Today's a beautiful day. The sun's shining brightly, or was it because it's been long Celia Elliott has seen the Sun? She doesn't know. The people were shouting something she couldn't hear, but maybe it's one of the few blessings she had since her life began. Oh look, now they've started throwing rotten vegetables, eggs and other things Celia couldn't describe. Is it to ensure she has a safe journey? How kind of them.
Crack.
Something has hit her head. It wasn't something hard though. It's quite the opposite, the round thing was fragile, cracking open the moment it hit Celia's head. It did, however, release a pungent and horrible smell. The guards 'escorting' Celia didn't seem to care about it at all, instead they let out a small, suppressed chuckle.
"A rotten egg to fit your rotten soul, eh?" They whispered into her ear.
Celia remained quiet. In this noisy street filled with curses coming out of the people's mouths, quietness was seen nowhere except on her.
The people want her gone.
The judge never read her case.
Her friends turned their backs on her.
Her family saw her as a mistake.
Her sister...was the light in the abyss.
But, now, as Celia stood in the middle of the crowd, forced to kneel down, placing her head under the executioner's blade, she knew that...
The light was the one who kept shrinking itself, allowing the darkness to come and surround her, until it swallowed her whole. While Celia placed all her hope and love onto her sister, her sister never loved her at all.
"She's the one who did it, not me."
"She framed me, why won't you listen to me?"
"Have you...ever loved me?"
Memories of the trial flooded into her thoughts. But soon, everything will disperse into nothingness, and everything will be quiet again.
She felt someone picking up the eggshell pieces in her hair. He's a tall, slim man, helping her tidy up her golden locks. She couldn't, no matter how much she focuses on his face, see how he looks like.
"I cannot save you, but the least I can do is to let you go beautifully. After all, you are but a girl." The man said quietly.
How ironic.
The few, precious moments of kindness being given to her before her death was from her very own executioner. Or was it because he couldn't handle the smell of the rotten egg in her hair? She'll never know.
Dingggg!
As the clock chimed, the blade fell upon Celia's neck.
It wasn't painful, but it was awfully cold. The shouting and curses of the people were gone, the awful smell of the rotten egg in her hair was gone, the warmth of the sun were gone.
Everything is gone, yet darkness remains.
It'll always be a part of her, haunting her everywhere she goes.
But...Celia wants to find light, even if it's just a tiny, little spark.
Suddenly, a door appeared in front of her, emitting a soft, gentle light. A gentle, female voice spoke to her in her head.
"Open the door, and rewrite your story." said the voice.
"You don't need to be the author's puppet anymore."
Author.
The word is unfamiliar, yet she seemed to know what the voice meant. The creator of this twisted, brutal world. The one who has written her tragic fate.
With what's left within her, she placed her hand onto the door handle, and opened the door.
.
.
.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Ivor Schwartz has cooped himself in his room again. His sister, Anla Schwartz has been trying to get him out of the house for weeks, but failing at every attempt.
"Why won't you get out of the house? It's been ages since you've went out!"
"I need to find our what's wrong with this book, Anla. Quit whining."
"I'M NOT WHINING!"
Ignoring his younger sister Anla, Ivor continues reviewing his work. He has been working on his book for ages, yet it gets rejected every time. Was it the main character's personality? Nope, don't think so. The antagonist? Everything seems fine. As he continues on, he found a name he has never seen before, and no memory of. But at the sight of her name, her face appeared clearly in his mind.
Celia Elliott, the villainess's sister.