Life is like a song.
A wonderful, tragic, angry, joyful song. The only problem with this kind of song is that not everyone can sing and portray the notes correctly.
This song is very familiar to me. But here I am not very sure.
Yesterday, I have tried to escape being in the excruciatingly large chorus and preforming something different. My own song.
My symphony takes place in a sleepy town named Wisteria. An eerie, sleepy, rather grey town named Wisteria. I have lived about this town for fourteen years. But as of this moment I am not in the sleepy Wisteria. From yesterday and forever, I am a permanent resident of the Wisteria Wood. I am alone. I have nothing but rations of brioche and an additional shawl, dress and thicker stockings, being mindful to the seemingly endless autumn weather. I picked up my violin but no music.
My name is Callista Ashworth.
This is where my overture begins. The old symphony has ended.
My song is beginning.
YOU ARE READING
Hysteria
FantasyIn a sleepy, eerie town of bakeries and music halls, a young woman ventures into the Wood of Wisteria- a place where strange things happen. Callista is trying to find herself- her own song- and learn things that Wisteria could have never taught her.
