FANTASY
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Carmiabell Goldmoon Locks is under an ancient curse that threatens to take her away from the living if she does not decipher the creature that laid it upon her.
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Carmiabell's Mondays ill luck always served the worst on her plate, like...
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A lump of cold saliva galloped down Carmiabell's throttle, a wave of panic accompanying it to her spine.
She couldn't distinguish whether it was because there could be a psychopathic-nightmare-stalker—invoked by the aura of a fruit far too familiar—lurking behind book shelves or the fact that they had been spotted exchanging it by a stranger. Either way there was a threat to their safety.
“Don't move a muscle,” the voice alarmed ominously before Damon could come up with something ridiculous.
“Who the hell is that?” Zuina quizzed, making as if she was not startled.
More unexplained wind whispered by, rifling books like invisible creatures. Silence built tension, tension built panic, and the panic broke composure little by little.
Carmiabell could not avoid envisaging what would happen if he was a nightmare, the kind of ruin the capacity of his abilities could lead to. As far as she knew—her entire knowledge based on rumors—he could eradicate them in motion as swift as a snap of a chord.
The just picture ambushed her with additional jitters.
Zuina’s question still lingered in the air, unanswered, until it didn't. “Simon Greenwings Sparkle,” the voice echoed thunderously, adding just enough marinade to paint the whole chicken golden.
“The fairy?” Zuina enquired as if doubting herself—which she did, judging by the face.
The wind diminished as distant movements came to be heard.
“Am I that popular?” Behind one of the book shelves popped a four winged fairy the size of Carmiabell's middle finger, which she could have proudly used but didn't—it would have been more like physical assault than emotional.
She sighed, maybe the hundredth time in the same day, fastidiously. For a moment she had thought that it was someone dangerous, but Ellialand had never exhausted surprises.
By all accounts, she was the only one that had rocking nausea and a churn at the bottom of her belly. Damon and Zuina were either under the influence of something illegal or their impulses were not working properly, which was basically the primary purpose of drugs. Designated: They were both high.
But Carmiabell knew Zuina. The stoic face was an act. It always had been, but if paragons were to be positioned she would be first one in line.
Fairies attired in conspicuous attires hence earning themselves the title super designers.
As the stereotype stated, Simon clad in a hunter green cardigan woven with detail each leaf above and below the other systematically by enchanted leaves from fairyland itself.
His trousers were equally green but designed so slinky that it almost seemed to be his own skin. It was like two leaves attached—one from the back, the other at the front—and somehow woven together, leaving only a stripe of thicker green by the sides of his thighs.
