One girl. Two cats. A world full of adventure.
Abbernathy Tells is a twelve year old girl who prefers the companionship of her two cats and a dying tree over others her age. When a horrible tragedy strikes on her thirteenth birthday, robbing h...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
A memory-faded and frail-seeped into Lucy's consciousness as he gazed at the waning crescent moon above.
Vaalsen, Kian' dar min.
Words he'd never heard spoken before, echoed in his mind, mired in his subconscious, a visitor clawing at the door, begging to be let in. Like a fog, the words permeated his synapses, replaying over and over, giving rise to a melancholic beat until nothing but the sound engulfed him.
He wondered what it was about those words that made him feel such longing for something he couldn't place. He tried to remember, but no matter what he did, the words and the soothing voice that whispered them remained dormant, lost to time.
Tearing himself away from the night sky, Lucy turned his attention back toward Laos, a city in the thralls of chaos. He could hear its heartbeat-- sweet nothings whispered over iced whiskeys, cries of passion being screamed behind closed doors, drunken footsteps unsteadily traipsing over cobbled side streets. He heard the echo of someone's fist colliding with sandstone, the jeers from the onlookers, and then the yelling coming from the business' proprietor.
The liveliness of the port was a needed contrast to the stifling quiet that suffocated him, Abby, and Crum in the grove, awkwardness draped over them like a wool blanket on a sweltering summer's day, unwelcomed and unbearable.
Both children were ill-equipped to handle a meeting that didn't end in heated words and bruised flesh between the legs. And Abby-without thinking-had spilled her innermost thoughts to the boy, making the moment sullen, neither of them knowing how to move forward.
Lucy had been confused as the whole situation unfurled, wondering why the girl gave her private thoughts a voice that would fall on Crum's ears. But humans were puzzling creatures-logic barely ever leading action-a symptom, he supposed, of the human condition.
Lucy curled up on Abby's lap, the folds of her dress offering him protection from the bite of the night air. Overhead, wisps of gray clouds rolled in off the north and promised of rain.
As nothing of interest held the cat's attention, he nuzzled his head in the crook of Abby's elbow, resigning to a quick nap. But a flicker of red darted in front of his gaze, hovering over one of Simon's branches. The cat's ears perked up in excitement, his gold eyes glimmering as though he'd stumbled upon treasure.
A goldenfly stood on Simon's branches, its long, armored neck stuck out, antennae gently stroking one of Simon's leaves. It released a soothing hum into the air before leaning close, tearing at the leaves with tiny pointed teeth.
Lucy'd never seen a goldenfly before, though he'd read about them plenty. Creatures with bulbous black eyes reflecting the world they saw a thousand fold, silver wings housing their nervous systems, hundreds of thin veins carving intricate, geometric patterns on their bodies unique to each goldenfly. Their abdomens glowed a muted red, reminiscent of the last embers of a once mighty fire. They were rare additions to Mirea, rarer still to the coastal regions, and a sighting of one was to be met with celebration; a firefly told of good fortunes to come.
