Amethyst
You are Miria, a fourteen-year-old girl with large, wistful purple eyes and smooth black hair that falls to your waist. You are unusually pale and slim and generally quiet around others, but in this story you will discover untapped courage and wisdom within yourself.
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You yawn and stretch as you tumble out of bed, glancing at the clock. Nine o'clock... WAIT WHAT?? OhmygoshI'mlateforschool... oh wait, yeah, summer... oh yeah. With a sigh of relief, you remember that you're at your grandma's country estate, it's summer, and you're alone in the house. Curiously, you glance around the room. In the daylight, it looks dusty and deserted, as if you'd been the first person to stay there for years. When you got here late last night, it had been hard to see anything, but you notice there's a pretty, old-fashioned oak dresser with a hairbrush and commodities waiting for you, the walls are painted a delicate sky-blue and there appears to be a bathroom. Thank goodness! You stand up and toss the covers back onto the bed, inhaling the sweet fresh scent of morning rain that filters through the lacy white curtains with the breeze.
Everything is almost eerily quiet besides the chirping of birds. Idly, you wonder if your grandmother will be back soon. She said she'd be gone till noon at least. Oh well! Freedom tastes delicious.
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You yawn and stretch as you tumble out of bed, glancing at the clock. Nine o'clock... WAIT WHAT?? OhmygoshI'mlateforschool... oh wait, yeah, summer... oh yeah. With a sigh of relief, you remember that you're at your grandma's country estate, it's summer, and you're alone in the house. Curiously, you glance around the room. In the daylight, it looks dusty and deserted, as if you'd been the first person to stay there for years. When you got here late last night, it had been hard to see anything, but you notice there's a pretty, old-fashioned oak dresser with a hairbrush and commodities waiting for you, the walls are painted a delicate sky-blue and there appears to be a bathroom. Thank goodness! You stand up and toss the covers back onto the bed, inhaling the sweet fresh scent of morning rain that filters through the lacy white curtains with the breeze.
Everything is almost eerily quiet besides the chirping of birds. Idly, you wonder if your grandmother will be back soon. She said she'd be gone till noon at least. Oh well! Freedom tastes delicious.