Chapter Two
I wonder. Did I really wish to die? Why else would I put myself out in the cold, and then fall asleep? I do not think that I'm suicidal. I'm tough. I'm not going to give in to something like death so easily. Yet, here I lay. I lay in the back of my mothers car. I can see that she has put a wool blanket around me. I'm still freezing cold. She must have went out looking for me, and then found me asleep. I think that I will only let her think that I am still sleeping. I don't exactly feel in the mood for talking at the moment.She probably thinks that I'm mental or something. I can hear her future words in my mind.What is wrong with that child? How STUPID can one person be? Well, she certainly cannot be my daughter!"You see why I did not want to have to face her? If I could pretend to be sleeping as long as i could, i could save myself from the longest talk in history, for a short while. But, heaven knows, I have to wake up at some point.We are slowly pulling in to our four story, Victorian styled, New York home. There is snow all over the place! For a brief second, I feel a rush of joy. Snow can brighten any ones day. But then, that joy is gone instantly. Mother now notices that my eyes are open. Why did I open them!? Oh well, I guess I'll just have to confront her. I'll just get it over with now."H-hey Mom." I try to sound as weak as possibly, so that she would go a little more easy on me."Oh! My baby's awake!" she screamed."Yeah Mom. I-I'm fine. Now let's just try to forget this ever happened...please.""What in God's name were you thinking!? Why would you ever do something like that, Cessy?""I only needed a walk. Uh, and then i got tired and fell asleep." That was a lie that i just spoke. I didn't "only need a walk". I needed to get away from her, and from everyone else that would remind me of my father. I was tired though. Or maybe, i was just unwilling. I still do not know if that was an attempt at death or not. Part of me hopes it wasn't, but then, the other part wishes that, if it was, my effort would have gotten me success."Well, couldn't you have first told me where you were going? I was worried sick about you!""Sorry." I really don't know what else to say. Maybe i should just turn mute. I mean, i don't even know who i am! Why should i talk, if i don't know who's talking? By saying that i don't know who i am, I mean that i don't know if i want to die. I don't know if i want to live. i can deeply hate my mother one minute, but then the next, well, she's okay. I really miss my dad. It's not like i could talk to him either. But, if i had a problem, he wouldn't make me talk. Mom, she does. This sounds completely horrible, but, once in a while, i wish that she would have been the one to lose her life instead of Dad. Although I only think about that sometimes, the thought is always within me."Cessy, stop daydreaming and get inside before you freeze to death! You seriously can't be that stupid now!"It hurts. It hurts when she calls me stupid. Maybe she should look in the mirror. No, that wouldn't do any help. If it hasn't worked those three hours everyday that she spends staring at herself, it won't begin to work now. I follow her into the house. Salty tears are gracefully gliding down my cheeks. I follow my mother inside. Now it feels more official. My dad actually seems dead, now that i have seen the proof that i needed to. I slowly close the door behind myself after i have entered our home. We haven't even been back two minutes, and Mom's already on the telephone, and it's nearly ten o-clock at night."Will it be ready by tomorrow?" I don't really wonder what she means by "it". In fact, I don't really care. I mean, after funerals, aren’t people supposed to be, well, less insensitive? Yet, she goes about her life as though nothing has happened. I was hoping that her brittle arms would be available for holding me like they used to when I was a child. Like before she got her new job. Before she started making money. She was totally different. She was a mom. I think, at one point I actually loved her."Perfect! About how many trips will we be needing to take? One only? Oh how wonderful!" She says bye, and then she hangs up the phone. Oh no! She is moving towards me. Without making it seem too obvious that i am desperately trying to get away from her, i inch my way closer to the stairs. Once i make it to my room, I will close and lock my door, and perhaps, not to make it all seem rude, say that I'm getting dressed and tell her to go away."Cessy! I have got a surprise for you!""What is it, Mom?" I ask her, trying to sound as enthused as she appears to be. The surprise is probably no more than something like, a puppy, or something else that i could really care much less about."Well, your father, he had a great amount of life insurance money on him. He also wrote us down, in his will, to receive all of the money he had to his name, and, well, try to stay calm sweetie," I could tell that she was just dieing to tell me, and i am really tired, so, for my own sake, I have to push her on with it."For heaven's sake! SPIT IT ON