Chapter 1 (cannot think of title!)

Dust clouds rise above the sandy roads, and disperse as the hoofs of the many horses, and feet of the many laborers, dug in and out of the smoke of dirt.

Then, I was very young, and short. Always, I'd wrap a white scarf over my hair. The places where I would sit were around my parents' bazaar. And slab of sandy road outside the main entrance? That was my outside world.

I watched, as many glossy-skinned people walked through the main entrance, not even brushing past the small, still and white stature. Like I wasn't even there.

No, I came to realize a while later. I was simply too insignificant to be looked at, not to mention brushed past. I was not important at all, compared to the matters only the outside world knew of.

The travelers, or walkers of the outside world, had seen too much. And I was too little. How I was dying to see that much, and find out why I was so little.

Legs draped to the soles of the shoes in yellowish-whitefanned me asthey passedas abreeze sliding up the short steps I was perched upon.

I was hugging my knees close to my chest, and tried to squeeze into my clothes and the white scarf around my head. I was sure, then, I looked like a short clothes hanger which was for travelers, who so frequently came by, to throw their excess clothing onto.

Because after the yellowish-white cloth, I caught sight of a richer-colored cloth, embroideredwith thoroughly detailed patterns coming towards me, before all I saw was pitch black. I heard a thud, as the sack-material, but nevertheless beautiful, cloth was dropped on my head. The cloth was not only heavy, but as I lifted it from my head, felt as rough as a sack.

The main entrance was a tall, narrow door, which had strings of beads acting as curtains. The strings of beads had importance, which only my parents, and the rest of the outside world, knew of. But if there was any purpose the beads held, I knew one – when they were pushed and tugged and pulled at, they would ultimately hit the bell located near them, and would ultimately create a pleasant chime.

"Who goes there?" came my good-natured mother, forever chasing after the chimes. Then, "Good afternoon, Sire," came her voice in a shocked, but repressed, tone.

"Pardon me, while I get my husband."

There was a hint of jumpiness in her forcefully calm voice.

Now, I had the cloth, which was really, I felt, a wearable masterpiece ofart,in my hands, and I turned to face the strings of beads. Behind them, I watched as two figures of chocolate-colored skin, glided about the small Front Room.

The Front Room is where visitors, travelors, citizens of the outside world hover around aimlessly for a while as they waited for myfather to welcome them.They would gazearound resignedly at the pieces of art which consisted of pointless ornaments from places with names such as Lost Crown of Highness Felo-wyn, Star Lover, and even Acreadnia, as they hungaround from ceiling tosprouting from thecarpetfutilely beautiful. But of course, who was little me to say anything at all?

My dad came, and they chatted a while. My dad, who usually greeted all travelers like long-lost friends, was sweating a little. My mom held a tray in her hands, and pretended she knew nothing else but how to pour tea, which they never asked for, and which she dared not offer.

Suddenly, her eyes caught sight of me through the beads.

She wanted to shout, but seemed to remember something, and ended up opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water.

She finally got some words out of her mouth. Gravely, she faced my father and said something, smiling apologetically and speaking softly, out of politeness to the two visitors. She paused to glance abashedly at them. Her sharp gaze was on me the next moment.

She never took her eyes off me as she marched towards me, and even the beads seemed to give way to her. She entered them easily. The only noise the beads made were because they shivered, and knocked against each other. My dad continued chatting, his handswaving aroundin an attempt to be animated.

Out of the two travelers, one folded his arms on his chest, and looked intently into my father's face. The other traveler, I saw, looked my way, and averted his eyes above my mother's shoulders, just as I averted mine above hers.

He had the smooth face of a young boy. His skin was, like I said earlier, chocolate-colored, only it was milk chocolate. It was glossy, and he was perfect. He looked at me for a while more, as I froze, paralyzed by my mom's hard lips and angry eyes, and the soft smile on his face and the bright gleam in his large eyes. As if through his eyes, he did what his mouth could not do; speak, smile and laugh.

"Why are you here?" my mother wanted to know.

The boy's face disappeared, and the events that happened this morning unfolded before me.

"Do you need any transport?"

thanks for reading. pls leave a comment. I seriously would appreciate it, as I would like to know how to improve and where I fault. and if possible, help me think of a title for this chapter? you could just tell me ur thoughts, it's enough. thanks.