Page 28 of A New Home

Charlotte's amusement was short-lived. There was a loud whooshing sound from outside. She hurried to the window and looked up. Floating high above the inn was a massive, iridescent hot air balloon. The basket beneath it was empty, but Charlotte could see Isla's tiny form perched atop the balloon itself.

"Oh no," Charlotte groaned. What was Isla up to now?

The balloon drifted lazily over the buildings, casting an enormous, slowly moving shadow across the village. Windows and doors opened below as people stepped outside to investigate the strange sight. Pointing fingers and exclamations of shock rose up.

Isla stood tall, hands on her hips. "Attention, good people!" she cried, her high voice magically amplified. "May I present my latest whimsical creation!"

With a dramatic wave of her hand, the balloon began spewing glitter in all directions. It rained down on the streets and buildings like multicolored snow.

Charlotte watched in dismay as the village was quickly covered in a layer of sparkling glitter. It was harmless, but incredibly messy. This would take forever to clean up!

She scanned the chaotic scene, looking for a way to stop this glittery onslaught. Her eyes fell upon a box of push pins on a nearby desk. That might work! She grabbed a fistful of the pins and rushed back to the window just as the balloon drifted nearer.

Taking careful aim, Charlotte began launching pins at the floating behemoth. They bounced harmlessly off its rubbery surface. Isla cackled with delight.

"You'll have to try harder than that!" she taunted.

Charlotte gritted her teeth. This required a more strategic approach. The balloon swayed teasingly as it moved, making it a difficult target. She tracked its movement, timing the rhythm of its drift. Just as it paused, she let fly another pin. This one hit its mark, piercing the surface. There was a small pop, and glitter spewed from the new hole.

"Yes!" Charlotte cheered. One down, many more to go.

Charlotte repeated her strategic process, timing each throw carefully. One by one, more holes appeared in the massive balloon as her pins found their targets. Isla shrieked in protest as her glittery weapon began deflating rapidly.

"No! My beautiful balloon!"

Charlotte ignored her cries, focused intently on her task. With a final well-placed throw, the balloon gave a mighty groan as the largest hole yet opened up. Then, it erupted in a deafening BANG!

Glitter and balloon scraps rained down as Charlotte shielded her eyes. When she lowered her arm and surveyed the scene, the streets were covered in a layer of sparkling confetti. Villagers emerged from buildings to gawk at the bizarre sight.

And there, in the midst of it all, stood Isla with a scowl. The two women locked eyes for a tense moment before Isla vanished in her signature puff of smoke, leaving only echoes of her frustrated screams.

Charlotte jolted awake in bed, heart racing. She sat up, blinking in confusion as the intensity of the vivid dream lingered. Glancing around the quiet room, she slowly realized it had just been a dream.

"Well, that was...something," she muttered, shaking her head. A wry smile crossed her lips as the absurdity sunk in. Perhaps her subconscious was trying to send her a message about Isla. If so, it certainly had chosen a creative way to do it.

Charlotte glanced at the clock on her nightstand, the glowing numbers telling her it was nearly midnight. There was no sound from the rest of the house, making her suspect that Amelia hadn’t returned home. A frown creased her brow.

Where could she be at this hour? Was she alright? Charlotte felt a knot of worry forming in her stomach. She knew Amelia had likely gone out with Nathan. Charlotte debated whether to call or text, not wanting to seem paranoid. But it was so late, and she hadn't checked in. As a mom, she couldn't shake the nagging concern.

Making a decision, she reached for her phone on the nightstand. Pulling up Amelia’s number, she typed out a text:

Just checking in. It's getting late, and I realized I haven't heard from you. Is everything okay? Let me know when you're on your way back. Thanks!

Charlotte read over the message, hoping it struck the right balance of care without sounding accusatory. With a deep breath, she hit send, then set the phone back down.

She sank back against her pillow, staring up at the ceiling fan as it spun lazily. Now there was nothing to do but wait and hope they'd return soon, safe and sound. Charlotte closed her eyes, trying to calm her restless thoughts. Tomorrow would be a new day, a chance to start fresh. For now, she just had to believe everything would work out.

Charlotte tossed and turned, unable to quiet her mind. Thoughts of Amelia and Simon mingled with the absurd dream she'd had earlier.

As she drifted in that hazy space between waking and sleep, the images from the dream flashed through her mind. Isla as a mischievous fairy, the dancing lobsters, the giant balloon. It had all felt so real in the moment. Now, as she lay in bed, Charlotte had to smile at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. Her subconscious had spun quite the tale.

While the dream had been stressful, it was also comically over the top. Charlotte realized her anxiety about Isla had manifested in the form of chaotic, almost slapstick humor. As Charlotte reflected, she felt her body start to relax. Her breathing deepened and her limbs grew heavy. The worries of the day seemed less ominous through the lens of humor.

With the ghost of a smile still on her lips, Charlotte finally surrendered to sleep. The fan continued its quiet rhythm overhead as she drifted off, ready to face a new day.

The night wore on, the old inn settling into silence as Charlotte drifted into a deep sleep. For the first time in weeks, her mind and body found tranquility, the stress of recent events finally releasing its grip. Shadows danced across the walls as the moonlight filtered in through the curtains. Charlotte's breathing was slow and steady, her expression smooth in repose. The frenetic energy that had possessed her earlier was now gone.

Curled beneath the covers, Charlotte embraced the rare gift of undisturbed rest. No creaking floorboards or passing cars interrupted her slumber. The fan hummed its lullaby, ushering her into soothing darkness.

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