"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
One minute she is running, the next a unicorn and now she is herself. Back on the blank slate of white with nothing but a name, her name etched beside her in an elegant script. Great, just great.
Her golden flecked eyes move, scrutinizing the empty space surrounding her. With a flick of her ear, she hears crinkling in the distance. More scratching and then a cyclone of wind is tugging her into its hold. With a quick turn and panicked eyes she attempts to run, but it is too late.
...
“Oooffffttt,” with a heavy thud she lands on her left hip. Throwing the contents of her arms to fall at the will of gravity as she catches herself with her palm. There is a throbbing pain at her ankle. Her free hand unconsciously reaching for the source of pain. Gently, she caresses the tender joint. “Oh my that stings,” she sternly voices in much too sweet of tone. Rotating slightly off her hip as her eyes look to the debris scattered about. Nice one Aurora.
“Are you ok?! Here let me help you,” a kind deep voice calls down to her eagerly. She turns her head to look at the stranger. Finding a charming young man with dark auburn hair and steel grey eyes offering his hand.
“Oh… Umm. W...well thank you,” she replies bashfully as she reaches the hand at her ankle to meet his. With gentle strength he pulls her to her feet. Slightly teetering to favor her injured hip and ankle, she steadies herself. “I'm such a klutz,” she half giggles as she limps to a nearby picnic tables. Observing her scraped palm as she sweeps her blonde hair from her eyes. Now noticing her papers and books flung across the sidewalk that the man is now gathering. He hastily retrieves the last item before turning to her, “Your fi…” A brief pause in his step and voice as he looks to her face, “...ine.” A gentle smile forming on his lips before he steps towards her. Holding out the messy pile of materials to her. “I believe these are yours,” he offers before she takes them and sets them on the table.
“Thank you very much. I don't know what happened. I just got a bit dizzy and fell, I think,” in confusion and embarrassment her eyes fall to search her hand. As she twists it, palm up, he sees the scrape and becomes clearly concerned, “Are you ok? Should we call someone? The zoo has a medical unit.They can check you out.” Immediately she gathers herself with a reassuring deep breath, “No, no, no. I'm ok. Really. Maybe I just need a drink of water. I walked here. Yes, I'm sure that's it.” She begins straightening her pile of materials and grips them back into her arms. Looking to him with a smile, before she slightly fumbles in panic, “Oh I'm sorry. Where are my manners?!” Shuffling the books into one arm before extending her uninjured hand, “My names Aurora.” The man releases a slight chuckle before extending his own hand to shake hers, “No apology needed. I'm Ronan but people call me Rou.” His smile is charming and infectious, but there is a moment where memories surface as she hears the name that causes her smile to weaken. “Something wrong?” He asks at the sudden change in her facial expression. Quickly she shakes her head, “Oh no. I thought maybe I forgot to remember something.” She pauses a moment more before taking back her hand and turning to the facility she had came to. She often visited the zoo in her downtime from work and school. Finding the peaceful environment on a weekday the best time to go for a stroll. She was in her second year of veterinary medicine and enjoyed studying here. Hoping one day to work at a zoo such as this.
The grip on her studies tighten as she tests her walking abilities. Taking an easy stride forward, finding her ankle to still function and her hip just sore from her fall. “How's the book? I've been meaning to check that one out,” he begins to walk with her towards the main entrance. Looking to the cover page of the book on top she smiles, “Zoo… I highly recommend it! It's very fascinating and the story context is intriguing. I mean, if it's your thing. Robert Patterson is one of my favorite authors.” She is quite happy to indulge his question as they near the building. “I'm a student at the College of Veterinary Sciences and zoology is going to be my major… at least I hope. That is if I pass my second year,” always quick to doubt herself, she looks to him, “What brings you to the zoo on a Tuesday?” Bright golden eyes search his face for clues. “Damsel in distress… obviously,” he looks to her with a smirk as he reaches to pull the door open for her. She giggles softly as she steps into the building.
Looking to find the ladies room, she turns to him, “I better go clean up this mess.” She motions to her hand and entire body with a wave of her arm. “I usually come here alone… but if you wanted to join me… I'd be ok with that,” pausing to add, “I mean, if you don't have plans.” Clutching her books again she peers over them for his answer.
“Well, I would...but I kind of work here,” he pauses when her expression dims, “but, if you'll be here until closing I could give you a private tour after?” He smiles with hopeful eyes. Her face alit again, she nods in agreement, “Oh yes. I’d love that!” He smiles happily, “Ok, six under the clock tower. I'll meet you there.” She gives him a thumbs up, “Sounds good, see you then.” She watches as he half waves and walks towards the employee entrance before turning to the ladies room.
Setting her books down on the counter, she runs her hands under the faucet. Cleaning away blood and dirt from her palm. Looking into the mirror, she pulls a small leaf from her tangled blonde hair, “Oh Gods, look at this mess.” She cleans up as much as possible before gathering her things and exiting the bathroom. Heading to the central doors to access the outside exhibits.
.
The sun is high in the sky as she reaches the pathways. Each fitted with a sign of the desired destination. It doesn't take her long to know right where she is going. The african safari section of the park was always her favorite. So she turns left and makes her way. It is quiet, despite the faint bray of the zebras. A couple families with younger than school-age kids point out the different species of animals. She walks past with a gentle smile. Eyes searching for a secluded path that she knows is nearby. Finding it with ease, she slips through the bushes and continues along. Song birds chirp overhead, causing her to smile. A small bench, tucked around the corner, comes into view. It sits just in front of the lion pride exhibit and offers the tranquil atmosphere for reading. She is quick to claim it, setting her books down on one end and stepping up to observe the large cats. Much to her surprise they are nowhere to be found. Their usual hiding spots appear to be vacant, and as she turns to sit on the bench, a glint of white catches her eye. Squinting to see the figure and rising on her tiptoes, she makes out the skeletal remains of what appears to be a rather large bird. That's strange, she thinks. She watches a minute more, taking in the size and color of the remains and believes it to be a vulture. Perhaps it had been eating on a carcass and got caught by the resident felines. With a shrug of her shoulders she turns to return to the bench. When again she attention is drawn to a sound. Her eyes look to the enclosure to find one of the younger male lions crouched behind some brush. The cats eyes focused, as its shoulders readied for a pounce. What is he looking at? Her question doesn't linger long as her eyes follow the cats gaze. A door on the far side of the pen is left swung open. That's a huge mistake on the zoos part, she thinks. Bracing herself against the railing she peers through the thick brush. Straining to make out a figure coming inside the pen. Oh good. Someone is closing the door, is her dismissed assumption. Someone's in there!! She realizes with panic.
