Smiltle Marcellis Light – An 11-Year-Old Girl
Morning in the Small House
Sunlight filtered through the window curtains, casting a soft glow over the small bed covered in pale floral sheets. Smiltle opened her eyes—not fully awake, but aware that she needed to get up immediately. The alarm clock on her nightstand was still ringing loudly, and if she didn't turn it off soon, her mother would definitely come to check.
Her mother—Vivian Odette—was not someone easily fooled. She always knew when her daughter was just being lazy and when she truly needed more sleep.
Smiltle squinted, glancing around her small yet tidy room. In the corner, a neatly pinned piece of paper stood out on the wall.
> LIGHT FAMILY RULES:
Morning starts at 7 AM
Never skip breakfast
Finish homework before going out to play
No climbing trees too high
|Dad is required to take his daughter out on weekends|
Don't make Mom angry
She giggled, mumbling the last line to herself. That was an especially important rule—because once her mother got mad, no one could save her.
Rushing downstairs, Smiltle saw her mother preparing breakfast. The scent of toasted bread mixed with the aroma of her father's coffee made her stomach growl.
"You're two minutes late," her mother glanced at the clock before looking at her daughter. "Not quite breaking the rule, but next time, come down earlier."
"I know, if I'm five minutes late, you won't leave me any milk," Smiltle replied quickly, pulling out a chair and sitting at the table.
Her father—Richard Hammond Light—folded his newspaper, raising an eyebrow at his daughter. "You seem quite alert this morning."
"That's right. I had a very strange dream," she said excitedly. "Dad, have you ever done anything illegal?"
Richard nearly choked on his coffee. Vivian set her teacup down with a sharp clink, her grayish-blue eyes flashing with suspicion.
"Smiltle," her mother's voice was firm, "I don't appreciate you questioning your father's integrity."
She blinked at her mother's reaction. "I was just asking. Because in my dream, Dad was wearing a black hat, talking to someone who looked really suspicious. And there were a lot of big wooden crates around."
Richard chuckled, ruffling his daughter's hair. "You have quite the imagination. I'm just a regular fabric merchant, sweetheart."
Smiltle narrowed her eyes as if searching for any sign of guilt on her father's face. But then, she simply laughed and continued eating her toast.
---
And Then, School Days.
Smiltle wasn't an outstanding student, but she had an incredible memory. She could read a page once and recall almost everything. But having a good memory didn't mean she liked all subjects.
Math was a nightmare. She hated complicated numbers and never-ending calculations.
Science wasn't much better—except for the experiments that could make a loud bang.
But history and literature? Those were different. Stories of people from long ago, adventures, and old poems fascinated her. She always looked forward to literature class, especially when the teacher talked about famous authors and romantic tales.
At school, she was closest to Max, Sylvia, and Elliot.
Max always wore glasses and carried a book with him. He was smart but quiet—unless Smiltle dragged him into one of her bizarre debates.
Sylvia was more energetic, always making things fun. She had a small notebook filled with all sorts of stories they created together.
And Elliot—he wasn't here. He was in London with his family, and they could only exchange letters. Smiltle eagerly awaited the day he would return.
---
Afternoons After School.
As soon as she got home, Smiltle tossed her school bag onto the chair and ran straight to the backyard.
The big tree behind the house was her favorite place.
Her mother had forbidden her from climbing too high, but how could she resist?
She climbed onto a sturdy branch, swinging her small legs while gazing at the vast blue sky. From here, she could see the entire garden and the distant road leading to town.
Smiltle loved this feeling. From up high, the world seemed bigger, and she could imagine all sorts of adventures—far more exciting than the books her father wrote.
---
Dinner—The Best Part of the Day.
Dinner was always the moment Smiltle cherished most. Her parents sat at opposite ends of the table, and she sat in between.
They talked about their day.
Her father shared stories about customers at the store. Her mother reminded her about homework.
Smiltle recounted the fun things at school, a poem she had learned, or a strange dream she had.
She felt warm. This family, this house, these conversations—they were all precious.
---
Before Night Fell.
Before going to sleep, Smiltle always glanced at the rules posted on her wall. Had she followed all of them today?
Of course.
She climbed into bed, pulling the blanket over her head.
Tonight, she would dream again—of a world much bigger than this one. A world filled with adventures and mysteries…
And Smiltle had no idea that soon, the real world would pull her into an adventure beyond anything she had ever imagined.