Oh god, I can't remember the last time a updated. Life has been pretty rough on me and I'm pretty sure I have been through hell more times this school year than any other. I had this chapter for a while now but, desperately, need to fine tune it so here it is. Next chapter will come soon, promise!

I could smell the delicious, chocolate chip cookies I loved even before my mother opened the door. Dropping my book, I rushed towards the door and swung it right open. There was my mom: a 5'6 woman with short bobbed hair that tickled her neck in wavy hazelnut strands. She always smells like fresh, oven-baked cookies mixed with a little lemon. Mom says she likes lemons because it reminds her of her parents, but she won't tell me about her parents. Whenever I ask, her eyes sort of droop a little and then she smiles a little but it doesn't look like she wants to. After that, she places her hands on my shoulders and tells me it's a story for another time.

"Viviane! Have you been good?" my mom asked sweetly. Her eyes lit up like a firefly and her smile made the corners of her eyes crinkle a bit. I could see a bag swinging back and forth behind her.

"Better than good!" I replied, "This time, I finished my homework on time and I didn't even fight with anybody on the way home. Well, except for Drake but you know he always starts it!"

Mom laughed and swept me up in her arms, planting little kisses on my neck. Squealing in delight, I held onto her neck and tried to attack her back. We both ended up on the couch, laughing until our stomachs hurt and tears were in our eyes.

"Okay Viviane, guess what I got you?" she asked me.

Smiling gleefully, I replied with: "Cookies! Chocolate chip cookies!"

"You're right my little Maia." Planting a kiss on my forehead as a little reward, my mom showed me the bag of cookies she was hiding.

But before I could take one, she took it away just out of my reach. "Not just yet, you have to guess how many I got you," Mom said teasingly.

"Ten!" I replied.

"Nope, guess again Viviane." Her smile grew a bit wider.

"Fifteen! Twenty! Fifty cookies!" I threw my head up in the air and spread my arms apart in joy.

Mom picked me up and placed me in her lap. Looking down at me with a soft smile, she gave me the bag of cookies. I eagerly opened the bag but only found a note. Sad but curious, I reached into the bag and read the note:

My dear little Viviane

There is a place drunk with joy

Where a man sings of dreams

A friend who is a sweet boy

And light dances in rose beams

Staring dumbstruck at the note, I looked at my mother with confusion. Turning the note sideways and upside down, I scrutinized it carefully. I finally gave up after reading it five times, forwards and backwards.

My mother took both of my hands gently and held them in hers. "Do you know what this is Viviane?"

I slowly shook my head, but then realization slowing started flowing through me. Gasping, I shouted that this was riddle. A clue to where the cookies are!

Jumping off the couch excitedly, I took my mother's hand into mine and started walking towards the door. Laughing at how I excited I was, Mom followed me to the garden where my father was.

After a ten minute walk from the house, my mom and me were at the secret garden. My dad found it a year ago while we were walking in the forest together. It's been our secret hide away since then.

The garden was a small clearing, no more than five meters from each end, that let sunlight filter through the tree canopy, giving the area an unusual warmth. A small pond was nestled in between clusters of rose bushes and a babbling brook running off into the forest. If the wind was just right, rose petals would be swept off into miniature tornadoes. Fallen logs and mossy rocks made the perfect benches to sit down on. Sometimes when the sun set, you could hear the forest coming alive slowly and surely: the bird symphony was replaced with long, somber owl hoots, rabbits transformed into mice, and the background music was the relentless humming of insects. This place was where my dad wrote his poems; where my mother could sing; where I could make memories.

I saw my dad, hunched over a stack of papers that were scribbled all over. Wads of crumpled of paper were scattered around him in unwanted piles. I could hear his pencil scratching against the paper lying on the rough surface of a rock. He was lost in his words.

"Maia."

I was startled from my emotional state and looked around for the source of the voice. After swiveling my head around, I realized that it was the voice from before. The one that magically appeared in my head before I came back to life. Awesome. Can't wait to go slowly insane.

"Uh, voice? Do you mind telling me what I should do right now because anything would be better than crying alone," I snapped impatiently.

And as usual, I get no answer back. Spitting out a few nasty words, I squinted my eyes and scanned the area around me.

Behind me was a forest filled with singing crickets and hooting owls; to my right and left were rows of houses dusted with snow; in front of me was an empty street and a floating magical man sprinkling dust wherever he went.

My brain had to take a few seconds to realize that a man should not be flying and should definitely not be covered in golden sparkles. Let's just say that I managed to both snort out a disgusting amount of snot and cough on it at the same time. I don't recommend it. Seriously.

By the time I cleaned myself up, as best as I could, the little man was gone though I could still see a few sparkly remnants of gold shining against the moonlight. I had literally nothing else to lose so I decided to follow him.