As the sun rose, Tavia pulled the covers over her head to hide from the sun rays as they bled into her room from her tiny, diamond-shaped attic window with its stained glass; they appeared like a portal to the outside world. The window was set deep into the thick stone walls, their panes of uneven glass distorted and bubbled by centuries of exposure to the elements. The panes caused the rays to be colored as though the rays had passed them through a prism.

“Tavia,” a voice called from below. It was Mrs. Jenkins, a kind older woman who was the caretaker for the orphanage where Tavia stayed; she cared for all the kids in the orphanage as though they were her own; she was like a mother to all of them, especially to Tavia who had no one else to look after her.

“Coming, Mrs. Jenkins?” Tavia called out in a very sleepy voice as she threw the bed covers back and sat in bed. She yawned, turned to get off her bed, put on her slippers, and then stood up; she stretched and made her way down the ladder from the attic where her bedroom was. Still, in her nightdress, she walked down the wooden ladder and two flights of stairs as she tiredly made her way to the living room, a big room where all the kids ate together and socialized. The Silber orphanage was home to 15 kids, sometimes less and sometimes more. The room was large, with a long wooden table at the center and a kitchen entrance doorway to the right side. The room was adorned with various paintings on the walls, a large rug in the middle, and a fireplace with a marble mantel; it was a very cozy room for its size. Tavia walked in and headed for the kitchen entrance. As she looked at the colossal clock which hung above the fireplace while rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, it was 7:50 am, and Tavia had overslept again.

“Good morning Tavia,” Mrs. Jenkins said as she walked in from the back door with a bowl of freshly picked apples. she smiled as she walked over to the counter where Tavia was standing, placed the apples down, and asked, “How was your night? I see you slept in again.”

“I didn’t mean to, I had this nice dream where I was in a field with my friends, and we were going on an adventure,” Tavia replied as she followed Mrs. Jenkins across the room.

“It’s okay, Tavia,” Mrs. Jenkins said as she reached the top shelf for some thyme and handed them to Tavia, “you need your rest for the adventures you have ahead of you.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Jenkins,” Tavia replied with a smile as Mrs. Jenkins looked down at her in her nightdress “you’re welcome,” she said as she turned around and headed to the kitchen stove. Tavia followed behind her.

“Hm, I wonder how we got to the fields in the first place,” Tavia thought to herself as she placed the thyme jar on the counter next to the stovetop. Mrs. Jenkins turned on the stove and set a pan on the heat as she began to make breakfast for the kids.

“Mrs. Jenkins, Billie hit me,” one of the girls screamed as they dashed into the kitchen. The loud screech jolted Tavia out of her thoughts, and she looked at the girl standing in the kitchen doorway with a red mark on her cheeks.

“No, I didn’t,” said another kid as he rushed in behind her and stood next to her. Mrs. Jenkins turned around to face the kids standing in the doorway. She shook her head, sighed, and turned to Tavia.

“Why don’t you go get dressed,” Mrs. Jenkins said as she walked towards the kids standing in the doorway.

“Okay, “Tavia replied chirpily as she turned around and headed back to her room in the attic; she ran into multiple kids going up and down the stairway, and the sound of numerous kids talking to each other and screaming filled the hallways as she passed making her way up her ladder into the attic which she chose to live in since it was the only private place in the house, as the other kids had to share their rooms. She went to her room, picked up her drying cloth, and went back down, heading towards the bathroom. Upon getting there, she was greeted by a swarm of children moving around in the vast bathroom; she shuffled and squeezed herself through the children to get into one of the shower stalls, with the sounds of children everywhere, some using the mirrors and others making a mess of the towels. She reached the shower stall, closed the door, and took a deep breath as she drowned out to noise from the other kids and turned on the shower, 8 mins later she was out and shuffling through the swarm of kids once more; this time, she was bare feet, and the feel of the cold hardwood floor of the medieval house on her feet sent shivers up her spine as she made her way back to her room, she stared into the mirror in the corner of her room and took a long look at herself. Lost in a trance as she stares into her own eyes, a loud thud from downstairs pulls her back to reality. She ran to her clothes chest on the right side of her bed, dug into it, pulled out a flower-patterned skirt and a beige-colored top, threw them on, and ran back to the mirror to admire her outfit; she stopped. Looking into the mirror, she took a long look at her outfit her long brown hair draping over her shoulders, her grey eyes reflective like a window to her soul, her warm fair skin glowing as the sun illuminated her face in many colors from the side, her small pale lips added to her beauty. She turned her head towards the ladder as she put on her flat shoes and descended the ladder. She ran down the flight of stairs bumping into other kids as she went.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Mrs. Jenkins, I’m heading to the library,” she yelled as she approached the wooden door of the house.

