However, in the spring of 1936 a massive hurricane destroyed much of the island. After the long rebuilding process was complete, the lower class construction and trade workers stayed on, making the island a permanent home and providing a working economy.
Throughout the more recent years tourism and the art scene had seen a big boom on Chartlon Island, making it a haven for all who find themselves there.
The small 'Town Center', as her mother had so endearlingly called it, definitely lived up to its small name. Though, begrudgingly, it did seem to have some things to do, from what Flora could see.
She was passing by one of the many large brick buildings that seemed to fill every block, when she glimpsed a figure in a second floor window and immediately a strange feeling overcame her. It was as if a tug coming from inside the building was forcing her to stop.
A faint sound began to fill the room, or perhaps it was only in her head. It consisted of a whisper-like sound of sorts. It was impossible to make out the words, yet the feeling she got was that the voice was beckoning her to come to it. To follow the voice.
As she does every time she feels lost and confused, she went to her grandfather for help. In this case, it was the attic.
When no reassurance came from the gilded urn, it was clear her grandfather was going to be of no help to her. She was left to ponder this dilemma alone.
"It's been good," she replied, "getting the house set up has been quite a chore. It's both bigger and smaller than our place before, if you can imagine that. I can't wait to show you around!" she finished, leaving his true question unanswered.
Barely looking up from the screen she replied, "do what?"
Flora tried to formulate the question she had been trying to ask without sounding like she was twelve years old. "How do you know? I mean, what makes you figure out what you want to do with your life?"
"It's a pull, I guess," she said casually, with a shrug of her shoulders. "Something pulls at you, drives you to it. Doing anything else other than what pulls you doesn't feel right," she finished, going back to her laptop.
The girls heard Faith calling from the other room, "Cake time!"
They were herded with the family out onto the back patio.
This wish wasn't that of a little girl...
Flora looked at her quizically.
"Are you feeling that pull a bit stronger now?" the quiet girl asked rhetorically.
What was confusing a moment ago for a teenager to think about now made perfect sense to an adult. In fact, she wasn't sure why she had been so scared of it to begin with. It was quite a simple thing actually.
"I have something I need to tell you all," she announced.
Title / Lemon Jelly
|Morand is still missed by Cecil, Khalilah and a gnome as well. |
|Awww... Wrinkly old elderly love. |
|Clearly this stylist needs to expand her palette.|