Chapter 7 - To The Workshop!

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Chapter 7

TO THE WORKSHOP!

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    Yesterday during supper, Clara was bombarded with worried apologies from her aunt.

    Karee kept on asking for forgiveness from Clara almost turning insane that night when she slept in the attic.

    "I am so sorry I made you sleep up there! I almost freaked out when I heard your voice last night, talking to yourself," Karee basically shrieked at her.

    She recalled her aunt almost pulling her newly-dyed hair off when she spoke, "I can't help thinking the darkness and your fear of cold got to you. Clara, I'm so sorry! I'm such an idiot. God!"

    Karee continued to babble on and on about buying a new heater or radiator for the attic when Clara grabbed her shoulders. "Chill, Karee," her niece's words calmed her down. "I'm alright. Honest!"

    "You made me worry! How else would you explain your conversations with yourself up there?"

    "I wasn't talking!"

    "I swear you were. For Christ's sake, Clara, you made me think your frigophobia made you insane! You can sleep back in the bedroom, and I'll be up in the attic this time," her aunt told her then, and it was final.

    And that was how she ended back up in their room, with her aunt now residing on the third storey of their home.

    Clara knew that her aunt can't stand her screams when she gets nightmares, but she can't really blame the woman. Being alone in the dark in that cosy bedroom didn't seem much of a torture after all.

    She was glad to have the room with the newest heater again.

    Today, much to her misery, Clara encountered the Spirit of Winter for a second time.

    She sat in front of the living room fire with a big mug of cocoa in her hands. A large, fluffy blanket was draped over her shoulders. Flames crackled in the hearth, spitting loudly and merrily while she watched them dance.

    Snow fell over Peachborough, and Clara was perfectly happy to stay in the warmth of her home while her aunt was out.

    The house was shrouded in the dusk of the evening; the soft orange glow of the fireplace was the only source of light for Clara while she nestled on the couch. She sniffed the soapy smell of her wool blanket.

    A loud knock on the nearest window to her right snapped her out of her thoughts. She recognized the forming frost to be Jack's doing, and she stood up to let him in.

    Gathering her courage to let in the cold air for a brief moment, she set down her mug, clutched her blankets tight over her figure, and pulled the windowpane inwards with one hand.

    However, as she opened her window, she caught a slight scent of peppermint in the air, along with a hint of a kind of wood she couldn't recognize.

    Clara never knew that the smell of snow could be this... enticing. Or was it even snow?

    "Hello, creeper," she greeted the invisible young man in gladness. She heard a pair of feet touch down on the timber flooring. Clara slammed the panes shut while wearing a smile on her face.

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