Misty waters

23-Peaceful progress

Scribbled in cursive handwriting was not a signature but more of a warning.

“Don’t look up.

Cordelia”

She must mean the bloody foot. But whose foot must it be? Maybe she’s trying to warn us to not look up if we see this place. But I’m still confused. I surveyed the next painting with the cyan flowers and purplish sky.

How odd, there was another message in the corner.

“Pick one

Cordelia”

My great grandmother was surely messing with my brain. Pick one? Pick one flower? Does that mean this place exists too? How come no one ever saw this? Or have they already discovered this. Philo was right all along. If I had never observed, I could have never seen and if I had never tried I could have never known. But then again…What do these words prove?

Maybe she wrote something more meaningful on the first painting. I tried jumping on my toes to catch a glimpse of the corner. The first painting on the top had a woman in it. Her lime chiffon dress trailed behind her on the wooden floor, her amber tresses blown back by an unseen breeze; she stood with her back turned to the viewer. Her right hand held a rose and left was reaching out to something. In front of her was a sculpture of a horse. It was the same horse that stood at the end of our corridor! That sculpture was on the floor where my room was located.

Enthralled with the revelation I just received I tried to read what was written on the corner. After a full 3 minutes of jumping and hoping I caught a glimpse of what it said:

“Moorlyn knows

Cordelia”

I have a hunch that Moorlyn is the name of the woman. Captivated by the porcelain skin and tangle free hair I stared at the figure for a long time. If she was someone my great grandmother knew; she must be dead by now. 

I tried to think. I need to talk to someone who might know something about grandma Cordelia. Someone who is old enough to know something…Valerie seemed to know quite a lot. I don’t know how mermaid’s age but I also don’t know how to ask her to visit me. Maybe I should ask Joseph and forget my anger on his secrecy.

There were so many paintings and so many messages that I thought I would die reading. Furthermore, my height is not at all helping me. The top ones are too high and this white sofa isn’t something I’d be allowed to get on. I pursed my lips. I need someone to help me. But who can I trust? Sparks was someone I was close with after Rex. Twinkle lives in her own little world and barely ever walks out. Sunny is distraught and Miss Rose isn’t exactly the person who I feel comfortable with.

I quickly glanced at my wrist watch. The time ticked 7:56. I turned around in order to return to my room. But it was too late. I could hear footsteps down the stairs. The floorboards creaked and I quickly formed some sort of excuse in my brain.

Cringing at the thought, that I had to explain myself I stepped out of the living room. Miss Rose approached me slowly, her eyes swollen and her mouth taut.

“Good morning Miss Rose” I smiled.

“Good morning Violet. You’re up early?” she inquired seriously.

“Yeah I couldn’t sleep” I replied.

“Did you eat something?” she asked earnestly.

“Some cookies”

“I could cook you an omelet if you like” She offered.

“I would love it if you do” I smiled politely.