Fantasy-Mystery
°*°
Carmiabell Goldmoon Locks is under an ancient curse that threatens to collapse her existence if she does not source the creature that laid it upon her.
°*°
In an easy-going autumnal Monday morning, the last thing Carmiabell's ill...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Simon could be a hard head to crack but with Damon's cold oppressing threats he managed to push a word or two out of his lips.
It was fair to say that he might not have been aware, until they collided with his mission; stealing a dark magic book from the store.
He couldn't say why. It seemed to be more than a reason worth being cut off his tongue and being fed to a pack of wolves. Nonetheless, Damon did not squish the answer out of him, they had their own bigger fish to catch instead of dwelling on his mere malevolence.
“I will let you out slowly, but the drop you try something stupid, you will have to explain to the principal the kind of forbidden magic book you were seeking in the library. Alone,” Damon's words were loud and clear, but for sure what he was about to do was dubious even for nature herself.
Eye-skimming-analysis. It is said that in silence and deep meditation gazing in one’s eye it is possible to see an almost invisible hue of dream-color behind one's eye ball.
It was true that Simon had a candle flame around to keep him alive, but it wasn't designated to be his matching lanera.
“Okay,” Simon's muffled voice pierced through the silence after a drop or two of delaying.
Damon cautiously withdrew the book resembling a roof from the prison, as Simon sprang to life like a prince that had just been rescued from a castle surrounded by monsters.
He flapped himself out of the four walls and sat atop a pile of books next to it.
“How do we start?”His voice calm and prudent —compared to that of a person that was caged— he questioned.
Considering the fact that most people thought that it was a theory to keep people thinking that their dreams were held closer to them, Carmiabell could only imagine that Damon had never done it before.
They say that it's hard and Carmiabell had to admit it, after staring at her sister for almost a whole day, it went unfruitful. Maybe it was part of a children's game, but nonetheless it didn't make it any easier to see through her brown eyes.
It was simpler to believe that the witch doctors lanera prescription for a lifetime was just what was needed to know the color of the dream.
Damon did not answer, but his actions did. He hauled a stool from one end of the bookstore.
It wasn't fishy how Simon kept on watching Damon's movements. No, it wasn't fishy how stoic it was. It wasn't fishy how he was not trying something stupid. And definitely it wasn't fishy how his eyes aimed at Damon’s backpocket.
Damon sat at the stool, Carmiabell's heart suddenly restoring its tempo.
“Now, look at me straight in the eye,” the words went without response the two engaging in an unprecedented staring contest.
Silence became the tone of the moment as if the world itself had stopped to watch them try. The candle on the other side settled in a straight stream, without wavering any bit.
Distant movements reseeded, being replaced by dead silence. A grave would be rather noisier in comparison.
Unexplained coldness infiltrated the tranquil segment filling it with sinister chills, like a ghost haunt.
It was clear that the two were burning into each other's eyes, which brought the question; what would Simon see in Damon's eyes?
She hadn't noticed until then that the all time crush she had been stalking for over a year had never exposed his lanera.
There was no fire around him, or crystals, or flowers, or any ornament, or any specific type of clothing, he was like a vampire without a soul.
It wasn't queer how he knew that she had a black apple.. who was she kidding, it was. How the hell did he know that she had a black apple?
As far as she was concerned, she had more than just her favorite pen that could be stolen in her bag, not to mention her research book.
She had all reason to keep the bag next to her heart, but Damon somehow got through and stole the only thing that kept the heart of in one piece.
The staring contest proceed —not sure whether there were any results being bared.
Calmness diminished —thanks to Zuina's loud munching of crips, not to question what she was doing with them in the pocket.
The irking redhead had a way of doing things and doing them hungry was not one of them.
She switched her glance to Carmiabell.
“What happened?” The words jumped out louder than expected.
“Shhhh,” Carmiabell shushed her reminding her of the solitude the two needed to see inside each other. “Nothing so far,” she whispered back taking a step closer to her.
“No, I mean. Why didn't you throw a book or something?”
Frankly, the fight had been a lot for Carmiabell to digest. Even now recapturing it bit by bit it didn't seem real.
“I__ I couldn't.” Of course she chickened out, but for so much forbidden power in one day she had all the rights to.
In response Zuina shook her head.
To Carmiabell Zuina was the real definition of fried. Not only because she knew her inside out ever since middle school, but also because she was always there for her. She was like a sister she never had.
“Damn, its not working,” Damon barked.
They had been staring at each other for so long that Zuina had begun falling asleep.
“Yeah, I finished the bag of beans__” Downright, she had to be dreaming of food. She widened her eyes in realization that she had just said it out loud.
Carmiabell was hoping that it would work but was not expecting it to work, so it didn't hit her as hard as it should have.
“How else can we know his dream?” Damon enquired out loud.
Minimal was exposed about nightmares unlike any other dreamer, but one thing was for sure there must have been a way, and they were going to find it out.
