Friday 19th January 2015, 3 in the morning.

“Okay mum, yes I will be there on time...I know.” I mumbled angrily, trying to not channel across as annoyed. “I promise I will bring the flowers and...the rest.” Baffled I peered across at my luggage; it was more than a little and less than a lot. Surveying my dress, it was a light shade of crimson from the tip but then faded as the light vanished as I dismissed the call angrily, whilst mum shouted at Tony, her boyfriend.

The sky dripped, it shed tears as the hues of blue and violet splashed above the herd of overgrown greenery that too over the garden. It clambered up the walls but slipped at every chance it tried to take, a bit like me. Well anyone would say. I had left the neighbourhood to venture the opportunities but first thing I get is a package of calls from everyone. Every nosy elder. Ms Kate was the first to phone Mr Thomas after she peered through my window. The transparent glass had been blanketed under the sheet of frosty, numb snow but nonetheless, she carved the snow out from every crook of every corner, that was wedged in, to look inside. Just then, the network buzzed up, but not by cellphone, by announcing it at every door.

The car shook violently as I twisted the key, shoved it in even deeper, bent it and finally I got a little squeak from the old girl. It’s battered doors were still trying to stay up after the many times I had kicked the door in, the untidiness was even too much to bare when Mrs Thomas’, son’s, wive’s, cousin’s, daughter’s ant wheedled it’s way through the cracked door. The car bounced up and down, shook side to side, rattled and wheezed its way onto the newly built road. It was pure torture. Suddenly I felt a buzz in my pocket. The nerves overtook me: Should I focus on the road or check my pocket? What if it was mum?

Drawing in a sharp breath, I held up the phone to my ear and stopped my legs from shaking. “Hi sweetheart, where are you? You know it‘s about to start and I can’t wait. This dress is very heavy and my heels are killing my feet. Can’t I go in boots or something?” Mum was chippy and high but she spoke without taking any breaths, sometimes I think she’s a dictionary or a thesaurus.

Anxiously whispering back,“Okay mum, I’m just stuck in traffic but I am nearly there, the dress will look beautiful on you and we spent 6 weeks searching for the right dress and shoes. Boots are not recommended for a wedding as it looks cheap and tacky. Do not worry, I will be there,” speedily I cut off the phone before she could answer back. Mum was getting married to Tony her boyfriend, correction, 6th boyfriend and she has been through 4 weddings. I never want to get married, I have been through too many weddings of hers that I think I could have been a Mum of 16 before she ended her drama. When I asked her why, she told me, “I love the thrill, the excitement of being loved but it ends finally so obviously, I keep them coming.” The bad thing about mum is that she will never die, nor our neighbourhood.

Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence, and I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein to be content. My head pounded violently as I shut my eyes just for a second. Suddenly, I felt the world slip out of my hands, this was it, this was my ending.

In the ensuing darkness, red and blue lights flashed my shadow onto the wet grass. Shaking, I looked up at the flipped up car which was engulfed in the fire, it’s heat radiated onto my scratched and scarred body which lay naked and exposed to the hurt and hatred of the world. Mum was too selfish, dad was too busy biting and drinking, there was no use in calling them for help we rarely met since we lived in two different communities. University was a human thing, it was a fantasy or some would say, a dream for Mum and Dad. In the distance, I looked through the thick fogginess which suffocated me. Under the palms of the shady trees I could see through the tint of sunlight scorching down on my side. It was one of the people on mum and dad’s side, they were going to tell the neighbourhood. I couldn’t let them. Whispering the phrases of Lasring, I travelled back to my home, the place I had run away from my whole life.

As I walked down the pathway of the medieval streets, the bazaar was too beautiful with so much to take in. The scenery was abstract and so intense that even the clouds couldn’t stop to look. Finally I had found some peace. But as I looked up at the gawking people, reality hit me. They knew. They knew about the accident. They knew about me changing into a human. They knew about me changing into someone new with every memory of this unknown world that I wanted to forget. I was going to get hanged. Turning around, I ran, what a bunch of amateurs, they wouldn’t know a trick if it hit them in the head.

The more brutal the storm the calmer my heart. I prayed for so long for GOD to send winds with enough power to cover my tracks with the debris of a storm, to wash away any trace of my path. My feet slipped outwards on the wet autumn leaves as I rounded the corner, the cold morning air shocked my throat and lungs as I inhaled deeper. My heart thrummed frantically, all or nothing. Fail and my life will pay the price.

The winded Forest made room for me to walk through. He barked my name repeatedly. Looking back I could see him run after me. He looked athletic but I knew I would outrun him. I ran while the wind slapped my cheeks, the trees made way for me as they pointed towards safety. The rain chucked down on my aching body, finding a large willow tree, I hugged my knees closer to my face. Closing my eyes I spoke to the forest softly, “ I can’t take this anymore.” The branches pointed towards a crinkling sound. Bitter gusts ripped at my clothing. The wind penetrated the polyester fibres which absurd ease and every drop of icy rain soaked through the instant of its impact. My body heat didn’t do so much as drain away or leach out slowly, it abandoned me with callous speed to leave me helpless and shivering too violently to flee. When I began to cry the tear left frozen track marks on my face and they would have gone with anyone who promised them warmth, even if it meant captivity again. My dainty slippers were caked in mud and the storm had battered my jet black hair into a tangled mess.

Blue, turquoise, jet black. Swooshing of water, ripples creating beautiful effect and suicide. Preparing for the leap down the waterfall, I blew rasps of chittering breaths.

Loved ones cause my hurt, grief. My ears are filled with pure tranquility, my eyes stung but wanted this. My soulless body drifted deeper and deeper, the more deeper I went the more calmer I became. Not wanting to turn back, I floated in towards danger. My tensions were put away in the tightest box ever, I closed my never resting eyes and take in the peacefulness away, slashes of hurt guard me. Just as I got deeper, panicked voices arose, a few sets of strong arms lifted me up but repeatedly shook them off. Left to one option, I slipped into darknesses claws.

I could see mum, towering above me, cackling, she was a betrayer. How dare she! Just she wait until the full moon, then I’d be the one laughing above her. I’d spit furiously on her...But I was the betrayer. All I could sense was my life shattering but this hidden world still poisonous. Please don’t judge me. But obviously you’d had have to judge me to know the REAL me. The killer on the inside. I had killed everyone in the normal world. I had trapped them on this island. I was the born killer, I wanted revenge on people who thought dreams we wanted to achieve, could not be achieved. The master mind. And look how I fooled you, thinking I was getting tortured. It’s easy to read about me but it’s hard to look inside the words. I smiled at the people looking above me, they were choking me. Trying to kill me but I wouldn’t die, I had magical powers. With all my force I pushed them back as the water turned into a protective ice sheet that wouldn’t let anyone even trespass. The world was my oyster and if anyone interrupted, then let’s just say you were the mince of the meat... Judge me not.

October 21, 2019 19:40

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Craig S
22:00 Dec 11, 2019

"it was more than a little and less than a lot." Loved this line early on in the story. Nice read


Yoomi Ari
22:34 Dec 12, 2019

Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it!


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