OUT!""We're moving!""Wha-what!?""We're moving to England! London England! Tomorrow!" she squeaks.I can barely believe what she had just spew out of her mouth! It's not that i seriously do not mind moving to London, I mean, there's nothing that i have to miss here. It was the whole idea of it. So, my father dies, Mother takes his money and ships us off to England. I am very sorry if i am wide of the mark, but i do not think that this was my father's intention when he had left his money with us. I really wish that this whole surprise thing could have just been a puppy.I don't know what to do now. I stand here, with my jaw dropped down to my knees."Uhm, okay then. Well, anyways, I have another surprise before we leave tomorrow!" she says. Without knowing what to say or do, I run upstairs. Nearly falling, I dash into my room and slam shut the door.I fall back against it, so that she will not be able to enter. I am so very tired. I need to sit and rest. My back leisurely slides down the door, until i am sitting on the floor in distress. I stay here a while, just thinking.Standing up, I lock my door. I then go and lie down on my bed. I'm asleep before my head crashes onto the pillow.
*****
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Chapter One
-Present time-Here I am in a church, while people are staring at my dead father. The silent whispers of friends and family echo off of the warm walls. My mother and I sit in the very back of the church, strange, I know. But she couldn’t handle being so close to his dead corpse for too long of a time. Mom plays sorrowfully with her fingers as she stares at the cold, thinly carpeted floors.
My long, brown hair is smoothly rolled into a bun at the back of my head. A few stringy strands fall in my face, but I leave them.
Breathe.
I am dressed like my mother. We both wear plain, black dresses, but hers is accented with a pearl necklace, and a black, veiled hat.
Just breathe.
I can remember looking in the mirror this morning and seeing my sallow face, but not caring. I wear no makeup. Just my skin.
Inhale. Exhale.
Everything seems to be moving in slow motion. It seems as though the organist has been playing the same melancholy tune for hours.
Finally, the song ends and I can again move. I lift my head to the front of the church where the pastor stands behind the coffin reading from an open bible in his hands. I hear him say the words; “Please rise”, but I don’t. Everyone stands up around me, but I stay.
For a small moment, light appears through the stained glass windows, but it is just as quickly taken away.
Only he knows why he's dead. Or, maybe he doesn't. Somebody knows though. It sure as hell isn't me. The police are convinced that it was a murder case, or suicide. Me? I think it was all just an accident. Who would want to kill my dad? He was the nicest, most humble man I will ever know. He walked with his head up high, but he did not think of himself better than others. I was blessed to have such a dad. I can remember how he smelled. His scent was that of leather and fresh paper. You see, he was a lawyer. A very good lawyer at that! He used to come home and tell me of all his cases. I loved to hear him talk about those things he did at work. Who would want such a man dead?What I find even harder to believe, is the option of a suicide. My father, commit suicide!? He loved his life! The last thing he would have wanted was to die. Couldn't everyone just admit that it was an accident? It was a mistake! But no, everything has to be all dramatic and such. It annoys me so. They all know what happened. Some things can just be bad luck, and that is all. There is nothing at all mysterious about a man fixing the roof of his house, falling to the ground, and breaking his neck. Nothing strange about that at all. Happens all the time!It was our turn to view the body. I am scared. I have not yet seen his face. Will he even look the same? Will he appear as my father? Part of me wishes that he won't. Who wants to look into the face of their dead father? Certainly not me.I follow my mother towards the front of the church. She looks so pale. She looks so sad. My mother is a strong woman. But she can be a little, to say the least, ditsy. Her and my father made a fair amount of money. My mom works as a fashion designer for celebrities. She's pretty good at her job. Also, my mom is very beautiful. Her long auburn hair is what I envy most about her. But, being a brunette is alright, too. Her bright green eyes are almost identical to mine. I wonder why she isn't crying. I suppose it is because she doesn't want to appear weak. I know that she misses her husband. You can see it in her face. It is different to see her looking so depressed. She is usually her normal bubbly, happy, smiling self. Not today. She seems too serious. It breaks my heart.As we get closer to the casket, I quickly try to make up my mind whether to look or not. Do I really want my eyes to see? There it is, only a few feet in front of me. I don't move, so that Mom can go before me. It's strange. She's twitching, what seems like, uncontrollably.
