Arrabella Parson

"Tis not in the stars to hold our destiny but in us"- William Shakespeare.

CRASH! Slivers of glass littered the floor like stars in the dark. Every crunch of David Thompson' footsteps echoed through my body. The faint glow of a lamp illuminated his muscles, tight with tension and eagerness. He stood firm in front of me, yet I was alone in my house, my darkened home, with nobody but my sub-conscious at my shoulder. The weather was stormy outside, I couldn't bare to look out the window. My eyes were closed to the outside world of betrayal and brutality. Lightning lit up the room in non-synchronized bursts of pure power escaping the sky. The black clouds bellowed with anger at the betrayal.

I sat alone,

in my darkness... While David's thunder roared.

Josie Marie was afraid of loud thunder like so many young children are, though it was not the wrath of the sky that she hid from but instead a man, her mother's mister. A black hearted beast of a man is how Josie would remember him, if she had thought he had a heart at all. A soulless man with black eyes of greed and lust, looking for ways to lure Josie.

To entrap Josie.

To Take.

E v e r y night, she would be visited by this demon of fire and booze, and with every night, a little more of her soul he would steal to fuel himself. She could feel the warmth of his embers inside his gut as they would reignite his pleasure.

Her mother offered no protection, no hope, no love.

Only the ultimate act of betrayal was what Josie saw in her mother's heart. The only protection she could find was to depart from her body in taking her mind far away.

She dreamt of the morning, of the golden glow of the sun that melted the cold darkness away.

Josie Marie found her only comfort in the shelter of her books. Only the thin yellowed pages protected her from the wrath of the world,

The scary world of mothers and men.

No other book rescued her more than that of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare. A book so heavy and thick that, complete with hard cover, Josie found it quite capable of breaking skull and bone. Never before had written words been more powerful over the muscle of man.

THWACK! The old garden shovel slipped from my grasp as I stepped backwards to observe what I had done. In the moist grass I knelt beside Arrabella. She was the perfect girl with the perfect life, now bathed in scarlet red. Brushing away golden hair, I felt her soft neck constrict under the force of my crushing hands. My hands were the final act of sweet Arrabella's dismal fate. Arrabella's face glowed gloriously under the moon that kissed her pale cheeks. She was a goddess, trapped in the form of mere mortality, at last set free. She was released from this mortal coil. We both were.

Finally.

I was able to go home.

Josie Marie like so many others absorbed herself in making a mantra out of the great Authors of History, and so faithfully did she follow the words of Shakespeare. She cared not for the actions that had to occur in order to obtain her place in this universe.

Arrabella was the key.

What fortune Josie had in chance meeting the better reflection of herself! Showing persistence and dedication in the long years of following and watching. She waded slowly into the waters of perfection to be sure she did not drown.

Josie's hair was like golden sand, caressed by the waves of the wind, always trying to whisk away the little red ribbon tied so neatly in place. The ribbon a remembrance of the girl in the photograph but lost in the mirror. She is now hiding among the willows; hiding and waiting for somebody to come and seek her.

Everyday Josie honored Arrabella's image by fueling the expected perfection that resonated around her. Even Arrabella's own mother entrusted Josie with a key to the house. Her mother none the wiser of her daughter's demise or the stranger's dark deceit, always welcoming her home when she should have been high on guard.

It was a dream of absolute contentment.

Josie encased herself in Arrabella's perfection, always acting, always on show. Arrabella's image was her mask, forever kept close and neatly trimmed. A blanket ready to warm her against the cold stormy darkness that she had left behind.

But who had paid the cost?

Arrabella...

No more did Josie utter her name for fear of her sudden apparition at the calling...

The calling...

In this new life, Josie found a familiarity in a bright light that she had never experienced before. A light with a warmth that she had previously attempted to catch with a butterfly net. Now all her dreams streamed willingly through her bedroom window.

The sun now carefully kissed Josie on her face of perfection, the perfect girl with the perfect life.

She had finally taken her place,

Her place in this universe.

Her place as

Arrabella Parson.

CLANG! The silver platter echoed in circles on the cold tiled floor. For that moment, that dispelling moment, I gazed at Arrabella's face once more. The perfect girl with the perfect life, her beauty once more laid before me. A red ribbon pulled her hair that dripped with gold and sweat. Curiously, stepping closer to inspect where I had crushed her neck, she had done the same. Making my best Arrabella smile, I advanced closer embracing the unsuspecting butterfly into the kill jar, then I threw her down with the force of my power. Shattered reflective glass twinkled on the cold tiled floor. Overseeing my mayhem of broken glass and fractured reflections, I was gliding among the stars leaving behind me a blazing trail of delicate footprints. I had walked my path of blood in the years previous and now I retraced those steps once more. A shadow of the past, Arrabella Parson is now lost in that twisted world beyond the mirror, viewing me as if I were the reflection.

Only I, Josie Marie, must remain.

Josie Marie never laid a miss stepped foot. Her delicate dance played in unison to whom Arrabella once was. Never once did Josie misspeak nor did she stumble upon her falsehoods. Her image? Perfection. Her presentation? A perfect echo of the golden of the Golden Goddess who lies beneath the weight of a willow tree. Josie even dared to bemuse herself with the thought of the precious angels fall from heaven. The red ribbon she once wore in honor of Arrabella's sacrifice became a mockery of the pure.

Time etched on with golden hair brushed and high cheeks blushed, along with the decay of a corpse.

Forever Rotting.

Josie accounted for tranquility in a lifelong play of make believe,

She didn't count on ageing.

Peter Mathews played a role that Josie could never have foreseen. His handsome grace filled a room that deprived Josie of her breath. She knew that she must add him to her perfection.

There were few obstacles that barred Josie from her perfect life as Arrabella Parson, and all were easily solved but this one. Josie only could rise to her dream if she unified with Peter Mathews. Peter could see the determination within her, growing with lust in a vicious onslaught. Swimming against the stream of better judgment he conceded to Josie's persistent affirmations of obsession, but soon where lay his admiration for her, seeds of detestation grew.

But it was too late.

Josie's marriage was a perfectly stunning building that others envied from afar. Such beautiful and magnificent architecture of perfection yet if one were to walk closer, it would be evident the materials used were of sticks and mud.

No building can withstand weather nor time, not even a perfect one.

Father time was not kind to Josie's delusive fantasy. Her face crinkled by the sun and her hair honey browned with time causing cracks to show in the house of their love. Peters' distaste for Josie's pregnancy fueled his spite of the once perfect girl he wanted a perfect life with, plastering the cracks over once the baby was born and regular workouts could continue for Josie.

Her marriage become a patchwork restoration of constant upkeep...

For years.

Emptiness.

At first rage, but then emptiness followed. Emptiness that filled the depth of Josie when she saw for the first time Peter saunter out from their daughters' room. The night could not hide the deed that was done in the darkness. Though the storm raged outside and knocked it's loudest to be let in, Josie was too full of emptiness to let the thunder take residence.

Josie decreed herself a new mantra

the day she laid a particular book at the foot of her daughters' bed.

A book so heavy and thick that, complete with hard cover, would be quite capable of breaking skull and bone.

"Bringing death to a hopeless soul is the greatest act of kindness,

Yet,

who are we to determine another's fate but our own?" - Josie Marie