* Pic is of Candice's room :)
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The morning passed in a blur, taken up by tidying and cleaning and doing the chores that Mum wanted done. Michael Bublé crooned Christmas carols on the sound system, and Mum was making shopping lists for the gigantic Christmas dinner she had planned. Candice wiped down the bathrooms and cleaned the toilets - UGH! - while Rosa vacuumed and dusted in the lounge.
"Your rooms, girls, remember your rooms. It’s high time we updated your wardrobes," Mum reminded, dropping a hint of a shopping trip as an incentive.
Candice didn't mind - her room was always tidy anyway, but Rosa needed some more encouragement. Her room always looked like multiple boxes of clothes and toys had erupted inside it, splattering their contents all over the place.
Candice folded away her clean washing and dusted the white bed frame and dresser. She wasn't that keen on trinkets, and hated clutter. Her room as chic and simple in it's white tones with gold accents and black trim. Her bedside table had a gilt lamp sitting on it, and framed vintage prints of heraldry and nautical themes hung above her headboard.
She ran her finger tips across the books lying on her desk; they were a collection of various old tomes her Opa had sent from Sweden. The rich red leather bindings were worn with age, but they gleamed dully in the early afternoon sunlight. She admired the way they blended with her decor, and lifted one, inhaling the scent of the pages. Dust, leather, pungent with age, and a lack of sunlight…
Imagine all the people that have touched these pages… I wonder how old this one is?
She scanned the front pages for a publishing date, but quickly realized the book hadn’t been printed at all. The script was written by hand, in thick black ink.
I really should start reading these. I love old books. I wonder if it’s a diary?
She sighed, thinking how busy the next few days were going to be, and turned away, reaching over to pull the rumpled duvet on her bed. She paused.
Oh yeah. The Thingy.
She opened her wardrobe door and frowned.
Not a very secure hiding place.
She nibbled on her thumbnail and grinned.
Underwear drawer. Perfect. Rosa is freaked out by lacy stuff, and Mum gives me my privacy, thank God…
She closed her bedroom door, just in case, and pulled the covers of her bed. The instrument lay there, gleaming in the golden sunlight, the silver strings shining and reflecting lines of light all over the high ceiling of her room. She stared, thoughtfully.
I swear it’s magic. The Thingy isn’t like a violin, or a banjo. It doesn’t look normal. That light… I wonder if it glows in the dark? Hmmm… experiments later…
She wasn’t scared or freaked out any more, merely curious and fully of questions. “Thank God for Google”, she muttered under her breath as she nestled it under a pile of lacy panties.
Nobody’s going anywhere near those.
She choked back a giggle, and slid the drawer shut.
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After she made her bed she sorted through the hangers in her wardrobe, picking out the things that had worn out, or that she didn’t like any more.
YOU ARE READING
Apollo's Muse
FantasyWhen disturbing dreams haunt the mind of a fragile girl, she doesn't take into account the power of the mysterious boy next door. Her illness becomes a binding force for their friendship, and the fight for life slowly develops into a powerful aphrod...
