Hey Guys! Wow! Some of you have favourited and followed it means a lot :) Once again a thank you to Calliope's Scribe for the kinds words, you make my heart grow! :3
Hope to hear from more of you about what you think! Please review it would mean a bunch!
So this is just a small character building chapter for today, heres a song that I think fits the mood, take a listen - watch?v=tVPTu4l6OnE
Happy Reading!
Meara slams her bedroom door behind her and stands in the entrance of her room huffing like a child. The ceiling inclines from the circle window, which touches the old, timber flooring. At the base lays a flat day bed swallowed up by blankets and various coloured pillows. She slumps onto it and presses her forehead to the cool, blue stained glass. Their townhouse was the highest on the street and from her window she could see the water perfectly. She eyes the scene, the calmness of the tide making her relax. Her breathing began fogging her view, she traces the outline of a sad face in it and chuckles, realizing how dramatic she is being. She leans her head back against the alcove of the window and scans her familiar room. All the pictures of various sea animals, bands and research companies taped to the walls, overlapping and curling at the edges. Very little wall space remains.
Her rustic, light blue night stand is in front of her and a picture of her family smiles back at her. She takes the faded frame in her hand and with her palm she wipes the dust off the reflection. Her father's hair is much longer in this snapshot, all wavy and windblown. His eyes are looking to his left and a giant toothy grin spread across his face. He looked so young and handsome, no worry lines yet aging his features. His arm was around her mother, tugging her close to his chest. Her mother's brown curly hair was in a tangled afro and her mouth pulled into a wide, flirtatious smile. Her smooth dark skin glowing from the sun, she was so photogenic. Everything about her looked perfect, from her smile down to her yellow sundress. Meara grins at the memory. Her mother had her head angled down to look at a young girl and her eyes appearing closed. Meara's brows furrow. Her mother's eyes had been so bright and blue, she loves looking at photos of them.
She traces a finger over the frozen scene, a wave of melancholy flows through her. She tares her gaze away from her mother to stare down at the little girl. She is an exact mash of the two adults. Red hair from her father with the features of her mother. A perfect combination of both traits, making Meara always want to keep this photo near by. Proud of her parents and herself, even as a gap toothed, frizzy haired toddler. Her father used to always joke about where the little girl from the photo went as Meara got older, but her mom would reply with a sly comment about her being right under his nose.
She returns the photo back to it's rightful place on the night stand, but angles it to face her pillow. She pulls herself onto her unmade bed, the scent of her home filling her with comfort. She gathers up the cold blankets and cuddles herself into the mattress, placing her phone on the night stand. She checks the time, it reads 1:23 AM. She closes her eyes and tangles herself up in her blankets. The picture burning into her memory. Sleep smoothing out her thoughts of Monday night, as she falls blissfully into darkness.