Florally

In a cozy town called The Stevers,
many wouldn't see beyond the warm and sweet smells of Mrs. Alfertos baked goods laying on a rack by the front window of her small renowned bakery, the noise of blasting construction to the new town hall from the help of many donations, or the group of children running around with their heart's content.
A little always lay a small and rather antique looking victorian residence, on the mere outskirts of the bustling town square, a large oak standing tall, sprouting its limbs far above the wooded living quarters of the dear Magniput family.
A stray window swayed open, with a young girl about sixteen years writing in the masses of papers with ruffled edges and unevenly placed ties producing a homemade journal.
Her eyes shot to the right, staring out into the woods, an unknown emotion becoming in her hazel doe eyes. She gulped and hastily set aside her journal, sprinting towards the swaying window.

With a slam, the window was closed and locked shut.