Isabelle James; A normal girl yet an outsider to everyone in her life. She's way too ahead of her time and firmly believes in women rights (Which is odd for her generation) she's always wanted adve...
The crinkled old women's face looked sadly down at the fragile jewel in front of her. Her long, wavy brown hair had turned into a stale grey and the once sparkle in her eye now only showed maturity and wisdom. A small smile formed and she picked the jewel up carefully, its color had faded but not in her eyes. She had never seen any flaws in this piece of rock for years now. Its color was a very dark green color, the color of her eyes she recalled almost laughing at a memory. "Nana?" A child's voice echoed and she was pulled out of her long lost thoughts. Turning, she saw her grand daughter, Layla whose small body rested on the door and her green eyes shone brightly as she looked at her grandmother.
"Come here sweetie. What is it?" Now the old women had a bigger smile as the child quietly scampered across the wood floors. Layla crawled onto the old women's worn out sheets and looked up at her. It was late, this they both knew and Layla who was now twelve years old should have been in bed already.
The old house they were in seemed to creak loudly under the silence as if someone forbidden it. After a small gulp Layla nervously looked down and then at the jewel in her grandmothers hand. "Nana, I have a small question for you." She was frightened to ask the question because Layla had never been the blunt type, unlike her grandmother who told anyone what she thought of them or the situation.
She moved closer with her lips in a thin line and her eyes never taking themselves off the floor. "I've always wondered…” Layla began knowing her grandmother's patience, which wasn't very good already, was wearing out. "Where did you get that? The Rock?" Layla finished her voice cracking a bit as she took a quick glance at it. She expected her grandmother to tell her to go to bed or tell her to never speak of this strange rock that her grandmother had always had in her possession yet she never spoke about. Instead, the old women surprised her. She had chuckled a bit before placing the jewel back on her wooden night stand.
"That's a very simple question for such a complex answer…” She said grandly scooting her grand daughter over beside her. "How is that?" Was Layla's response. "Well since your mother is going to kill us both anyway. How would you like too hear a story?" She asked opening the top drawer of her night stand and pulling out a hardback book. On the cover was a type of flower that Layla didn’t know the name of. The rest was a shiny black material and on the back were words that she couldn't make out just right. Layla was curious and she nodded, answering her grandmother's question. "What is that?" She asked trying to examine it more carefully. "It's the story I'm going to tell you." Her grandmother said and opened it up, its cover radiating a strange smell that almost smelled liked roses. "How does a book explain anything?" Layla asked in a matter-a-fact tone. She looked a bit uncomfortable at the book and her grandmother only smiled a little bit as she looked at her, she didn't say anything much only smiled down at her. "I'm just saying. I don't understand how some book is going to answer my question at all."
"Now sweetie sometimes answers come in waiting for them." Her grandmother said. "Now I promise you that this book will explain everything but you have to listen, I read this to your mother when she was younger and now I'm reading it too you so it's special." Layla nodded in response. "Okay, if you say so…” She pulled the covers up over her and snuggled in close to her grandmother’s night gown. The old women smiled and took in a small breath.
"It was years and years ago when I turned fourteen years old."