Just as she gasps and goes to run towards the front of the exhibit, the lion lunges from its hiding place. In only a few leaps it is swiping it paws and lashing its teeth at the caretaker. She arrives, shouting, “Get out of there!! Oh my God someone… anyone, get help!” The man swings a bucket at the cat and she can clearly see it is Ronan. “Ronan!!” Watching in horror the lion knocks the man to the ground. Clawing at his head and ripping at his body. She screams. Visitors arrive to see the commotion and witness in the same horror as her. They begin shouting at the cat, throwing rocks to distract it. Children cry as mother's rush them away. Another man runs up in full security gear. He leans over the rail and climbs to the edge of the exhibit. She assumes he is a security guard that came to help. “You've got to do something!” She pleads. The man looks at her, “What should I do? Shoot it?!” His hand grabs for his handgun. Raising it and taking aim. His hands, shaking in fright, attempt to steady as he sights in the large beast. Squeezing the trigger, the cat leaps at the loud crack of gunpowder. Bolting for the still open doorway, “Oh my gosh, the door! It's still open! It… it doesn't lead out here does it?!” She grabs the guards arm. He looks at her, wide eyed. Grabbing the rail he jumps back over and begins running. She quickly follows the man. Rushing past families they shout, “Get to the main building. Hurry! Get out of here… it's loose!” People begin fleeing towards the entrance. Knocking into each other and they rush to safety. She stops briefly to watch as children and parents alike, scream in terror.
Turning again to follow the guard, who rushes toward a walkway around the back of the enclosure, she spots the open door. Frantically searching for any sign of the lion, they slow and approach cautiously. Help!! Ahhh!! They both turn to the left. A young woman screams, clutching a stroller with a baby in her arms. They begin running towards her only to find the lion slowly moving in for an attack. The guard raises his weapon again, more steady this time, and fires two shots at the cat. Hitting it once in the shoulder. It jerks forward and jumps into the brush. Mikey! The lady screams and rushes towards a small body laying on the ground. She gasps as her eyes find a young boy laying in a pool of blood. Tears begin to fill the corners of her eyes as she walks towards the woman. Shock struck her mind is slow to respond. Call for help please! The mother screams as she holds her crying infant and lifeless son. She doesn't know where the guard has gone and when she comes to, she fumbles for her phone. Quickly dialing 9-1-1
Dispatcher: 911 what's your emergency
“Hello… I'm at the City Zoo. A lion escaped its cage and has attacked two people. I… I…
Do you know where it is now?
“No. I don't. A security guard shot it at least once. I'm here with a woman whose son is bleeding really bad. We are just near the back of the exhibit. Please hurry”
A couple more shots are heard in the distance as more screams erupt. She looks to the woman before assuring her help was on the way. She feared it was too late for the boy and her gut wrenched on what hell the mother is going through. “Ronan!” She whispers almost as the phone falls from her grasp. Turning her eyes to the doorway just within the brush line. Somberly she begins walking in the direction of the open door. The woman's cries fading behind her. Her heart begins to thud in her chest to the point of breathlessness. Each step seemed drawn out, as if everything was in slow motion. Reaching her hand out, she grips the doors handle. Moving the door aside, as she looked into the cage. Wearily searching for another cat to leap from its hiding place. She assumes that if there was another that it would have escaped already. As the events cloud her mind she pieces them together logically; Ronan must have been going in to clean up the bird remains and one of the lions hid. Not realizing one had remained in the pen, Ronan entered and left the door open. She enters the cage and looks to where Ronan would be. Faintly seeing a figure collapsed on the ground, it remains still as she approaches. Golden eyes fixed on the body of the kind man she had met not so long ago.
There is blood. Lots of blood. He was curled into a fetal position and facing away from her. Clothes tattered and soaked, she assumes his fate is much the same as the child's. Her vision, blurry from tears, notices a slight movement coming from the still body. She gasps, “Rou?!” Rushing to his side, she kneels behind him. Hands hovering just above his side. She doesn't know what to do. He begins to turn towards her. His head turning slightly to reveal the extent of the lions damaging claws. Her hands wisk to her lips to cover the sound of horror escaping her. His near perfect face….gone.
Not all that glitters is gold
1. Skeleton of bird
2. A mistake at the zoo (door left open)
3. Frightened security gaurd
Word count: 2,369
*TRIGGER WARNING*
Contains death, blood and disfigurement of a child, as well as an adult.
01-28-2018, 12:34 PM (This post was last modified: 01-28-2018, 12:53 PM by Ceara.)
let me pick your brain, girl. and tell me how they got that pretty little face on that pretty little frame.
Ceara sat alone in a pub, playing with something in her hands. It was busy work, but her amber eyes stayed focused, trained on the small object in front of her, entwined between her delicate fingers. Sighing, she puts it on - a massive diamond ring. She holds it out before her, turning her hand ever so slightly to examine the near-perfect stone.
Ceara checked her surroundings to make sure she was not attracting any unwanted attention, and slipped the diamond off her hand and into the pocket of her jacket. She then turns her attention to the pint sitting before her. Grasping it, she tilts back the glass bottle, tasting of black cherry. There was nothing like the feel-good drag of fruit-flavored liquor, and she could not get the likes of this back in America.
Ceara put the bottle back on the bar top, looking around from her place in the corner. She hoped he got here soon. She needed to be out of here and on her way.
She put her hand back in her pocket and fingered the ring once more. She needed to get rid of this, get paid, and get back. Ceara let go of the ring and wrapped her hands pensively around the bottle, squeezing it.
She was tense.
“Hey, can I get a double shot of Dewar’s, on the rocks? Cheers.”
The man's voice was as hard as it was kind, and his hands were exposed as he leaned against the bar top. Those hands were the first thing Ceara noticed about him in the pub’s dim lighting. When ran his fingers through thick brown hair, she knew it was him. She swallowed the last dregs of her alcohol, and got up from her seat.
Ceara approached the man nervously, noting the broad cut of his shoulders, and the blue of his eyes as he studied the mirrored wall at the back of the bar. Ceara swallowed, and then gave a polite cough to signal her existence. The look he gave her when he turned was not at all the cordiality he had shown to the pubmaster. He looked guarded. “Can I help you?”
She nodded, obviously nervous, and cleared her throat to speak. The barkeep interrupted, and Ceara exhaled, grateful for the momentary distraction. “More whisky, Sir?” The man nodded, waving his hand in the air to signal ‘when’. Another sip, and he turns his attention back to Ceara. “So, you must be her, then? Let's take a look.”
Ceara was released from her reverie and brought back to the present. Her hands dig in her pocket, and fish out the ring that lay protected within. She inspects it, before holding it out to the man in front of her. Immediately, his face softens, and he takes it in his hands and inspects the ring (and the diamond) from every angle, admiring the craftsmanship. Then, he pulled a jeweller’s glass out of the pocket of his trousers, inspecting the stone. The diamond itself was a large solitaire, cut with so many facets that it glittered in the faintest of light. The color was a brilliant white,and carried an almost opalescent quality to it. It was oval-shaped, and surrounded by the busts of two large prancing stags, set in place by the antlers that acted as prongs, wrapping around into the circle of the ring itself. A moderately humble piece, but there was something about the diamond that was unique, and for Ceara, a pre-law student studying at the University of Devon, her great grandmother's heirloom said only one thing.
