The Story Of A Princess and The Reincarnated Prince_His secret._Where Fairies Play_Oblivion
Catalog Guide:
The Story Of A Princess and The Reincarnated Prince
“You--my dear, Anthony, you--” Although there was glass in between them and a big distance after that, Anthony could not help but step back. “You are him! We--we spent--” the woman tried to stand but the thick metal locks on her feet and arms restrained her from doing any movement. “Oh, don’t you remember? Of course you don’t--that wretched brother of mine let you forget everything!” She sneered. She looked like a wild animal that was ready to pounce and attack its prey.Nurses entered the room opposite theirs in order to restrain the woman--Amelia, Anthony recalled. She has been a resident of ...
His secret.
Angelica had had this dream a dozen times before. A dream in which she was running through a green forest, its branches and grass wet, the sun peeking through the leaves as if trying to learn her secrets, the dead sticks under her bare feet creating cuts on her delicate skin, the leaves under her crunching louder and louder as she leapt in between the silent trees. The leaves a silent whisper. The animals nonexistent. The forest was other-worldly yet it seemed almost familiar to the girl, the smell of wet grass and nature comforting to her. So why was she running? She was running away from the...
Where Fairies Play
Arabella flew around the lavender growing, delicately inhaling the calming scent of the purple flowers. It was a warm summer morning, the dew had just left and the plants were still moist, the honey bees began to do their work, pollinating and buzzing around her. "Watch out you clumsy creature, can't you share with others?" She told the bee boldly, some fairies were quite the brats you see, others were mischwww.onedoor.ccievous and enjoyed causing troubles. Arabella had a strong personality really, she was comfortable fluttering her pretty colorful wings and hovering around the lavender. "Hmph, we have to e...
Oblivion
Stand clear of the closing doors, please. Lethe pressed herself against the railing that marked the edge of the train’s bench and wrapped both arms around her bag on her lap. Position secured, she leaned her head against the cool metal pole, letting the familiar cadence of subway announcements blur into the background. She immediately regretted the pole, as the train lurched away from the station and her head vibrated painfully against it. At least she’d gotten a seat - getting on at Grand Central meant fighting tooth and nail with all the other commuters. She’d already missed one train and h...