The sun floated high in the west, the sky a light blue with clouds splattered around like splashes of paint on a canvas.
As the grass swayed amongst the plethora of buildings, the trees danced along with the outdoor silence - but inside, things were much less silent.
About two dozen ten and nine year old's were running around inside the large room, walls painted an off white colour.
Several desks and tables were scattered around the grey-carpeted room, the whiteboard at the front covered in colourful words, tables, markings and magnets.
A tall man with dark brown hair and freckles all over his face stood behind a large desk on the right-hand side of the classroom, a window directly to his right whilst he gazed upon the minors before him.
"Okay class, settle down," the male spoke up, gesturing for the kids to take their seats - which they did soon after, "We still have a few things to talk about before you can go home to your families, so listen up!"
The badge on his polo shirt's pocket read 'Mr. Denis', the object a light grey which matched the watch on his left wrist - the other hand dragging a black whiteboard marker across the whiteboard, "When we come back to school, we're all going to share what we did on the holidays - so you guys are going to bring some souvenirs to show your friends!"
"Mr. Denis! What is a souvenir?" a young female with bright red hair tied into a high ponytail called out, raising her hand into the air.
"I'm glad you asked Ardella, now who knows the answer to that question?" the teacher queried, turning to face the kids - one of them waving his hand in the air, "Storm, what is a souvenir?"
"A souvenir, Mr. Denis, is a thing that you bring home after a holiday somewhere else! Like a kangaroo toy from Australia!" the child with short brown hair and tan skin answered loudly, almost begging for attention.
On the other hand, however, a golden-haired girl sat in the back - fiddling around with her pencil, which was plain and shorter than one would've expected.
Her hair seemed to have been dipped in mud since the tips were a deep brown, humps in the back of her pale yellow shirt bulging out like a phone in the pants of a female's jeans.
The girl's eyes were of a chocolate brown shade, her skin pale whilst the edge of a bandage could be seen from under her long sleeves.
All of a sudden, her attention was diverted to the adult at the front, "oh my gosh- CECILIA CORONA! You better be paying attention in my class, for this is the last day of school for you and your normal classmates. So, what did Storm say just then, Cecilia?"
"U-uh, uh..." the ten year old gazed away from Mr. Denis, a strand of shining hair falling in front of her nose - the other students around her gluing their eyes to her, "I-I don't kn-now, Mr. Denis..."
The male sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "Of course you don't know, after school detention for you. Everyone else, I wish you the best holidays - everyone standing up! The bell's about to ring-a-ding-ding!"
Chatter filled the room as the students, the majority of which were white, got out of their seats and began packing their things.
All except Cecilia.
The girl sat there, sketching little figures in the corners of her sketchbook - flicking through the pages to show off a low-quality animation of a person walking through the school gates, smiles on everyone's faces.
Smiles, which she never received.
~
The walls were a plain, solid white - a window on the left wall covered by a grey, patterned curtain.
All the other walls, however, were blank and plain - a built-in wardrobe in the wall opposite to the glass panes being the only 'decoration' within the entire space.
A dark brown wooden bed with mildly extravagant carvings sat with the head against the back of the room, right against the window ledge - a bedside table to the right with nothing but a lamp on top.
The carpet was of a dull brown shade, a set of papers stuck to the wall next to the door - which was embedded into the front wall.
All in all, pretty boring.
Well, not as bored as the person inside.
A girl with long golden hair and small brown wings sat on the bed, staring out the window blankly whilst a strand of brown hair rested in front of her right eye - said strand being pushed behind her ear soon after with her pale index finger.
She was currently wearing a yellow t-shirt, white pants which ended above her ankles and plain socks - her cheeks slightly red whilst she fixed up her clothes.
'Creak~' the sound of the door opening caught Cecilia's attention, the lady in the doorway wearing black and white clothes and holding an envelope, "Ms Corona, I have a letter addressed to you from your mother."
The child approached the female in a long, black dress - taking the letter from her gloved hands before nodding and turning away, the other closing the door behind her.
The blond sat herself back down onto the mattress, carefully peeling the envelope open and then pulling out the piece of parchment - which read;
"Cecilia, we will be ridding of the current housekeeper by the weekend - for reasons which are none of your concern - and therefore will be asking of you to, once again, take care of the household full time.
This means no school, no going outside unless we tell you to directly, and cooking only for us - I will be expecting the house to be spotless once we get home in around 2 or 3 hours from when you read this.
That is, unless you decided to let the housekeeper throw this out on purpose, but you would never do that.
Right, Cecilia?
- Your Mother, Mrs Corona."
The ten year old's face wrinkled into an expression of disgust, as she tossed the paper away - the object landing in the corner next to the closet door.
She then flopped onto the bed, bouncing slightly as she closed her eyes - the world around her turning black.
But not fully.
Waves of yellow, dark blue, orange and purple swirled around in her head - dancing together as if performing just for her.
However, the purple droplets seemed off - almost as if they were being left out.
Almost, as if they were lonely.
But nonetheless, she smiled lightly to herself - knowing, deep down, that things could get better.
Hopefully.
YOU ARE READING
(Hiatus) A Story Of ONE & MANY | The C' Crew
General FictionC' isn't normal, never has been & never will be - however, their persona's (otherwise known as The C' Crew) don't make anything better. Follow C' & their personas in their world as life continues at a slow pace in A Story Of ONE & MANY, a book style...
