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Havenblock

Chapter 2

By Majique MiMiPublished 2 years ago 6 min read
2
Havenblock
Photo by Adrian Infernus on Unsplash

Lia put her pencil down on the desk part of the chair desk and glanced over her right shoulder out the window. She was thankful that her professor cracked the window because she was able to smell the spring air creep in through the holes of the dark, wire window screen. The springtime air always contrasted with the view of the dilapidated inner-city neighborhood: the cold sterile gray-blue bridge, the partially condemned houses, the litter strewn street. The flower lined sidewalks of the university provided the city with its own personal oasis but the inhabitants of the city resented it and the students of the university, well most of them, took it for granted.

Although Lia was more of the appreciative type, she was surly and bitter that she was stuck at the university for another semester just for one math class. She wanted to have graduated by now to start her job at the creative and performing arts school not too far from the university. But because the only math Lia could remember was the iambic pentameter, she was forced to complete the three lone credits she needed to obtain her degree. On a more positive side, this left plenty of free time for Lia to write, which she liked to do in the courtyard among the milkweed when the weather was warm enough. She took one more deep breath of the sweetened spring air before gathering her bag and squeezing through the desks of her classmates who were still taking the exam.

After Lia shut the heavy wooden door to the classroom she immediately heard it. It was faint at first but as she walked down the hallway it became more distinct: the piccolo. She smiled softly and hastened her gait pushing the metal bar that opened the red door to the stairwell and the notes consumed her. She took her time to be careful walking down the metal stairs; not because of the slipperiness of the season, but to not ruin the floating notes with the unintentional tapping of her shoes.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she saw Professor Joe with his eyes shut playing his beloved instrument. She stood and watched him for a few moments before he saw her. He stopped his song abruptly when he noticed her presence.

“Lia, how long have you been standing there?” He asked her.

Lia brushed her long mane out of her eyes and responded softly, “Only for a moment.” She smiled at him, “please do not stop on my account.”

Professor Joe grinned warmly, “I’m surprised to see you this semester. I thought my class was your last class as a senior.”

Lia tilted her head to one side and shrugged, “So did I but apparently I was missing math credits.”

Professor Joe winced, “Ah pesky little class math. No room for error.”

“Or creativity,” Lia agreed, “ X either equals five or it doesn’t.”

Professor Joe chuckled, “True. Are you headed to the dorm?”

Lia shook her head, “No, I think I’ll sit in the courtyard for a while, see if I can write something.”

“Beautiful morning for it; just warm enough.”

The pair said their goodbyes and Lia pushed open the glass door to the humanities building. The bottom door of the track was old, scraped the bottom step, and became caught so it was left ajar. Lia didn’t notice as she walked toward the center of the courtyard, tucked her skirt underneath her, and sat in the milkweed. She took her journal and pen out of her bag, inhaled the slight essence of the tulips and felt the sunshine on her back while the woodwind serenaded her.

While she was writing, Lia felt something tickle her ear. At first she brushed the sensation away with her hand but then the “tickle” fluttered in front of her. It was a tiny butterfly that was half the size of a normal butterfly and it was a pale pink color that matched the tulip petal it was now hiding in. Lia squinted and leaned forward and the butterfly darted up from the petals causing Lia to quickly move backward. She watched it dip in and out of the row of rainbow flowers planted in front of her, following it with her eyes. The butterfly visited five flowers in the row then retraced its flight until it was in front of Lia again. The sunlight shone through the back of its wings and Lia was able to notice the tiny magenta streaks with them. She lifted her hand, slowly, methodically, and extended her palm outward. The butterfly descended onto the tip of Lia’s middle finger and Lia lost her breath. Just before she was able to exhale, the butterfly trembled and closed its wings. Upon opening them, Lia was taken aback by the most sensual, silvery glow that seemed to turn its wings a lilac color. She was about to attempt to caress the butterfly with her other hand when it took flight leaving an indigo spark behind it. It flew to the door of the humanities building and hovered a bit before flying off into a sunbeam, away from the university, becoming beckoned by bunches of hyacinths on the cement steps of a small house.

The house was a corner house and its backyard was visible to the commuter students making their way to the university via the train. The yard was not large but its inhabitants took special consideration in caring for it. The back door had cement steps that turned into a small brick pathway that curved then branched out to both sides of the yard.. The pathway was edged by a little wooden, white picket fence but beyond the fence there were flowers both wild and not arranged in flowing patterns around ceramic frogs, mushrooms, miniature bird baths and the sort. The owners also installed wrought iron poles for each corner of the yard. The poles were high enough to have ivy vines spread without being obtrusive but low enough for the owner to suspend little baskets of blossoms from their hooks. Only God knew how the sun shone through the windows of the home next door to create rainbows in the sun catchers hanging from the ivy. The scene was reminiscent of leprechaun habitats from Irish folklore. The piccolo could be heard faintly in the distance.

By the last brick of the path, beyond the far,left pole of the yard, was a shaded nook. Because of the shade, spotted mushrooms seemed to grow there in clusters. Normally, the owners would have meticulously dug them up but because the mushrooms were not really visible from the street and they seemed to look just like the red and white spotted ,ceramic mushrooms purchased for decoration, they went unnoticed. The very last mushroom in the back had a small green spot on the base of its stem. Upon magnification, the green spot had a golden dot on the left side (for Muses enter things differently than ordinary creators). When the green door was pulled open a small cylindrical hole was present. The hole was painted lime green and bore deep into the root of the mushroom until it fanned out like a lily. In the soil, under the mushroom, in a garden in the inner city, was Havenstroke; where the Muses of Art and Writing lived and where Galatea and Jean were not so pleasantly stunned by the lilac-skinned Muse with the evergreen wings and silver eyes who appeared at the door and announced herself as Rima.

Fantasy
2

About the Creator

Majique MiMi

You can call me MiMi. I’m a Brain Aneurysm & Stroke Survivor & Former English Professor. I write to stay sane, and to keep gratitude in my Spirit & Praises in my mouth.

Check out my series starting with Hood Ornaments

Reader insights

Outstanding

Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!

Top insights

  1. Easy to read and follow

    Well-structured & engaging content

  2. Excellent storytelling

    Original narrative & well developed characters

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  • Call Me Les2 years ago

    Love that this is continuing on. Well done! <3

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