Song of Mist and Storm | I ✓

chapter I3

TO MY UTTER amazement, a small crowd was standing outside of the shop in the morning.

The sky was grey, dreary and speckled with wisps of rain cloud. The cityscape was discordant yet still quite insipid —but the horde seemed to be zealous.

I had been lying down in the back room all night beside Georgia, conjuring dreams to bottle up. She was finally asleep after hours and persistent failure to settle down —and I wanted to keep it that way.

The sudden turnout left me dithering.

It had been so long since I had had this many customers; whether first thing in the morning or in one day.

There was a mixture of height, class and species —some wore issued clothing while some had customised their ensembles to ward against the harshened weather. Those divides were deemed irrelevant here. Here, everyone was simply an individual soul, yearning for something; some hope to cling onto.

My bewilderment must have been very evident, as the people —Elves, fairies and Faeries alike, and not a human to be seen —asked me if this was indeed the Cotton Candy and if I was the shop owner. I stumbled through my answer, before they swarmed inside like bees.

I had my hands full for the next few hours; going back and forth between the back room and the front-of-house to find dreams more to someone's taste. It was not that they were particularly picky —I always strove for complete satisfaction. It was that some preferences were beyond my imagination; beyond what I had already created.