Actually, it began in an attic. I was ten years old, weighted down with costume jewelry and spinning around in an emerald gown with puffed sleeves that would make any 80’s prom queen green with jealousy. It was raining outside, and the sky was that cool, slate grey that makes you feel like everything will be new again when the sun comes out.
My friend and I were wearing her grandmother’s clothes and her mother’s jewelry as we danced about the cold, wooden floor in bare feet that jingled audibly. We were gypsies. We were vagabonds. The attic was our untouchable fortress, far out of reach of annoying little brothers and raiding pirates.
It was there, on that rainy afternoon, that Emerala and Nerani were born.
There wasn’t a whole lot to them, then. They were ideas wrapped in satin nightgowns. They were preteen girls weilding homemade tambourines. Emerala and Nerani were created to go on the adventures we wanted to go on. They were captured by pirates on a daily basis, but they always escaped. They danced on street corners and outran soldiers. They stole snacks from the market (the kitchen). They were fearless and they were strong.
When my friend moved away, I was heartbroken. The story in my head was one that needed both of us to thrive. Emerala and Nerani were partners in crime. They were the best of friends.
And so, I began to write.
As I grew into myself, I watched the character of Emerala the Rogue blossom on the page before me. She took on a life of her own- she became a force to be reckoned with. As I experienced the ups and downs of life in the real world, Emerala was overcoming her own, fictional hardships. Soon, a story began to put down roots.
This is Emerala’s story. This is Nerani’s story. But most of all, this is my story. I hope you all like it