This Is Stella's Reality

June 30, 2015

My thoughts were awake before I was. My consciousness was standing in a small cottage. There was a gentle fire burning in the hearth to my right. The flames flickered and licked towards me, as if drawn to my skin.

I was standing in the sitting room. The kitchen was laid out in front of me. I could spy a small library or work room just beyond that, and there was an open bedroom door to my left.

My feet carried me into the kitchen. The shelves were lined with potions and salves and every type of herb I knew. Fresh flowers were cut and placed into colorful vases, blue and pink and yellow. They caught the light from the window and stained the floor with their light.

The kitchen island held a basket of pomegranates along with a knife and cutting board. Whoever's home I was in had abandoned their work. There were crushed herbs on the board with a bottle of oil nearby.

Confused, I turned around to face the front door. I opened it and stepped out to the grassy field. There was a garden gate beside me, and I heard gentle humming coming from behind the black iron rods.

The sea glittered in the distance. Sparkling white waves crashed to the shore some distance away. The sand looked abnormally white and untouched.

My head spun a bit at the overwhelming scenario, but I pushed past it. I walked through the garden gate, wincing when it creaked.

The humming continued, steady and relaxing. I spotted a woman kneeling before a bush of rosemary. She held garden shears in one hand, and a basket was in the grass beside her.

She seemed to know I was there for her humming stopped, and she turned to look at me. She was beautiful. I saw the summer sun in her eyes, bright and warm.

The air moved around her like a fresh spring breeze, gliding through her slightly wavy hair and tickling the hem of her silky skirt. Her skin glowed as if she held the sun itself in her chest.

"Hello, daughter," she said as if she were singing a song.

My heart skipped a beat. Anxiety rocked through my body. I felt as if I had stones in my throat.

She laughed, bubbly and feather-light. "There is no need to be nervous, my dear." She stood and walked towards me.

Persephone was about my height. Our eyes were level with each other, and I searched for myself in her features.

We had the same nose, the same curve of our jaw, our hair was wavy, but while mine was black as ink, she was strawberry blonde.

She smiled at me and lifted her gentle fingers to my arm. "Here," she whispered, "come inside."

I let her take me back in. My feet padded across the dark hardwood floors, past the dying fire, and towards her unfinished potion-making.

"You must be wondering where we are," she said as she picked back up her knife. She didn't wait for me to reply. "I know you have been working diligently with your magic. Your father and I have been surveying your progress so far. I am quite impressed."

Her eyes lifted to mine, and I noticed we shared the same dimples in our cheeks. "You are still so young, my girl, but you have made great strides. I'm sure that wicked bitch's grasp on your memory will not hold for long," she spat. Her sudden aggression startled me for a moment.

"There is so much I'd like to tell you, but there is not enough time. Before I am forced away from you again, I'd like you to know that this place," she motioned her hand around, "is your birthday gift from your father and I."

She smiled at my shocked expression. My eyes drifted around the cottage as she continued. "I know you visit the mind-library of that Asgardian. This place is similar. It does not truly exist except in your mind; however, I hope you will enjoy it nevertheless.