She gets ready to peer into the wooden box of death. She appears contemplative. Right before she will be able to see the lifeless figure, her eyes close! She did not look! Why didn't she look? She just faked the entire thing! That was her husband! Why did she not take the chance to see him one last time?I had made up my mind. I would not be as disrespectful as my mother had been. Deeply, I inhale. He has cuts all over his face. His skin is so pale. I can feel tears welting in my eyes.
Don't cry!
I blink the tears away. If I let one loose, then they would all just pour out.
No. Wait until you get home.
I can feel my stomach start to turn. Why did I look? Now I'll only be drenched in tears, with puke all over me.
I can do this. I really can.
Part of me believes that I'll go home, and he'll be there. This is all only a dream. Nothings real. I breath in once again, through my nose. He doesn't smell like my father. He smells like Windex and dried flowers.I now realize that I've been standing here for about five minutes. I can't turn away. I try so hard. It's like, staring at something so horrible, that you can't look away because you believe that there is a chance it may turn beautiful once again. Maybe if I close my eyes, when I open them, I will wake up from this nightmare. Well, it's worth a try, isn't it? So, I close my eyes tightly.
Okay, here we go...
Hello again Dearest Reader.Death. Death is tragic, and death is beautiful at the same time. Death is complex. Life is complex. Life and death are both equally complex. Have you ever thought about how much time went into the idea of life? Well, a lot of time went into it indeed. I have always wondered; how can something so time consumed as life be so very fragile? Have you ever pondered that same thought? I have had many sleepless sleeps all because of the curiosity I have discovered I have for life. Life and death. They are completely different, aren't they? They are each others total opposite. But how can two things, so different, have such a find line dividing them. It's strange, isn't it?Death is hard to be accepted. It is hard to accept by either the person that is dieing, or dead, or by the person whom loves the dieing, or dead. It may all seem like a nightmare, that you desperately desire to wake up from.
Slowly, I open my eyes. Once again, I stare down at my breathless father. I can feel the tears gliding down my cheeks. Their pace starts to quicken. I feel suddenly sick to my stomach. There is no way of hiding my sorrow any longer.Sobbing, I race out of the room. I can hear the short, fast footsteps of my mother behind me. I really wish she wouldn't follow me. She'd just say that he was dead, there was nothing I could do, and of how I had to be accepting of the situation. She can't understand how that doesn't help one tiny bit."Cessy! Slow down! You're going to get hurt!" I really don't feel like listening to those words that are coming out of my mothers mouth. All I really care about is getting out of this horrible place. I know that running away wouldn't make my father alive again, but I think that getting away from the whole setting of it all would make everything better. I keep running. Sure enough, my mom was right. I ran myself straight into the wooden railing of the stairs, and continued falling down until I hit the cold cement floor. I really regret doing so, because it only gives my mother another reason to speak. Sure enough her shrill voice screams,"Cessy! Are you okay sweetie!?" With millions of tears crawling down my face, I fling the doors open and slam them shut behind me. Consequently, I had forgotten to remove my thumb from in between the doors. I let out a cry of pain and embarrassment as I stumble down the sidewalk, holding my swollen thumb in my hand.I keep running. I have to keep on running, who knows where, until I get far enough away from my mom. I wish she could just see I want to be alone. I understand that she obviously doesn't care as much as I do about the death of Luke Parker Davis. I mean, she didn't even take her last chance to see him. Now, I doubt that she will even regret it.Finally, I can no longer hear her behind me. I cautiously turn around. Thank God! She isn't there. She must have given up on me. Good. I now slow down and look around. I realize that I am very cold. I was in too much of a hurry to grab my coat, and it is in the middle of January. So yes, I am freezing. That doesn't matter to me though. I'll simply push it out of my mind, hoping that it doesn't find its way back in.
