Lost, forgotten things…

Old bottle(Found on Pinterest)

I found this while I was browsing on Pinterest. The design is absolutely beautiful- I wish I had one; although I’m not sure what I would put in it!

I was inspired to write a fantasy piece when I saw this picture…

Carla waved her mother out of the front door. Butterflies fluttered in her tummy. In all the years since they had moved to the new house in San Francisco her mum had never left her in the house alone for a long period of time and she used the opportunity to go exploring. Carla Lucia was a young twelve year old girl born to a single mother, Enid. They had emigrated from Ireland in the early 2000’s, when Carla was only 2, but were still not quite settled in their life in the Americas. Carla’s mother had been a waitress in Ireland and since they had moved, she had had an endless string of part-time jobs; she was now working as a cleaner for a wealthy American family. The job called for her to work extremely odd hours which meant that Carla was left with either the neighbors or with Enid’s best friend, Joyce, who owned the café down the road. The mother and daughter had originally planned to stay in, on the Saturday evening, and watch a marathon of ‘Disney’ movies, with butter popcorn, when Enid received the unexpected call requesting she come immediately to her employers’ house. She had tried contacting the neighbors and even called Joyce 3 times but it seemed that everyone was out enjoying their Saturday night. She had come to the conclusion, after being vigorously persuaded by Carla, that she could trust to leave her daughter alone for a few hours while she went to work. Enid reluctantly put on her coat as headed out the door. “Are ye sure?” Enid asked turning back one last time.” Worry lines etched across her usually flawless face. “Mam, we need the money.” Carla said wisely. “I’ll not be too long,” She said slowly turning back to kiss her daughter sweetly upon the forehead. She lowered down on to her knees and held Carla’s face in her hands. Her own blue eyes blazed into Carla’s green with unmistakable worry. She tucked a stray ginger curl behind Carla’s right ear and paused while she observed her daughter. “Mam!” Carla said a little more seriously. “I’ll be fine!” “When you are a mother, one day, you will understand.” Enid said earnestly. Carla looked away with a skeptical look upon her freckled face. “And, don’t you roll your eyes at me, girl!” Enid’s hands moved so quickly that Carla did not have time to move away. She slapped her on her left hand forcefully, how she always did when she was upset with her. “Yes Ma’am.” Carla said lowering her head in shame. “I’ll be off then. Lock the door behind me,” and with that Enid walked into the cold misty night, disappearing around the corner, no doubt, towards the bus stop. Carla peered at an angle one last time to check her mother was not turning back around before she shut the door and crept up the stairs towards the attic two steps at a time. She was excited. Her mother was often very liberal with her, but did not allow her to do one thing: “Do not go into the attic” She would warn with a stern look on her face. Carla was not one to disobey her mother so freely, but there had to be something amazing up there for her to hide it from Carla. After years of considering the possibilities, she was finally going to discover what was locked away, out of sight, in the attic. Her hands reached towards the metal string which hung from the trap door, and carefully, she pulled it down; tugging with all her might. She had to try several times because a few times the string slipped through the hands, and the door also kept getting stuck. Eventually it creaked open and folded wooded stairs descended before her feet. She hesitated looking back, almost expecting to see her mother storming up the stairs, but when she realized she was totally alone she ascended the stairs cautiously, one foot at a time. Her heart hammered inside her chest and she could feel her cheeks flush from the excitement, from the nerves from the mixture of emotions that seemed to swirl around her body. A few times she stepped back down the stairs before she was able to build up the nerve to climb over the threshold of the door and into the attic. It was exactly how she expected an ordinary attic to look like. There were piles upon piles of rotting boxes, stacks of yellowing papers and a damp, molding smell that she often smelt in the broom cupboard at school. At the far side of the attic, by the window, old canvases had been stacked against the wall so that very little view could be seen from outside. Carla recognized a painting of herself; it had been reproduced so well that it looked like it could be a photograph. She wondered when her mother could have painted it. She ducked further into the room, her eyes peering around the edges of the decaying wood walls. Carla would not have considered herself a tall girl, but even she had to duck down to avoid colliding with the low hanging beams; there were holes in many of them from where they had been damaged by termites. Carla saw a few cockroaches scurry across the beam closest to her and side-stepped out of the way to avoid them being near her. She shivered violently as though she felt them crawling up her arms and with her flamboyant movement almost toppled over a small, round, center table in the middle of the attic. She bent down to look closely at the golden legs that wound around a beautiful mosaic table top. She gazed at the tiny fragments of the mosaic and saw millions of green eyes staring back at her. It was made of broken mirror pieces. Resting on top, in a crystal cut bowl, was a small glass bottle, laced in intricate metal. She admired the craftsmanship and was mesmerized by the elegant twists and turns of metal that fell over the bottle. She faltered before her hands reached down to pick it up. There was a strange clear liquid inside, though she could not tell what it was; perfume, water, alcohol? Just as she was about to reach for the stopper the liquid inside changed colour to a delicate purple hue, and began to shine brightly. She cowered as she saw dark shadows dance against the walls of the attic and almost let out a scream as a cloud of black dust began to rise from the corner of the room. Carla dropped the bottle back into the crystal bowl, and without looking back ran down the stairs of the attic, praying her mother would never know.

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