Tuition.
Ceara went back to shuffling and playing with her hair while the man inspected the ring, going over it with a fine toothed comb. “So, you say this was your great grandmother's ring...uh..”
“Ceara.. m-my name is Ceara. Ceara Smythe, ” she stuttered. Ceara’s voice quavered, and she was visibly nervous as she looked at him, and the way he seemed to be absorbed so deeply into the luster of the trinket in front of him. “You know, I have to get back to class eventually and…” she stops, closing her mouth, her eyebrows knitting together. The man waved his hand in the air as he had done with the whisky, pays her no mind as he finishes his inspection. Ceara huffed, placing a hand on her hip. “Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but you can’t just…”
“Warrick,” He interrupted, passing her back the ring. “Warrick Cavendish.”
“Okay, Warrick Cavendish. I came to you because the shopkeeper said you might be able to give me a deal on this ring, and I really need the money. But just because I am an American university student does not give you the right to think you’re better than me. You can’t just hush someone up like that and expect them to obey you.” Ceara quiets her voice, noting the quiet and all eyes are on her.
“As a matter of fact, I can,” Warrick says. His bright blue eyes bore into her amber gaze at her, not unkindly, but sternly. “I own this bar as you American ladies call it.” His voice is quiet, pushing off the bar top and coming to stand at full height. Slowly, activity resumes with people continuing with their meals or drinks, and conversation resumes, though much quieter than it had been. Warrick held out his hand. “Might I formally introduce myself. Warrick Cavendish, 17th Duke of Devonshire. And you, Miss Ceara Smythe, are in possession of a very precious diamond.”
Ceara was struck dumb as she shook his hand. The man in front of her was a Duke, and apparently all the people in the pub knew it. Ceara dropped his hand--embarrassed, she slips the ring back into her pocket. Warrick steps towards her, motioning her to a booth in the back, signalling for two pints of pale ale. “Let’s go back here and talk, shall we? We have a great many things to discuss.” He chuckles airly and she finds she is silent as she follows him.
Ceara slides into the booth seat, the bartender right behind them, placing their pints on the table and walking away. Warrick checked his phone, sent a quick message, put it on silent, sliding it back into his pocket. “You have my full and undivided attention,” he says, folding his hands on the table.
Ceara sets the ring on the table between them. “This was my great-grandmother’s ring. She wore it for 54 years before she died and gave it to my father. When he married my mother, it became hers. But after he died…” Ceara’s voice choked, her mind to her father, and how much she missed him. “...it came to me. I have no use for it. I need the money… for school. A shopkeeper gave me a number to call. Which eventually led to you.” She stretched and turned in her seat, crossing one leg over the other. “I don’t know much about it, or how my great-grandfather found it.” She stared him down with her amber eyes, but he was not looking at her. All his focus was on that small object on the table.
Without asking Warrick reached out for the ring, and picked it up. And he began to speak.
“In 1939, a young American girl fell in love with a wealthy British aristocrat. He was the Marquess of Hardington, and her father was the American ambassador to London. They met at a country house party, and it was love at first sight. She was bright, vivacious, and plucky. All the things that local British girls are not. She flowed easily between the classes, and fit herself in Society as if she had been born to it. She was even so brass as to talk about things that were considered too passe for the time. But she could get away with it, because she was wealthy, entitled, and American. Everyone loved her, except the boy’s parents.
“Her name was Kick Cordwell, and his name was William Cavendish. He was the heir apparent to the Duchy of Devonshire. A socialite, his father had great plans for him in the House of Lords. As a Protestant, he was expected to inherit the title and all the land holdings. Kick’s family were staunch Catholics, and in America were very influential in political circles. Their families opposed the match, and though the two were desperately in love, they had to keep their relationship a secret. The lengths they went through to be able to be together, how many times Kick begged her father…” Warrick stopped, his impassioned voice quieting down as he regained his composure.
“He wouldn’t relent. The rift between the Catholics and Protestants goes far deeper in this country than any other. Kick’s brothers would become Presidents and Senators, and there was no way his daughter was going to marry a Protestant whelp from England. William’s parents said much the same of Kick’s family. He had a Plan, his life was already mapped before him, and a Catholic did not fit in that picture. So when World War Two broke out, it was a great relief to Kick and William’s parents. Mr. Cordwell took his wife, Kick, and her siblings back home to America. William entered as a Sergeant Major in the Army, and went to war.
“For five years, they were separated. Letters were scarce, and while the families held out hope that Kick and William would grow apart, they did not. They held on to those letters, and kept them close. Each one was read over and over again until the fold lines were worn through, until the ink was wet with tears. They fell more in love with those letters. Not less. It was, in one of those letters, that William asked Kick to marry him, and much to the Chagrin of their parents, she said yes. The letter took too months to get to him.
“In 1944, when the Allies had finally begun making headway on the European mainland, it was safe enough for the Cordwells to go back to England. Kick and William were married in a private ceremony on the fourth of May. This,” The duke paused, emotion in his breath was heavy, and he motioned the ring to Ceara’s attention. She looked down, captivated by the story he was telling her. “This was her wedding ring. It was taken from a center stone that was originally set in the Duchess’ tiara. Held up by prancing stags, the animal that supports the Cavendish coat of arms. It was the only diamond of its kind. The Duchess treasured it, just as she soon came to treasure her new daughter in law.
“In June, William went back to the war, leaving a young bride behind. In September… word came that William had been killed in action in France. Kick was devastated. She had been married a four short months before her best friend and lover had been taken from her forever. But she did not go home to America. England had become her home, and where her husband had lived. She wore this ring every day until the day she died. Which, tragically, was 4 years later. She died in a plane crash over french airspace. The rubble from the attack was less than 4 miles away from where her husband’s body had been found, and the ring was never recovered. Until today.”
Warrick’s voice got quiet, his hand resting on the table. They had been talking for hours - long enough for the light in the oil lamp to go out. He called the pubmaster over for more oil and a box of matches, and within minutes, the light was back on again, this time burning more brightly than it had before. The ring looked almost ethereal with the way it glowed. Ceara’s gaze was heavy on the heirloom, tears forming in her eyes at the vast history that it carried. “Am I to assume that you are their grandson, then, from a child that William Cavendish never got to know?” Ceara was quiet, her eyes trained on his handsome face.
“No.” He dragged out a sigh, his emotions heavy. “They never had any children. Kick had been pregnant when she found out about William’s death. She was so grief-stricken that she miscarried not long afterward. Willam’s younger brother Arthur took the title after their father passed.”
Ceara looked at Warrick then. She sighed heavily, and, looking down, pushing the ring in his direction. “Take it,” she said, her voice shaky.
Warrick sat back in his seat, really looking at Ceara for the first time. His blue eyes hardened for a minute in thought, and then softened again. “What about University?” Warrick’s concerned voice was quiet, and he reached for the ring almost at the same time that Ceara did. They bumped hands, and Ceara held his for moment, sighed, and put the ring in his grip, squeezed, and let go.