The sky is really dark. Although it is only four o-clock, it looks almost like night. Snow is falling very lightly. It makes me feel better. You know, snow is very misunderstood. Adults, they hate snow. It's too cold, it causes a mess of things, and it prevents them from going where they need to go. Well then, get a blanket or two, clean up the messes, postpone your trips, and grow up! Can't they see how wonderful the snow is? It's beautiful. But not in their eyes. They only care about what they must be doing, and mainly only about themselves. If they sat out in the snow for only a little while, they would let go of all that haunts them. If only they would watch the snow, listen to the snow, and understand the snow, they would forget completely of their coldness, the messes, and everything else that they are worried of. It seems that they can't show their anger to other humans, so they blame everything on the innocent snow. Deep inside, they know that it is them who the blame belongs to.In the distance, about a half of a mile away, I can see a park. No one is there, so I decide to proceed towards it. As I walk, I try to catch flakes of snow on my tongue. At first, I feel ashamed, for I haven't done this since I was a child. Now, at age fifteen, I feel as happy as I have been in a long time. I seem to have forgotten all of my troubles. I am just walking down this empty street, not knowing where I am. It is below zero weather, and the air is dry. I am not wearing a coat or anything, but I feel as warm as ever. And, I am catching huge snowflakes on my tongue! I feel great! Exhilaration is overflowing my heart right now. I can feel a tiny smile starting to form on my face. Steadily, the corners of my mouth curl. After a while of debating whether I should feel this blissful, considering the situation I am in, a full grown smile is painted on my face. I cannot believe it! I am laughing! I nearly forgot what it felt like to laugh.Joyfully, I continue to dance down the street. At last, I reach my destination. The playground equipment is very old. The swings are piled with snow and a rather large amount of rust. There is a merry-go-round. It is red and made of wood and metal. I stride over to it with great caution. Slowly, I extend my right arm. I brush my hand gracefully along the metal bar attached to the spinning circle of wood. The snow that once lay there, I swept off. The metal is bitter cold. Far off, there is a tire swing. I run over to it, not knowing why I am so compelled, and I sit.I wonder why it is that I cried. I hadn't cried before over the death of my father. All the emotion that I was longing to let out just lay there, burning a whole in my heart. I feel that I have let my mother down. She had never wept. She had never shown any devastation. I wanted to be strong, like her. But I hadn't. I feel guilty of my weakness.Thinking of all this again, I start to feel the warmth leave my body. I can now realize that I'm shivering. I can't feel my feet, and my hands are purple and unable to move. Tears are frozen to my icy face. I look up. The stars are bright and the moon is high above me. It must be around eight o-clock! I now become conscious of how long I have been away. I am aware of the time I had consumed with pondering. Not thinking of my mother wondering where I am, I stay. I glide over to a wooden bench and lie down. I am numb. The cold no longer bothers me, and I close my eyes. Swiftly, I drift into sleep.
-Present time-Here I am in a church, while people are staring at my dead father. The silent whispers of friends and family echo off of the warm walls. My mother and I sit in the very back of the church, strange, I know. But she couldn’t handle being so close to his dead corpse for too long of a time. Mom plays sorrowfully with her fingers as she stares at the cold, thinly carpeted floors.
My long, brown hair is smoothly rolled into a bun at the back of my head. A few stringy strands fall in my face, but I leave them.
Breathe.
I am dressed like my mother. We both wear plain, black dresses, but hers is accented with a pearl necklace, and a black, veiled hat.
Just breathe.
