Cloud Foot by rose l. (popular novels .TXT) 📖

Cloud foot

Chapter 1

In a world not like the one in which this book resides, this story begins. A world captivated by magc of all sorts, where adventures are the norm and the people never know what to expect.

A small, small, village in a large, large desert is where she lives. A young girl, 12 years old, stuck in the middle of nowhere, on the outskirts of insanity. Her rusty red hair matches the dusty red desert. The sky also seems to fit in with the colour sceme, as does the half dead village, creaking with age, the old wood of the houses beaten by the sand, wind and sun. No one in there right mind would have ever guessed that the village was in preparation for it's 125th anneversiry. The silence seemed deafeningly loud. The noise and buzz would only come after the 125th anneversery, 3 days to be precise, he would call that fashionably late. She sat on a soft red rock just outside the assortment of poorley and hasteley built wooden, red houses. Her fingers covered in the red dust from the rock she was anxiousely fumbling with. Every thing was red apart from her brown eyes which had turned green with envy. She wore red most of the time as well as brown. The pale skin on her face was void of any blush or frecles but full of anxiety.

She thought to her self "a fifty-fifty chance and I get stuck on a rock in the middle of the desert while my magical brother flies all around the world." It's not that she is a mean, bitter, jealous, person it is just that a fifty-fifty chance really did make such a difference. Elizita was an orphan, her parents died when she was an infant. Her grandmother had raised her and her brother ever since. Her mother was a wizard and her farther was just an ordinary man, an accountant to be precise. She was born with no magical abilities while her brother became the infamous red-tips the wizard. He was called red tips because his hair is black with red tips, which he was actualy born with. The people of the village revered him for bringing so much "fame" to Chimray. At the age of 5, when his magical powers were first unleashed and found out he was treated differently. He's been in training ever since the age of 8, at home, with half rotten, magic books. But at 12 he left home to perfect his training, with an apprentiship. As part of his studies he had to travel the world, from magical site to magical site, gathering his studies.

Elizitas life here was more than the exact dictionary definition of boredom, it was resiting the whole dictionary until you died of boredom. Then you would be like everything else in the desert, dead. There were no plants for miles because it never rained. Just some red sand and a red sky and a red village. There was no form of entertainment, only a few books per house hold. Electricity was only afforded by some housewholds, which could afford to use the wind powerd generatore a few yards out in the desert, surrounded by old, barely moveing windturbines. These were mainly the houses along the main road in Chimray that was a the begining of the village near the entrance. Slightly grand houses, much bigger than the rest, with balcanies and shutters on windows.

It was as though the only passtime for the villagers was proving they could survive in the desert. An under ground aqueduct supplied the desert with water, and their food came from towns and cities 100s of miles away, outside the desert. They all just waited, while their lives slid away, asthough they had forgotten what they were waiting for. It had been that way for generations.

Walking through the dead desert she made her way to the small red, brown house on the very far outskirts of the village. A depressing site is a perfect description for this poor weatherd, heart broken house. The windows were coverd in a screen of filth so old and thick that not even day light could creep through. The wood was stained with years of neglect. The poor door was hanging on for dear life but the whole house had given up completely. It wasn't that the house wasn't cared for it was just that everything seemed to age so fast in the harsh desert. It looked as though the house had given up on life but the truely sorry sight was the dead wind turbine over-shadowing the little old house. It's rusted blades had stopped spinning a long time ago and now it's aged body sagged and bent with the weight of it's head. Dangerously lent over the house, it would have posed a threat if anybody had the effort to care. It's silver metalic shine though told of maby once a new past long forgotten.

She stepped into the warm though slightly morbid atmosphere of her house. Old, stained walls, carpets and curtains welcomed her from the desert. Everything was old fashioned and motheaten, yet clean, though dusty. Everything seemed to be beige or brown, with no life that was not decades past it's age. The grayish floor board creeked malishously "She's home, but where has she been?"

Her grandmother greeted her with a warm smile. She was a squat, very aged lady, with poweruly dark, yet kind eyes, and always in her slippers. Then she looked at her."Elizita, have you been out in the desert again, you're covered in dust?" said her disgruntled grandmother as she saw her dusty jeans.
"I've only been on the outskirts of the village."
"You know that the desert is too vast to go wandering in" she said with a scornful and protective tone. Her grandmother was a sweet, caring, elderly woman but she was quite over protective, especially when it comes to the desert.

