In the depths of a mysterious and shadowy cavern, an elderly couple stood with their black garments swaying in the wind. The sound of bats fluttering in the night air created a high-pitched sound that resonated through the darkness. As they spoke, their voices echoed off the walls of the cave, creating a mysterious and eerie echo.
The only thing that could break through the darkness inside the cave were their torches, which produced a smoky orange glow.
The enigmatic old men stared at her with profound eyes.
"Are you sure you want to do this, Helena?" He sent a stone flying with a powerful kick. The sound of it skipping across the ground and bouncing off the cave wall echoed through the space. He had wished that the sensation of the stone flying from his foot would help to ease his anxiety, but it only disappointed him, as it did not provide the desired level of relief.
She put her hand gently on the old man's shoulder and gave a small, gentle pat to reassure him.
"I can see it... she will break this curse."
Looking away, his forehead furrowed and his eyelids barely twitched as even more drops of sweat cascaded down his face, falling onto the ebony, drenched cave floor. He scrubbed his face on the abrasive, dark-colored rope wrap.
"W-what losses is she facing in terms of her life and overall emotional b-balance?" His fear was clear in the pauses and stutters of his speech, a sign of what was impending.
"She can perish, striving for something that neither of us could tame, despite our best efforts."
He shut his eyes and felt his heart thudding in his chest. As the old lady spoke, she flicked her wrists and a light hissing sound followed as both torches extinguished. All was dark except for the moonlight streaming into the cave, creating a soft, warm glow that illuminated the elderly couple.
"She has the power to break this dreaded curse. You can count on it," the voice resounded with assurance.
With one last squeeze, they clung to each other, both aware that when 'she' released them from their curse, the warmth of their embrace would be no more.
The curse was a constant, oppressive reminder of their suffering, with the sound of it ringing in their ears as the only thing propelling them forward.
I'm Dove, I'm 21, but because of my small size and baby-faced features, many people think I'm only 15. Although I don't mind looking young, people often underestimate me based on my appearance alone.
Also, no matter what I do, my parents still look at me like I'm a child, refusing to recognize that I'm an adult. Although it irritates me, it can also be a relief for my parents to not treat me as an adult all the time. The stress of worrying about less is like a weight lifted off your shoulders.
I'm an adult now, but still living with my parents, which is nothing to be embarrassed about.
People at school would make fun of me for being so pale. They would joke that I'd blend in with the wall if I got too close or just call me a ghost.
The ones who attempt to make themselves seem larger than they are by making others feel lower are the ones with the least amount of confidence. Does the vulnerability of the weak prove to be more powerful than the strength of the strong?
I just turn a blind eye to people like that and it's the best way to deal with them.
As a literature graduate, I am looking forward to the challenge of writing my first book. I'm determined to be a writer, and I take great inspiration from the heart-stopping suspense from the R. L. Stine's Goosebumps series.
I mustered up the courage to join an open novella contest on a well-known writing website. I'm not sure if I'm up to the challenge, but I'm ready to try it. My mum cautioned me against horror fiction, pointing out that it wasn't as beloved as romance. I knew she was right, but I couldn't bring myself to abandon my own personal style.
Fleur and Cosmo - my parents - have always had a certain magic, not the kind you can cast a spell with, but the kind that comes with the names they have.
They found joy in crafting artworks - from sculptures to paintings - and selling them.
Their relationship was on the rocks and they argued every day. The arguing was over such trivial and ridiculous matters.
So they decided to move to a new home to keep the family together, hoping a change of scenery would be beneficial and help them avoid a divorce. Although it was a good idea, it is a difficult situation because of the conflicting personalities of my mum and dad - my mum being very strong-willed and my dad being more laid-back. His calm demeanor is a stark contrast to her short temper.
People say that opposites attract, but can two people with such contrasting qualities really have a successful relationship?
I was told the place we are going to is peaceful and serene, granting me a much-needed shelter to write my book.
"Dove, quit daydreaming and help us pack the car! Hurry!" I felt the vibrations of my mum's slap on the bedroom door, snapping me out of my thoughts.
"S-sure, sorry!" I spoke haltingly, my words stuttering out of my mouth.
I looked around my room, feeling the weight of all the secrets this space holds. When I whisper my worries late at night, I imagine the walls absorbing my fears. Everyone has a few stories they wouldn't want anyone to know, right?
The walls are a comforting presence, a silent friend, and they will never pass judgment.
This place has been a part of my life for so long, it feels strange to think of saying goodbye. Even though I wasn't truly happy here, I got used to it.
Even if we were unhappy in this house, the memories we have of it, still create a sense of attachment and love.
With a sinking feeling in my chest, I take one last look around the room.
The room was now bare, the feeling of abandonment palpable in the air.
With a final grunt of effort, I grabbed the two boxes of books and Sailor Moon figures, feeling the strain of their weight on my body.
As I breathed out a wistful sigh, I said a sad farewell to the four walls that had provided me with comfort during my stay.
"Farewell Bedroom, you were an excellent refuge for me to hide away in and sleep."
I hope the next owner of this house will cherish and maintain it.
Taking one last look around my old bedroom, I could feel a tear welling up in my eyes, so I hastily wiped it away with my sleeve, not wanting my parents to see me getting emotional.
I rushed away from the hallway, shutting the door to my bedroom with a loud thud, without a single thought of bidding farewell to the other areas of the house. I made my way downstairs, my hands straining under the weight of the last two boxes.
As I loaded them into the trunk, I told my dad,
"That's the last. I'm ready. Are you?"
