Windomoore Windows

Delia Windomoore was a normal sort of girl. She was 17 years old, lived in her grandmother’s old house, and made windows. Now, anywhere else, making windows at 17 would be considered weird. Making windows in general is considered strange. Outlandish, even. But Delia’s town of Windelton was known for their windows. Everybody in her town made normal windows, ones that you could only see what was outside of you. They were triangle shaped, circle shaped, even some were made cloud shaped. But the windows that Delia made were magic. 

She was only 14 when Delia found out that she had the Magic Hand, a “blessing” that had been passed down for generations through the females, starting at her great-great-great-great-great-great-grandmother that first had the Magic Hand. One person in every generation of the Windomoores had the Magic Hand, like her mother and grandmother before her. Grandmother Reina had taught her how to make her first magic window a few years ago, on her 14th birthday, like all the Windomoores before her. Age 14 was always the prime age for the Magic Hand to descend. 

They collected sand from the far-away marshes of Candrina, collecting the pinkish colored sand and filling them into little vials. 

“We collect sand from Candrina every time the last girl from the generation turns 14,” her Reina had explained. 

The sand felt soft, almost like silk, as Delia sifted it through her hands. They also traveled to the Old Romeo’s Sidewalk Shop, where they bartered for pure, unfiltered hope.

“These are the Everemerald Blooms, instead of pollen on their stamens, they have clear, pure hope dusted on by the Everemerald Winds that carry hope from all their surroundings every year.” Old Romeo mused as he took a whiff of the hope, pouring it into a silver liquid, with hints of gold and red, careful to not squash it. They had the rest of the materials at the Windomoore Workshop, so there they went to make Delia’s first Magic Windomoore Window to see if she had the Magic Hand.

Delia carefully counted out 14 grains of Candrina sand, the grains dropped into a mortar. When they plinked and plonked into the bowl, they each rang out their own musical note. She hummed Moonlight Sonata as she worked, carefully taking a pipette and dropping two drops of pure liquid hope into the same mortar, the hope fizzling and turning a light pink color as it touched the Candrina sand. At this period of time, the mixture smelled different to everybody, to Delia it smelled like ocean breeze mixed with a little bit of cinnamon candle. 

“What do you smell?” Reina had asked from the corner of the room, knitting a little somethin’.

“Ocean breeze, and a bit of cinnamon candle.” Delia had responded. Reina smiled. 

“Now go on with the process.” 

Here Delia was finely chopping norsewart, turning the stiff purple herb into a cleanly chopped mush, sifting it into the same bowl. The norsewart felt rough, under her hands, as she eagerly took her hands and used her knuckles to mold the norsewart together, dusting on the Dreamscape Dust, a twinkly white dust found in the depths of the Dreamscape. This was the most important part of the process, if the Dreamscape wasn't in the mixture, you could get stuck in the window, even if it wasn’t broken. She put in the paste into the bowl again. 

All she did was stir it several times, and the mixture magically turned into a light golden brown color, looking like a glaze. Delia was appalled. Not once had she even thought that the pink, silver, purple mixture would turn into that. Reina just smiled.

“Only the ones gifted with the Magic Hand can do that, darling. You, Delia Violette Windomoore, have the Magic Hand.” Reina exclaimed. Delia grinned brightly and ran over to hug her grandmother. 

“But, you know what this means, Delia.” Reina said wistfully. Delia nodded, knowing what was going to happen. In the history of the Magic Hand, you were only allowed to have 2 generations allowed at a time. Now that Delia had it, Reina had to...well….

“Head into my own window.” Reina said. “Forever.”

Now the Windomoore windows were not tailored to someone's needs, the window would do that itself. But now that 3 Magic Hand bearers were known, Reina had to permanently leave into her own window, to her own window world. This was the most dreadful thought of Delia - she was practically making her grandmother's grave as she made her first magic window. She started to sob lightly as she poured the golden glaze onto the ready made window that she easily made. 

“Don’t cry, child. It’s alright. I’ll be in my own Window world. It’s alright.” Reina said, comforting Delia who scrubbed on the glaze on the square-shaped window.

“You’ll be the runner of the Windomoore Workshop. Promise me you’ll take care of it.” Reina mumbled into Delia’s ear as Delia propped up the newest window that had a tag fluttering, writing Reina Lilliana Windomoore. The weather turned harsh into thunder.

“That’s my cue. The gods of the Magic Hand will wish to see me soon, child. I love you, and farewell.” With that, Reina ducked inside her window, the magic glaze letting the glass mold around her, turning back into a whole window as her whole body was inside. A flick of Reina’s hand before she descended into her Window World flitted a letter to Delia. The letter read, 

You must break the window into pieces. But, the gods of the Magic Hand have allowed you to keep one large chunk, so you can always see my face. 

Love, 

Reina.

Wiping away her tears, Delia clutched the hammer in one hand, and struck the window three times.

Crack! 

Crack! 

Crack!

The window shattered, along with the memory of her grandmother. Delia picked up the largest piece of the broken window, and held it up to the light. She thought she saw Reina winking at her. Delia smiled. Then the door opened and a man stepped in.

“Welcome to Windomoore Windows, kind sir. What can I make for you today?”