Present, Past and Future

Present

They had nothing left but each other. All that they could do was run to the corner of the world if that’s what it took. His father would beat him black and blue. Her sister would stain her cheeks red. But only if they caught them.

They could fantasize about a new life all day but they knew it wouldn’t be cornflakes with rainbow sugar nor cheap beach houses along the waterfront for them to reside in. It would be long nights in the rain with sleep fleeting in the corners of bus stops. 

It was no life for his Cinderella.

She was leaning against the side, absentmindedly picking a scab on her leg. Her thoughts were most likely with her friends, Kate, Patty and Sam. Her thoughts could be with her sister. She was eighteen years old with no college fund, no job prospects and a future-facing life in a cold spiteful cell where her every move would be watched with no sympathy. Or prison.

And that was no place for her. Her light eyes would dim for good. Those pink lips would never upturn ever again. The humour and life within her would vanish. And no one would become close to her ever again. It had taken weeks for him to learn that the reason she spent hours and hours in the library was that she had no library card. Three dates to find out that she disliked curry and she much preferred the odd Italian dish but the closest restaurant was in Strapfield. At one point he had hoped to take her there instead of prom. Wasn’t much chance of that now.

He hadn’t opened up to her in the beginning. He had stammered and stuttered when inviting her to join him at the street fair that summer. He had worn a long-sleeved jacket despite the heat but he hadn’t fooled her. She showed him her scars and he showed her his bruises, they had gotten to know each other’s bruises quite well.

Their nights had been filled with messages taped to each other’s windows, aiding each other with their daily routines [her laundry, his cleaning duties] and Saturday nights tucking into cherry pies in the corner of Abby’s. He had shown her how to use a rifle at the same fair in which they had their first date. She had shown him how she would play darts in the back room at her family shop. Their relationship had seemed no different than anyone else’s in this backwater town. 

Then they truly got to know each other. 

In her, he had found a kindred spirit. In him, she had found a rock. Each night together was a sacred ritual to them. Soon every Sunday evening they would meet down by the creek, they would talk, they would drink, after their birthdays they would…It became second nature.

They were soulmates. Why couldn’t anyone see that? They had to survive this world together.

Past

The laughter echoing from the drawing room grew louder and louder as the maid crept towards it. High and scratchy as though the owner was weeping through their mirth cracking the door open, she could see a foot sticking out along the carpet, the maid swung the door wider spying An arm…a leg….a foot….another leg…oh god...oh god they were unattached.

The orphan pack…

She startled awake the choked weeping ringing through her ears, just another nightmare. Miss Shannon settled back against her pillows, reminding herself of her mantra.

She was here in her bed. That was years ago. He was dead. She was no longer a maid. She was the principal of Whipsfield High. he wasn’t coming to get her. He had died in jail, bereft over not finishing his “masterpiece” The Orphan Pack.

Elliot Shrepdun had been renowned in the arts for his use of physical material to make his lifesize dioramas telling stories of all kinds. When she had worked for him, she learned he liked to have his evening cocoa brought while he was curled up with an old-fashioned adventure book, often commenting on the poor boys trapped in dangerous situations or the young girls solving mysteries. Particularly because they usually had no families.

He himself had a pair of loving parents and siblings he got on well with. Possibly a reason why when the news reported the disappearances from the orphanage and he mused on the endings of his favourite novels and how he did not believe such children would be able to find their way out of dangerous situations so easily, she thought nothing of it. Not even when he gloomily moped about being late for his next show in finishing his latest piece did she piece together the coincidences? After all, she was just there to work.

And then that awful night, she returned to lock the kitchen doors like he always instructed yet it had somehow slipped her mind. Heard his laughter…found him in the living room…saw his masterpiece.

Shivering back to reality she got up and went into the bathroom, splashing her face. A voice in her head reminded her to take her pills but reaching into her cabinet her hands grasped something cold. Ah. Yes. She needed to finish grading those papers. Jo Masters had proven to be a B+ subject at best but Bobby Bryce might yield more interesting results the poor girl, like Jo her parents were gone. She saw them arriving on the bus from the short-term living at school each day. Maybe they just needed a talk about their work.

Once she returned to bed and began drifting back to sleep she ignored the voice in her head amongst the others reminding her she no longer graded tests in favour of the one reminding her the Orphan Pack has still to be completed...

Future

The moon was halved in the sky by the time Markie had left the party, the only light allowing him to count the fish under the bridge as he made his way home, the letter in his pocket, left on the counter and no one had claimed it finders keepers he reckoned. He was halfway across when he noticed a figure steps away. Odd. he hadn’t seen anyone else crossing at this time of night. The figure stopped right in front of him and when he attempted to move past barred the way, getting ready to push past with what was left of his patience. Markie found his feet wouldn’t move. It felt like magnets had attached them to the ground.

The figure hadn’t said anything but lowered its hoodie to reveal a pale face with a smile and dark eyes. The eerily cheerful smile stayed on its face as it gestured to his pocket where the letter was hanging out. Unwillingly Markie’s hands pulled the letter out and lifted it to his eyes.

The shadow man is sorry to do this to you.

Ice filled his stomach as he lowered the letter to find the stranger’s face had changed the smile was gone and the lips had turned downwards, looking near tears as it regarded him. Unhappy….sorry to do this.

Markie was never seen again. The Shadow Man is sorry for that.