“I will figure out something. Another scholarship, a job.” Ceara’s eyes moistened again; one lone tear trailed down her cheek, highlighted by the glow of the oil lamp that sat on their table. “But I cannot sell something that was never rightfully mine in the first place. So please. Take it.”
Warrick’s hand covered Ceara’s. His tender touch surprised them both, but he nodded, pocketing the ring into his Oxford jacket. His voice is soft. “Thank you. For more than you’ll ever know.” She pulls back then. It was supposed to be simple. Sell a ring, get a check, go back to school. But life was never simple, apparently.
Ceara, had given away the only ticket to finishing her education. Now, having tears in her eyes for another reason entirely, she turns, scooting herself out of the booth seat to straighten her jacket. She coughs, and puts her hands in her pocket anxiously. “I must get back. I’ve been here longer than I planned. My flatmates will have the dogs out looking for me if I don’t show up soon.” Warrick wordlessly gets out of the booth also, and puts his hand in his pocket, twiddling the ring just as she had done earlier in the day. He coughed. “So, I guess I’ll see you around?”
“Not likely. But it was nice to meet you… and hear about your family. I’m sorry about the ring. I’m...I’m sorry about a lot of things.” She looked up at him then. Warrick’s blue gaze captured her amber one, and they stared at each other a good long minute before Ceara ripped away. Opening the door, she quickly walked outside with a quick goodbye as fast as the door shut. Warrick moved to a window, and saw her get into a bright red Mini Cooper and zoom almost recklessly out of the parking lot and down the road.
ceara
offspring x reagan, smoke healing & fire negation
Element 1: A stolen ring.
Element 2: Whisky.
Element 3: A box of matches.
01-28-2018, 04:01 PM (This post was last modified: 01-28-2018, 11:41 PM by Valensia.)
Valensia
Val squeezes her eyes shut as tight as she possibly can, she shuts them so tightly that colors burn through the blackness. She waits with bated breath afraid of what she might find when she opens her eyes. There is no impact or anything to signal that she has moved out of the black hole making her worry that something has gone terribly wrong. As a yearling, she doesn’t have much patience, and it doesn’t take long for one eyelid to open. All she can see is a gentle white around her. Everything seems to be in order, even her name in blocky letters is back in place of her shadow. Valensia takes this as a good sign relaxing with a large sigh to let all the air out that had been bursting in her lungs. Valensia notices her abhorrent appearance; gone is all that made her beautiful, replaced with bestial qualities that should never adorn a Pegasus. She finds instant regret in talking back… more like thinking back to the creature that had made her into this. Valensia also thinks that she should not have been tardy on her way to meet it. Maybe if she hadn’t been so ill-tempered the creature would have given her a nicer gift.
No sooner has she accepted her new self then a blinding pain rips through her body. She pants as her front hooves begin to split, elongating, softening into skin and muscle until they are no longer hooves at all. The change courses up her forelegs forcing her to collapse against the page. She begins to shriek as bones reform themselves. All that exists is the breaking, stretching, and shrinking of her body. She closes her eyes against it. Losing track of time, she becomes feverish in her mental state. Drenched in sweat she lays there waiting for an end that isn’t in sight. Finally, when it’s done she is left curled in a fetal position, small hiccups are all that she can manage after the sobs that consumed her.
When the girl is sure that the change is complete she attempts to sit. Figuring out how these new limbs work takes all her focus. It’s slow going for the first tries, but eventually they work. The newly formed child wiggles every limb, toe, and finger, fascinated by them. She has no clothes, and finds that the world is cold without her pretty coat of fur. If anyone was to guess her age it would be 6 in human years. Black, curly hair tumbles wildly down her back. It’s long enough that it tickles the small bruise just above her hips. Her skin is fair, with pouting lips, and large honey eyes. Somehow, she knows what clothes are, and as time passes more things become familiar that otherwise would have had no place in her mind.
A neatly folded stack of blue jeans with worn holes in the knees, a dirty white t-shirt, purple hoodie, and awesome Disney princess sneakers lay within reaching distance ready for her to put on. The t-shirt though threadbare is comfortable, while the shoes pinch her toes. She finds that she needs to cinch the pants tight to keep them up, and roll the bottoms so they don’t drag on the ground. Proud of her work she finally looks up from inspecting the job only to find that the white page is fading away once more. A smidgen irritated at being dragged around like a ragdoll rosey lips pucker into a frown, and arms cross over her stomach. Nicolae is standing next to her tugging to hustle them across the street before they get hit. He hoists the backpack before reaching out to pick her up. Come on Val, or its over the shoulder with you He gives her a mischievous side look from his walnut colored eyes. Somehow, she knows he’s telling the truth. An exasperated sigh huffs from her belly before she untangles her arms and takes his hand with her pudgy fingers. He gives her a lopsided smile, and she can’t help but return the infectious grin.
They look similar, as brothers and sisters do, his hair barely brushes his ears, and his lips are thinner. He carries a book which has a grimy cover, banged up corners, and a peeling spine from over use. Anyone looking at them would be able to see the love as she skips along by his side. Be good and we can read another chapter tonight. Bubbling with excitement she is quick to reply,you mean that we’ll find out what happens to Johnny?! She bounces on her heels in glee. Whaaat?! Nooo, the dragon’s about to terrorize the village! He’s bending to be at eye level, and with a dramatically long exploding sound his fingers spread out away from his mouth demonstrating the large fiery burst that the dragon pours out his throat. She pouts for a moment, we read that last night! She doesn’t quite realize he is teasing, then you better be good chica, or I might forget. She leaps forward on her tippy toes to give him a bear hug and a kiss on his bristled cheek. He returns both, though he cradles her curls in his embrace. A long press of his lips to her forehead makes her feel all warm-fuzzy inside. Alright be back here at five. He warns her sternly, eagerly she nods her head in agreement.
Skipping off she chases down one alleyway then another, all of them decorated with spray paint, and dumpsters. She ducks down one that looks especially interesting and there she sees a boy just about her age. He has blonde hair and tanned skin; his clothes look similar to hers in that they don’t quite fit properly. She stops at the entrance a moment watching him crouch over something she can’t see. She starts to walk towards him, when standing over him she observes that he is putting together a bird from bones. Her nose wrinkles at the idea of touching something dead. Whatcha doing? she keeps her hands clasped behind her back. The boy startles and drops the bone he had carefully been assembling. Looking up to her with a scowl his bright blue eyes squint to see her against the sun None of your business. She bites her lip a little, hurt that he rejected her so quickly Can I help? He watches her suspiciously, and she thinks it's going to be another no, when he looks back to the bird with a dramatic sigh, okay, but be careful! She bounces clapping her hands together before she crouches down next to him I’m Valensia by the way Holding out her hand her eyes sparkle in glee. I”m Erik He takes her hand with a grudging look on his face until something passes through the touch and they both widen their eyes wondering what had just happened.
