Maurelle was sitting on the floor playing with some dolls. She was about five years old as she sat on the floor playing. Her wings drooped behind her as she had not learned to hid them yet. They all wanted her to hid them. She couldn’t understand what was happening. Her brother and sister were older. They could hide their wings. They seemed to know more than she did. Like why they left home and why father did not come with them. She felt sad as she sat and played. She looked at her wings. She knew they wouldn’t let her out until she could hide her wings.
“I hate this.” She sighed.
Annabelle heard her, “Maurelle don’t fret.” She sat down next to her little sister.
Maurelle frowned as a tear ran down her face. Thunder could be heard in the distance.
“Oh no don’t start that. ” She said as she wiped her sister’s tears. “We can’t have storms popping up each time you’re upset.”
The sky seemed to quiet butt he bleak dark sky remained as the darkness in Maruelle’s soul remained. “Why can’t I go outside? Where’s father?”
“Oh Maruelle, there are some things you are just too young to understand.”
Maurelle crossed her arms as she didn’t like that answer. “I am not a baby! I want to go outside! I want father!” The lights of the house burst as she Maurelle’s anger came out.
Her mother was in the other room and came rushing in, “Maurelle stop it right now!”
Maurelle froze as her mother came in. She wore a long dress with a white apron wrapped around her waist. Maurelle always thought her mother was the most beautiful women in the work and she hated making her mad but she saw a difference in her and in the others lately. She didn’t know what was going on. They all thought she was just a baby and therefore never told her anything. “I’m sorry mother.”
Olivia, or Libby, came over to her and picked her up. She cradled her in her arms. “Honey, I know you’re sad but we have to be safe. I know you love your daddy but he is not the same man he once was. Please don’t search for him.”
Maurelle slumped in her mother’s arms. “Father doesn’t love me anymore.”
Libby knew this would be difficult but she had to tell her. “Maurelle, I know you are young but this is important. Your father is not the same. He tried to hurt you, all of you.”
Maurelle was mad, “He would never do that!” she ran to her room in tears.
Annabelle got up to go to her, “Let me talk to her.”
“Please hurry. This town can’t afford another rain storm.” Her mother said.
Libby stood up and walked over to the bookshelf as Nathan came in. He was about eight years old with bright red hair and a face which was full of freckles. His bright red hair was not soaking wet. “She’s crying again isn’t she?”
Libby was looking for a book to read to Maurelle in hoped of calming her down. “Yes, well she’s so young. She just doesn’t understand.”
“Mother a book won’t solve everything.” He added as he was about to go up to see his sister.
“Sometimes a good book is just what is needed.” Libby added. She often thought that in this land she could become a librarian.
Nathan shrugs and goes up to see his sister. As he enters her room he walks up to her and gives her a hug. “Come on you’re gonna flood flood this place.”
Maurelle wipes her eyes and looks at them, “But why don’t you care about father? How can you let mother say such things about him?
“Because he is evil and gave me this scar.” Nathan raises his shirt and shows a cut that ran across his belly. “If mother did not come in when she did I would have died.”
Maurelle reached to touch the scar. “Oh Nathan, I’m so sorry.”
Annabelle hugged Maurelle, “Mother is doing her best. She wants to protect us. She loves you. You need to listen to her.”
Nathan replies, “Maurelle you are probably the most powerful one of all of is. Father wants you especially. He wants to use your magic to corrupt you. So you can be at his side but that means you will be hurting people.
Libby was standing in the doorway listening to them. She was carrying box and book in her hand. “Maurelle,” She says from the doorway, “We are all here to help you.” She hands her the box.
Maurelle takes the box excitedly. “What is this? It’s not my birthday or Christmas?”