Chapter Four(8)

She did not know, and though she didn’t want to think it, she found no other explanation, except that it really wasn’t the same place.
Ok, gather your thoughts, Cecy, she ordered herself, and she looked up just in time, distangling her thoughts, to see Will draw his brush out of the pockets. Cecy believed it was very fortunate that she had not missed the sight, and sighed contentedly inside.
But it proved soon, to be exact, in quarter of a second, how much the universe wanted to keep its balance of being nonchalant towards puny luck. For she had looked up in time, but not before her hand touched the golden belt once more, unconsciously, since she was thinking about it.

The belt began to shriek out loud, its thunderous ‘voice’ shattering Cecy’s poor eardrums once more, and they had already undergone an attack by well, thunder. 
The shrieking and unintelligible sound of pure madness issuing from the seemingly innocent golden belt was enough to shake Will’s right hand, and the brush went flying across the room, landing precariously on one of the bookshelves.
Two pairs of shocked and bewildered eyes followed the graceful projectery of the flung-out brush, and saw it land with a flourish on a bookshelf somewhat in the back, sending up a cloud of dust.