They quiet, pondering what it was that they had felt when touching, and slightly afraid it would happen again they scooted away from one another hunching over opposite ends of the bird. They work like this for a while before it finally looks complete. Muddy hands smudge their jeans as they take a step back to look at their hard work. It’s so pretty, she breathes out admiring their handy work. It’s a hawk, his chest puffs a bit against folded arms. She turns her head taking a closer look at him. He’s slightly taller than her, and she has to think that maybe he isn’t so bad after all. She can’t imagine after having worked on the bird that she would have been happy about being startled either; sorry I startled you earlier. He shrugs in response bending to pick up each piece of bone, delicately laying them in a small bag she hadn’t noticed before. What are you doing now? they had just worked so hard on that project! She’s horrified that he would want to ruin it, I’ll rebuild it again tomorrow. Oh, it makes sense now, it's his toy. She’s rather proud of herself for figuring this out, but like usual she is quite to bore. Do you have a place to stay tonight? he doesn’t respond right away, pausing in his methodical care of putting the bones away. She catches his pursed lips. No he doesn’t have a place to stay, quickly, to alleviate any embarrassment she makes him an offer she thinks he can’t refuse. There’s an ally that a bunch of us stay at, its really nice and cozy. My brother even reads a story every night. He perks up slightly, his pupil turned in her direction. Quickly she bends to help him pick up the bones, but he slaps her hand away going back to his method of choosing which ones go in the bag first. Okay, it’s barely a whisper, but she catches it all the same. Great! This will be so much fun. You’ll see! Thinking that he doesn’t want to focus on the aspect of sleeping in the streets she goes silent until he is finished. Reaching out her hand she helps him to his feet. She feels that connection again when fingers entangle. It’s strange, but she must say that it feels a little comforting. From that feeling she knows that they will be friends for the rest of their lives. Valensia thinks that maybe he has the same thought, because just as she looks into his eyes with a big smile on her face, he mirrors her look.
They take off down the ally together dodging into one and then another, making silly faces and poses when they come across different graffiti. Jumping over garbage, and exploring abandoned buildings, by the time they are ready to head back to meet her brother they are both exhausted. They get to the store and wait for him. When he comes out of the building his eyebrow quirks upward. Val, what’s this? She innocently blinks up to him trying to look as angelic as possible. In a sweet, gentle voice she replies, He’s my new friend, he wants to stay with us tonight and I said he could. Her brother takes a moment to think before extending his hand to the boy. Well then, glad to have you along.
Nicolae leads them to their regular ally where a barrel’s glow is surrounded by people trying to get warm for the night. She watches from their little corner as shadows dance against brick walls and men stomp their feet, shifting to stay warm. Nicolae takes off his coat, wrapping her up in it and snugs both children into the makeshift tent he had set up with an old tarp and cardboard. Sitting down next to the tent he takes the book from her hands opening it to their last spot. Someone plays a lullaby on a harmonica, another one hums the tune, but the rest remain quiet, secretly listening to the story that her brother reads in the waning light… And the crowd yelled, she quotes the rest of the line with him, all hail the king. The flickering glow of the barrel wafts away in its last moments. I want to be king someday, Nicolae chortles, tucking the coat around her, do you now? Softly she replies Yes I think I would like that very much. With that comment she yawns, then we could buy a house, and eat carrots every night. For a moment the night is silent before he whispers a last reply, then you do everything you can to become king chica. He kisses her forehead, says goodnight to the boy and falls asleep leaning against the alley wall next to the children's heads. They all manage to quickly fall asleep; her dreaming of kings, dragons, and brave knights until the morning’s light stirs her awake.
She crawls out from the tent giving her brothers coat back to him. Today is saturday that means that Nicolae doesn’t need to work until noon. This is their special day and she is eager to get started, but she doesn’t want to be rude and wake the boys as they are still sleeping. Heading over to the barrel in the center of their little community she waves to Charlie. Morning Charlie, you’re harmonica sounded really good last night, he gives her a toothless grin as he rubs his hands together over the fire. Thank you Miss Valensia, would you like to hear another? She smiles sweetly at him, always Charlie. He reaches into his coat and pulls out the instrument, she thinks that he must be the most talented harmonica player in the world. The song isn’t one that he normally plays in the evenings, its melancholy, and low in its tune. She watches the flames lick at the rust built on the barrel in front of her. She can see them through the bullet hole punctured in the side. They seem to dance with his every note painting a picture of some ethereal world far away from this existence. The boy comes up next to her rubbing the sleep from his eyes as the last notes drift out of hearing. She gives Charlie a quick hug before grabbing ahold of Erik’s hand. Come on Nicolae will have breakfast ready for us. They run back to their corner where Nicolae is waiting with some apples for them. He teases Valensia pulling it out of reach a few times before allowing her to snatch it away. He muses her hair as is their ritual in the mornings before telling them that he needs to go to work early.
After goodbye’s are said, and instructions for being good laid out he shrugs on his backpack and waves before disappearing around the corner. The children take off eager to get started on rebuilding the bird. After they find an alley that seems to be clean enough for them to work he sets the bag down and they crouch over the bones. They work quietly for a while before she asks, stay with us? Erik cracks a smile, okay! Their attention is quickly snatched away as a group of rowdy teens can be heard approaching. The boy puts his finger to his lips signaling her to be quiet. It’s like watching a cat slipping silently out of sight. When the teens grow louder she scrambles to get behind a dumpster. Trapped she tries to stay as quiet as possible, but a nearby rat startles her and she bumps the dumpster. Who's there?! a deep voice booms. It only takes a minute for Valensia to be able to see their boots, she hears the boy calling out to them from the entrance. Over here! a gun is fired and she clasps her hands over her ears. Tears start to roll; she holds her breath squeezing her eyes shut hoping that this world will disappear before the teens decide to kill her too.
“And there was you - your fair self, always delicately dressed, with white firm fingers sure of touch in delicate true work. I loved you then.” - Charlotte Gilman
Words: exactly 2500
Boy: Erik
1: An older brother
2: A skeleton of a bird
3: A children's book
WARNING: Death of a child, and disturbing life situations.
html code by Toli, design idea based on "Dovev" by Laura
There is my mind, there is my heart.
Again the scene changes: all color disappears and all what is left is a blank page and a palomino tobiano unicorn with her name written beside her. It is then and there that she has actually time to study her change. The gold of her coat had completely covered the formerly lavender parts of her coat, making the pearly white stand out less. The most prominent new features are the spiralling ivory horn sprouting from her forehead and the lion tail that moves so different than her previous one did. She has much more control over it, able to move muscles in different directions, curling around her hindquarters with the tip standing up.
It is the fluffy end of her tail that holds her attention as the swirling of the whole page starts again. Colors morph and mingle and blend in new colors, until a rainbow of different colors are left. From there the scene changes, first drawn on a page in the book, then slowly zooming in.
