The silver snare of the trumpets and weaving of traditional songs floated here about the small village of mismatched houses of all colour and flourishing flowers proudly blooming alongside the lush blades of grass.
Despite the early rise of the sun, festivities were already in place and had attracted many villagers into the already bustling town centre with games, music, performances and street vendors in full swing and eager to show off their display.
Weeks of hard work had paid off, and the efforts were shown through the incessant buzz of people gathering here and there, while those beyond the main centre and living off in a far distance away were still sleeping away, one of which was a young girl tangled in her bed, heavily asleep in her imaginative dreams.
Shards of sunlight slithered through the weak spot of blinds of the girl's room, and invaded her vulnerable face that happened to be facing the window. The warmth of the ray began to subtly draw out her consciousness yet it was the loud outburst coming from behind the room that immediately disturbed her peace and forced her to suddenly open her eyes to sunlight.
"Bryn! Are ye still not awake? It's blooming past the time ye were meant te be up!"
Instinctively, Brynleigh replied in an equally loud voice to her mother,
"Alright! I am up! Calm your braids down!"
The braids of Gwendolyn Taylor wasn't pleased with her morning greeting and neither was Gwendolyn herself.
BANG!
Opening the door with full force was a tall women of distinct dark auburn hair dressed in ribbons and plaits, a striking face with a strong nose and dark freckles, and most notable was her height which reached up to the six foot door.
"What was that about my braids? Apologise."
Her foreboding appearance certainly complemented her personality that was fierce yet deadly.
A simple but efficient strike to the head would have brought some sense back to Brynleigh, but Brynleigh was used to this strike of love and had prepared to dodge the oncoming pain.
Which was why Brynleigh found herself hanging the wet laundry up on a clothesline instead of walking into town with her family.
Strings of curses were Brynleigh's appeal to join them, yet her mother was adamant while her step-father was siding with her mother. Brynleigh's older brother had observed the entire with a controlled expression that fooled everyone but her since she knew he was laughing deeply from experience.
Walter was making a face of 'You deserved it' by the time Harold and Gwendolyn were finished preparing to depart from their quaint cottage and into the main village.
The unfaltering wave of curses continued throughout Brynleigh's entire time hanging and drying the laundry.
Curse Walter and his muttonhead and plant for a brain. Why does Walter, someone of no blood-relations to my mother and I, be allowed to go when he is nothing but a grovelling toad. The same can go for Harold!
As my step-father, he should be trying to please me like he normally would because it would mean being closer to me as a real father, yet whenever it comes to my mother, he behaves like the snivelling, gutless fish he sells.
By the time she had finished drying the laundry, she had also came to an end to the amount of insults she could devise for her beloved family members, most were made for her mother. Brynleigh's arms and legs were stiff and she grimaced when walking towards her home.
Her back muscles were being rubbed vigorously into being able to work again for the next oncoming task, which was to decide what to wear.
Thankfully, Mrs. Taylor was not as heartless as she appeared since she permitted Brynleigh to joining them at the village center once her work was done. She had even left a fresh pail of milk, a staple of bread, a chunk of goat cheese and an array of muffins with butter and clotted cream left fresh on the kitchen table. What a feast she had, and to her, the meal appeared as if a cornucopia of God had made it.
Without a care to keeping a delicate appearance while eating, Brynleigh devoured the meal, savouring each one while also rushing to head upstairs.