She walked up the old faded stairs, each little creak laughing at her, and on walking to her bed room she passed Raygo's study room. It had been especially prepared for his arrival. Her bed room was tidy but covered in dust and cob-webs, the furniture was old and half dead.

She sighed and dropped on her rose, pink, patch quilt bed, opposite the violette curtains. The only two peices of coulor in the room. From within a draw of her bed-side cabinate she pulled out a photo of the whole family before her parents died and before Raygo became such a "big jerk." The frame and glass were coverd in dust, the photo had been forgotten for years. Her mother had pink hair and wore exentric clothes, asthough she were some sort of medevil princess, while her father wore the most plain and dull clothes. Her grandmother was from her farther's side of the family, he was born and raised in the village, just an ordinary man, Fantrogo Militaf. Know one really knows much about the history of her mother Northea Militaf or where she came from. When Elizita asks her grandmother about it she never gets a straight answer, her grandmother always seems to answer in riddles or say that she is to old and tired to talk. Her parents look so cheerful in the photo. She could not remember them but she still missed them.

Looking closer at the photo, she could see the lively and youthful pink eyes of her mother. Her smile was cheeky. She must have gone on so many adventures with her powers and Elizita had daydreams of her dancing on clouds, surrounded by streams of rainbow light.

Glaring arond her borng old room she noticed every piece of pale beige wooden furniture, simple in design. In one corner her dark wooden door, the corner next a simple baige wooden cabinet, the next her plain wooden desk and in the corner next, surprisingly her sturdy wooden wardrobe. She lie in the middle of her room sick of seeing all the wood that surounded her. Not even her window opposite her bed offerd her a change in scenery. Just the light that could escape through the screen of age on the thin glass window, which gave her a view of the never ever changing dry dry desert.

Her only choice of entertainment seemed to be eigther drawing something she couldn't think of, as there was a definate lake of imaginative inspiration which came from her second choice. Reading the few old, boring, encyclopedeic books that lined the shelf in the corner above her cabinet. However the shelves unlke every other peice of furnature in the room were not dusty as she read quite a lot, but with so few books she often found her self reading the same books over and over again. They contained nothing imaginative or particularly mentaly stimulating for Elizita. Her fravarote book was about the flight patterns of owls.

The walls in the little wooden house were paper thin and so Elizitas could hear the door when it opened, and her Grandmothers voice welcoming someone from the desert. The little girl was so curios that she crept down stairs to see who it was. She could not recognise their voice. Stood halfway down the stairs her head timidly ducked below the ceiling to see who it was. At the entrance to the house, in the corridor way stood on the faided, brightly patterned woven mat was a very strange looking man. It wasn't his very darkk green formal suit, of scruffly dark hair, or even his top hat and cane that made him look strange it was something about his face. Maby his absurd bright lime green eyes.

"And, who is this?" He said in a rather jolly tone,, though it seemed as though Elizita's Grandmother was reluctant to intrroduce her own grandchild. Elizita slowly crept down a few more steps to greet the stranger "Oh, this is my grandoughter, Elizita." She said trying to hide the reluctance in her voice.
"Why, hello Elizita, I'm the new mayor, Mayor Tabaline."
"Hello Mayor Tabaline."
"He has just come to talk about involving your brother in the Village's celebrations." Said her grandmother
"I've herd that your brother Raygo is very special to this village, so I thought that the best way to honor the village would be to involve him somehow." He said with a slight hint of enthusiasm. "If you are the new mayor then how come thee hasn't been an election and how come I've never seen you in the village before?" Asked Elizita who did not trust the mayor
"I'm the son of the old mayor, Mayor Dredge, and sadly my fa rther has recently passed away and so I came all the way from Shibot with my feonce to step in until the next election."
"Really now, we must begin disgussing the arrangements!" her grandmother said so forwardly. "It's nice to have met you." said mayor Tabaline as he offerd to shake Elizita's hand. "You too." She said reluctantly shaking his hand. "Elizita, please go back to your room while we disguss the arrangements." Her grandmother said almost demandingly.

They congragated in the kitchen, while Elizita crept back up stairs, but the curiousity was eating her up as her grandmother seemedso kean to get rid of her.

So she crept as quietly as she could back down stairs each little step creaking "we're gonna tell. We're gonna tell." She sat onthe dusty floor, her head near the cacked and warn kitchen door, listening to the conversation.
"Oh, are these cookies