Fantasy Mystery
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The dark days are over and all that everyone expects are brighter days ahead.
In a world where different types of mythical creatures coexist there might be differences, differences that are beyond unfathomable, but between all th...
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Carmiabell hated Mondays for some reasons; one, it was her detention teacher's sir name; two, Damon Adams, her all time crush, hardly showed up at school, guess being brought up in a family that owned forty percent of the school property had its advantages; three, her luck appeared to be in hangover mode; and after all that she had to meet boiled cabbages on the dinner table.
Whoever made the dinner plan must have had something against her. Who still ate boiled cabbages in the century?
Call it pride, but she was going to add sleeping hungry to the-things-I-hate-about-Mondays list.
She grasped down the urge to rip off the meal plan, wiggling its stuck out tongue on the kitchen wall next to her, and dash it in their garbage can after crumpling it and jumping on it till satisfaction.
"Carmiabell Goldmoon Locks." She knew she was in trouble any time when her mother called her by the three names. "Are you familiar with the concept of time?!" She ranted pointing her index finger through the kitchen window.
Fortunately or unfortunately, their house was located up a hill and their view of the closest liquid-timer was impeccable.
The people of Southern Ellialand preferred a green liquid —which was fine by most— where every moment that passed a drop of it landed in the globe shaped timer from a tubing atop.
The liquid-timer was erected up a pillar shaped like a tree trunk where gnarling branches crept around its skirts, cradling it in comfort.
It was an admirable piece of artwork dating from over a century past, and due to proper care it still stood as strong as it was when it was built.
The liquid had filled to quarter way, threatening to surrender her late for school in a few drops.
She needn't wait for another word from her mother's lips.
She leaped to the dining room grabbing an exaggerated bun and ran for the parlor where she had dashed her bag the previous day.
She was sure there were more blue flowers in school but for her own safety, she plucked some blue poppies from the flower pot on their parlor table.
As a blue dreamer, also known as blue flower, she couldn't keep away from blue flowers for long. She wasn't sure how long, but whispers had it that the longer one stayed away from his or her source of power, lanera, he or she became powerless, otherwise know as dreamess.
It started from the color of the eye -where dream's colors were believed to be harbored- which turned into a complete snow-white. Full body paralysis took over insidiously after that, and the next thing was one remaining only but a story to be narrated.
Who knew? Those were just rumors.
Ellialand was full of flowers, so it was almost impossible for her type to perish due to the lack of a marching lanera, but there was no better assurance than carrying the flowers for herself.
