She looks like a ray of light, like the sunset, like the sky after rain, like the sea looks when it kisses the sky at the horizon and she radiates warmth like Christmas lights but like fire, she looks fierce.
She smells of lavender brushed with bonfires, like chestnuts and tall maple, like the violets and lilacs , up in the mountains.
She walks with the stance of a ballerina and she sings throwback songs that remind me of childhood. She plays hard and loves hard. Being with her feels like summer and that says a lot.
It was that time of the year again. In the town of Mitachi, the place I called home, every 18 year old was blessed with some extraordinary power. I thought of the powers my father, mother and sister had. My father could decipher the meaning of all kinds of dreams. My mother had the ability to sense lies. My sister was a blessed bird. She was blessed with physical powers allowing her to do any possible stunt, any split or any physically possible yoga pose. Because of that she became a stunt runner . Why wouldn’t anyone if he could balance all of his weight on a fingertip like she did. What else could one possibly ask for?
I was pulled out of my train of thought by the sound of the blow horn. Names were read out, teens gifted and all of them would know when the right time would come. Zuzak. Adam. Loran. Austin. Suzan. Leah and so on. Finally, my name was called out. Sophia Grace. I approached the goblet of smoke which kind of choked me . The smoke rose and encircled me and at that very moment my nails grew an inch and there was some kind of electricity flowing through my hands, charging through me. It wasn’t exciting, it was frightening. Little did I know that ‘Frightening’ was all it could ever be.
I looked at the goblet once and walked away. Back at home, no one asked me about my ability, they would know it soon enough.
I couldn’t sleep well that night. All I dreamt of was my sister entering a room with muddy walls, floor and a muddy ceiling. I ran after her, trying to stop her but she disappeared into the room.
i woke up with beads of sweat on my forehead . Anyway, I walked downstairs, had breakfast , the same old scramble and sausage, to erase the negative thoughts from my head. My sister was in a dancer’s stance. I was happy to see her at her happiest self. I gobbled up my food and went to work at the local greenhouse.
Work and the day were okay or so it was until I came back to an empty house.
My parents came home at 8 in the evening. I was scared out of my mind. Understatement. My mother had just entered when our neighbor Mark followed , carrying the lifeless body of my sister.
They told me that she fell of a cliff and the raging water never spared her a breath. All I could do was rock back and forth, stifling the sobs.
I dreamt again that night. I saw Loran , the third boy to be gifted in the same muddy room . But this time he was shrieking and when the cries came to the highest, I woke up.
Loran died the next day.
If only I had known.
I could sense death , that was my gift . I realized it on the day they told me that Loran was out in the wild when a boar strangled him. his screams still echoed in my head. Pleading.
Today was the day, I needed all of the bravery in the world. I had found the solution to my self-destructive power. Wasn’t life just a blink from a train….I would pass.
I lay down, breathed a long breath and dug my nails into my throat and it no longer hurt. I was set free. I tore my skin apart and as I escaped into nothingness, I saw myself entering the room.
Behind the scenes:
I love contradicting my own statements , hence the first caption..
2. The muddy room refers to the grave. An indirect comparison.
3. Yes, I get nightmares . Do you?
Let me know about your fears in the comments 🙂
Story: My own creation.
Captions: ‘Stitches ‘ by Shawn Mendes.
I hope you liked this story. If you did, please share it as It is one of my dearest works. Good day.
Her eyes were deep – green, like a woodland lake. Her smile was innocent and her face was sharp and smart. Her hair was straight and luscious and looking away from her was hard. Her walk was graceful, yet agile and deft. She was hard working but impatient, loving but bad with expressions. She was successful but never proud, she touched the sky and still remained down to earth. She was beautiful, I tell you but it was not her beauty which was as everlasting as her smile was.
Her multitudes were many but they made her who she was- one of a kind.
She was alone, sitting under the tree, petting her dog who wanted to run boundless and accelerated but the girl held him close. Why? Simply because he was her sole companion. She was tired of listening to the names the other children called her, she was tired of fighting back, she was tired of trying to fit in. The other kids played hopscotch but she was left alone and deserted, like always. As it turned dark, she walked back home, another walk down street without any friend.
At home, she read till late at night and then cried herself to sleep like she did every night. The angels above were troubled, they realized that life was harder for her than death. So, the angels at dawn took the girl to heaven with them, they broke her from every bit of pain inflicted by her fellow humans…………….She was set free…………
When her dog saw her in the morning, motionless and finally relaxed, he whined once and lay dead on her feet. And from then on, the girl and her dog played in the garden of bliss for ever more. The people who had given her an unmatched amount of pain, were now, themselves in agony but Alas! there is no coming back from the destination we all share.
That girl is in every one’s life , open your heart to her, to another troubled soul, maybe you can be the angel who’ll grant her that garden of bliss in this world, just by extending your hand.