A girl of mourn named Éna Lámpei, is devastated to find the death of her brother so tragic, that her family only lives in sorrow and black mourn. But one night, a creeper walks through the cemetery, waking her up. But while teaming up with him, she is expected to rule the dark in Skotádi Castle, in the Kingdom of Thri̱ní̱soun.
There were still stories to be told. She has wowed me and inspired me to do things on my own henceforth. I reassembled all of the pieces of this mystery puzzle. But do you want to know who ''she'' is? Well, she was my daughter, Éna Lámpei, but call her by her cover name: Angela Blanche. I am her mother. But allowing her to write in this story is a chance to tell her story. For them to hear her out!
Ever since the death of my brother, Neil Blanche, things were scary. All I had was the memento of looking out my window. The sight of the cemetery brings hot tears. I am still on the case of how he died, but not on a crime case. But I'm just wondering, it's not crime, anyways. Living by the cemetery is hard work. My mother is still a debtor of an estate tax when it happened. I'm at the house alone for a couple of minutes while she goes to the ATM.
My cabin like house is filled with dead spiders and cobwebs. Even snakes crawl through my shirt when I'm in bed. Things cooked were never ate. They reminded my mother about burning in Tatarus. My first hypothesis is that he killed himself. Killing-wise, I'm sure he died of a natural cause. He did have major heartburn and ate lots of salt. And on the other hand, I didn't even see him die.
Besides my depression, I'm doing really good in school. Brightness leaked from the lamp and into the room as I turned it on. My purple curtains shimmered and blew from the natural light and wind from the outside. Dirt tracked my floors.
My family is German. I speak it only to my family. In school, I speak English. My mom peaked her head through the door, and heightened her transparent shadow dangling on the ground.
''Guten tag, Angela. I ordered a pizza, currently on the table in the dining area.'' my mom implied, pulling her head through the door. She shut the door on me before I could state a statement. I would say ''that's not what I wanted for dinner!'', but then, she would get smart with me.
I sighed. I lack cheering myself up. But tomorrow at school, my math teacher, Frau Lenora, will be passing out cookies, and my favorite ones, too. Peanut Butter. I hope from scratch, though, it's good either way.