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♡♡♡ I had thought that it'll be okay. What bad can happen with just changing place, right? But, I certainly wasn't prepared for this. Those beautiful eyes of his. The greenest. And the baggage that follows. My life will never be same again.

Fantasy / Romance
Age Rating:

[1] Packing or Darcy?


PACKING or Darcy? Tell me what's more important?

Darcy, right?

I know, I know. But will my parents listen to me? No.

Here I was, in my bed, reading Pride & Prejudice for the thousandth time, but no, they'll not let me be. They want me to pack my things. Now.

Why can't I do that later? Yeah I know that we're leaving tomorrow morning but still I can pack later today. Yeah I also know that it's 19:30 now and I need hours to pack but still...

Okay okay I get it, I'll pack now.

I shut my book.

LET'S start with the clothes and leave the books and photo albums for last.

Because if I start with them now then I'll be stuck reading the books and reminiscing memories of the photos. And then you can as good as forget about packing.

I open my wardrobe and get started packing aka throwing all the clothes inside the duffle bag.

I am pretty sure that when my mom sees it she'll be on the verge of hysterics. And start telling me how I never listen to her and how I should be more attentive and well behaved. She's domineering & it suits her as well with her fiery red hair and chocolate eyes. She's gorgeous. No wonder that dad is still head over heels for her. They were childhood sweethearts.

Dad is no less either with his cropped jet black hair and ocean eyes. Together they make a stunning pair. And me? Nah. I'm nowhere quite as beautiful as them. Yeah I resemble them very much. But where they look like movie stars, I look like a side actress. Who is in the movie but not quite as mesmerizing as to be the protagonist.

No. I didn't get mom's red hair and dad's blue eyes. My hair is midnight black, like dad's and eyes are chocolate brown, like mom's. Although aside from the eyes I've also inherited my mom's temper.

And even though people seem to pity me, because I didn't get mom's attractive hair and dad's blue eyes, I like myself. My hair goes well with my clothes. As I like to wear black and silver most of the time.

And chocolate is life. So I like my eyes too.

Okay, so I have successfully cramped the duffle bag with all of my clothes. Well three duffle bags to be exact.

Now the books and copies.

THEN I notice that painting. It's of one of my frequent dreams. Of an orb. Inside a forest, there's a fountain and beside the fountain is a person with a glowing skin. He's washing some golden thing I the person. And I'm standing behind a tree beside the fountain a little far away. And I can't move. Like I'm glued to the spot, watching him, admiring him, mesmerized in his wake.

Then suddenly, I think when the golden pot is filled with water, the water starts to form golden vapours, whitch comes out of the pot and forms a paths in air and leads the glowing guy in my direction. And to my absolute horror, I seem to move forward in his direction although by- thank god- hiding from tree to tree. But still, in his direction. Then just when he rounds around the last tree to see me, I wake up. I never get to see his full face. I only thing I remember seeing after waking up is, a pair of brilliant green eyes, just like the forest.

The painting is of the forest and the fountain, and that gorgeous glowing guy. From back side though. As that's the only side I see from behind the tree. And when he comes toward me, his face gets hidden by the leaves.

But I have never painted those beautiful lively green eyes. I felt like they'll come to life along with the whole face the moment I've drawn them.

And as much as I'd like to see him, I don't feel like I'm prepared for that, yet.

Maybe he's a mere figment of my imagination anyway. Although he seems anything but mere.

But still, he can't be true. I'm truly and utterly convinced of that. So why destroy the thrill of that by seeing him?

But then an annoying voice reminds me from the back of my mind,

Why would he come to life the moment you draw his eyes, if he's only just a mere figment of imagination of your oh so creative mind?

Well that's why I think. Maybe I'm getting mad? Do I have some mental problem?

But then why did my mom became senseless when she saw this painting?

Because of low blood pressure. That's what dad had stuttered quickly with a pale face.

Hm, so many questions without answers. Maybe I need to get immersed in a different world by reading a book.

I've completed packing anyway.

So let's go where I left Darcy.

I'll deal with my crazy life later.

It's just a dream anyway. No need to invite a migraine for that.

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