Story Requests

The hidden letter in the attic and an Unexpected visitor

Selena awoke the next morning to a dreary, rainy day. A heavy drizzle had begun. Raindrops slid down the outside of the windows and soaked the grass, making it wet and slippery. The sun hid behind dark clouds that scudded across the sky. 

   Selena yawned and pushed back the soft white sheets of her queen bed. Rubbing her eyes and still heavy with sleep, she managed to change out of her pyjamas and into a short, black skirt with a dark blue top. Dragging a brush through her blonde hair, she tied it back in a ponytail and opened her mother's jewellery box that sat on the dressing table.

  The jewellery box was crafted from dark cherry wood, with little drawers that had small, golden handles to pull when you opened it. As she lifted the lid, soft tunes flowed out of it. Selena recognised it instantly. Swan Lake.  A popular ballet. The little pink ballerina spun round and round as the music played. 

Selena swayed back and forth, closing her eyes and humming along in time with the music. She could still remember the time when she'd gone to see the live performance with her parents. The ballerinas had danced gracefully and with passion, barely missing a step. But on the way back... the accident. She'd been walking hand in hand with her parents, then had stopped to admire a large teddy bear inside a toy shop... she shuddered and flicked the memory aside. 

As the familiar piece stopped, Selena reached out and picked up her mother's heart shaped locket. The words  Emmeline  were engraved in silver, and curves shaped up the outside. 

She did up the clasps and slammed the lid down. As she ran out to the kitchen, sliding in her socks, she poured cereal and milk into a bowl and sat down at the table. 

Chewing her breakfast, a thought began to form in her mind. Her thoughts flashed back to the story she'd written a month ago. It was the biography of her past life, and included all the details of her parents death and the memories she'd had. But it needed to be continued. Her aunt had come to visit one morning for a few weeks, and Selena had completely forgotten it since. She rolled her blue eyes in frustration at herself. She was in the clever kingdom, but with the war her thoughts had been on other things and her story had been neglected. 

Spooning the last mouthful of cereal into her mouth, she dumped it in the sink and practically danced into the hallway. 

A ladder was leaning against the wall. She placed her hands on the sides and shook it. A slight creak sounded in her ears, but no wobbles. 

It was still intact. She took a deep breath and started to climb before reaching upwards. She must have grown taller since she'd been up here. Selena remembered she had often had to stand on her tiptoes to reach the trapdoor. It opened with a loud creak and flopped over to the side. 

Selena climbed the rest of the way up and looked about her. There was the box full of lightbulbs, and a broken lamp, along with a cracked blue porcelain bowl. An old wilting pot plant sat on a small glass table, next to a red book. Dusty old cardboard boxes littered the floor and spiderwebs cluttered the corners. A small round window was at the front of the room with a colourful beanbag sitting underneath. A jar of pens and pencils were next to it and a sheaf of old papers covered with dust were laid on top of the beanbag. Selena hurried over, avoiding the  half-broken junk, and plopped down on it. 

She patted the large comfy cushion and gazed about her. Suddenly her eyes rested on a blue chest that sat in the corner of the room. 

Curiosity got the better of her. Wandering over, she ran her fingertips over the strange markings cut into the wood. The heavy lid wouldn't budge. And then she saw the huge, gold lock that stopped it opening. Where would she even find the key? 

Disappointed, Selena began to turn away. But then her mind stopped, and a new thought enveloped her. The lock looked old and would surely give. Sliding a few hairpins out of the back of her ponytail, she tried her old methods on it. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips.          Lock-picking was one of her many talents. After a few vain twists and turns, it clicked. 

She sucked in a big breath and opened the lid. 

                                                                                            *  *  * 

Her hands reached out to pick up a book with a dark red coverlet. The words  Swan Lake  were written in big  letters on the front. She flipped through the pages, which had yellowed over time. "This is wonderful," she murmured, before placing it gently on the floor to read later.

 There were more things inside the chest, but what had really struck her in the heart was that there was an envelope inside the chest. 

Selena picked it up and studied the letters written in cursive. It was addressed to her, from her mother. 

My darling Selena, 

You are eleven. I can't quite believe it. For your birthday, your father and I have decided we would take you to see the famous ballet, Swan Lake, tonight. I hope you will be thrilled! 

Do you remember I used to whisper to you the stories of the gods, and how I was planning to travel with you and your father to visit all the kingdoms? I—

The letter ended. Her mother had cut herself off. Clutching the letter to her chest, she closed the blue box and started climbing carefully down the ladder, both hands gripping the rungs tightly. Suddenly she didn't feel like writing anymore. 

                                                                                                      * * * 

Selena placed the letter carefully on her dresser by her bedside. A knock on the door startled her, and she scrambled to the front to open it. 

A tall slim figure stood at the front under the porch, dressed in a silk garment. All she could see if her was that a silver plaited braid lay straight down her back. The figure stepped aside. A handsome brown-haired boy was standing shyly behind her. 

Selena's heart stopped beating. The boy was Asher. Prince Asher of the Ambitious kingdom.