Flora stumbled home that day, it was like Meralda had put a sleeping spell on her. Maybe she had. Flora was aching to lie down in bed, but she knew she had to finish off her homework for school tomorrow.
Flora hated school, she got good grades, but school drained the life out of her. She sat in lessons listening to the other people’s conversations; hearing about their exciting lives and comparing them to her own dull life. She knew everyone was different but couldn’t help but want to be like anyone else.
She walked along the pavement distracted by her own thoughts when she suddenly felt herself losing balance. She flung her hands about to try to stop herself from tipping, but it was too late.
Flora lay on the ground, her dress spread around her. This wouldn’t happen to someone else. She sighed and felt her cheeks grow red, but she knew no one would be paying any attention towards her, so she slowly sat up and looked around.
The streets that were normally crammed full of gas-fuelled cars and the same familiar faces that always seemed to be late to work no matter the time looked abandoned. Flora grunted. What time is it? She cursed Meralda for making her so relaxed. She really must have cast a spell on me. She groaned. Making her way to one of the many benches along the pavement she looked up at the sky and groaned once more. The sky was pitch black and the stars were out and shining brightly. The moon was out, sparkling luminously and filled the streets with a silvery illumination.
Flora plopped down on a bench and felt her eyes closing. No, I still must get home. She rubbed her eyes and yawned. This will not do. Flora slapped herself on the cheek. She stood up and felt her legs wobble. She knew that if she were someone else, they would not be almost falling asleep on a bench, in the cold, in the middle of the night. She fixed her glasses and wiped her mouth. She was getting home even if it was the last thing she did.
Looking like a drunk man; Flora swayed at every step. The streets looked like they were moving left to right, but she stormed on.
Finally, Flora came across an aging-green-Victorian door. She sighed in relief, quietly pushed open the door, and tiptoed inside. She walked into the cluttered hallway: Alfie’s shoes lay strung along the corridor, coats that had fallen off the broken hangers were slopped on the floor. She creeped over the hardwood flooring and was about to sneak up when she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. It was like a spell had been cast on her; she couldn’t stop herself from toppling forward. She heard a loud thud and then her eyes fluttered close.
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