Myths: The Folklore Trilogy

Chapter 1- Life

The funny thing about life-changing events is that the day before it happens is crazy calm, like the eye before the storm. I sometimes wonder if it's how the universe amuses itself. Because you never see it coming.

I know I didn't. The day before my life changed was almost obnoxiously normal. If someone had told me what was about to happen...well, I probably would've called them insane.

I almost wish someone HAD told me and I called them insane. I've always liked irony.

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"Sierra? Siiiiieeeeerrra!!!!! Get up, get up, get up!"

What was that?

"SIA GET UP I WANNA PLAY!"

I groaned and shifted. There was something on top of me. I slowly opened my eyes, and--

"GAAAAH!"

I rolled sideways, throwing my little brother off of me. I fell off my bed with a thump. I sat for a moment, breathing heavily, staring at the wall. Finally, I came to my senses and started getting up. I sighed and rubbed my eyes. "Wyatt," I said as calmly as I could, "please don't wake me up that way again."

He laughed. "Well it worked, didn't it?"

I sighed again. "Yes, but seeing Justin Bieber's face altered to look like a duck is not the first thing I want to see in the morning."

He just laughed. "Will you play with me???"

I picked him up off the bed and spun him around, then set him back on the ground. "Of course sweetie, but I have to get ready for school first ok?"

"OK!" he screamed, and then ran off to do who-knows-what.

That was my five year old brother Wyatt. He's a little ball of energy that no one has the patience for but me. So I was usually the one that has to play with him.

Occasionally that means getting up an hour early.

I had another brother, Patrick, who was nine and boring. He didn't like to play, or do sports, or anything really. Just read and do homework. He was a genius, I'll give him that. But he didn't have many friends.

I was thirteen, and the only thing that really stood out about me is I do theatre, but it was more of a hobby than anything else. There was nothing particularly special about me.

How I wish that would change.

There was nothing more I wanted than to be special, to stand out in some way, or do something worth noticing. To change the world, or at least be the best at SOMETHING.

I did my best to make people happy though, because when others are happy, it's better for everyone. But that requires certain sacrifices, such as lack of sleep.

I got out a brush to tame my wild beast of brown/blonde hair. I'm not entirely sure what color it is. Everyone seems to disagree. My best friend, Olivia, calls it golden, but that's just her flair for the dramatic. My hair is about as plain as I am.

I finished getting ready, and ran downstairs to start making breakfast. Wyatt was waiting for me.

"Are you ready to play with me Sierra?" he asked skipping around. I tussled his curly brown hair. "Not yet Wyatt," I said walking to the counter, "I have to make breakfast first."

"Oh."

"Have you had breakfast yet?"

"No..."

My inner self rolled her eyes but I simply got out another bowl of cereal. "Here you go," I said placing it in front of him. "It's hard to play on an empty stomach."

"Ok," he said, and gobbled it down.

It took me a little longer to eat, but when I was done, he dragged me into the playroom. "We're going to play Uno!" he told me ecstatically. I sighed. We played this so much the cards had begun to rip. But that might just be because Wyatt likes to throw them on the pile instead of placing them.

He tugged me so quickly that I fell right before I made it inside. Instantly, pain flared up my legs and I grit my teeth, sucking in air. It felt like my knees were on fire. I squeezed my eyes shut so tears wouldn't come out.

"Are you ok, Sia?" Wyatt asked, confused.

"Yeah, I'm ok," I gasped. In truth, it hurt a LOT, and more than I thought it was supposed to. In fact, EVERYTHING hurt to me more than I feel like it's supposed to. I see others get in the same injuries I do and just stand up and shake it off. I was always in awe, but I'm probably just a wimp. That's what Austin Conway says anyways, and he makes it his personal mission to pinch me every day.

Wyatt laughed. "Ok!" He raced forwards, grabbed the Uno cards, and put the cards in my hand. "You deal!"

I sighed inwardly, and began dealing the cards.

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I boarded the bus sleepily. Playing with Wyatt had me exhausted. I was seriously ready for a long, relaxing bus ride. I plopped down in the seat.

"Hey, Sierra."

Inwardly, I groaned. Outwardly, I sighed. "Hi, Austin."

"Can I not say good morning? Yeesh!" I flinched away just in time as he reached over the seat to pinch me. I sighed again. I should've been paying better attention than to sit right in front of him. Oh well. He probably would've moved.

    He chuckled. "Look at that, your reflexes are getting better! Training to be a ninja?"

    "Yup," I replied without hesitation. "I made a time machine. I'm training with ninjas from ancient Japan and Amazons from ancient Greece. They plan to make me the ultimate warrior."

    He snorted. "I suppose you met mystical creatures on your ride through time as well? Unicorns and fairies?"

    "Actually, I'll tell you a secret," I said in a completely serious voice. "I AM a fairy."

    He laughed. "Wow. That's rich." He finally sat down in his seat, still laughing.

    Score to Sierra. I made someone happy AND he was leaving me alone. Still, I sighed yes again. If I had to put up with this jerk for much longer, I was going to lose it.

    Reflecting on the conversation, I suppose it WAS rather funny. But of course, Austin didn't know why.

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That night, I dreamt of a mirror. Images slowly appeared. A storm. And within it, a girl. The wind whipped her hair back and forth, getting it in her face and stinging as it hit. Her face was wet with tears, rain, and blood. She was on her knees. She struggled to get up, but just fell again. So she crawled. Slowly, she crawled forward. Her arms were shaking. She fell forward. Her face hit a jagged rock. She screamed in pain but the cry was swiftly torn away by the howling wind. For a moment she lay there. But then, her arm moved. She pressed her palm to the ground. She lifted herself back up. Tears streamed down her face and mingled with the fresh blood of the cut from the rock. But what stood out were her eyes. Her fierce, light brown eyes.

For they were filled with solid, grim, determination.

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This book is going to undergo major editing in the near future, so please bear with me until that happens.

Thanks for picking up this book! You readers are the best!

~Paint_splatt