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It did not scare me when I was first thrown under the bus, left to venge for myself and entrapped in its invisibility.

But as I stared outside through the window, I couldn't help but feel more lost. The place was surrounded, clouded — engulfed by vegetation. Beautiful greens, oranges and mauves. Although it was autumn, the vibrant colours of warmth still raised goosebumps.

Spring was better.

From the front door, there was a pathway cloaking the neck of the cabin. Ahead, facing the front door was a lake, extended and round, too fat for me to see one end from another. The pigmentation of trees hadn't helped to see the circumference of it all.

The border was on the back left, leading to a hill where I couldn't see the horizon from. Fallen leaves and dying twigs rested beside it. As though it were camouflage.

"Well, isn't this fantastic?" Sarcasm was pungent as I rolled my eyes.

No passengers or wizards, however. From what I'd noticed, an urge charm cast the border, I saw the spores of it glowing up from the mushrooms at night.

A feeling that forced them to leave, giving that icky sensation that it wasn't safe and that they had to go home. The perfect way to keep intruders out.

I studied around the cabin that day and eve, struggling to fall asleep in a stranger's bed, more so when the cabinets and tables were soiled with dust. It had to be untouched for years. Hidden for emergency only, I imagined.

As time passed, the boredom grew heavier and heavier. Until I would sleep throughout most of the day. The books — either I'd already read at home or bore nothing of my interest. Yawning gave me more adrenaline. There were no paints, not even a clue where I was. No maps, no compasses, and especially no magic.

Thankfully, the food never ran out. Perhaps the only magical thing here other than the border. Each day, the cabinets would fill, not once empty. Never a day with a gargling belly.

Sometimes it would cause overeating my emotions, for they became unbearable. I've always enjoyed quiet and isolation, but after some time, it left you feeling dazed and crazy. Hearing things and hallucinating. I'd scratched the days I've lived through with a penknife I found... somewhere. Though a lot of the times, the days melted into one, leaving me to double scratch or not scratch at all.

At the start, it was tough. Becoming an adult by learning to cook and cleaning after yourself. No magic. No elves.

Lilo and Puddle. I missed them terribly, so terribly it twisted my stomach into multiple knots.

I missed everyone. Thomas, Aurelia, my friends and distant family. Wondering what'd come of the world. Not even a Daily Prophet in sight, charmed day by day to tell me how it'd all gone downhill.

But I had to guess.

Even if I didn't want to.

Days blended into weeks, blending into months, and hours became pointless. The world becomes timeless, a distilled clock that forgot how to click.

The Cabin | D.M 18+Where stories live. Discover now