Siren Ch. 1
Northern Michigan has experienced only a handful of blistering hot days. It's northern Michigan, for heaven's sake. It's not supposed to be above ninety degrees during summer, let alone ninety-eight degrees. Now, normally this wouldn't be a problem for most people that live more south; however, hardly anyone in northern Michigan has air-conditioners. There's no point for them to own one when you typically get just a couple months of summer, one month of fall, and nine months of winter. People in northern Michigan usually just use swamp-coolers and they get through the summer just fine. But not everyone was having an enjoyable summer day on July 5th. One particular girl was in her house and laying on her bed, with no working swamp-cooler, mind you, and was currently bored out of her mind. She was home alone. Her parents said that they were on a business trip, but didn't tell her where they were going, while her sister was visiting a pen-pal in Ohio. Desiree Mendelssohn could've gone down to the river which wasn't even a mile away. Everyone swam there during summer. It was like a beach, only smaller, there was no salt water, and fish didn't mind swimming beside your legs and tickling them. Desiree loved the river, but it was just to hot to walk down there. She had thought about swimming in the cool, relaxing water, and hanging out with her friends before deciding that it wouldn't be worth it because of the walk to the river and the walk back. She kept pondering all the possible ways to keep cool which included lying on the kitchen floor (during summer, tile is very cool and makes a good place to take a nap), eating an ice pop, fanning herself, taking a cold shower, and guzzling water. All of which she was too lazy to accomplish since she didn't want to get up and walk in the heat. Why didn't she just turn the swamp-cooler on? Her family didn't own one because Desiree's parents had no clue how cold it gets in northern Michigan during fall and winter, so they bought an air-conditioner. And said air-conditioner was broken. There's no possible way this day could be any worse. Desiree layed on her bed and proceeded mope, sweat, and wish that the heat temperature would drop.
Maybe I should just suck it up and go take a shower or eat an ice pop. Desiree tried to persuade herself into braving the intense heat and go do something to keep her cool, but miserably failed. She decided to at least sit up, and groaned at the energy it took. She sighed as she looked around her room for a fan whether it be paper or electric. After a quick scan of her room, she found nothing. She groaned again and just sat there, wishing she lived in Alaska so she could jump in the snow and stay cool forever.
Just as she was about to flop onto her back again, the door-bell sounded. As if they couldn't come at a better time. Desiree's inner self grumbled. She sluggishly crawled off her bed and shuffled to her door and down the stairs. The door-bell rang again as if the person outside was in a hurry. "I know, I know." Desiree groaned as loud as she could, which wasn't very loud at all. She sighed and opened the door. "What the freak?" Desiree growled. No one was at the door. However, there was small, brown, paper package tied up with string. Desiree raised an eyebrow. "Oh, boy. One of my favorite things." They must've left before I got down here. The impatient crap heads. She picked up the somewhat heavy box and scowled, but wiped it off when she heard a bird chirp. She sighed for the umpteenth time that day and just admired the the scene. Sure, it was as hot as an oven outside, but that didn't mean that it still wasn't gorgeous. The birds singing, the tall grass on the hill would swish as it swayed in the summer breeze; it was all beautiful despite the intense heat. Desiree let the smallest smile grace her lips as she came back inside and closed the door. I guess a breath of fresh air can do wonders. Desiree thought. She was still sweating, of course, but after getting outside for just a few seconds made her more tolerant.
Desiree glanced at the stairs, the box still in her hands. I'm down here now. I guess I might as well grab an ice pop before going upstairs again. Slowly, she walked into the kitchen and towards the freezer. She opened it, took out an ice pop, tore the wrapper open with some difficulty, and took a nibble. Satisfied with the flavor, she made her way up the stairs, box in hand. I wonder who was at the door. Whatever they needed, it must not have been important for them to to leave so soon. Maybe it was Mrs. Leonard come to complain about Lilly's flute recital last week. The old hag. Desiree recalled how furious her sister's flute teacher looked when Desiree's sister missed a note while performing in the school talent show. Lilly was an excellent flutist. That was the only time that she missed a note because of the difficulty of the piece. Or maybe it was my piano teacher come to complain about me not being "passionate" or "happy" enough about my recital. Desiree had also participated in the same talent show as Lilly. The only problem about her performance, according to her teacher, no one else, was that she lacked the right emotion when she played her piece. It was a rather happy sounding piece, the Little Dog Waltz to be exact. And Desiree, involentarily, had scowled the entire time that she played. Most likely because of the amount of concentration it took for her to play it flawlessly. Everyone had applauded, nonetheless, so Desiree didn't really care about the emotion she had or "lacked". It was hard for her to play original pieces without scowling from concentration. Who doesn't scowl or show serious emotion when they play a difficult piece? Her parents often teased her that she would get wrinkles quicker than anyone else in her family because of how much she either laughed or how much she scowled. But Desiree didn't care. She liked being sober and she liked laughing when the time was right. She didn't give a flip.
Desiree pushed all those thoughts aside as she walked into her room, taking another bite of her ice pop. Desiree tossed the box onto her comforter. She spaced out as she flopped backwards onto her bed. She continued to eat her ice pop as she glanced at the box, flipping the it around to see who it was from and who it was addressed to. Her brow furrowed as she read who the sender was. "Let's see. It's from a Mr... Anonymous. That's just great. I don't know who it's from, but it clearly states that it's for me." It was true. There was no name for the sender, but said who the package was for. In big, bold, calligraphic letters it read: Desiree A. Mendelssohn. Desiree just sighed and began to untie the string and tear the paper where it had been folded. The packaging completely off, Desiree picked the gift up and examined it. It was a silver treasure chest, about a foot long and a foot tall. There was a lock that kept it closed and Desiree could hear something rattling inside of it when she shook it. She tried to open the lock by trying to pry at it, but of course, it wouldn't open. She just rolled her eyes and tossed the treasure chest back onto her bed, annoyed that someone would send her something that she couldn't even open. How can I use the dumb thing if I can't even open it? Desiree stood up walked over to her dresser. She looked at the numerous necklaces and earrings that covered it. She thought that maybe she could brave the heat and go to the grocery store to pick up some ice cream. If she did that, she would want to look a little nicer than she did now, so she decided to wear a necklace and some earrings. She put on a silver chain necklace that had a pendant of a dark green, glass butterfly. It was a birthday gift from Lilly and it was her favorite piece of jewelry. She put some silver stud earrings on and bounded down the stairs, not paying attention to the lock on the silver treasure chest that was glowing.
AN: This was originally known as My Magical Life, but I decided to change the plot a little bit.... and rewrite the whole thing completely, including the title. I just might post the original story on here so you can judge which one is better.