First the globe, zooming in on land, green against the blues of the sea. First slow, then slowly going faster and faster. From a continent to a land, to a state and then a city. From there we go to the east, just outside of a small city called ‘Forge’. The zoom ends with a young woman standing at the zoo’s gate. Her golden blonde hair tied up in a ponytail, one that gently sways in the soft breeze, as she looks up at the big gate wide sign that reads Forge City Zoo.
“Oh finally! You must be the new girl! Come on, come on, we’re late as it is already.” A big hand – though not ungentle – takes a hold of her wrists and urges her forward. The steps he takes aren’t juts big, they’re huge, and Kylin struggles to keep up. Not as if she has a choice, his grip makes sure she follows along, and the surprise makes her struggle and opposition to this weak. ”Wait, no! I’m no-“ she doesn’t get to finish, as the young man interrupts her. “No time for introductions, they are waiting for you. We can get acquainted later! For now; let’s hurry.”
Although she doesn’t remember she had gotten to the zoo, she does know that she was meant to be there. Just not as an employee, but as a girl trying to find courage to visit the zoo. She’d tried to tell the man just that, but each time she opens her mouth, he cuts her off, rambling about the job. “The restaurant will open in.. wait-“ he pauses to glance at his wristwatch, “in about half an hour. And there will be so much they would want to tell you before the guest will arrive, they’ll be hungry and tired after walking around in the zoo all day. You’ll have to know what to do before that! We can’t keep them waiting, can we?” As if he was talking about man-at-arms, who have been out patrolling all day.
“Brian! I’ve found your girl! She was waiting at the gates!” The young man’s voice is loud as he barrels through the door, effectively startling everybody in the room. The sound of the door slamming against the wall makes them jump and effectively pulls them out of their startled state. ”I’m sorry, but I’m no-“ Again, Kylin is interrupted by another. This time in the form of a skinny male stepping through a door that would probably lead to the back. “What’s the meaning of this, Jason? You’ve startled all my apprentices!” he snaps, starring up with narrowed eyes at the young man – apparently called Jason – as his arms cross in front of his chest. “And who is this? You know we’re not open yet.” This reaction causes Jason to shuffle his feet, and glance around a little flustered. “You were waiting on the new girl, right? This is her..” By then Kylin stands trembling on her own legs, tears shimmering in her hazel eyes. ”I.. I’m s-sorry.. but, I’m not..” she manages to get out, prying his fingers away from her arm, before dashing out of the door.
She was not yet ready to be back at this place. She can hear shouting behind her, but thankfully nobody follows her out. Panic holds her in its grasp as she stars to run down a path blindly. Logic has long been thrown out of the window as memories of the past haunt her.
”Kylin! Let’s go see the dolphins!” A very enthusiastic Kharon calls, bouncing on his feet as he points in the direction of the marine mammal enclosures. ”Oh, yes, I’d love to!” She could easily picture their parents sigh and look at one another, but they don’t call the twins back. It was a given that both Kharon and Kylin loved water ánd water creatures almost as much as they love each other. Kharon’s hand finds hers and automatically Kylin grasps his, as they run off towards the dolphin basin.
The lack of oxygen is what forces her to slow down, the soft sobbing and panting has her completely out of breath. Her hand feels strangely cold, as if it had been held before and was now suddenly released and exposed to the crisp air. Through teary eyes Kylin glances around, trembling as more tears well up in her eyes. No, not here. “Come to see, the dolphin show is about to start!” The sudden shout startles her, making her glance to the side out of the corner of her eye. Their eyes meet and Kylin sucks in a sharp breath before shaking her head frantically. She and Kharon always loved to watch the show, but without him, Kylin is not sure if she’s able to see it again just yet.
And thus she’s off. Instead of bolting for the entrance of the zoo, she bolts into the indoor dolphin marine mammal enclosure. With the show about to start, the place is completely deserted, and she couldn’t be more thankful for that. Kylin lets herself drop down on a bench, rather inelegantly, and before she can even get her hands up to cover her face the tears are already rolling down.
Gone. He’s gone. He’d left without a word. No warning, no head up, nothing. From one day to another he had disappeared, snuck away in the dark of the night. She doesn’t know why. Hadn’t she been good enough? Kylin had overheard her twin brother talking to their father, about his ‘date’ with this girl in the playground. Father had pushed him to it, but Kharon had happily engaged. It had been like a slap in her face, and yet, Kylin hadn’t confronted him about it. She hadn’t dared to, afraid that it would’ve been the last push that send him away. Clearly her attempt to keep him at her side had been futile, as her slightly older twin brother had left her behind.
”Kylin,” the calling of her name makes the tiny hairs at the back of her neck stand up. ”is that you?” The voice is soft, thin even, and seems to come from a shadowy corner. Her hands are tucked against her chest, and her expression is completely blank and white as frightful eyes stare at the corner. ”W-who’s there?” she asks with a shaking voice, then holding her breath to not miss any sound.
Deep down she knows what, or rather who, is hiding in the dark. Kylin doesn’t know if she should be afraid, relieved or just incredibly sad and heart broken. It could only be one person, hiding in the gloomy part of the room. Speaking of which, it seemed darker and colder than before, and yet it doesn’t scare her. Not completely at least. ”Kharon?” his name is just a whisper coming from her lips. ”Is that really you?” It couldn’t be, he couldn’t be dead.
It is only then that a transparent shadowy figure steps forward, revealing himself in dim light. More tears well up in Kylin’s eyes and her lips start quivering. ”No..” she whispers, and then contracts herself by standing up and taking one single step in his direction. ”You.. you didn’t come back..” she whispers, shaking her head a couple of times as she tries to ignore the truth right in front of her eyes. ”I’m sorry, Kylin. I meant to get back to you, I always did, like I promised..” He hadn’t left her, not with the intention of leaving her, at least. And she had only thought the worst of him, blamed him for it, while in fact, she was to blame. Kylin had never even attempted to look for her brother.
Her knees buckle as they give out underneath her and before she knows it, she’s kneeling in front of the image of her brother. Tears are rolling down her cheeks, but again she tries to hide them. He moves silently, his footsteps making no sound, causing Kylin to startle and look up surprised as his fingertips gently trail over her cheek. ”Oh Kylin..” She cannot help it but to lean into the touch, her eyes closing as more tears fall, but once again basking in his attention. ”I’ve missed you..” she murmurs through her hiccups, still not looking up at him. So, so incredibly much.
His fingers, slipping under her chin, gently urge her to look up. The smile upon Kharon’s lip is sweet, but sad, and it’s not hard to know what he’s thinking, sweet, sweet Kylin. His touch is cold, but that the young woman ignores, and with a soft sigh he glances away from her. ”I’m not coming back, Kylin, you shouldn’t wait for my return.””No!” she almost shouts, pushing herself up from her kneeling position to launch herself at him. Her arms wrap themselves around his neck, clinging to him as if that would stop him from disappearing. Kharon’s arms wrap around her waist, his hand gently striking down her back. ”I mean it, Ky, don’t wait for me.”
