Carmiabell: The Black Apple

Chapter 35

My mother's bedroom door wasn't latched. I pushed it open, taking a hesitant step inside, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. Seriously, who ventures into darkness willingly? As far as I was concerned, I’d rather be facing a horde of math problems than whatever lay ahead.

“Mom?” I called out, my legs betraying me and refusing to take another step.

A chill skittered down my spine as my voice bounced back, swallowed by the empty air.

“M…mom?” My voice trembled, betraying the nerves jangling inside me.

Some part of me screamed to turn back, grab a candle, or at least a flashlight—anything to banish the shadows lurking in the corners. But another part felt an inexplicable urgency, like I was late for a party I hadn’t even been invited to yet. So, I fished out a matchbox from my pocket.

As I struck the first match, the tiny flame sputtered to life, casting a pitiful glow that barely illuminated my feet. I ducked low and squinted, peering down a bloody trail—okay, not actual blood, but let’s just say the darkness felt ominous enough to give me the shivers.

With each step into the abyss, unease twisted in my stomach. The chill of the air, the heavy fabric of darkness wrapping around me, and the unknown lurking beyond felt like a sinister symphony I didn’t want to dance to. But I trudged on, because, you know, bravery—or stupidity—was my middle name.

Finally, I reached the end of the trail, and my heart seemed to do a little jig of relief. But it was short-lived; nothing greeted me but silence. “Mom, this is not funny,” I muttered, looking around as if expecting her to jump out from behind a closet and yell, “Surprise!”

“Are you sure?” The voice hit me like a bull in a china shop. I yelped, nearly doing a backflip.

“Mom, that was not funny!” I whipped around to find her emerging from the shadows, and I couldn't help but roll my eyes.

“Surprise!” she shouted, twirling in a gown that looked like it belonged in a fairytale—white with golden accents that sparkled even in the dim light. Seriously, did she rob a bank to get that?

“I know what you’re thinking! I received a promotion and bought this dress for my daughter for the Neporian holiday,” she explained, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes. Right! The Neporian holiday! I’d completely forgotten. It was only two days away.

My mother’s promotion was cause for celebration, and suddenly my worries melted away. “That’s my mom!” I exclaimed, racing into her arms for a hug that felt like it could warm the coldest of hearts. It was a hug full of love and care, one that could hold the galaxy together—or at least a small piece of cake.

“How was your night at Phoebi's? Was Damon there? Did you eat the food I packed you? How was school?” she bombarded me with questions, her enthusiasm overwhelming. Typical mom, swooping in like a tornado of concern.

I mentally scrambled to sort through my thoughts. “Good,” I said for school. “Yes,” for the food. And a big “NO” for the part about Damon, though I really wished it had been a yes. Why was I still thinking about him?

Just as I was about to don my defensive armor against her questions, I spotted a pair of golden shoes on my bed. “Are those mine?”