The Dämelie Cürse : The Häeyükä Witch

the Lagrimas Prodigy :

   Welcome dear readers into Merilda Lagrimas's witchy-tumbled world may you enjoy her crazed adventures in search of her soul self's identity when her world harshly snarled her real potential & wretchedly wrote her fate when she alone can. Yours Truly the Writer & perhaps Plümeceria too as she's mostly done all the work allegedly that is lol.

A playlist that might make it more enjoyable through this Dark/ Light trope of Story :

_Masochist by Elise _ Ghost by Confetti _Killer Queen by Mad Tsai _Hate You ft Nitto-Onna _Bad Guy by Billie Eilish / Dangerous Women by Arianna Grande / Royalty by Neoni / Insane (Hazbin Hotel )...

A Story for Every Girl Dimmed under Her Family's grip of Snide Convictions & vituperative Idealistic Presumptions: here's For Power & Freedom.

CHAPTER ONE :

On the Seventeenth of February, Plümeceriä twinkled at that lovely memory of sweet enlivened red little stregua, dressed up finely in her most recently embellished Monastry's uniform gift, a tiny white cape dress embroidered from the utmost extreme care to fit perfectly on the sacred bloodline Ilamas Household's prodigy their world known, it was believed with bated breath amongst her head superior seer circles that she would be their miraculous Anemone Goddess Resurrection, a prophecied ceremony so long coveted for hundred bloodied years to honor her gracious eerie awakening, a sacrifice sortilege wrecking wake her holly vigorous Luscicare's incarnation, all this waiting shed teared up years leading us to a horde of protective high ranked uniformed guardians, encircling their proud tiny creation while she sweeps the prestigious long monastery's corridor with her swishing back & forth cape until they reach the double closed chalk limestone doors, in the brief of the moment , her mother crouches next to her exultantly as she declares her " Merilda Lagrimas , you are the pride of our family ..." Alas those last words became the only blissful lulling rings that hunted forever our Stregua before her dooming fate snaps it's tragic claw open on her as she incredulously surges through the slowing spreading out -shining light- of the inside of her tragic Cerrulian Ceremony ...

_Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ! Jostling from my bed in high panicked hexed gear, breathless in uncontrollable sweats coating my whole face unbearably making my hair stuck on me, rendering my long thick hair in another whole dimension of disastrous mess, I try to breathe in & out oxygen from my muzzy lungs, clutching hard my palm under my erratic heart whispering uselessly to myself that it was only a nightmare " Just a nightmare " or is it? I sigh pathetically as the cruel reality dawns on me ,I glance around, to find myself still in my burgundy nightgown, which only means that I am still, unfortunately, alive to endure yet another ruinous day of a very tragic obscured, cursed life, near my vanity lies my bloody Plümeceriä, a very rare Sangue diary, in which it takes no unflinching sortilége tolls to write itself my whole spewed to be chapters, I rose from my bed & instinctively take my gifted Entrouvalie heading toward the only bay window of my chamber, peeking through the haziest glacial skyward scenes, it is no wonder as we live in the highest cliff of Verenia, thus the very reason our kind chose it as their hidden protective den, I take a minute to read what has been written this morning

" ...Reliving her ninety-nine's incessant nightmare of her Cerrulian 17 February birthday .." before I can even finish the rest I toss it harshly against my mattress sheets, staring at its unforgiving draining colors which once were vivid happy periwinkle, now stuck to a more mortifying bloody fate in justice with its creator morose destiny indeed, I stare back on my unforgiving glass reflection, with my cold slicing apple green irises, and my sun cursed red flowing hair, they say I am the prettiest Lady in all of Saint -Öscurö has ever seen, the deadliest thorn, even amid my most cherished poisonous collection of flowers adorned throughout my chamber, In all honesty, I have never been interested in Botany before but poison is something all entirely else, my perfected sweet hobby to procure high deadly doses is an obsession that I can agree of , if only my fate has been written differently, would I have ever been content? suddenly a knock shatters all my unnecessarily dwelling thoughts into mere nothingness, especially when my eyes rejoice to meet my youngest, Gratzie " Morning Mer, what lovely day " Then she stops short eying me from my catastrophic head to tumbling bared feet " Oh my, you haven't changed yet? " she almost says it like an affront to the humanity that I had yet to be prepared for their willing mundane breakfast appointment.