I felt the crunch of the leaf beneath my foot.
My cat is in the car "meowing". I had a feeling that this would be the soundtrack of our journey until we reached the new house.
"I'm diggin' this CD, Dad!" I said, laughing as I bobbed my head.
When I'm on the verge of tears or feeling anxious, I often retreat into childlike behavior and try to lighten the mood with silly jokes.
"Ah-ah, Dove, hilarious," he said with a roll of his eyes and a chuckle.
"Why don't you step into the car and see if you can get Napoleon to settle down?" He tapped me on the shoulder, and I felt his hand linger for a moment before I heard my mum's voice quiver with emotion as she sobbed.
My mum is totally comfortable expressing her feelings in front of others, unlike me, who keeps my emotions to myself.
As they locked the door for the last time, they heard the faint click of the latch, a final, mournful goodbye.
"Oh, come on MUM, don't start crying. You'll flood the car with tears and cats don't like water, remember?".
"DOVE, get in the car and stop talking nonsense!" I felt the vibrations of her voice in my chest, her hand making sharp gestures in the air.
"Yeeeees muuuum!", I got inside the car and gently stroke Napoleon's head through the bars of the cat carrier, cooing reassuringly to him as he trembles in fear.
When I looked out the window, I saw my parents embracing in a tight hug, framed by the house they used to call home. After a long period of distance, I saw them being tender with each other and it filled me with optimism that this transformation would bring them closer together. As I watched them embrace, my heart grew heavy and a single tear rolled down my cheek, which I hastily wiped away.
A crunching sound that filled the air surrounded them as they walked back towards the car, leaves crunching underfoot.
In autumn, the trees shed their leaves, creating a carpet of gold and red. I love the way the oranges, browns and golds of this season blend, creating a beautiful harmony of color.
My dad announced, "Ok, it's time to go" and snapped his seatbelt into place before even closing the car door. My mother and I followed his example and did the same. Then she glanced back at me, her eyes puffy from the weeping.
I reached out my hand to console her and said, "Don't cry mum, let's hope for a better tomorrow."
"It's alright, hon. Let's just change the subject. When we get there, we'll have to unpack and arrange everything. It's going to take some time. You take care of your room, and Dad and I will take care of the rest." I felt the tenderness of her smile and heard the warmth of her voice, like a lullaby.
My father's suggestion to move out was a wise one. My Mum is always so strict and aloof, and when she gave me an order it was like I was being commanded by a general. I can already see the effects.
Napoleon meowed for what felt like forever, until I scooped him up out of the cat carrier and cradled him close against my legs, where he finally quieted down and drifted into a peaceful sleep. He is a very overweight cat whose black and white markings make it look as though his face was drawn on, adding to his comical look.
As I petted him more, I felt the comforting vibrations of his purring. I peered out the window, taking in the view of the lush trees and the peaceful feeling that came over me. I knew this place differed from the one we used to live in. The pictures of the houses had been promising, and now I could see the community of larger homes, each of them spaced out from the next, creating a tranquil atmosphere. When my parents had gone weeks prior to check out the house, I'd already known that this was where we'd be living.
My heart swells with optimism as I pursue a career as a writer and all the possibilities that come with it. I can hardly contain my excitement about moving into our new home and finally put down in words all the ideas that have been spinning around in my head since finding that old notebook in the attic two days ago.
"Does this belong to either of you? I found it in the attic when I was boxing things up?" I questioned if they had purposely put the object there, or if it had always been part of the house when we moved in.
"That notebook?" My dad asked me while my mum hummed, deep in thought as she tried to remember.
The notebook is jet black with golden flecks, giving it an almost magical and mystical feel.
My dad kept his eyes on the road, but I could sense my mum's watchful eye on me and the notebook.
"I'm not familiar with anything like that, and definitely not anything that belongs to us. It had probably already been in the house. We never attempted to inspect the attic thoroughly and whatever was left inside." My mum gave me a confident look as she told me.
"Alrighty, so it's mine now. I'm gonna use it to record my book ideas, titles, and other inspiring thoughts." I told my mum.
"Yes, my dear, that sounds like a wise decision," she said, the wind from the opened window blowing her hair.
"We'll arrive in 5 minutes." My mum grabbed her handbag, rummaging through it to find the house keys while she muttered under her breath.
I feel so blessed to have two parents who have been my rock, showing me unconditional love and support. I've seen too many of my friends suffer from the harsh reality of a broken family, whether it be from a bitter divorce or a devastating loss. Whenever I think of them, the warmth of their love fills me with gratitude for what I have.
Despite the emptiness I will feel without Candice and Thomas, I know our bond will remain unbroken. I promised to send them messages when I arrived, and I will make sure they know every detail of my journey. In the future, I hope they can make their way to me and pay me a visit.
All members of my family have the same features, like our uniform jet-black hair, porcelain skin and dark eyes, which make us look like the Adams family. My mum has often said that our family shares a hint of mystery, something that is ever-present in the air.
Whenever I'm writing, I can't help but reach for a glass of chocolate milk and a few cookies, so it's no surprise that I'm struggling to stay at my ideal weight of 55kg - a number which, coincidentally, is my lucky number. Although I know it's not great for me, the flavor of this food helps to get my creative wheels turning.
As we drove up to our new house, my dad's voice broke through my thoughts, announcing our arrival.
"Home sweet home!" he exclaimed joyfully.
Here's to starting anew, to embarking on thrilling journeys, and to the potential of a new book!
Word Count: 2455