The Twelve Days of Stella (Part 1)

Happy Holidays, everyone! If you've read OH. MY. GODS. you know that Phoebe's new stepsister, Stella Petrolas, is a bit on the evil harpy side. Seems like she lives to make Pheobe's life more difficult. But is that all there is to Stella?

Of course not. (After all, every villain is the hero of her own story.) So, for your holiday enjoyment, I'm giving you a bit of story from Stella's perspective.

Enjoy!

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Stella looked around the room that had been her home for all eighteen years of her life and thought of everything she would miss when she went away to college next Fall. The white canopy bed with sheer pink drapes and orchid silk bedding. The full-length mirror surrounded by twinkling white fairy lights that made her feel like a princess every time she checked her reflection--like she did now. The mural she and her mom had started the winter before she turned ten. It was the one thing she could not take with her and the one thing she would miss the most.

"You're being silly," Stella told her reflection. "Oxford is months away. Besides,"--she smoothed an errant strand of honey-blonde hair--"you can always autoport home whenever you want."

Her gaze shifted to the reflected view of the unfinished forest scene on her wall. A happy composition of deep green pine trees, rainbow colored songbirds, smiling woodland creatures, and the glow of tree faeries among the branches. That winter they had spent hour after hour painting, while Daddy worked tirelessly on his new curriculum for the Academy. Hours of laughing and sweating and painting each other on the nose. The memories were that much sweeter because they were the last she would ever have of her mother.

After the funeral Stella had never picked up a paintbrush again.

A knock at her door startled her out of her sad thoughts and she quickly wiped at the tears stinging her eyes. How foolish she was being, crying over a past she could never change. The Christmas season must be making her nostalgic.

"Um ... Stella?" her new stepsister Phoebe called out.

She sounded nervous. Never good.

"I have an itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny problem and I could use your help." She paused before adding, "You might want to bring an umbrella."

Stella took a deep breath. With Phoebe, the problems were never itsy-bitsy, teeny-weeny. Shaking off her melancholy memories, she mentally formed a waterproof hydrokinesis shield around her body and pulled open the door.

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Tune in tomorrow for the next installment. [Part 2]

Hugs,
TLC