Fantasy-Mystery
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Say 'black apple' and those could be your last words.
In a world where mythical creatures coexist in serenity, black dreamers are an enemy, but according to Carmiabell's History teacher they are extinct. She couldn't be more wron...
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Darkness came early, the stars aligning themselves in a twisted assortment and the crescent moon dangling above the sky in a perfect C shape.
Benevolent how Damon offered to help them restore the apple, or maybe it was one of his definitions of adventure, or he wanted to see where they were taking it so later he would come for it.
It wasn't the best way to think about a guy who was only trying to aid them in a biting problem. Carmiabell flicked the thought off.
Simon had been set free, his stick still confiscated —until further research. Damon, the richest one, offered to get them info about nightmares or borrow a book or two from the great library.
If there was any place that a book to do with a black apple could be found, it was the chamber of the great library. It was secured with highly armed machinery, arsenals of weapons, and warriors, but Damon assured them that he would find something. Maybe how he got the apple from her bag was how he was going to get his hands on a book. Or his nightmarish ability was to eradicate weapons in a snap.
Every word that came out of his lips seemed to concur with a nightmare's characteristics, but on the other hand his demeanor was irresistible, Carmiabell enjoyed every motion.
They crossed the busy streets and with sleath walked into the alley.
It was dark and eerie, but Damon had a matchstick box for just the occasion.
“Nice neighborhood algebra,” he complemented.
“Whose algebra?” Zuina asked munching into yet another bag of crips.”Oh,” she answered herself.
The guffaw that followed could make walls crinkle in both irritation and disappointment. A girl so charming could not laugh so ugly.
It would have been embarrassing, if she wasn't her best friend.
Carmiabell punched Damon's hard chest grinning subtly. There was a wink in his eyes as he turned in a teasing “ouch” and a small grin.
She didn't love the name, nor the subject, but some part of it made her feel comfortable. It was a nickname given by her only dream come true.
At a distance they could hear stumbling feet of drunkards, but those were not the major menace. Dwarfs had a bad habit of borrowing things without the owner's concern at night.
It wasn't late enough, but who knew? Those two feet creatures could be standing anywhere below their waists waiting for just the moment to go to work.
Not much to Carmiabell’s surprise, the container was flooded with black bags, but that was no reason enough for them not to restore the apple.
Damon pushed a bag over and jammed the apple between a bag and another, deeply, forcing it through the mass of unwanted items.
It was safe to say that it was off their life's left in that spot.
