This is a story from a writing contest called Sparkle, by @-svnny_skiies-
(NOTE: THIS IS WRITTEN IN FIRST PERSON)
Abelia has never believed the rumors of Suncrest. The only thing stopping her from doing something-- a specific something, is her mothe...
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THE SPOOKY SERENADE #1: THE RED MOON
My mother had always told me there were two worlds.
The spiritual realm and our realm; the physical. There is a legend about the spirits, saying a certain Book had made them mad, and now sent storm after storm to our world.
Two worlds. Two Legends.
...
The spiritual realm is ruled by the Crystal, but ours is by the Book. Mom's voice echoes clearly through my head, making me blink back tears.
"Thousands of years ago, our land was once ruled by the infamous fairy, Queen Nightingale. She had been the fairest queen of all, and all of Suncrest, back then the Kingdom of Suncrest, loved her. Why her rise to dark power happened is still mystery." I remember her voice so vividly. So clear for such a long time ago, when I was only seven. Aunt Sunny had read this story many times, her nose in the book, stopping at every page to show them the pictures, like the librarian would read to little kids.
"Nightingale became something entirely different, an evil enchantress, not the pure queen we once known of. After a villager named Lily defeated her, Nightingale's power and spirit combined itself into a Book, and the Book was cursed ever since. It was placed in the heart of the largest Forest, where Nightingale was raised, and those beautiful, lush forests where the tall trees once whispered tales of courage and honesty now sing dark songs in quiet whispers no one heard.
Anyone who read the Book will go missing after just one week."
The words of the legend pulsed through my head for minutes turned to hours before I managed to swipe it away and close my eyes.
Fairies ruling Suncrest? I don't even believe this anyway.
The only reason the story kept coming back to my head is something I don't even know myself. Maybe it's because Aunt Sunny looked so much like Mom, her children, Crystal and John, having the same jawline and facial details as me, Rose, and maybe Lily as well.
Or maybe... it makes me miss my mother;
Isabelle Naraland.
"'Morning," Dad's tired voice drifted to where I'm descending down the long flight of stairs, ready for breakfast.
"Hey, Dad." I responded. The scent of waffles with berries dipped in light cream and pancakes with the sweet honey-like taste of maple syrup wafted into my nose's territory.
I took a pancake out of the pan, thanked Dad, and headed to the dining table. Rose came down just minutes later and grabbed a waffle. She saw me with a pancake instead of a "beloved" waffle and took it by offense. "No offense, but waffles are way better. I hate pancakes." I rolled my eyes, annoyed at my little sister's sassiness. "Offense taken!"
