17/08/2024
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Treasure Trove Tales
🔞🔞🔞🔞 WITHERED DANDELION 🌼🌼
"In the realm of imagination, this tale is my castle. Please respect my creative domain and refrain from copying or sharing without permission. - Treasure Trove Tales .
CHAPTER 1 : NIGHTMARES
When the lights go out ,the shadows come alive and the nightmares begin
- unknown
The air was heavy with the stench of blood and smoke. Screams echoed through the hallways as the shadows seemed to writhe and twist around us. I saw my friends fall, one by one, their eyes frozen in terror. The killer's presence was a palpable force, a malevolent entity that seemed to delight in our suffering. I tried to run, but my legs were paralyzed with fear. The darkness closed in, and I knew I was next."
I sat up with panic. My face paled with horror, I tried breathing but the more I tried the harder it seems. I was sweating profusely. It's just a dream, I tried assuring myself but it just felt like a bitter lie. Tears brimmed my eyes as I tried nomalising my heartbeat. My mind once a tranquil sea has become a restless storm refusing to let me anchor in sleep since that day.
Since I know it'll be worthless trying to sleep, I stood up as walked towards my balcony. As I looked up to the sky , I smiled sadly knowing my brother will be one of those stars. I missed him, my classmate I'll never forget them. As I looked towards my night stand, it was still 3 Am. Just 3 more hours before the first crow.
It's not that far. It's not like it's my first time staying up till 6 in the morning. I'll just sit down here drowning in thoughts that cut like knives, yet clinging to a fragile thread of hope.
Startled by the loud c**k crow, I realized it's time to begin my day . I walked towards my bathroom to do my daily business. After I was done bathing, I walked up to my closet filled with different colours of clothes. It seems like my wardrobe didn't match the real me.
I just used this colourful clothes to distract my mind from the fact am nearly died inside me. I took out a white flowly with a pair of white scandal. Packing my hair in a messy bun, I took out my mini handbag as I walked out of my room. I walked towards my mom's room to check if she's home. I sighed loudly as I looked into her room and found out she is not home.
Ever since that incident, the distance between us was like a thin crack in a mirror barely visible, but threatening to shattered if not addressed. You would all be wondering why am getting ready for work instead of school. Well I was supposed to enter university since I was in grade 12 already but because of that traumatic event. I decided to quit school.
"As I hurried through the winding streets of Italy, the warm sun beat down on my skin, and the scent of freshly brewed espresso wafted through the air. I weaved past clusters of chattering pedestrians, my feet pounding the cobblestone pavement in a frantic rhythm. The sound of honking Vespa scooters and lively Italian chatter filled my ears, and I felt the rush of adrenaline as I dodged a cyclist whizzing past me.
The ancient buildings seemed to blur together as I hastened along, their terracotta rooftops and ornate facades a colorful haze. I sidestepped a group of laughing tourists, their cameras and maps a testament to their own hurried exploration of this enchanting city.
My destination beckoned, and I pressed on, my senses overwhelmed by the sights, sounds, and aromas of Italy's vibrant streets. The taste of gelato lingered on my lips, a sweet reminder of the joy that awaited me at the end of my hasty journey.
"I finally arrived at the cozy little restaurant, its wooden sign creaking in the gentle breeze: 'Bella Vita' - Beautiful Life. I pushed open the door, and the bell above it rang out, announcing my arrival. The aroma of freshly baked pizza crust and simmering tomato sauce enveloped me, immediately calming my frazzled nerves.
I slipped into the kitchen, exchanging warm smiles with my colleagues, who were already prepping for the lunch rush. The chef, Giovanni, nodded in greeting, his flour-dusted hands moving deftly as he crafted a perfect circle of dough. I hung my bag on the hook and began to tie on my apron, the familiar routine a comforting ritual.
As I worked, the sounds of sizzling vegetables and lively chatter filled the air, and I felt my pace slow, my senses coming alive with the sights, smells, and tastes of the kitchen. The hustle and bustle of the Italian streets gave way to the warm, welcoming atmosphere of Bella Vita, my second home.
"THE END... for now!
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