Kharon untangles himself from her easily. He looks down at her with the same sad smile and his fingers ghosts across her cheek one last time. All Kylin can do is stare up at him as the tears spill down her cheeks again. It doesn’t hold him back from leaning in and pressing his cold lips against her forehead. Her eyes are closed when he pulls away, the tears clinging to her lashes sparkling. ”Don’t wait for me.” With that the ghostly image of Kharon steps away, disappearing into the hallway without glancing back.
It’s enough for her to break. A couple of tears fall, but those are the last she has to spare. Her back leans against the bench, as her eyes stare non-seeing at the dolphin basin in front of her. It’s a mother, with two young ones, and in another situation Kylin would’ve smiled upon the sight. Today, not so much, as grief overwhelms her. He’s dead, he must be dead, otherwise he would’ve come back to her.
“There you are!” For the thousandth time today Kylin is startled. She can barely contain a yelp from escaping past her lips, but she doesn’t stop herself from whirling around to look at the young man as he steps into the room. Jason, they’d called him that. “So, hey, I’m sorry from before. I really meant no harm, I thought you were Brian’s new apprentice, that’s all..” he starts rumbling, looking everywhere except at Kylin. It gives her the chance to quickly wipe her eyes with her sleeve, but she’s not able to hide the redness of her eyes. Her smile is weak, and she’s still too struck with grief to actually be upset with him. ”It.. It’s okay..” she manages to say, though her voice is soft and trembling slightly.
However, Jason doesn’t seem to notice. Too stuck in his own guilt – and probably embarrassment for mistaking her for someone else – to actually hear it. “Oh, right. I bumped into someone just now, he asked me to give you this.” That has them both look up. If Jason is already surprised about her looks, he doesn’t comment on it, and instead hands her the small token. Upon realising what it is Kylin gasps softly. ”This.. he gave it to you, for you to.. to give it to me?”
Her hazel eyes move from Jason to the necklace in her hands. It used to be Kharon’s, given to him by their father as a small token from father to son. Kylin remembers admiring the iron on his chest, dreading that she didn’t get something, and now she had. “Yeah..” Jason says, glancing away as he rubs the back of his neck. “He said it was a good luck charm?” he offers in explanation, obviously oblivious to what just happened. “That’s a good thing, right?”
Like that, Jason manages to put a smile on her lips. It’s a small twitch, but that didn’t make it less genuine. ”It is” she replies, softly, slowly tilting her head back to look at him closely for the first time. Did it mean something that he put it in Jason’s hands, and send him in her direction? He’d told her to not wait for him anymore. ”It is a good thing” she replies, now with sturdier voice as she throws her arms around his neck in a surprise hug. Laughing sounds as a last few tears roll down her cheeks. ”Thank you. Thank you so much.” Though Kylin doesn’t know if she’s thanking Jason, for holding her, or Kharon, for sending Jason in her direction.
Word count: 2.280
Boy: Jason
Elements:
- A mistake at the zoo: mistaking her for someone else
- An older brother: Kharon
- A good luck charm: Kharon's necklace.
TW: This post contains allusions to/scenes of suicide/suicidal thoughts.
Rey
-Black cat in disguise-
“Well, any thoughts about it?” The elf asks again, and my flint-colored eyes dart to the mirror.
I’m … a two legger. A hue-man, I think is what they call themselves. “I’m thinkin’ we trim the bangs outcha eyes and glide a lil’ off the sides, hmm?” He rumbles, the sound of his voice like that of a grandfather who was too fond of his pipe. I turn around in my seat (a red chair, overstuffed and comfortable with a musty smell) to get a look at him and that’s when the rest of this new scene comes into focus.
I’m in a salon. I know this, but simultaneously I’m unaware of what the meaning is. There’s a lot going on in my head that’s been inserted for the purposes of this tale, and I’m struggling with the rush of information. Like the fact that I’m a male version of a human, instead of a female like I was in my normal body. Also that I recognize majority of the faces here - all male, like me, most close to my youthful age while a few older gentleman loiter around and flip through crinkled newspapers.
Al’s Baber Shop is painted on the open window facing the street, inverted and backwards from where I look but, as we all know by now, I’ve garnered the ability to decipher ‘English’, written or spoken aloud. I twist back to settle into the barber's chair, appraising my new face with silent contemplation (such a strong chin, and what fine, pale blonde hair!) before deciding to go with the obvious. “Yea, that’ll do I think. Can we slick it back, after?” I question aloud, the elf-turned-hair stylist nodding silently in agreement before lifting a bottle of water to douse my hair.
“Like that’s gonna get’cha laid.” Someone scoffs beside me; a darker-haired youth with a quirk to his brow - Liam, my brain supplies. In this story we’ve gone to the same school since we were kids. Small-town syndrome, it would seem. His sardonic nature irritates me but I crease one corner of my mouth and keep it shut. We’re best friends, after all; Liam has always been this way. “Ain’t sayin’ I exactly want that to happen, Liam.” I sigh, enjoying the feel of the scissors as they snip, snip snip through my hair.
“Gah you freakin’ pansy!” He guffaws, slapping one hand against the armrest, “Might as well pay me the five dollars now, you done good as lost this bet!” He chuckles, delighted with the new shade of red spreading across my cheeks. I can feel my personal barber’s hands slow, and in the reflection of the great mirror facing me, I can see the flickering eyes move away from paper and magazine to study us intensely. “A bet, eh?” My stylists murmurs, expert hands never straying though he seems distracted, “Somethin’ yo mamma’s wouldn’t be too proud of, I’m sure.”
Liam perks right up at this.
“Listen to this: Rey here thinks he’s hot shyt or somethin’, and that some girl is gonna give ‘em the goods before me. Before me I say! Look at that ugly ol’ mug. So I says, ‘Nuh-uh, no way you loose-lipped buffoon. I betcha I’ll get to that finish line years a’fore you!’ And so what does this ninny do? He shakes that he’ll get it in tonight, after the big dance.” Liam hoots, the sound followed by a murmur of low laughter all throughout the store.
I’m saved by the bell, literally.
The tingling sound of the door opening turns everybody’s attention; a girl ghosts through, arms laden with a fresh stack of local papers. If it were even possible, my cheeks ruddy to a bright crimson and I nod her way, once. She smiles shyly back. The stack of periodicals she carries gets dumped by the corner of the entrance and then she’s gone, fluttering away from the overwhelming smell of pomade and testosterone.
Her name is Mary, and she’s new to town. So new that I reveled in the sight of her bouncy, mahogany curls and her pretty blue eyes. The rest of the girls around here were too familiar - I’d seen them go through the awkward stages and wasn’t interested in dealing with that. “Damn shame her momma’s a tramp -” Liam whistles after her, one of the gentleman in the back nodding silently along. It wasn’t a secret that Mary had moved here with her mother, a woman unwed and therefore, automatically pinned as a woman with “loose morals”. “- Apple never falls too far from the tree.”
