Celestia's Masks: A Narrative Fiction

rubbed her eyes frantically trying to adjust to the bright light she'd be exposed to with absolutely no warning. She'd wondered

For a moment, she remained still, and corpse-like, but then color shot back into her face. Her eyes shot open, and she coughed loudly, a stream of blood and water dribbling down her chin. She looked about weakly, her eyes racing from Britta to Vig, and then Gall. In a tremulous voice, she asked, “Where am I?”

Her heart was pounding, her head was racing. She looked around; where was she? Then she remembered the super bright light and the darkness, and she tried to remember if she knew where she was.

Then the warm, golden sun started beaming over her. That let her know that it was noon and time for her to go out. Thinking of leaving her little bunny made her tremble and her heart ache.

Blurred vision engulfed her thoughts, the sound of sirens filled the emptiness she felt or just confused

“That all depends on how you answer my question.” He turned onto his side, slipped his hand beneath the bedsheet, and pulled up the bottom hem of Joan’s nightdress. “When can I bed you

"F-fine," he said in Morgana's voice. He looked down at himself to see two obviously feminine features he'd never seen from this perspective before. His head was spinning wildly and he fell back onto the bed.

“My sister was an amazing woman, and it is so tragic that she never had the opportunity to raise her daughter. She would have been an incredible mother.” Her sad, lingering smile begins to fade.

All was still. She continued to sit there, lifeless. This puzzled me because even from afar, her distressed body convulsed with such great force that it even made me shudder in fear. What could have been so terrifying that it leads her into loud sighs of defeat? She leaned back into her rusty and squeaky chair, rowing her body back and forth. She seemed helpless, face filled with utter sorrow; I had pity on this poor thing. Another endless sighs of defeat. She stood up ever so quickly, almost knocking the stack of dusty papers off the dustless table, and began to dance. It was quite awful—her dancing. Not to mention that her defeated sighs morphed into unpleasant and cacophonous shrieks of melodic tune. Although she sang, her signs of distress

With not another second, she followed her mother's orders. She jumped to her bookshelf, and she cautiously took her necklace to her neck and her ring to her middle finger. She turned around and was whisked out the door by her mother.

“Nothing.” Cecelia shook her head but the small smile didn’t leave her face as she smoothed out her dress and faced a small, plump maid who looked like a well-padded cushion.

With arms wide open, Allie stood on the balcony of her newly refurbished home and enjoyed the rainy mists blowing onto the balcony off the late afternoon shower; she had dearly missed sitting there in the mornings and evenings, watching the sunrises and the ships going and coming. Allie loved her grandmother, but was glad to have left her grandmother’s house and gone back to her own. Here, she was the mistress- she could lie in bed all day if she chose to- she could do as she pleased.

The ancient book had faint wrinkles in the right corner. Edith vigilantly untied the scarlet ribbon across the leathery cover. She seized her indigo lead pencil, and began to scribble on the unmarked page. Every excessive thought,

It was time for a late breakfast, but instead of eating, Joan rose in her shift and dressing gown and fumbled around in the wooden chest by her bed that contained her few books. Herbology, anatomy, a book of poetry… nothing appealed.

Ten years had passed since Arthur had become king, and the kingdom was at peace. It angered Morgana. Her sisters had died, Morganas “immortal” spell had worn off after many years, leaving her with only the silence of the forest to live with. Tears streamed down her face as she replaced the dying flowers with living ones on her sisters graves. Her sorrow was interrupted by the voice of a woman.