Chapter 1: The Deep Maroon Red Journal
Layla laughed as she swung from the grand tree. Her pale blue blue eyes shining in the sunlight. In the air, she looked like she was flying, gracefully flying. When she landed she met her sister's eyes. The dark, almond, brown eyes she was used to seeing, and the freckles sprinkled on her face.
"Mother told you not to jump anymore" Kayla said, crossing her arms and smirking, almost like she knew Layla was in trouble. Layla never was in trouble, she was the kindest girl in the area, always helping others and caring for animals. This was the one thing she would ever get in trouble for. "Mother!" she called.
"Kayla! Why did you do that?" Layla shouted at her. Her mother, Raina, walked in, her sapphire eyes and freckles looking gorgeous with her silky black hair.
"What is it Kayla?" she asked at her sister. "Is everything okay?"
"No Mother. It unfortunately isn't. Layla here jumped off the tree again." she said, trying to sound proper. Their parents were very rich, very rich indeed. They wore dresses everyday and drank tea and ate cookies when guests came over.
Layla's wispy pink dress was as clean as can be, her hair in the same bun, her makeup the exact same. It looked as if she never jumped off the tree.
"Layla. Is this true?" Raina asked suspiciously. Her eyebrows raised.
"No Mother. It isn't true." Layla said delicately.
Raina scoffed. She was clearly mad at Kayla, not Layla. She left, her hair swishing from side to side. Kayla yelled at her sister and stormed off in fury.
Layla laughed. She loved how she could get away with anything really. She walked into the mansion. She walked into the giant mess inside too. Her mother and sister were yelling at each other, her stepfather was ordering servants to clean faster, the servants were sweating and hurrying around the house, and Charlotte was chasing Ruby. Charlotte was the 3rd child, Ruby was the 4th child of the Evaline's.
Layla was the 2nd child, Kayla was the oldest out of the bunch. It was almost always chaos in the house.
Gliding past everyone, she went up the stairs, her heels clicking the stairs at a steady rhythm. Her room was massive. She had a huge canopy bed, an entire table for makeup with a mirror, 4 closets, and a work space. The first closet was for shoes, the second closet was for accessories, the third closet was for dresses, part of the fourth closet was more dresses, and the other part of the fourth closet was tights and sweaters.
She opened a drawer. Inside was an old journal full of stories, a deep maroon red journal. she grabbed her pen and flipped through the pages. Her deceased father had written stories he never published, he instead started a business. Each day I read a page, the journal having thousands of pages filled out. With my pen I made notes and annotated the stories on the side.
Today was page 11 chapter 1 of a book he called Wizo the Wizz of the Wizarding Wizzing. The title was odd, but the story, so far, was spectacular. She started reading the page:
"Wizo! You dumb-dumb! WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT! YOU RUINED EVERY SINGLE THING OF THIS BELOVED-
It got cut off.
"What!?!" she said, puzzled. A moment before the words were there, but as she read it evaporated or sunk into the journal.