I can remember looking in the mirror this morning and seeing my sallow face, but not caring. I wear no makeup. Just my skin.
Inhale. Exhale.
Everything seems to be moving in slow motion. It seems as though the organist has been playing the same melancholy tune for hours.
Finally, the song ends and I can again move. I lift my head to the front of the church where the pastor stands behind the coffin reading from an open bible in his hands. I hear him say the words; “Please rise”, but I don’t. Everyone stands up around me, but I stay.
For a small moment, light appears through the stained glass windows, but it is just as quickly taken away.
Only he knows why he's dead. Or, maybe he doesn't. Somebody knows though. It sure as hell isn't me. The police are convinced that it was a murder case, or suicide. Me? I think it was all just an accident. Who would want to kill my dad? He was the nicest, most humble man I will ever know. He walked with his head up high, but he did not think of himself better than others. I was blessed to have such a dad. I can remember how he smelled. His scent was that of leather and fresh paper. You see, he was a lawyer. A very good lawyer at that! He used to come home and tell me of all his cases. I loved to hear him talk about those things he did at work. Who would want such a man dead?What I find even harder to believe, is the option of a suicide. My father, commit suicide!? He loved his life! The last thing he would have wanted was to die. Couldn't everyone just admit that it was an accident? It was a mistake! But no, everything has to be all dramatic and such. It annoys me so. They all know what happened. Some things can just be bad luck, and that is all. There is nothing at all mysterious about a man fixing the roof of his house, falling to the ground, and breaking his neck. Nothing strange about that at all. Happens all the time!It was our turn to view the body. I am scared. I have not yet seen his face. Will he even look the same? Will he appear as my father? Part of me wishes that he won't. Who wants to look into the face of their dead father? Certainly not me.I follow my mother towards the front of the church. She looks so pale. She looks so sad. My mother is a strong woman. But she can be a little, to say the least, ditsy. Her and my father made a fair amount of money. My mom works as a fashion designer for celebrities. She's pretty good at her job. Also, my mom is very beautiful. Her long auburn hair is what I envy most about her. But, being a brunette is alright, too. Her bright green eyes are almost identical to mine. I wonder why she isn't crying. I suppose it is because she doesn't want to appear weak. I know that she misses her husband. You can see it in her face. It is different to see her looking so depressed. She is usually her normal bubbly, happy, smiling self. Not today. She seems too serious. It breaks my heart.As we get closer to the casket, I quickly try to make up my mind whether to look or not. Do I really want my eyes to see? There it is, only a few feet in front of me. I don't move, so that Mom can go before me. It's strange. She's twitching, what seems like, uncontrollably.
She gets ready to peer into the wooden box of death. She appears contemplative. Right before she will be able to see the lifeless figure, her eyes close! She did not look! Why didn't she look? She just faked the entire thing! That was her husband! Why did she not take the chance to see him one last time?I had made up my mind. I would not be as disrespectful as my mother had been. Deeply, I inhale. He has cuts all over his face. His skin is so pale. I can feel tears welting in my eyes.
Don't cry!
I blink the tears away. If I let one loose, then they would all just pour out.
No. Wait until you get home.
I can feel my stomach start to turn. Why did I look? Now I'll only be drenched in tears, with puke all over me.
I can do this. I really can.
Part of me believes that I'll go home, and he'll be there. This is all only a dream. Nothings real. I breath in once again, through my nose. He doesn't smell like my father. He smells like Windex and dried flowers.I now realize that I've been standing here for about five minutes. I can't turn away. I try so hard. It's like, staring at something so horrible, that you can't look away because you believe that there is a chance it may turn beautiful once again. Maybe if I close my eyes, when I open them, I will wake up from this nightmare. Well, it's worth a try, isn't it? So, I close my eyes tightly.
Okay, here we go...
