❝You make me a better writer. ❞
❝And you make me a better person.❞
. . • ☆ . ° .• -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-°:. *₊ ° .
Stuck between the land of the living and isle of the dead, Dahlia Molina struggles on making the choice of staying with her loved ones, or fully...
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. PROLOGUE
Dahlia Molina had always found wishing upon a star to be useless. She often refused to blow the seeds off a dandelion to make a wish, and she didn't see the point in making a wish when she saw angel number on a clock. Dahlia didn't believe in superstitions, the supernatural, or fate. In her book, the cards were dealt either good or bad, and that's just the way the world worked.
No matter how many times Rose Molina tried to encourage her daughter to loosen up and have some fun with it, Dahlia was too stubborn to budge. It didn't bother Rose, as Dahlia was her best friend and her other half. The girl was named after her mother's favorite flower, and she carried the name with pride. She often wore a pink dahlia in her hair as a child, and only stopped because the thorns began to poke her forehead. Instead, she wore the matching dandelion pin she had with her mother.
Dahlia and Rose Molina were both extremely gifted songwriters, spending hours upon hours in Rose's studio as they wrote. They often asked Julie Molina, Dahlia's younger sister, to sing the songs they wrote with her incredible voice; and that was Dahlia's version of paradise. Why would she need to wish for anything else?
However, a few years later the Molina family suffered a fate one wouldn't even wish on their worst enemy. Rose Molina had passed away, leaving her children without their beloved mother.
Dahlia had only a few things to remember her mother by, one being a song left unfinished. Dahlia remembered starting the song off with her mother, though it was never finished; left in her studio to grow dusty and forgotten.
The night her mother died, Dahlia had been absolutely crushed. She poured out all her emotions one night into a song, filling the notebook page after page with sorrowful emotions. When the night was over, she put down the pen; vowing to never write again.
Dahlia Molina wanted to change. She wanted to be more like her mother, the woman she considered to be her hero. So one night, Dahlia stepped out, lying down on her front porch as she stared up at the sky. She watched the stars light up the night sky, the darkness illuminated by light. This time, when Dahlia noticed a shooting star, she didn't scoff-- or brush it off. The Molina girl surprised herself when she grew slightly emotional, feeling as it were a sign from her mother.
And so she made a wish.
Dahlia came outside more often during nightfall, often resting her eyes under the stars when it was too hard to sleep. She would sometimes talk to her mother, not caring if she sounded ridiculous or not. Sometimes she'd come outside with a tune stuck in her head, humming to herself quietly as the night breeze brushed past her cheeks.
Dahlia believed this new habit was why her outer shell much didn't change after the death of her mother, trying to stay strong for her younger siblings and helping her father around the house. Dahlia was only a year older than Julie, though she took on so many responsibilities she was often mistaken for older.
