Charlton Island, a small landmass in the Simmean Sea, began its quiet history as a very small fishing village. Established in the early 1900's, the Island slowly became popular with a wealthier crowd who began buying up the land for their large vacation homes.
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.
"Ugh, I
hate it here," Flora whined. "There's nothing to do! It's too small! There's not even a downtown, just your stupid
Town Center," she emphasized with distain. "Who wants to hang out at Town Center, anyway?"
"People have survived with far less, Flora," her mother replied from the kitchen where she was preparing lunch. It had been a long day of moving and the last of the furniture had finally been brought into the house. Everyone was exhausted.
"I know this isn't easy for you. It's been hard for us all," Faith said as she continued chopping, trying to remain positive, "your father and I did what we thought was best for the safety of the family. Who knows, you might grow to like it here, find a nice boy, perhaps?" she said light-heartedly.
Faith continued trying to lift her daughter's spirits, "They also have an excellent school system here. I know you're graduating at the end of this year, which is coming up so quickly, but for the short time you're there perhaps you can meet some new friends or pick up an after-school activity."
It was several minutes later before Faith realized she'd been talking to herself.
One saving grace about this place, Flora thought, was that she got her own 'suite' downstairs. She had her own bedroom and bathroom, as well as a large main area. Unfortunately it was furnished with all the leftovers that couldn't fit anywhere else in the house, making her feel as if she was living in a thrift store.
"This place is so lame," she muttered to herself.
Making her way to the school the next morning, Flora tried putting on a brave face. Being the 'new girl' this late in her senior year was so unfair. She had been at the top of her grade back in Harmony and now she has to start over and work her way back up. It would be impossible for her to get back up to top marks before the end of the school year.
I don't even know why I'm bothering to show up at all, she thought to herself as she made her way inside.
Once her uneventful school day let out she hopped on her bike and decided to take a ride around town to see exactly what this dump her parents had moved her to had to offer.
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.
Once she went inside, she found herself inside a museum. The pull was getting stronger as she made her way up the stairs. Following the curious feeling, it lead her into an Egyptian artifact exhibit.
She rounded a corner and came face to face with the figure that had been calling her.
It was nothing more than a statue of a male Egyptian Sphinx, she realized anticlimactically, yet she couldn't stop staring at it.
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.
"How?" she said out loud, "How do I follow you?" When she realized she was standing in the middle of a museum talking to a modern day re-imagined creation of an ancient statue she couldn't help but laugh at herself.
Yet the feeling didn't go away. That sense of being pulled, that voice begging her to find it. It couldn't simply be shut off or ignored. In a way it even brought her a kind of peace, a feeling of wholeness. Purpose.
Flora broke away from the faint whisperings and made her way into the next room where several people were watching one of those boring historical movies that museums always seem to have. It was currently explaining that while all the artifacts in
this museum are cheap replicas, the originals still exist in their native homelands.
So these items still exist in their native homelands, she thought.
What is life trying to tell me? That I need to go to Egypt and try and find this statue that seems for me to want to find it? That's ludicrous, her mind raced.
She left the museum more confused and exhausted than she had ever felt in her entire life. She had just been spoken to by an inanimate object, that seemed to want her to go to the other side of the world to find its original. Welcome to Crazy Town, folks!
As she does every time she feels lost and confused, she went to her grandfather for help. In this case, it was the attic.
"This is a really lousy monument, grandpa," Flora said apologetically to the urn sitting unceremoniously on the floor, "but I wish you were here to help me. Am I going crazy? This voice in my head won't stop!" she said, distraught.
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.
"CeeCee!" Flora squealed pulling her big brother into a hug as he came through the door, "Oh, I'm so glad you guys are here!" she said excitedly. "Thanks for coming all this way, I know that Flora will be so happy to have family around for her birthday. She's been feeling pretty alone here," she said, holding onto her brother tightly.
"Jett," Pete welcomed, shaking the elder man's hand, "it's so good to see you again. How's retirement treating you?" he asked.
"Crappy," he replied, blunt as always, "guys on the force won't even let me carry my gun anymore. Though I did keep all my shirts. They can't have my shirts."
"How are you guys settling in?" Cecil asked, even though they both knew what he meant was 'How are you coping'.
Flora took a deep breath, she'd been going strong for so long now, it wouldn't do anyone any good to break down at her daughter's birthday party.
"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.
Pete, on the other hand, still had trouble maintaining a simple conversation without drifting off, losing himself in thoughts of how much life had changed recently and how much he wished he could fix the problems his family were dealing with.
"How do you do it," Flora blurted out to her cousin, Leeann who was plucking away furiously at her laptop.
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?"
The younger girl paused a moment, thinking.
"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.
Flora sat in quiet reflection. If you had asked her two days before she would have thought nothing pulled at her. Were things different now? That little voice was getting louder.
The girls heard Faith calling from the other room, "Cake time!"
They were herded with the family out onto the back patio.
Once they were all gathered around the birthday girl, Flora stood with her eyes closed, silently making a wish. It wasn't about making straight A's or wishing for a boy to ask her to Prom anymore. This wish meant more than that.
This wish wasn't that of a little girl...
... but that of a woman.
Flora nibbled at her cake distractedly. She was an adult now. Life was completely open to her to do with what she wanted. An open book, so to speak.
"How about now?" Leeann asked her nonchalantly between bites.
Flora looked at her quizically.
"Are you feeling that pull a bit stronger now?" the quiet girl asked rhetorically.
A small smile played across Flora's face.
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.
She stood up from the table and cleared her throat.
"I have something I need to tell you all," she announced.
Title / Lemon Jelly