Hello again Dearest Reader.Death. Death is tragic, and death is beautiful at the same time. Death is complex. Life is complex. Life and death are both equally complex. Have you ever thought about how much time went into the idea of life? Well, a lot of time went into it indeed. I have always wondered; how can something so time consumed as life be so very fragile? Have you ever pondered that same thought? I have had many sleepless sleeps all because of the curiosity I have discovered I have for life. Life and death. They are completely different, aren't they? They are each others total opposite. But how can two things, so different, have such a find line dividing them. It's strange, isn't it?Death is hard to be accepted. It is hard to accept by either the person that is dieing, or dead, or by the person whom loves the dieing, or dead. It may all seem like a nightmare, that you desperately desire to wake up from.
Slowly, I open my eyes. Once again, I stare down at my breathless father. I can feel the tears gliding down my cheeks. Their pace starts to quicken. I feel suddenly sick to my stomach. There is no way of hiding my sorrow any longer.Sobbing, I race out of the room. I can hear the short, fast footsteps of my mother behind me. I really wish she wouldn't follow me. She'd just say that he was dead, there was nothing I could do, and of how I had to be accepting of the situation. She can't understand how that doesn't help one tiny bit."Cessy! Slow down! You're going to get hurt!" I really don't feel like listening to those words that are coming out of my mothers mouth. All I really care about is getting out of this horrible place. I know that running away wouldn't make my father alive again, but I think that getting away from the whole setting of it all would make everything better. I keep running. Sure enough, my mom was right. I ran myself straight into the wooden railing of the stairs, and continued falling down until I hit the cold cement floor. I really regret doing so, because it only gives my mother another reason to speak. Sure enough her shrill voice screams,"Cessy! Are you okay sweetie!?" With millions of tears crawling down my face, I fling the doors open and slam them shut behind me. Consequently, I had forgotten to remove my thumb from in between the doors. I let out a cry of pain and embarrassment as I stumble down the sidewalk, holding my swollen thumb in my hand.I keep running. I have to keep on running, who knows where, until I get far enough away from my mom. I wish she could just see I want to be alone. I understand that she obviously doesn't care as much as I do about the death of Luke Parker Davis. I mean, she didn't even take her last chance to see him. Now, I doubt that she will even regret it.Finally, I can no longer hear her behind me. I cautiously turn around. Thank God! She isn't there. She must have given up on me. Good. I now slow down and look around. I realize that I am very cold. I was in too much of a hurry to grab my coat, and it is in the middle of January. So yes, I am freezing. That doesn't matter to me though. I'll simply push it out of my mind, hoping that it doesn't find its way back in.
The sky is really dark. Although it is only four o-clock, it looks almost like night. Snow is falling very lightly. It makes me feel better. You know, snow is very misunderstood. Adults, they hate snow. It's too cold, it causes a mess of things, and it prevents them from going where they need to go. Well then, get a blanket or two, clean up the messes, postpone your trips, and grow up! Can't they see how wonderful the snow is? It's beautiful. But not in their eyes. They only care about what they must be doing, and mainly only about themselves. If they sat out in the snow for only a little while, they would let go of all that haunts them. If only they would watch the snow, listen to the snow, and understand the snow, they would forget completely of their coldness, the messes, and everything else that they are worried of. It seems that they can't show their anger to other humans, so they blame everything on the innocent snow. Deep inside, they know that it is them who the blame belongs to.In the distance, about a half of a mile away, I can see a park. No one is there, so I decide to proceed towards it. As I walk, I try to catch flakes of snow on my tongue. At first, I feel ashamed, for I haven't done this since I was a child. Now, at age fifteen, I feel as happy as I have been in a long time. I seem to have forgotten all of my troubles. I am just walking down this empty street, not knowing where I am. It is below zero weather, and the air is dry. I am not wearing a coat or anything, but I feel as warm as ever. And, I am catching huge snowflakes on my tongue! I feel great! Exhilaration is overflowing my heart right now. I can feel a tiny smile starting to form on my face. Steadily, the corners of my mouth curl. After a while of debating whether I should