Adrian yawned. It was a perfect day for yawning–so dark and dreary with rain coming down, the soft pitter-patter against the windows was a melody which almost made him want to go to sleep, hence the yawn. He was sitting or rather reclining in a chair in front of a fireplace which had a fire slowly burning to embers. He had stoked it himself hours before and had been enjoying the crackle of the flames and the warmth that exuded from it.

“Such a pretty thing,” he murmured quietly to himself, with his eyelids half closed. “Fires are pretty things,”

He yawned again and fought to keep his eyes open. It was like something was compelling him to go to sleep, something wanted him to close his eyes to the world, and Adrian wasn’t doing a good job of stopping it. Lower and lower his eyelids drooped until finally they closed and he was confronted with darkness, and the sound of a crackling fire.

Moments passed and he could feel himself drifting off into the realm of sleep when suddenly he heard a musical laugh. Startled slightly, his rational mind told him to open his eyes and see what had made the sound, but Adrian couldn’t find the will. And so he just sat there, dozing until the musical laughter sounded again.

I wonder who that is, he thought lazily to himself as he mentally pictured his living room and all the places that the laughing person might be hiding. And I wonder how they could have gotten into my room…

The laughter sounded for a third time and even though Adrian’s eyes were closed and he knew that they were closed, he found himself staring once more at the fire. But more than that he was staring at a beautiful woman. She was slightly built with copper red hair and freckles on her round cheeks. She had button-black eyes and wore a dress that seemed to be made out of silk. Her frame was reclining back, with all its weight resting on her arms and her legs seemed to go on forever as they framed the lower half of the fire.

Who are you, Adrian thought to himself and the girl laughed in reply.

“I’m a faerie,” she said with a sweet yet wicked smile. “And you are under my spell.”

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Filed under national novel writing month, words per minute, write or die, writing prompt

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