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Re: Mystery Cookie - 4/5

PostPosted: Sun Feb 16, 2014 2:52 am
by PaperReaper
Looking down at my desk, I stare disappointingly. No cookie to brighten up my day anymore. Something that did catch my eye, though, was that open notebook lying on the desk. It had a message scrawled into the first line saying “Look at the floor. You see a pen, correct?”

Doing just as the notebook said to, I looked down at the floor with a scowl imprinted on my face. Then confusion set into it. There was indeed a pen. A very, very good looking pen. So I do what a normal person like me would, who is obsessed with pens. I picked it up and uncapped it.

Then I moved to sit in my chair, my vibrant green eyes never leaving the swirly chair. As my bottom hit the sitting proportion of the chair, my eyes sailed over to the desk again.

There notebook was just sitting there innocently, with another message scrawled directly below the first. With my mouth gaping, I stare in bewilder. No one came into my work area! I’m positive!

“You have the pen? Now please write a greeting to me with the pen. The magic cannot simply work if you use another pen.”

Taking a deep heave, I put my palm against the freezing page and wrote my message underneath theirs. “Hello. I would say nice to meet you, but that would be a lie, wouldn't it?”
My sassy remark seemed to make whoever was writing angry, because at that moment, it seemed like a pen was jammed into the margins, leaving a deep, dragged mark. Gulping, I waited for words.

“I advise you not to speak with me with that tone, Cheri. Or should I say your true name?”

My mouth went dry and my eyes widened. No, this simply couldn't be him.

“Yes, Caelin, this is Arthur. Now I think I should hand this pen over to my brother, don’t you?”

An unheard cry left my lips and I lowered my pen to write a prompt and subtle “NO.”
However, the other person’s writing began, leaving my pen in the dust.

“Aye, I think he should, Lass.”

Tears sprung to my eyes and they landed on the paper.

“Tears are a little long past due, Lassie.”

Biting my bottom lip, I tried to stop them from dripping on to the notebook’s first page.

“I take it you received my cookies for the past few months, aye?”

My body suddenly became numb. No wonder they were my favorites. No one knew my favorite type of cookie, except one person.

That one person was my best friend and archery teacher back in England. That was a long time ago. Long before the 21st century.

Did I also mention that he was a prince? No? I didn't think so.

“Yes. Do you want to know why they’re my favorite?”

“Aye, I do, Lass.”

A soft smile played across my lips and more tears came. I remember the night I left. I remember the castle that seemed so dull and dark as if they knew of my plans that night. I remember that heartbroken expression the eight year old sorcerer named Arthur had on his face in someone’s arms at the gates. Another thing I noticed, which was by far the most depressing, was the weeping Scottish man holding his heartbroken, British brother. More specifically, I noticed his tears, which were surprising. The young man never cried.

My love. My world. My teacher. He was all of those t that time.

Though the last two aren't true for the time being. There still is that one thing that is. He was still my same ole love.

Flicking my wrist across the page, I wrote in neat calligraphy telling a sincere truth, pouring out my feelings in one statement.

“They remind me of you.”