Warning: I wrote this. Please don't steal it.

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Laurel Trees and Prophecies

Chapter One: Remembering

by Queen of the Insects

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"Get up! It's time for chapel!" A rude voice awoke Laurel. And I was having such a nice dream, she thought. "Come on!" barked the tall girl, Lydia. She was always snarling at Laurel, snapping and barking like a rabid dog. Laurel snuggled deeper into her pillow. "No! You get up this instant, or I'll tell Mother!" she bellowed, yanking the blankets off of Laurel's bed. "Fine," Laurel muttered, through tightly clenched teeth. The whole dorm room was laughing.

Laurel didn't pray during chapel that day, although she usually did. Instead she thought. She thought, of how much she hated Lydia, and wanted to get back at her. She was a snobby brat, getting away with everything, just because her mother was the mother priestess. Rumor was that Lydia had shut a girl up in the lavatory for two days. She had been rotten to Laurel ever since she arrived at the Monastery, five years ago. Before the Monastery, she had lived with her older brother, Jacque, for as long as she could remember. Jacque had taken care of her and protected her until the end. Laurel still remembered their very last conversation.

He had asked if she knew where he was taking her. She didn't know. "I'm taking you to the Monastery. You'll be safe there, and be able to learn and play with other girls your age. I know you'll love it," Jacque told her. They continued walking down the forest pathway. Laurel had thought it a friendly forest, with birds and little animals here and there. Laurel then heard a strange chittering noise. Jacque froze. "What was that?" she asked, clinging to her older brother's side. "Be quiet. And stay close, Laurel," Jacque whispered firmly. Laurel looked up at him. Something in his eyes told her that something was not right. He usually looked relaxed and calm, but now he seemed rigid and firm, as if waiting, waiting for something. The unnerving sound came again, but louder, closer.

Suddenly, a monstrous spider leapt from the trees. Laurel screamed. The gigantic spider had all eight bulbous eyes fixed on Laurel and Jacque. Her little heart began to race. "Jacque, Jacque," she whispered. The spider cocked its head at her, as if it understood her. All was quiet. Slowly, Jacque reached into his hip pouch and pulled out a small porcelain jar. Gently, he handed it to Laurel. It hissed, its arachnoid fangs wet with slime. The grotesque creature, not thirty feet away, lunged. "Drink it Laurel! And run! Get to the Monastery! And when you're older, go to the Elven city! Tell them, tell them It is coming!" Jacque shouted, not bothering to remain quiet any longer.

Trusting her brother, Laurel took no time opening the bottle and drinking its contents. She turned and began to run, faster than she normally could. Looking back, she saw her dear older brother, Jacque, being sliced apart by the spider, his blood spilling over the path. With his last breath, he called out to her. "The Elven city! And remember, Laurel, I love you!" and again she ran.

It hurt all too much to remember Jacque, and his death. It hurt to think about the evil creature that had murdered him. Laurel was deadly afraid of spiders, even tiny ones. Her eyes began to fill with tears. Stop that, she told herself. Crying isn't allowed here.