What’s this all about anyway?
I begin this diatribe from when I woke up here, in Hyacinth Cottage, at Reddiker Woodes. My name is Isabella Fontana, (or at least that’s what I’m going by for the moment) you can call me Izzy, twenty something and I’m a Freelance Writer. I suppose that would be all that would be needed, but you might find it strange as you read further, why certain items of my life will be kept secret, mostly my real name, birthplace and family.
I am a writer, that’s what my passion is. I was born in Europe, am the youngest in my family and that my family is very ancient. I have a deep love of old dusty books, black and white movies (of these I’m most particularly fond of) and of the late fall early winter seasons. I am very well traveled, my family made sure of that. At first because they were family holidays, but then because I loved being on the move. Now, since I have left my childhood home, I am basically on the run, a fugitive.
When I was contacted by Battina in accordance with my “handler” to take over the position of journalist at Reddiker Woodes, it was strangely liberating. Actually having the courage to do something that didn’t entirely involve my family. I started to prepare months before I was supposed to arrive. I acquired all of the necessary paperwork; passports, visas, correct currency. Then I told my family. I never expected the type of reception I would receive when I told them. Like I said, my family is very old and has been around for generations, and they take pride in that. I should continue or at least delve into the “family business”, (I can’t get into too much of that here and now). I have always had a fondness of books and the written word. I have kept journals since before I can remember, and always have seem to have written down what has happened, since I’ve been alive in regards to my family. They thought it was just a phase and that I would grow out of it. It’s actually quite strange now that I think about it. Since I was around 10 or so, I have always kept any monetary amounts that were given to me for a “rainy day”. I didn’t know how much this would come in handy. When I told my family that I had taken a position overseas, and what I would be doing, they actually used the words “forbade”. Now I always knew that what I did, they thought was just fancy, but I never in my wildest dreams thought that they would “forbade” me in anything. It even went so far that my bedchambers doors were being locked at night. Well, this meant that I would have to obviously resort to drastic measures.
Finally in the weeks leading up to me coming here, I didn’t’ mention much of what I was doing and just went about my day, horse back riding, shopping, and getting together with the family for dinners. At the same time I was deciding that I was just going to disappear. Not be kidnapped or anything like that, but just not be where people expected me to be. I found that this was going to be easier, or so I thought. I went to the various locations that I needed, liquidated what I could, but not so much to close accounts; took all of my jewelry that was given to me, (diamonds are a great currency in any country). So finally with money in hand, and a day in mind, I set off to leave my current home. I actually had to put my departure off a couple of times. Once when my grandfather was suppose to leave, I figured with him leaving, I would get a jump on everyone and they wouldn’t think about my lack of being there; then again when my cousin was suppose to be getting married. Unregrettably the marriage was called off, as her fiancé has disappeared. A letter arrived at everyone’s home that there was recently a birth in the family, and that the “naming” ceremony was going to be held at my maternal grandmothers villa and all were to pay their respects in the manor that was accustomed to our family. Also rumors of my “pre-arranged marriage” were to be announced also. (More on this in a later date). I had it finally. I knew now that I could leave. My grandmother lives in Canne, and well, we are several thousand miles away. All of the flights were booked, and I decided right then and there to tell my father that I would meet everyone at the villa the day before the party. I made up an elaborate story that one of my best friends was getting engaged and that I had to be there for her, and that I was going to be the maid of honor. So to not leave her in a crunch, I would take her out and let her know that when I got back, we would start planning all of the details.
This was a great cover story. With everyone wanting to celebrate the new birth in the family, I would have no problem, getting onto a plane a day earlier and have a lead start to get away. I had the ticket in my hand that was bought for me, but naturally changed that first class ticket into a coach. I not only was able to pocket the money, but also be able to take that extra money and buy two more tickets at my next arrival. This might not make sense, but it enabled me to go to one country, board, land in another country, board, land and wind up in yet another country on two different continents. I figured this would be some great distance between the family and myself. Since my family only had the word that I had gotten a job overseas, they didn’t know exactly where.
