Chapter 16
The calm had settled once she crossed the door, the warmth hugged her like a warm blanket. Home was a wonderful word.
As wonderful as dreams can be, sometimes.
Yet again, she found herself in a dream, a memory she could not understand. Words flew from her lips like releasing a breath. – "Mother! I am home!" – the tall, stoned walls carried the echo of her voice, the warm gleam of light casted shadows as she ventured into the beautifully antique home.
No answer.
Wooden furniture with delicate carvings lined the corridors toward her destination. Fresh flowers in painted vases brought colour to the room. Golden candelabras lining the pillars of this long corridor.
In her mind, she had no idea what was behind each heavy-set door she passed by. Tall marble pillars held the massive ceiling.
A little too fancy for her liking.
Her footsteps echoed as she continued on, the word "home" was not enough to describe such a place that held only a display of wealth to whoever walked by.
Even a glance was enough to gain anyone's attention and curiosity.
Who lives here?
A long crimson carpet led her to the end; big double doors met her with a strange sensation. "Have I been here before?" she wondered. Unspoken questions lingering as the dark warm wood called to her.
A gleam of light peaking under the doors, unlike the others with no sign of anyone's presence. Did she want to know who could be on the other side?
Maybe.
As she turned around, the chandeliers gleamed at her from above. Chairs and tables laid empty as it felt unworthy to be used and ruin the delicate embroidered cushions.
Only those with great influence and power should own such things.
The pinket felt a little... out of place.
Her long dark coat covered her from the outside, now it felt heavy. Still, she rather keep it on as a hug that brought comfort. Her shoes seemed to be clean as no dirt could be seen on the carpet.
Was she even outside?
Her hair fell to her side, braided with small flowers that were picked that day. Small white petals in contrast to her pink locks.
Her dress was simple and light, light green fabric under a brown corset to hold her flowing skirt.
She was not part of this world.
No longer feeling the urge to open those doors, her steps began to wonder away. – "Sakura. Come in dear" – she heard a faint and soft voice.
It came from the other side of those doors.
With a deep breath, she spoke. – "Who's there?" – the clock sitting on a large book shelve ticked in the silence. Her nerves began to rise.
Sakura tilted her chin slightly to hear a little better. – "Silly girl." – the voice spoke in laughter. – "Do you not remember your mother?" –
Confused, she remembered those words she spoke before. Yes, she arrived home, her mother was waiting for her.
Scrambling in her memories, searching for a face that voice may belong to. Even a name. Nothing came up.
Her eyes lingered on the door as a shadow approached from underneath. But she could not hear any footsteps.
A figure reached for the door on the other side and her green eyes focused on the silver doorhandle. As it slowly moved, the laughter started again. – "Didn't you miss your dear mother?" –
YOU ARE READING
Flowers don't cry
FantasyHer existence was meant to end that night, her 18th birthday was her last day to walk amongst the living, to draw her last breath. A sacrifice she had no choice but to make. Waking up in the arms of warriors with only her name to remember was terrif...
