by Claire Bennett
“Charlotte! Dinner!” her mother’s piercing voice rang through the house.
“Coming mum…” mumbled 11 year old Charlotte.
Downstairs her mum; Guadalupe, was busy with preparations for dia de los muertos: a mexican celebration. Her mum had been doing nothing else for the last three weeks. Charlotte’s rickety, old traditional house had been transformed; it was now laden with beautiful flowers adorning the ceiling and doorways, the wonderful smell of cooking food wafted through the peeling rooms. Her family had lived in this house for generations, Charlotte had never felt her mum’s connection to the house; she hated sleeping under a leaky roof.
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