ENCHANTMENT - HP¹

POST ON SUNDAY

    Post on Sunday? How unusual. Normally, the post isn't delivered on Sunday, because it is the lord's Day. But this was particularly unusual because this post was delivered by an owl. It was a strange sight to see, a white spotted owl flying to your window with an envelope clasped between its claws. But if you want the whole story, we'll have to go back a few hours.

. . .

It was a regular Sunday, from what Myriam and her sister could tell. Myriam awoke to the sun gleaming through her curtains, a fine morning. That doesn't happen often in the countryside of Wales, — they lived on the edge of a small village named Llandberis —but that just meant more rain for the fields that her mother once owned. The farm belonged to her father now, since her mother was dead.

Myriam yawned and stretched as she got out of bed slowly, pushing down the wrinkles in her crimson nightgown with embroidered golden flowers. She walked over to the window and pulled the curtains open — slightly cloudy skies and the sun was more orange than normal.

Myriam's Kinder Goat, Juniper, was still curled up in her goat bed. It was a dog bed, really, but on a wooden platform. The family treated Juniper as a dog anyway.

Myriam went into her shared bathroom across the hall and brushed her dark brown hair. Her hair was cropped short, and parts of her hair would stick out on the sides. Myriam got out her toothbrush and squirted peppermint-flavored toothpaste on it. Myriam brushed her teeth thoroughly, making sure to brush her tongue, too. Once she was done, she washed out her mouth with her peppermint-flavored mouthwash. Then she put her toothbrush back inside the medicine cabinet and shut it, walking out of the bathroom.

Myriam walked downstairs slowly until she smelled omelets — her favorite breakfast food —, so she hurried up downstairs, hoping it was true. Once she got there, she saw that her father was making breakfast.

"Morning, Papa- Ooooh! Omelets!" Myriam ran over to the stove, jittering with excitement.

"Well, aren't you a bundle of energy today? Who am I kidding? You're like this every day." Myriam's father joked.

She became skeptical once she remembered that her father only ever cooked omelets when he needed to tell the girl something important. "What's the special occasion?"

"I haven't a clue what you're speaking of. I am simply making you the first meal of the day. A very important meal, breakfast. Filling up your tummy first thing in the morning, ah, the joy. I still don't get why some people skip breakfast. In my opinion, it's the best meal of the day. Don't you think?" Myriam's father rambled on. This was another sign that her father had to tell her something secret.

"Papa, you realize you cannot distract me by rambling on about things that aren't relevant, don't you? I know that you need to tell me something important, because every time you do need to, you make me my favorite meal and act nicely so when you do tell me, I'll take it lighter if it's bad. Papa, you can't fool me. Just tell me what you need to tell me." Myriam's father sighed.

"Well, I will tell you. Just not now, I have to wait for something to get here. It should arrive today. Until then, I'm afraid you'll have to wait," Myriam's father finished the omelets he was making. So, he set them on a serving platter and set it on the dining table. "Now go get your little sister up, the omelets are getting cold."

"Fine." Myriam muttered, a bit irritated. She hated it when her father kept things from her. Myriam didn't get why he did, but she went along with it anyway, because he was her father and she didn't want to upset him.

Myriam ran upstairs and went to her little sister's door. She knocked on that door, but it didn't sound like she was waking up.

"Clara! It's time to wake up! Your breakfast is getting cold!" Myriam shouted a bit more quietly than normal. She didn't want to startle the poor girl and make her fall out of bed. Myriam knocked more; she still didn't hear any movement.