"You are the worst boy, Theodore Laurence."
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For centuries, humankind has used the stars. Whether it be for navigating across unfamiliar oceans, for preserving myths and legends of great heroes who were bestowed a spot in the heavens by the gods...
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SUMMER USED TO last forever. Charlotte's skin would simmer with a sunburn underneath the cloudless sky as she went off on some adventure with Laurie and the March sisters, skipping through the woods and reclining in fields of flowers. The muddy bank of the river would be transformed into the marshy swamps of the Amazon and the little padlocked boathouse would become a secret hideout for pirates that was perfect for stashing golden coins made of paper and hastily drawn maps. The small clearing in the forest was reserved for picnics and tea parties, complete with silly crowns and plush cushions stained from the tall grass. Amy's chipped tea set was presented with enough exquisiteness to charm the queen and the little company of friends would gossip with haughty voices and fabricate far-off tales as they sipped from their swirling cups.
When the afternoon would be pleasantly delightful, Jo would steal Laurie off somewhere to begin work on their next big scheme, barely containing their laughter as they hid behind the trees like children. Beth and Charlotte were usually their innocent targets, having no choice but to be pushed into the bone-chilling river or thrown over shoulders and carried through the hills dotted with poppies and daisies. Amy would watch on with bursting laughs, shouting after them as she hiked up her skirts and tried to match Jo and Laurie's long strides.
No matter if hot storm clouds rolled in with an accompaniment of thunderous claps or the sun burned so bright it was hard to see, the end of each day stretched on in a never-ending pool of bright pink cheeks and stomachs aching with merry laughter.
But now, as Charlotte curled her feet underneath her on the garret sofa with only Jo's hasty scribbling and the faint squeaking of the garret's resident rat for company, the days seemed short-lived and fleeting. They blended into one another like runny paint on a palette, turning a muddy gray color before her eyes. The boathouse's door remained firmly closed, the tea set was collecting dust in a cabinet, and the forest clearing had been overtaken by the wilderness as ivy and ferns twisted their way over the hearth and home of childhood.
It had been like this for weeks, ever since that fateful spring afternoon when everything went wrong.
Charlotte turned her eyes to the little window that overlooked the garden and pointed towards the grand facade of the Laurence's house. Sometimes, she would be lucky enough to see Laurie wandering aimlessly between the two houses, looking forlorn and dreadful before he would amble back like a defeated soldier that lost the war. But at this moment, not a soul moved about outside and the curtains in the windows of the Laurence's house were drawn so tight, not so much as a flicker of life came from inside. Charlotte didn't know if it hurt more when Laurie appeared and she snuck glances at his miserable eyes and taut frown, or when she didn't see him at all. All she knew was that she loathed the miserable silence that had fallen over them.
She sighed in her silent misery and turned to Jo, who was seated at her desk and scratching out the last few pages of a story before crumbling the paper and throwing it over her shoulder. The lively spark behind Jo's eyes had dissipated ever since Laurie's proposal. Her scalding hot temper now boiled beneath the surface of her sadness like a kettle about to screech. Amy had the great misfortune of often becoming the target of Jo's anger at Laurie, but she would only nod her head of blonde curls and allow Jo to berate her, before slipping off into the depths of the house to bear her anger in private. Beth had tried to cheer Jo up, but not even the sweetest of songs could break through the stony wall she had constructed. Even Marmee tried her best to soothe Jo's aching heart, but even her kind words and soft gestures couldn't ease the pain she felt.
