victorian-era

I__ an idiot for trying to avoid these feelings because they have caused me pain in the past.

The Victorian era was perhaps the last point in Western history when magic and science were allowed to coexist.

Honour looked so much like a child herself, confined to bed, a white nightgown, like one of those maudlin Victorian dolls. Her cheeks were red, like someone had painted them, but I knew it was from rubbing, wiping away her melancholy.

Don't forget to speak scornfully of the Victorian Age; there will be time for meekness when you try to better it. Very soon you will be Victorian or that sort of thing yourselves; next session probably, when the freshman come up.

But she had learnt, in those solemn hours of thought, that she herself must one day answer for her own life, and what she had done with it; and she tried to settle that most difficult problem, how much was to be utterly merged in obedience to authority, and how much might be set apart for freedom in working.

He is only fifteen! Does she really think he is prepared for marriage, especially with his intellectual range of a teacup?

Go find your own hiding spot!_ I hissed. __he seat is not wide enough to hold me and that whale you call a nightgown._ Also, we were better off if whoever was coming caught one of us _ and by one of us, I meant Rose.

Lucille, please make them go away!_ she moaned, her voice muffled. __o you think I am a divine being sent from the celestial realm to guard you from the harsh punishment of rousing from your slumber?_ __s that a yes?_ __ am surrounded by idiots.

All the carriages filed out in single file but in a fashion that seemed to mean that they were competing against each other. The only sound that could be heard for a while was the pounding of the horses_ hooves and the squeal and groan of the wheels against the road. Their hooves kicked up dirt, creating a storm of dust. Once the miniature storm and the sound of galloping horses subsided, I could only see one last person. He glared up at me and mouthed, __ext time._ Christopher dug his boots into Dawn__ muscled flank. She reared up and broke into a gallop through the sparse forest, heading for escape. The last trace of them was the particles of floating dust, bright like floating fire.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe there really is some goodness here in our world. But if goodness existed, that must mean that darkness existed as well.

But what if Oscar__ __reathes fire and threatens to cook you over a grill?_ __ was thinking what if he gets mad, but I think your way works as well._ __hen you shall make for a tasty meal.

Sunlight streamed in a steady flow, casting flecks of gold onto the floor, bathing my skin. I inhaled deeply. Already, the air inside my bedroom had been perfumed with nature. A breeze whispered softly and breathed carefully onto my skin.

Was it possible to be homesick for a soul?

There was a sudden flash of lightning which brightly illuminated our faces. I squinted against the harsh light. It was soon followed by the crack of thunder. The strong wind whipped our hair around our faces, and the younger girls squealed as they quickly ran across the grass to get inside the school. Rose and I sat up, smiles on our faces as we listened to the weather__ dangerous melody. The third flash of lightning finally ripped open the sky__ belly. Freezing rain cascaded out, drenching us in a matter of seconds, the flower garlands drooping and lying limp on our matted hair.

The rain landed on my skin with a barely audible patter and changed the tempo of its repetitive dance, letting the wind change its course and angle. The cold soon seeped through my dress and into my bones. An iris from my garland fell in my lap.

I took my friend__ hand as she helped me up. With our hands still linked and our flower crowns tangled in our hair, we danced, laughing with joy, through the rain and towards the school, the lightning showing us our path with its powerful light.

Making friends is not a big deal. Replacing me with them after talking to them for only one bloody day is a big deal.

The two of us locked up our own little secrets from the real world. We had experienced countless sleepless nights when we would share our fears, our worries, and our passions; when we would gossip about the school and the other girls. We had played too many pranks and snuck out more than enough times to be expelled if the teachers ever found out. We were professionals at the art of being discreet; however, we had never found sneaking out of a residence necessary, especially when the reason was not to play a prank.