Moonflower Mystique

"Golderine, wake up!" Aunt Mariam's sharp voice cut through my dreams like a knife. Groaning, I yanked the blanket over my head and pressed my hands against my ears. No way was I dealing with her morning drama this early.

Aunt Mariam, never one to take no for an answer, barged into my room, yanking the curtains wide open. A gust of cool air swept in as she threw the windows open too. It was still dark outside, and all I could think about was how ridiculous it was to open windows at this hour. What if some psycho clown climbed in and murdered me in my sleep?

"Sweetie, you know you have to go to school today. Wake up," she cooed, a fake sweetness lacing her tone as she tugged at my blanket.

"I hate my life. Just give me five more minutes," I mumbled, squeezing my eyes shut tighter.

"Golderine Scarlet Grande, wake the hell up! You're going to miss the bus, and don't forget you need to go outside and greet the sun!" Her voice rose an octave, and I could hear the exasperation dripping from every word. With a dramatic slam of my bedroom door, she stormed off.

Great. Another morning in hell.

I squinted at the clock on my nightstand. 5:00 AM. Seriously? The school bus didn't even show up until 7:00 AM. Aunt Mariam loved creating chaos where there was none. Every single day of my 17 years, she made it her mission to get me out of bed at the crack of dawn, weekend or not. And the whole "greet the sun" routine? Don't get me started.

She claimed it was for "beauty and growth," but standing in the garden like a scarecrow while the sun rose made me feel like an idiot. Not to mention the neighbors' kids, who always stared at me as if I were a zoo animal. The Rosenbergs, in particular, had a knack for making my life miserable. They nicknamed me "The Unwanted One" and spread rumors about me at school.

Honestly, I didn't blame them entirely. My mom had died giving birth to me, and my dad was struck by lightning on the very day I was born. Same day, same hour. If that wasn't a curse, I didn't know what was.

Despite Aunt Mariam's assumptions, I didn't take the bus to school. No way was I dealing with those noisy, judgmental teens. Instead, I walked an hour every morning, enjoying the peace and quiet before the chaos of the day.

With a resigned sigh, I got out of bed and shuffled to the bathroom. A bath, not a shower—that was my ritual. I sank into the warm water, letting it wash away the drowsiness. Fourteen minutes later, I was out, towel-dried, and applying lotion. After washing my face, I slipped into my school uniform: a crisp white shirt, a blue skirt, short white socks, and polished black shoes. I tied my blue tie snugly and pulled on my blazer.

My hair was another story. I styled it into a high ponytail, curled the ends, and fluffed it out for volume. Satisfied with my reflection, I grabbed my glasses and headed to the kitchen.

"Finally, you're here," Aunt Mariam said, handing me a plate of pancakes and a glass of orange juice. "I was starting to think you'd gone back to bed."

"I was curling my hair, Mary," I replied nonchalantly. That's what I called her—Mary. Short, sweet, and ironic, given how little sweetness she possessed.

"Golderine, sweetie, eat fast and go greet the sun. You don't want to miss it," she chirped, her voice overly cheerful. "It's good for your beauty and growth."

Seventeen years of this nonsense. When I was a baby, she'd carry me outside to "greet the sun." Now, it was my responsibility, and I hated every second of it.

"Aunt, it's 5:49. The sun doesn't rise for another six minutes. Don't rush me, or I might choke on this food. And if I choke, who's going to take care of you?" I smirked, giving her my best puppy-dog eyes.

"Take care of me? Ha! I've been taking care of you since the day you were born," she retorted, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I'm not some frail granny. I'll age like fine wine—old but fragrant, sweet, and timeless."

I couldn't help but laugh. "You're 30, Mary. Shouldn't you be showing at least a few signs of aging? Whatever you're doing, I want in on it when I hit your age."

She chuckled, taking a sip of her juice. "It's not about products, Golderine. It's about who you are, what's in your blood, and how long you're meant to live. You'll understand when you turn 18."

Her cryptic words hung in the air, but I chose not to dwell on them. I finished my breakfast and headed outside for the dreaded sun ritual.

The garden was quiet, the air cool and crisp. The first rays of sunlight began to peek over the horizon, warming my face. Despite my irritation, there was something soothing about it—until I noticed Steve Rosenberg staring at me from his window.

Ugh, Steve. He and his family had made it their life's mission to ensure everyone in Raven's Peak hated me. Even Aunt Mariam wasn't spared their disdain. But I had a plan: finish school, sell my parents' house, and move far away from this miserable town.

The sun's warmth grew stronger, and I knew it was time to go. I packed my books and lunch into my backpack, slipped some money into my pocket, and went back inside to say goodbye.

"Before you leave, sit here," Aunt Mariam instructed, holding a makeup brush.

"Seriously?"

"Yes. I need to apply some freckles and tone down your face. You're too... appealing."

She loved to paint freckles on my face, claiming it would make me look less attractive. Spoiler: it didn't work. No amount of makeup could make me ugly. I could rock scars and still look stunning. Once she was satisfied, I put on my glasses, transforming into the soft, nerdy version of myself.

"Bye, Mary," I called as I headed out the door.

The hour-long walk to school was my sanctuary. The morning air was fresh, and the world felt peaceful. But as I got closer to school, my nerves kicked in. No matter how much I tried to ignore them, the stares and whispers always got to me.

"Look, it's The Unwanted One,"someone muttered as I passed.

I kept my head down, clutching my backpack tighter. One more year, I reminded myself. Just one more year, and I'd be free of this place.