Having lost the man she loved to the cold clutches of suicide, Amara's impulsive decision to join him leads her to accept the marriage proposal of a mysterious stranger she shares a drink with at a bar.
Xelan's weddings were an awful affair, with ea...
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As a child, Amara had been afraid of the dark. It enabled secrets and loneliness and strengthened the lingering fears that prowled around the recesses of her heart. But other than that, something seemed to watch her from the shadows, its bloodlust radiating in waves as it waited to do her harm. Her mother had believed her when she told her about the dark shadows and that day she came home with sun-shaped night light with inscriptions on the hazy orange-tinged glass.
Hers to adore
"It will chase the spirit away, my love," her mother had promised as she hung it in her room. True to her words, the darkness stayed away and she slept soundly.
Night lights held a special place in her heart ever since then, serving as an object of solace to her. And when she was older, she set up a shop that dealt with them, hoping to give other children that sense of safety she had felt. It was that same feeling she needed after her less than pleasant meeting with Mrs Hammond that led her to seek out the comfort of her store. She unlocked the door to the building, listening to the door groan as she pushed it open. Carlos hadn't taken care of it yet.
Neverland Lights was dark and dreary, void of both customers and vendors, the night lights arranged in front of the show glass to attract future patrons. She sighed, dropping her bag beside her work table placed at the far end of the room, away from the show glass. Her unfinished work remained untouched, gathering a smattering of dust, as she preferred it to remain.
The hot air balloon model was almost done, needing a few more tweaks here and there. She switched on the circular board of multicoloured lightbulbs where the hot air supply was meant to be, watching it flood the see-through plastic with soft red, yellow and orange instead of helium. Satisfied with the steady lighting, she sat down and set to work. Small handcrafted wings went on the small woven basket meant for passengers, glued on more for show than actual flight. Tiny kids were glued firmly to the inner floor of the basket, trapped on a stationary vehicle, a sad semblance to her life.
With each passing minute, more embellishments were added until the conveyance was almost life-like, ready to soar high in the sky. Sticks replaced the ropes that attached the plastic ball to the basket, holding it up in seeming motion. She sat back, regarding her work, rubbing off the dried blood on her cheek. Another light to brighten up a child's life. A small part of her had hoped she would one day sit in this chair, making one for a child she would have with Jack.
Go join your mother. Maybe then my son would have been safe from you.
Rage boiled deep within her. Swivelling her chair around, she brought out the drawing plans she made with him, the blueprint of a baby surrounded by fireflies. She ripped it into pieces, throwing it into the rubbish bin. Standing up to face the supply cabinet, she picked out all the materials she had meticulously selected with him, flinging them into the bin with the destroyed plans in hopes that the memories would leave along with them.
