Everyone is familiar with who Amelia Coldwell is. What she is remembered for the most, of course, is her death. It could be said her death is what doomed her daughters.
But we will not be talking about any of them, instead we'll be going back in ti...
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It was a windy day, making the leaves fall and cover the floor in orange, brown, yellow, and red. As she walked she could hear the crunching of the leaves beneath her shoes. Sometimes she ran into a few red foxes, which she adored. She hummed a tune as she walked. As she got closer to her destination a small smile spread through her face. She gave a final stomp on the ground, making the loud satisfying crunch, before opening the door and going inside. Right away her face was bombarded by the comforting warmth and the smell of cinnamon.
"Maman! Je suis ici!" [Mom! I'm here!]
She dropped her bag in a corner along with her red scarf and brown sweater. A woman with a face resembling hers only older pulled back and wearing a kitchen apron walked in.
"Carena, garder le silence.", she hushed her child. [Carena, keep quiet.]
"Pardon maman." [Sorry, mom.]
Carena walked over to her mother and planted a kiss on her cheek. She then grabbed the extra apron that hung on the wall and tied it around her waist. Then a man, with tired but kind eyes, stubble over his face, gray hair covered by an orange cap, and wearing a gardener's uniform, came in carrying a basket of fruit.
"My Carena! You're back from school.", he spoke with a strong french accent.
"Hello papa.", she said as she walked over to him and planted a kiss on his cheek.
Carena's father knew how to speak many languages, from Spanish to Russian. He had even taught Carena some of them, English being the main one. And the one she knew best, other than French, of course.
Her mother walked over and grabbed the basket from him.
"Parler en français! Vous pouvez parler en anglais à l'école. Ce n'est pas ici." [Talk in french! You can talk in english in school. Not here.]
"Gardez votre calme, mon chou. Comment faire un bisou pour votre mari?" [Keep calm, *word of endearment*. How about a kiss for your husband?]
He leans in for a kiss, but she pushes him away.
"Retourne travailler, Lucian." [Go back to work, Lucian.]
"Comme vous le souhaitez, mon chou.", he turns to his daughter, "Je vais vous voir plus tard, ma caille.", he tips his hat before leaving. [As you wish, *word of endearment*. I'll see you later, *word of endearment*.]
"Laver les fruits, Carena." [Wash the fruit, Carena.]
"Oui, maman."
Later, when they had finished making all kinds of food, the kitchen was filled with all kinds of yummy smells. Carena's mouth began to water. She decided to try to sneak a taste of one of the pastries, but before she could touch it her mother flicked her hand away.
"Non, vous le saviez déjà." [No, you already know that.]
"S'il te plaît, ils ne manqueront pas une petite pâtisserie." [Please, they won't miss one little pastry.]
