THIS ODD & PECULIAR ASSORTMENT

☽ Open your mind and... ☾

(Prologue Part 2)

"Imagine a girl on a journey."

She is sitting on a bench at the bus stop in front of her school, cradling a book on her lap.

The capricious spring breeze is playing with the onyx strands that have escaped her ponytail, and the dark wisps of sleek hair tickle her from time to time. The girl's small, oval face gently narrows down, continuing along a soft jawline complemented by a short chin, making the shape of her features almost resemble a heart. Large and with a slight slant, her almond-shaped eyes sparkle through the long fringe of eyelashes with mischief, the colour of both a brown so dark they almost seem to be black. The fragrant air, still crisp this time of year, carries scents of budding growth and awakening nature and has caused a rosy touch to bloom on the girl's cheeks. A charming blush blends with the gentle mixture of tan and beige tones of her skin. The complexion has a soft but radiant quality, reminiscent of the comforting shades found in a cup of milky coffee.

Otherwise oblivious to the world, she responds to the tickles of the wind by wiggling her nose. It has a straight bridge of moderate length, leading down to a defined tip with a minor upturn. The overall shape of her nose is a bit broader than usual, adding a touch of character to the girl's face. While flipping to the next page with a swift and impatient motion, she moistens her mouth. Though of moderate width, it presents a slight pout of full lips with the tender hue of faded rosewood, graced by a pronounced cupid's bow. Echoes of the dimples in her cheeks are still visible even while the girl is not smiling, and on the outermost left part of her upper lip sits a small, endearing beauty mark.

The girl's aesthetic is unique; her features are better characterized as exceptional and enigmatic, rather than describing her with the conventional 'pretty' or as 'classically beautiful'.

Captivated by the story, she hunches over her book in obvious anticipation, making her even smaller than she already is - and she is small; everyone says that about her. The girl dislikes when people say this because it undermines her hopes of growing tall one day, and she must grow tall one day. Ingrained in her personality but hidden in the depths of her subconscious, she feels the overwhelming need to be brave, to be fierce and strong. Being tiny does not fit into the picture she has mentally painted of her future self.

Perched on the cold bench, her wiry legs are in constant, gentle motion, swinging back and forth, her toes falling just shy of reaching the ground. An enquiring look over the scuffs and the residue on her moon boots tells of many puddles that were jumped into and of snow hills that were kicked to create little snowflake explosions. Most of the girl's attire leans towards black or muted colours, yet nothing about her appears colourless, and nothing about her seems dark or drab. On the bench beside her is her sports kit, and on the other side her backpack, the bulge of it so big that one might wonder how she wouldn't fall over carrying it.

Her looks and demeanour suggest a free-spirited, perhaps even a bit of a wild nature that sets her apart from others without effort, and the girl herself remains unaware of this. A light sheen of residual sweat at her hairline hints at recent physical activity, and even now - engrossed in her book, the girl sits with a poised stillness. An undeniable sense of kinetic potential is radiating from her every muscle, and she emits the energy of a tightly wound and coiled spring, ready to burst into action at any moment.

The grass around the bus stop is still weary and pale from the lingering traces of cold, but spring crocuses of all hues are growing spread out all over the tired lawns. Their vivid colours provide a stark contrast to the muted greens and the droves of milky white snowdrops peeking out from the remnant snow. Snowdrops are the girl's favourite flowers, most of all when their delicate little bells are not in full bloom and haven't opened wide yet. She keenly awaits their arrival every year as they herald the approach of her birthday in April.

Nearing the end of her book, the girl tenses, and a slight frown forms between the small, dark arcs of her eyebrows. Noise from her surroundings infiltrates the written world, the unwelcome disturbance threatening to interrupt her peaceful moments of reading. While this late in the afternoon the vast school yard behind the girl is almost abandoned and just a few scattered students remain, she can hear the ruckus of children nearby. After another moment, she cannot withstand the distraction any longer.

Something doesn't feel right.

The girl looks up.