“That’s my date.” I say, turning in my seat abruptly to address Liam with obvious chagrin. It takes me only a second to realize my mistake.
“OH HO HOOOOO you thought you’d just pave the way, eh? Take a one-way bus ride to easy street, huh? You DOG!” Liam whoops, standing as his stylist waves his cloth cover off, like a matador tempting a bull. “See ya tonight, stud.” He winks at me, pointing his finger-guns at my chest before firing them off one-by-one. I grind my teeth together but tell him goodbye, anyways. No use in trying to stop a speeding horse once it’s loose from the gate.
“That’ll do, ya think?” My barber asks, smoothing the gelled wave of hair over the crown of my head with one final stroke of his comb. I do look like a stud. I pay the man what he’s due, throw in a tip on top and grab a paper on the way out. Between the town and my house, it’s a pleasant bike ride; the streets are quiet because everyone was getting ready for the dance. Only my neighbor, Mrs. Strong, peeks out her curtained window as I roll into our driveway, tan phone clutched tightly in her grasp and pressed close to her yaking jaw.
“Hey Ma!” I shout on my way in, one hand on the stair rail in anticipation of running to my room, but she pokes out from around the corner before I can take a single step. “Rey honey, I just got off the phone with Mrs. Strong -” She starts, my eyes already circumnavigating the inside of my skull, “Don’t look at me like that - I just got off the phone with Mrs. Strong, she told me you were taking that new girl, Mary, to the dance tonight?”
My mother’s expression looks downtrodden. You would think I’d left a stray kitten in a tree or something. “What about it?” I ask, and her eyes narrow incrementally. “Well, honey,” She says slowly, leaning in to share the secret with me, “I hear her mother’s a … well, you know … a … ‘lady of the night’.” She tells me, whispering the last phrase as if it were a curse. I’m surprised she doesn’t cross herself to ward off the evil in the thought.
“That’s a lie. God don’t like gossiping, ya know.” I tell her, escaping up the stairs before her temper can boil over into punishment.
In my room I’m alone, free to think about what was coming. The fact was I liked Mary, very much. She was patient with people, more patient than she had a right to be, and shy - wonderfully shy and demure. She liked butterflies; I often saw her doodle them into the corners of her notes while Mr. Sect droned on in science. It didn’t matter to me what everyone else was whispering around town, ‘bought her mom and stuff. I knew Mary had a kind soul, no eyes so blue could house a spirit anything less than pure. My mom called from downstairs, suddenly - “REY, PHONE FOR YOU HON!”
I picked up from my room. “Yea?” I asked, and a high-pitched whine answered back.
“Rey you cannot seriously be thinkin’ ‘bought takin’ that little call girl to the dance tonight?!” Emily Sue whined to me over the phone. I hadn’t asked her and I guess the jealousy hadn’t worn off yet. She’d been bugging me all week to ask her, and I had brushed it off with hopes she’d just plain give up. Guess I was wrong. “- I mean this bet and all is cute, or whatever, but c’mon!” She scoffed, “You know she’s slept with every man from here to timbuktu, Gracelynn told me so! Said she’s knows some fellas back at ‘er old school or somethin’.” She buzzed on.
“Goodbye, Emily.” I barked once, slamming the phone back onto the receiver. So, Liam was up to the usual - stirring the pot. I knew I should’ve kept my mouth shut about Mary being my date! What was wrong with me? I’d be willing to bet half the town was humming their tongues about it, the phone lines around here had to be white-hot with the news. “Careful, that floozy-in-trainin’ already done sunk her claws into poor Mrs. Whittle’s boy - Yea, Rey, at’s him - she’ll be comin’ for your Sam next, just you wait. Gonna have us ‘nother one of them floating bastards out there.”
Angrily, I dressed myself for the dance. All the way down the stairs, gritting my teeth through my mother’s too-tight hug, even pedaling down the street (corsage in hand) I could feel the whispers following me, growing in strength and horridness with every turn of my wheels. “Who knows who ‘er father is, does it matter?” and “Like a turtle, that girl. Once you flip ‘er over ain’t no way she’s going right side up again.”
When I skid to a stop near the gym, it feels like I’ve got a spotlight on my back.
Liam is the first to trot up to me as I breeze through the double doorway, his hands coming down to clamp my shoulders before he gives me a little shake. “Big night, my friend, big night!” He growls hungrily, slapping me on the back before letting me go. “Here, lil’ somethin’ to get this night started!” He murmurs, pulling me to a shadowy corner of the hallway as he reveals a hidden flask in his jacket pocket. I’m in good spirits, so I down some in a show of comradery but really, I need the liquid courage. I know the stinging wasps are already hovering, just waiting for the finale of ‘Rey and Mary’.
We make our way to the dancefloor, which is really just our normal gym gussied up to look like a paper mache meadow, and my eyes strain for any hint of blue in the crowd, any swish of dark curls or a light laugh. The first song fades into the next, and then eventually Liam leaves my side to wrangle a girl of his own, and before I know it the night’s winding down. All night I sit on the benches, rejecting Emily twice as I wait patiently for a sign of the girl who never comes. In the end it’s just me and the corsage, a butterfly nestled in between the wilting roses that Mary doesn’t even get the chance to see.
I don’t blame her.
-------------
On Monday, the town is shrouded by black juju.
Liam walks quietly to our lunch table, his eyes burning holes into my face because I refuse to look up at him - or anyone, for that matter. “Hey Rey.” He says, sitting down and offering me an apple, which I place next to the rest of the uneaten food on my tray. “I know it’s sad, buddy. But it ain’t your fault. Ain’t no one’s fault. Okay?” He offers, ducking his head to try and force a reaction out of me. He gets what he’s looking for.
“They found her note, ya know.” I growl darkly, “As if findin’ her bloated body in Solomon’s River wasn’t bad enough.” I spit, my vision blurring. “ ‘What good’s a life that’s already been decided for ya?’ “ I laugh humorlessly, reciting the final edict Mary had condemned herself with. She’d wrote the note the night of the dance, and the next morning they found her belly-up on the banks, a heavy stone over her chest to keep herself down.
I can feel the tears flowing over the puckered scar on my cheek; hot, bitter, angry. To think of her final moments was just too much, the pain was something that, in my other body, I’d never thought I would experience. The emotion is deeper, more lasting. I drown in my sobs, wishing more than anything that this sad ending will be transformed, that when I lift my head again I’ll be somewhere else, far from here …
For someone who was abandoned as a child in Beqanna, I know all too well why Mary had done it.
Words: 2,134
1. A hair salon
2. An unfair contest
3. A small lie that gets bigger and bigger
![[Image: 20170518-Letter-Library-Monoline-V3_Lett...80x280.png]](https://winterbird.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/05/20170518-Letter-Library-Monoline-V3_Letter-E-Uppercase-05-280x280.png)
AuroraElis
