Author: Olivia-the-Awesome PM
Ester, a young girl only the age of 10, had been born with the gift of past, present and future visions. But when one day the visions change to a more strange layout, Ester does not know what to do. They are now littered with Fairies, talking animals and strange townspeople. When she befriends an elf, a fairy and a mouse, she embarks on a journey like never before.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Adventure/Hurt/Comfort - Chapters: 2 - Words: 1,378 - Reviews: 1 - Published: 12-25-12 - id: 3085972
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Hi! My name is Olivia, but you may call me Liv. I enjoy writing very much but this is my first story, so please be easy on me, and not too harsh! :)
Chapter 1~ Truth shall be Thought but shall not be Told.
Ester was a child of many interests. She enjoyed the stories her mother read her at night, the crackling of the fire in their large home, the music the trees sang with the wind-driven instruments called leaves. She loved all of that. But yet her life was not perfect.
You see, Ester had visions. Visions that told of harsh pasts, the better present and the dark future. For why this plague raided her young mind, she did not know, but she was shunned for it. Shunned for her gift. Shunned by the little school children she sat by. Shunned by the teachers and townspeople who thought of her as true treason of reality. Her parents thought many of this, but as for Ester, she could care less. Being as young as she was, she had not a care in the world. She did not care for any friends, nor a tutor that would teach her lessons rather than ramble on about her gift.
One morning, at least for Ester, this would all change.
Ester tiptoed down the stairs, rubbing sleep crust from her delicate looking blue eyes. Last night, the visions had seemed to die down, growing less and less threatening. Taking this as a good sign, she sighed in relief, settled herself onto a kitchen table chair and poured a bowl of cereal for breakfast. She scrunched her nose up. What sat in front of her was what was left of the milk, a cloudy mix of white and beige mixed and stuck to the bottom of the carton. Her father, being the dimwit he was, had to at least chug a carton of milk down a night, so this was a normal sight for Ester.
Grumbling, she dumped the uneaten cereal and the chunky milk into the trashcan. She never ate cereal dry, her mother told her the tough kernels of oat would scratch her throat up if she did so. She stopped halfway towards the table. Some say she might have gotten a vision, some believe a theory that she might have felt a disturbing feeling. But in truth, all she saw was a stained piece of paper on the fridge. Coffee stains most likely, her father was always in a hurry. The note was written in her fathers quick, forced handwriting. Little holes could be found in the letters from his pen denting the soft parchment.
Me and your mother must take another trip to the office. Apparently a very important paper must be delivered today. The deadline for receiving it is in a couple hours, so I must hurry. There are some cookies in the jar left for you. Your mother made them, even though I protested to the idea of sweets.
We shall be home by tomorrow night, due to an upcoming storm. It is supposed to be damaging winds and rain, so remember to lock and close the doors, windows and the barn entrance. The storm will be coming tomorrow afternoon, so do not forget!
Ester scoffed at her father's signature. She knew he was her father, so what was the point? But.. the storm was a cold, hard fact of the letter. Although, the storm would be coming tomorrow, so she decided she could watch TV for the rest of the day.
It was 9:00 pm, the required time for Ester to go to sleep. Despite the nipping cold of a summer night outside, she kept her screen window open. Climbing under her fleece blanket until only her blonde hair showed, she silently prayed, blew out her candle, and went to sleep.
Now, if Ester had been awake early enough, she would have heard the truth. The horrid truth spoken from her parents mouthes as she slept, in which was not confided on the letter she had read.
Do you like it? My first piece of writing. I approve criticism, but positive criticism please! Flamers are disaproved.