The Chosen Mortals (Book 1 of the Forgotten Goddess Trilogy)

| Bermuda |

4-25-18

Happy Wednesday! I hope y'all are looking forward to this next future goddess ;) 

P.S- Picture above of how I picture Bermuda!

  "Keep a clear head and an open mind. Abrupt actions won't better any situation you're in." -God of the Spring Festival to Bermuda

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| Bermuda |

"Ahahaha," I laughed as I watched the men from below me throw curses around while trying to spot that mischievous person who pranked them, also known as, me. "You'll never find me," I added softly as I stood up on the rooftop and began to casually walk away from the scene.

The noises from the bustling town below began to cease and only the sound of the slight wind brushing past my dark hair was heard. India was having a good day today and that was one of very few good things that I loved about living here. The first was my father who loved and cherished me, despite his busy schedule as a merchant.

Other than those two things, this place was horrible. The people here treated me like a virus but that was probably my fault. I always pranked them but can you blame me? I only wanted friends once upon a time after my mother passed away, but everything I did pushed them to hate me. Then, after a while, I didn't care anymore what they thought of me. I found it was fun to mess around with them. Their anger and frustration was simply satisfaction for me. It was like watching my own personal play.

I slid down the rooftop using the rope that the house next door clipped together here for their laundry and landed perfectly on the ground in between the houses where it covered me from everyone's view.

I then raised my pure white shawl, covered my head and half my face with it before squaring my shoulders and walking out of the alleyway with my head held high like someone of my caliber should be doing.

Now I wasn't the riches of girls here in India or anywhere for that matter. But neither was I poor to be working on the streets or selling my body for money. No. I was perfectly content with my life thanks to my father's successful business. So again, we weren't royalty but we weren't peasants either. We were right between.

Keeping myself hidden from sight, I made my way down the streets listening as the workers complained about a Bermuda Anand, which, coincidentally, happened to be me. Now time to hear what they were saying.

"She's a troublemaker. I wonder why her father doesn't keep her on a tighter leash," one merchant grumbled as he polished a ripe red apple.

"She's a mischievous girl alright. A shame she couldn't have been more like her mother," another said as he laid out more fish. I felt my jaw lock and my muscle tense. The way they talked about my mother made my blood boil. Granted they didn't say anything wrong but they talk about her like they knew her.

And sure, maybe they knew her for longer than I did, but I really felt what she was like. She was kind and respectful and would definitely not be happy with what I'm doing but she passed away due to a stupid disease that came from these merchants. Her kind heart went out to them and she helped them but got infected with the disease. And did anyone come and help her? No. Did anyone help me? No. She died and I got better. Maybe that's why my father held me closer than most in this business would.

He lost one of his girls and he didn't want to lose another when he was so close. But he was gone for a while before coming home and spoiling me to the point where I don't feel neglected but not to the point where I became a spoiled brat.