David was right, the past three weeks Stephen sat at his exact same spot and watched as hyperactive freshmen and skittish seniors came up to Serena during her last break.
"She just- I mean I don't-she told me that I needed to 'Revive the flames of passion, because if you wait too long the rain will pour and snuff it out before you had the chance." Is she talking about the thing with Trevor? I know I messed up but-' said a fidgety girl to her friends at the table left of Stephen's.
"I think I know what she means! Of course! How could I be so blind? 'The way you look at the world around you is only a figment of what people see in you.' I shouldn't have done that I need to go talk to-" from Stephen's right side, a couple talked to each other in hushed tones, their art supplies strewn carelessly in front of them.
"David, calm down, I think she meant 'Darkness is the only thing in front of you, sealing your lips shut' as in a warning to be careful over your words. You're not going to die-" Stephen's brother feverishly comforted a panicking David directly in front of him.
It's all the same song. Chatter, slipping in front of Serena. Revelation. Jesus fuck, it's like the bible all over again. Stephen felt a prick of annoyance from the whole ordeal, it's just some weird girl playing at wise wizard. There's nothing special. But everytime he saw her look at the approaching person, the air changes. The space around her seems more welcoming, more serene, more lofty, despite her features not shifting one bit. A sense of curiosity painted her face every time a nervous or a showy person waltz into her space. What will be their prophecy? What will she say to them? And everytime, her soft words would pluck a heartstring. Tears swelling up, head lowered to chests, tensed jaw, worry and regret. Hope.
12:00 A.M.
Serena clinked her tea mug into the little dish and meticulously stood up, as if any wrong movement would cause a rip in the ambience. Which, it may very well happen. Stephen watched as she took the little dish and disappeared behind the counter like a ghost, like she wasn't a beacon of magic not but a moment before. People started approaching her. Stephen forced himself to look back onto his notes, pages strewn open. Military history seemed a little less appealing now.
YOU ARE READING
The Midnight Mystic
Short StoryThere's something off about Feather's Cafe, if you ask some people they may say that it's normal and there's nothing to worry about. Other's may chalk it down with the odd location of the cafe and the library. But what they all agree in, is that Th...
