Lost. Chapter One. (Archived)
Lost. Chapter One.
Victoria Hemmings has been in a mental asylum all her life because her mother accused her of having hallucinations. Now she finds herself in the Enchanted Meadow with a mysterious coven of picturesque people... . Submitted by Mai ( 546), age 15
I was in, what seemed to be, a circular, sun-lit meadow. It was fringed with a canopy of trees and patches of wildflowers were spread around, blurs of pastel purple, buttercup-yellow and soft white. I rubbed my eyes, and heard the chirping of birds, the bubbling babble of a nearby stream. Warm sunlight streamed through my hair, and I saw shimmering russet highlights in the mahogany locks. I touched my hair in wonder, then I frowned.
Where was I? I was not, I knew, in the place where I had been before my conscious had slipped away; the deathly mental asylum, with its blank grey walls and the cold, impassive faces. I shuddered as the fresh memories of the electric shock tortures burst into my mind like hot irons.
I closed my eyes, trying to wish away the horrible thoughts. When I opened my eyes again, I was surrounded by tall, willowy women, all of whom had glowing alabaster skin and held a weapon in their slender hands, from spears and arrows to daggers and swords. They all wore padded leather clothes and leather strips holding back their flowing hair.
I bit my lip to stop myself from screaming as the tallest woman emerged from somewhere in the folds of the many ready warriors.
Her skin was perfect porcelain. Violet-coloured eyes, framed by curling, ink-black eyelashes, were set into a heart-shaped face. She had a straight, angular nose and very full lips. Her dark hair, like a black waterfall, was held back with a golden circlet of roses. She wore black leather padded leggings, a short-sleeved vest-top embroidered in gold leaves and narrow slippers. Around her neck was a black leather strip from which dangled a heart-shaped amethyst cut into a million tiny facets. In her hand was a long, thin rapier set with amethysts and diamonds.
“You!” She pointed with the rapier at me, but I was too mesmerised by her musical, harmonic soprano voice to be scared. “You! What is your name?”
“V-V-Victoria,” I stammered, and I felt heat flash across my cheeks at the unflattering contrast between her voice and mine.
“Victoria. Where do you come from?” Her stance was guarded and feline, coiled to spring. The others around her had a similar stance.
“England – the mental asylum,” I gabbled. “Who are you? Where am I?” At my words a slim, rounded woman with long blond ringlets jutted forwards. Her eyes were dark red, like velvet roses, but they were burning with fury. “You dare to ask, mortal?” she demanded in a musical voice that sounded like a clarinet. “You dare ask - ”
“Heidi!” barked the first violet-eyed woman, if a soprano could bark. “Silence!” Heidi scowled, her arching eyebrows slanting downwards over her crimson rose eyes. Her flawless lips were pulled into a snarl over white teeth. Shell-pink coloured her prominent, round cheekbones, but the colour faded quickly and she bowed her head of fair ringlets in embarrassment. “I shame you, Your Wisdom.”
The first woman turned to me. I was cowering, curled up, in the soft grass. The women were spread around me now, circling me, still suspicious. Their arms were lowered slightly, but their weapons were still ready.
The first woman’s violet eyes held my own. “You are in the Enchanted Meadow. As for my name... that is a great secret never to be told. However, mortal, I sense good in your presence...”
Three women, including Heidi, jumped forwards. “No!” shrieked a woman with a long black braid shrilly. Her eyes, like the streaks in her braid, were topaz-gold. “Your Wisdom, your name is sacred! Why tell the mortal? You know how wide their trap-doors hang open, spilling all of its contents to another!”
“Calm, Jane!” scolded the first woman. Her voice was cool. “Do you trust my decisions? If not, I suggest you leave our coven now.” I noticed, with a slight flicker of irritation, that all these picturesque women used the word ‘mortal’ to describe me, and not my real name.
The woman’s head snapped towards me. “I am Athenodora,” she said simply. Several of the women gasped; some clutched at their weapons or turned even paler than their perfect white complexions.
Heidi’s mouth twisted and a feral growl ripped up her throat. Jane swiped up a stick in one fluid movement and snapped it in two, her golden eyes blazing.
Athenodora smiled. “We are the Argletamgem Coven.”
aimee says: wow I absolutely love the story line,amazing.I hope you write more, its so captivating!
Sent on Fri 22nd Nov 13
Fay says: This is brilliant! I love the idea and story line. Well done Mai! It's a brilliant description and youre only 10!!!! Please write more! XXFayXX
Sent on Mon 9th Jul 12
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