Bryan’s POV:
I was sitting beside the fire whilst I looked at mommy weave her wonders.
Mommy’s been knitting her crochet again, another addition to her collection of decorative crochets that adorned the whole house. It was nice to see her crochet because whenever you walk at our home at night, crochets of light illuminated our whole house.
It was scattered around the living room like bobbing orbs of light, it danced around our dining room like Christmas lights and it weaved its way into my bedroom like giant spider webs dripping with illuminated dew drops.
She also weaved tapestries, tapestries so beautiful and realistic, they seem to move. All of her tapestries seemed to be painted, like it wasn’t even weaved. Daddy has always adored her tapestries, he would take delight in just sitting down and staring at mommy’s tapestries, contemplating on its beauty.
I sat on the floor as mother dear hummed my sweet lullaby and knitted another one of her dazzling crochets. This one was a little ball that had crisscrossing stripes of black and white. It was simple but it was unfathomably beautiful, as if golden sparks came from the ball and shined like the sun peeking through glass.
My mom was undoubtedly beautiful. When she was young, all the aristocrats sought after her, kings, princes, royalties, dukes, anyone you could think of. Her hair were of night shade black, flowing down her shoulders and unto her waists like waterfalls of night. Her eyes sparkled of grassy green, sparkling like bright emerald. Her smile, her smile shined like the brightest star in the darkest night.
She was finished knitting her little ball and she stopped humming. “Bryan, come here, sit on my lap,” she called as she patted her lap.
“You’re turning twelve tonight, what would you want for your birthday?” mommy asked as she made me rest my head on her chest and rock my back and forth.
“Nothing,” I whispered silently as I hugged my mother and enjoyed the moment. The fire cackled and little sparks of fire flew in the air.
“Really? Not even a cake?” she asked with a smile as she looked down at me with her usual bright smile.
“Yup,” I answered firmly as I returned the smile.
“Well, even though you don’t want anything, here’s a little something for you, my dear child,” she whispered as she entwined this little necklace around my neck. Its lace was made up of cloth that seemed to be weaved with black shining threads. What sat on my chest was the necklace’s center point, a metal spider web that had a long stray web at the bottom.
“Remember the legendary weaver, Arachne? She was the one who weaved obsidian rock to form the lace of that necklace. Then she asked the most powerful warlock to imbued magic beyond reality into the strands of the metal spider webs. This necklace will protect you as long as you wear it, so don’t lose it, okay?” she told the legend as if it were true.
I stared at the necklace. I knew she was lying, but it was such a beautiful lie I could not will myself to neglect the words of promise.
“I’m home!” a masculine voice that I was very much familiar with rang through the house.
“Daddy!” I giggled as I jumped at him and he caught me, lifting me high up in the air.
Daddy was just as perfect as mommy dear. He had black locks that tousled on his head untidily. His eyes were a piece of the blue sky, glinting like sapphire in the sun. His smile was what he used to lure mommy in his hands. He was very fit, although I have never seen him work out or whatever.
“How’s my twelve year old son?” he asked as he carried me with one hand to the dining room.
“You two look so alike. You both have that dazzling smile, that untidy dark locks and your pale skins. It’s a shame that you differ in eye colour. But I like Bryan’s hazel eyes better, they’re absolutely gorgeous,” mommy said as she entered the room with a smile.
