Caged Bird Act 1
Dove tinkled the tiny golden bell that hangs from the overgrown bridge and watches the ground in front of her sink down, beckoning her down into the beauty of Mookaite Park. Plum trees welcomed her, and cherry blossoms guarded the white brick walls like soldiers. Pink, purple and black cottages weaved their way up the cobbled road, beckoning in visitors. Crystallised blocks towered over them, sparkling gently, large windows carved into their faces. Candles and lanterns hung mid-air, illuminating the gorgeous pocket that only belonged to magic folk. The park spread out like a portrait come alive.
The moon was near full, and shone on the windowpanes of Chevey Inn, which were covered in daisies and daffodils, a pretty reminder of blooming spring. The little old lady that answered the door was more than welcoming, a purple crystal hat sat atop her bushy head. She gave Dove a large, rusty key for her room, whilst pushing a steamy hot of cocoa into her hands with a smile. Mrs Chevey, the owner, led her to the room at the end of the corridor, and bid her goodnight. She smelled like cinnamon and coffee. She was sweet. Dove was still rather shaken from the events of the night, so she collapsed into bed, and found Mrs Chevey’s affections more than comforting. She threw off her jacket and the ripped tights, tossing them on the floor.
Her stomach was still a ball of knots from the breath of that man, his whisper in her ear, his body holding her against the tree, the look in his eye. She still couldn't exactly figure out what it was.
Her bed also smelled of lavender, and she fell asleep with most of her clothes still on, the curtains open too, which allowed the waxing crescent moonlight from the sky to flood in, and the twinkling of crystals sang her to sleep.
