Wyndbourne (Sneek Peek)

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is a little (teeny-tiny) sneak peek of the project I am working on. However, I still won't be posting the actual book for a while yet. I am posting this piece for you all to read so I can test the waters, so to speak. Please, let me know what you think and if you would be interested in reading more.

Submitted: February 14, 2017

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Content

Submitted: February 14, 2017

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I have a specific memory of my father teaching me how to make daisy chains. I was young, maybe three or four, and I remember sitting in the courtyard of our country estate. There was a fountain gurgling with water and birds chirping in the background. Little white flowers sprinkled the ground all over, nestled in the grass with an occasional dandelion. My father, the king, was crouched somewhere to my left - his calming voice washing over me with simple instructions. I don’t remember the actual process or the words he spoke softly, the main thing that sticks in my memory is wearing that daisy chain around my neck for the rest of the day. When it was time for bed, the nurse mary said I had to take it off.  She set it on my bedside table and told me I could wear it again tomorrow.

Being the young naive little princess I was, I didn’t know the delicate flowers wouldn’t last. The next morning, I was distraught to find that a servant had tidied it away. Though, young as I was, I remained determined that no one would see me cry over the silly necklace. Later that day, there was a knock on the door to my play room where I sat with whatever toy I fancied at the time. I remember being handed a simple, smooth, wooden box with a silver clasp. The inside was lined with a deep, soft, red velvet and atop that rested my chain of daisies. There was something different about the chain that my childish mind couldn’t place. The petals and leaves seemed a little stiffer, and there was a sort of sheen to the whole necklace that hadn’t been there before. It wasn’t until I was much older that I understood my father had tracked down a spell spinner and had the flowers preserved, so they would last forever.

 

~

 

When I was thirteen, I wore my chain of daisies to his funeral. It seemed out of place with my black dress trimmed with satin ribbon, and the black veil that covered my tear stained face. The procession was long, and out of place on that sunny day in the middle of April. Even the daisies seemed to bow their heads as we passed. People in the streets tossed evergreen garlands and murmured their condolences. The actual ceremony was simple, just like he would have wanted.

I remember standing on the cobblestones; the memory of someone shouting down the halls haunting every thought. “The King is dead! The King is dead!”. I had been sitting in my room, and the next thing I remember is my mother weeping. There were smears of blood on  her lavender day dress and her long hair was coming loose from its braid. The double oak doors to the royal study were open and I didn’t even think before stepping through them. His light brown eyes flecked with gold, my eyes, closed forever.

 

~

As Alyvia Threlance sat with her legs crossed on the bank of the busy creek, she could not seem to think of anything but those memories as she tried to shove her past life into its tiny box at the back of her mind.  Whispers carried on wind from the north tickled her ears and swept back her hair, reminding her of that day in the courtyard. Laughing water slid over its smooth bed, a few feet away, just like it had for decades.  Alyvia had all but forgotten the calico cat that purred in her lap as she lazily stroked its mottled fur.  Though there wasn’t much waiting for her, she eventually resolved to head back to the little village tucked into the trees a mile away. The place she now called home.


© Copyright 2017 Alice Irene. All rights reserved.

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