Mara

Chapter One

It was the cold that woke me up. Crisp morning air had found its way into the attic where I slept through the small window that had been left open the night before. I looked across the dusty room to see my older sister, Jemimah. She had already gotten up and was slowly dragging herself towards the wardrobe. I let out a deep sigh before pulling myself into an upright position.
"Jem?" I croaked. "Did you leave the window open again?"
"Well well, look who decided to actually get their lazy ass out of bed on time for a change," she smirked as she threw open the doors of her mahogany wardrobe. "Why can I never find anything to wear?" She whined throwing garment after garment onto her bed.
"You are unbelievable Jem, you bought new clothes yesterday!"
"So? What does that have to do with anything?"
I glared at her before heaving my weary bones off of the bed and walking towards my own wardrobe. Fortunately I didn't have as much trouble as my sister dressing so before I knew it I was already making my way downstairs.

The sun had just begun to rise above the horizon but already the entire house was awake. As I walked down to the second floor I could already hear the laughter and noise of my younger siblings.
Our house contained seven people. These included myself, my parents, my older and younger sisters, and my two brothers.
Having a house with that many people was practically no different from turning on your television up to full volume twenty four hours a day. But in a way I enjoyed it, it made me feel safe. And it gave me a filling of fulfilment.

I liked that.

The second floor consisted of three bedrooms and one study, or as we called it, the bird room. I decided to head towards the door to my right, this was Maisy's room.
I opened the door, knocking on it as I did so.
"Who is it?" I heard a small and sleepy voice ask.
"Who do you think it is?"
"Probably and evil dragon or something" the voice replied.
"Well I'm sorry to say this... but you're right!" I jumped into the room and ran straight towards Maisy, who was not suspecting this dramatic turn of events at such an early hour and was still lying snug under her duvet. I scooped her up into a hug as she let out a shrill scream in protest.
"I don't want to die!" she threw her small arms up in despair and proceeded to place her cold chubby hands onto my cheeks.
"Calm down Maisy, I'm not going to kill you. It's too early for that."
"Really?"
"Yes."
"Oh ok so I guess this means that you aren't an evil dragon."
"Why not?"
"Evil dragons are mean and always want to eat small children."
"And you are a small child?"
"Yes."
"Ok then small child, what type of dragon am I?"
She paused and looked up to the ceiling in very deep thought before she turned her head back to face me.
"You're an ugly one!" she hollered at the top of her tiny lungs before breaking into a fit of giggles.
"Charming" I muttered before I dropped her back onto the bed and put my hands on my hips. Maisy stared up at me with her big green eyes giving me a mischievous smile. Her brown hair was straw thin and very short, a lot like Jemimah's.
She had turned six this February and much to her delight had received a plush alligator toy as one of her presents. From that day onwards she had spent nearly every second with him.
She had also decided that he should be named Mr. Tortellini.

Leaving Maisy and Mr. Tortellini to spend the morning in peace I walked down to the first floor.

The smell of bacon and toast drifted slowly from the kitchen and into my nostrils. My stomach screamed in agony in response to the beautiful aromas making me aware of my own extreme hunger. I sprinted to the kitchen to find my mom busy over the small gas stove. The stove was on the wall opposite the door which meant that my mothers back obstructed the view of the food she was cooking. I walked in and opened the window. The air was getting warmer now but it still made me retreat to the comforting heat of the stove.
"Morning mom" I chirped as I turned on the tap and filled the kettle with water.
"Oh morning hon" she answered not looking up from the bacon sizzling on the pan.
"Where are Finton and Joel?"
"Already outside, but I'm sure they'll be running back as soon as breakfast is ready" she smiled.

Sunlight had begun to crawl through the open window, shining onto my mothers baby blue dress. I had the same hair colour as her. Strawberry blonde. The only difference was that she had short hair, so her curls had become delicate golden ribbons, that seemed to spring to life every time she walked or laughed. My curls were limp and lazy, tangling themselves at every given opportunity. Giving me endless amounts of pain whenever I would try to brush them out.
She was a fairy standing next to me. Each movement was slow and graceful, as if she were dancing underwater.

My mother was a mermaid, I was a salmon.

Breakfast was a glorious feast fit for the gods. I basked in the sunlight and the conversations. I never liked to talk much at meals, especially those which took place in the morning. Instead I just wanted to listen.
Today's main topic of discussion was my father buying clothes for Jemimah on his next travel. As you could probably guess, Jemimah had brought this up.

My father travelled frequently and for long periods of time. So it was quite rare to have him home. However on the occasions he did stay with us, it was magical.
It was as if our house was suddenly alive again. Every laugh seemed louder and the food seemed nicer and any problems we had seemed to all fade away, even if they only did so for a few short days.
Whenever he returned he would always bring gifts from his travels. All six of us would count down the seconds until he would come crashing through the door. We would wait patiently to receive our gifts. For me and my siblings it wouldn't be anything material, seldom for the few rare occasions where he would get a small souvenir.
Mostly we received stories, tales of his adventures. The amazing places he went and the strange people he encountered.

However for my mother, the gifts would always, without question, be birds.

Opening the door. A broad smile on his face, a suitcase in one hand, a cage in the other. We would all scramble to see it. The cages were almost as beautiful as the birds that resides within them.
Intricately decorated with carving and adorned with traditional colours from wherever he had journeyed to, they could be seen as works of art on their own.
But compared to the birds inside, the cages were mere frames. Compared to those birds the cages were just pathetic little containers serving out their purpose.
My mother would take the bird, kiss my father on the cheek and then rush upstairs to place the new addition into the bird room.

It was the biggest room of the house, I had lost count of how many birds resides there.
The house was old, but the walls were very thick. This meant that until you opened the door of the bird room you were not able to hear the music that played within.
The birds were always singing, some by day and others by night. It was a choir, no, an orchestra so loud and magnificent and jaw dropping. The music overwhelmed you and engulfed you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless.

But you couldn't stay in there for long, or the magic would disappear.

Very quickly you would stop seeing the beauty, it would all be replaced by noise. The melodic chirping would manifest into raspy screaming, you would become aware of the squawking and the thumping of wings as they hit the bars of the cages. Like long nails slowly sliding across a chalkboard. It would begin to suffocate and choke you.

Needless to say we never stayed too long in the bird room.