“Be back early,” Mrs. Jenkins replied as she turned her head around, only to watch Tavia as she burst out of the door and onto the street.

As Tavia gets on the street, she is engulfed by a sudden calm as if she had escaped from a warzone, the serene sights on the streets of this agrarian town, the cobblestone-infused sidewalks lined the dirt paths that stretched on for a few miles. They made turns ever so often, the narrow street encompassed by several brick houses of varying heights with brick shingles ringing on the rooftops and hangovers jolting out from each building, creating a shade over the road. Tavia began to breathe in the peace of the outdoors, Suddenly.

“Tavia,” came a voice behind her; as she looked behind, she wondered who it could’ve been. It sounded more like a whisper.

“Tavia,” the voice repeated as if calling for her attention; she turned around to see who it was and was blinded by a bright light; she squinted and looked into the distance to see who it was, and just then,

“Tavia,” the voice came again, but it wasn’t faint; it was louder, as though the speaker was right in front of her, and then finally, she heard it one last time.

“Tavia, Wake up,” she jolted out of her sleep as was being shaken awake; she opened her eyes to a bright light bulb dispensing light directly at her face; Tavia was blinded and forced to close her eyes again, then upon opening them once more she turned her head to the side and shared a stare with Raven who was standing at her bedside.

Towering over her in this 6’4” posture with his bulky right arm and bionic left arm, it was easy to see that his stoic facial expression was that of someone who had been battle-hardened and survived the scar on his face running over his nose and across his left eye as well as the multiple scars on his right arm were all medals he wore proudly.

“I see you’ve been dreaming again, princess,” he said, “wake up; we gotta go; the crew’s waiting,”

“2 more minutes”, Tavia pleaded in a groggy voice,

“No, the last time you said that it became two hours, “Raven replied

“I’ll be at the heliport before you even know,”

“No, not this time, you’re coming with me; get your lazy ass out of bed,”

“Okay, fine, you’re no fun,”

She said as she turned her body off the bed and got up, she stretched, picked up her black bomber jacket from a wall rack which had been endowed with medals and holes as if the jacket itself had been a war veteran, she threw the jacket on over the grey shirt which she had on, packed her hair in a ponytail with a band she retrieved from the side pocket of her jacket and dusted off the camo trouser she had on, as she looked around her room, it was quite a small space as across from her was a table with a chair and a couple of gadgets and gizmos lying on the table and around the room, above her headboard, a collage of pictures and postcards which she had collected over the years, as she sat back on her bed and went to put on her black combat boots - which had seen better days with the mud infused soles of the shoe and the scruff marks that embellished the length of the boot, it was safe to say the shoes had a story to tell - she noticed that there was a hole in her sock as she wriggles and thumb and index toes.

“Hm, will have to do,” she said as she slid her feet into the boots, laced them up, and stood up off the bed, “Let’s get going, princess, shall we” she gestured to Raven, who had been standing next to the doorway the entire time.

“Umph,” he scoffs as he turns out of the room, bending not to hit the doorways of the small room; she follows behind him, picking up her plasma rifle, which was glowing yellow, showing the battery packs were almost exhausted, as she looked back and watched the door shut, she thought to herself if it was indeed a dream.