could feel it. I closed my hands into fists and steeled myself.

“I’m ready to go. I got this.” I tried to sound confident. In reality, I was terrified. I wasn’t exactly sure why. Was I scared of how people would view me? Was I scared of being a woman in public? Was I scared of how men would treat me? I think it was a mix of the three.

“See you guys!” Tory spoke up, seemingly wanting us to leave. She had walked past me and Chelsea to push the button without either of us noticing. How did I not notice? Was she super fast or something?

A memory seemed to surface and I remembered how Chelsea had locked the door at the diner. She’d appeared there. Was I gonna get basically super powers? This thought didn’t scare me. I actually inwardly smiled.

Maybe this whole thing is gonna be a lot cooler than I thought. Maybe I should just go with the flow and really lean into everything.

Chelsea looked at me curiously. The ding from the elevator broke the silence.

“Let’s go, hon.” Chelsea reached out and guided me into the elevator.

The doors slowly closed and we began to descend.

Sorry about the short chapter! I'm a little drained from writing two the other day.  The next one should be a lot longer ;) Also, just curious, what's the minimum word count of a story you're willing to read?


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