The Fairy, The Witch and Lost Items

1. All the lost things.

The room had cooled down substantially by the morning, and Terry has frozen immediately as she stuck out her legs out the warmth of the blanket. Shivering, she sat on the bed, yawning and stretching. Hazel eyes were looking around the bedroom with the grim, while her expression was a high contrast with her appearance.

She was small, more of a teenager, maybe a bit older than that, slim, and subtly elegant with her movements; when she has sat, her dark brown, slightly fluffy hair scattered over her shoulders. All in all, she was light and airy; the short nightdress has revealed her pale skin legs and arms.

This early morning the room was dark, and small windows barely contain any light, but Terry was moving around the room with a confidence of a person knowing well what is where. The bed of dark wood, carelessly made in white and blue linen, was opposed by the working desk in the other corner, and long shelves filled with books and CD boxes had lined the walls. She loved her room, and each detail was filled with coziness.

Terry stared out of the room at the opposite door. She closed this room a couple of days ago, without even peaking inside, as if it was still her mother's room, simply having no enough courage to take a look inside. Maybe another day she will open it, but not today, she thought.

The fireplace in the main room, decorated with tiny tiles of all colors of sky and ocean, was dead cold, but after some efforts the fire finally goes on, and she stayed near it for a couple of minutes heating up. The room was as nice as the entire house, with a dome ceiling crossed by the timeworn wooden beams, small arch windows, painted white walls almost fully covered with shelfs storing various stuff and dark wooden planks of the floor. Like her bedroom, the main room was rather small, and the ceiling, it seemed, was looking too close for someone even medium height, but she was feeling herself comfortable.

She walked around the room, touching things mindlessly, and each thing was a slight reminder of the past — a slice of life she can't return to anymore. I knew that will happen one day, but it's still too sudden. Terry frowned, looking into the window; it was still dark, and she was looking into it like the mirror. She wasn't too prone to worries that doesn't lead anywhere; or so she thought — not more prone than any other person around, but today she found a new edge of herself. And she didn't like it at all.

Terry pushed the play button on the CD on her way to the bathroom. She completely forgot what the disk was inside since she was listening CD the last time, and was quite pleased by the surprise. Placebo was her all-time favorite, and just quite well resonated with her current mood.

She had been living her happy life all these nineteen years, or at least that's what she thought. Maybe this wasn't the life she dreamed of, but at least she had her cozy room, her lovely house, her city she loved so much, and she had her mother with her. Well. It's still the same life, innit?

Except for the mother.

She was stared into the mirror again, stuck, aggrieved, while water ran by her hands, until the kettle started its song, and she ran from the bathroom to the kitchen, forgetting to turn off the tap.

That's my life from now on — tryna collect myself and constantly getting stuck with my thoughts. She suddenly got angry, just for a second.

Stop that crap!, Terry yelled into herself, come on girl, Get Yourself Together.

***

A light, but cold February wind was blowing over the Margitsziget, squeezing between bare trees and bushes, playing with Terry's hair, while she was fighting with the door lock refusing to work, as usual in the winter time.

At the Margit bridge, she was stared thoughtlessly at the water and city scape of Budapest long enough to freeze a little, but barely noticed that. The River Danube was dragging her narrow watery body under the bridges — Terry saw the Chain bridge at the distance, and the Elizabeth bridge, hidden partially by the Parliament, and above all that — Gellert hill, more known as Witch hill, overlooking the city. And spiers, spiers everywhere around — the city was studded with spiers like a pincushion.