Now packing for this was the hard part. I not only had to bring my life it seemed like, but make it look like I was actually going to the villa. Since I knew I had to be on several different planes for several days, what should I take, what should I leave behind? It’s hard to pack for your entire life? All of my personal possessions, music, movies; could all be bought again, easily. Photo albums and journals, that’s another problem. My solution: a safety deposit box, that I had amazingly gotten online and was able to ship/mail to, to be able to pick up at my convenience, once I arrived at my destination. I also had started to stash away huge sums of money, jewels and the like to be able to use when needed, all under an assumed name also. Waiting at the airport was rough. Would I see someone I knew? Would my name come up on any given teleprompter that I was missing? On each leg of the trip, my “name” and passports changed. This was necessary, so that I wouldn’t be found. So far as of this writing, it’s working. Once I finally arrived at my destination, I took trains, and busses. So the record of any names will just be lost, since these could be paid for in cash. Not only did “names” change, but so did my eyes, (contacts), and my hair (wigs). Many hats and jackets have been left on many seats throughout the various countries.
Since I have been here, Isabella seems to be a good fit for me. It fits in with the rest of the inhabitants that are here, and the only ones who know who I am for sure are Battina and my “handler”, and they seem to be extremely trustworthy.
Why, why, why? That’s seems to be the big question running through my head right now. Why would I leave fortune and a very comfortable life at home, and come here to “just be a writer and photographer”? Yes, it’s true; I was born into a privilege life and a family with much power. I was never mistreated or abused by any means. So why would I leave? I can’t really answer that right now, except for my own personal reasons; one, I knew my family wouldn’t approve of it, and they had already “forbade” me, so rebellion is a strong motivator; two; I’m a writer and photographer, that’s what I like to do, and if someone is willing to take a chance on me and willing to pay me for my work, then I have to oblige them; three, the arranged marriage that I was hearing rumors of was really putting me into a tailspin. At the above for mentioned “ceremony” party that was to ensue, there was a talk that a male gentleman that had been “picked” for me, at my birth, was going to be there, and the “announcement” was going to be made. This is all I’m going to say about this for now.
Yes, there are lots of consequences with everything that you wind up doing in your life; what car you choose to drive, who you choose to associate yourself with, what school you send your children too; and yes even “disappearing” has it’s consequences. I have been able to find out through various sources that my old friends have been harassed and somewhat abused to try “tell” where I am. Sad, but they don’t know. They didn’t even know I was going to do this, and for that reason I didn’t tell a living soul. But apparently even if you don’t confide in someone, they are still going to be a target. For this, I am greatly upset about. Writing this is an extremely therapeutic part of my life, and it will help document everything that I do from this point on. I can’t wait to assume my duties, here at Reddiker Woodes as the official scribe and photographer. I know that this will be an extremely lucrative and interesting job for me. I’ll be able to concentrate on others instead of my family. They would never think of looking for me here, in this part of the world, or in this residence. I hope and pray that I will be able to stay here for a significant amount of time also. I really don’t’ want to run or find another job. I have an enormous amount of time on my hands right now and this is good. I can actually rest, read when I get a chance, and just take in the beauty that surrounds me when I’m not writing. I pray that my family will stop the endless search for me, and just let me be. I have always been different and didn’t really seem like I belonged to that world of my families, and would just like to do what I like to do, and not have everything pre arranged for me, (said marriage in above paragraph) For now, this is all there is. I hope that you have at least gotten an inkling of why I am doing this and why I have had to do so in such a drastic measure. If not, well, I’m not sure what to tell you, and no, you wont be able to get a huge reward for trying to tell others of my whereabouts’. From what I have been able to ascertain from Battina and my “handler”, Reddiker Woodes isn’t on any known map or in any known postal code. So they are just as much of an enigma as I am.