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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The commute took long enough to get Carmiabell all soaked in cold sweat.
Everyone her eyes encountered seemed to be knowing something —especially when their glares locked— which happened a lot.
If she hadn't sold herself out, already, she was yet to.
All along Phoebi had been narrating her stories, momentarily stealing glimpses at the bag —which forcefully served to remind her of the peril she had dawned upon herself.
Jagged turrets bookending all four edges of Neporian Academy appeared in Carmiabell’s field of view their dark purple roof tiles marching to flags.
Neporian Academy was named after the great phoenix.
The narrative had rivulet till the day; how she defended the nation in blood and flames.
It went in many ways, but the superficial tale ended up in her burning herself into flames and her ashes being concealed in the depths of the earth.
While some call her a phoenix, others defer for her ambiance was out of tune in comparison to that of a normal phoenix. They say she was just another nature’s misfit.
Eight legs for a bird, Carmiabell had to agree; she was special.
That explained where the school's flag’s design came from.
The train delicately halted before it gravitated towards the front gate.
Everything that was ant sized grew abruptly and loomed giant shadows above the train.
On landing, a hissing sound resembling that of a leaking gas pipe followed as the door to Carmiabell’s cabin slid open to the side.
The conductor jumped outside as student descended.
Alighting wasn’t an easy task —not if most people in your cabin were not alighting.
Carmiabell was forced to barge into standing crowds as others scuffled for the seat she had just left.
As soon as her feet felt the ground, she took in a deep breath she had no idea she needed.
Fresh air was one of the many necessities levitating trains deprived its passengers.
A liquid-timer mounted atop a giant building opposite the school displayed a pale bluish liquid lingering at a third of the orb.
Making up excuses was not her forte —the last time she tried it she ended up creating a disease of her own that apparently was synonym for blindness, and she was staring at the teacher— so indubitably, she was going to get yet another detention.
Another whole week with Monday in one room. Just what she needed; more depression.
The stupid sharp eared elf snored like a wagon’s engine.
“You shouldn’t be scared anymore algebra, the flight is over.” The words caught Carmiabell off guard that she almost doubted that Damon was referring to her.
His eyes were straight at her bag.
It took her a few moments to get the insult.
He didn’t think that she was holding her bag between her chest like a pink-cat-doll to keep her safe, did he?
“Do I have to remind you my name?” She jumped into words.
She was not going to explain herself to a six feet tall charming vampire.
"Okay, whatever your name is. I'll bring you a doll tomorrow if you are afraid of heights.” The taunt in his tone was as discernable as the sky above.
How old did he think she was? Five.
“No, I'm not scared of heights,” she muttered defensively. “For your information, I've been taking levitating trains since middle school.”
Damon went silent, admitting that he had just been beaten.
Carmiabell one Damon zero.
He made a grin that should have a huge warning sign like “DO NOT DARE LOOK, YOU MIGHT NEVER COME BACK FROM THE CHARM.”
A rush of crimson triggered from some stupid part of her brain flashed in her cheeks.
She swiftly changed the direction of her eyes before Damon could notice and annoy her more.
One of his elf friends stole him from her grounds, and without regards he vanished into the school gates.
His built jock’s body strolled the path into the school premises, Carmiabell admiring every step he took.
Phoebi seized the opportunity to engage her in more stories she paid the least attention to.
A steel sculpture of the Neporian on top of the gates welcomed them into Carmiabell’s nightmare.
The hallways were almost empty, and they couldn’t expect anything more in appearing late.
“Tell no one,” Carmiabell insisted with a hard edge in her tone to make emphasis before they parted into different classes.
Only if there was a way to sew her lips or erase her memory, otherwise all she had in hand was a modicum of hope.