feel this blissful, considering the situation I am in, a full grown smile is painted on my face. I cannot believe it! I am laughing! I nearly forgot what it felt like to laugh.Joyfully, I continue to dance down the street. At last, I reach my destination. The playground equipment is very old. The swings are piled with snow and a rather large amount of rust. There is a merry-go-round. It is red and made of wood and metal. I stride over to it with great caution. Slowly, I extend my right arm. I brush my hand gracefully along the metal bar attached to the spinning circle of wood. The snow that once lay there, I swept off. The metal is bitter cold. Far off, there is a tire swing. I run over to it, not knowing why I am so compelled, and I sit.I wonder why it is that I cried. I hadn't cried before over the death of my father. All the emotion that I was longing to let out just lay there, burning a whole in my heart. I feel that I have let my mother down. She had never wept. She had never shown any devastation. I wanted to be strong, like her. But I hadn't. I feel guilty of my weakness.Thinking of all this again, I start to feel the warmth leave my body. I can now realize that I'm shivering. I can't feel my feet, and my hands are purple and unable to move. Tears are frozen to my icy face. I look up. The stars are bright and the moon is high above me. It must be around eight o-clock! I now become conscious of how long I have been away. I am aware of the time I had consumed with pondering. Not thinking of my mother wondering where I am, I stay. I glide over to a wooden bench and lie down. I am numb. The cold no longer bothers me, and I close my eyes. Swiftly, I drift into sleep.
Prologue
Prologue
-1769-
"Let go of me!" No matter how hard she screamed, her distressed cries would not relieve her. She would be dead the very next morning. No one would care, either. She bellowed at the very top of her lungs."No! You cannot do this to me! I am innocent!" Her pale face was plastered in tears. Those tears flowed down her face, and seeped into the deep gashes engraved into her pasty skin. It burned. Her flaxen hair was covered in dirt and dried blood. They kept dragging her up the dark, stone stairway. She stared up at the man on her right. His grip on her arm, she knew it could not be loosened. Though that did not stop her from trying. She opened her mouth as extensive as she could. She bit down so hard, that she could taste his warm blood slither down her throat. The man lifted his heavy arm and threw her off of him. Her body hit the hard wall and she fell to the ground."You shall all pay! Cannot you see my innocence?" Why did she even bother? No one would help her. She had nobody. She needed still to try. She just had to escape! She could not stay and await her execution. Something had to be done. Trying to get free, she dug her nails into the stone wall. She dug them in, so hard, that fresh blood from her fingers trickled down her limb.
If you would be so kind, let me interrupt this story for a brief moment. Have you ever been so alone? So alone, that you had absolutely no one to confide in? Imagine that there was no one at all who found you halfway decent. Imagine that you were frowned upon by every single creature. You would most certainly feel unbearably alone. Being alone doesn't mean that no one is near you. There could be two million, fifty five hundred and one people around you, and you could still very well feel alone. The world, "alone" is not something that you can see. It is an emotion. An emotion buried deep inside somebody, or something. That emotion makes you so desperate, that you could very well do anything to keep from staying alone. I can almost guarantee that you have heard of, and know the meaning to, the word solitary. That word does not have the same meaning as the world alone. People that are solitary, they choose to be so. People do not choose to be alone. If they do, then they have absolutely no idea what alone is.She would not be hanged! No matter how death came to her, she would not die in vain. That had been decided from the very start. Yes, it was true what they had said about her. She was anything but innocent. She was so very guilty. It did not matter. Nothing mattered. She knew that she could not escape. She would remain in this evil tower until destiny had its way with her. She hated it, how she seemed so weak. How she could not be free. She hated how vulnerable she must seem to them. She hated how she was their marionette. Twist her arm and she would cry out in pain. Pull her hair, tears would unwillingly slide down her cheeks. She's real. She hated it how they pretended that she wasn't. If they plunged a knife into her heart, she would bleed. She would die.
"We shall see you tomorrow. Do not try anything. Not a thing will be of use." The guards voice seemed so gentle. It seemed as though he were to sing a lullaby. She growled at him menacingly."He will punish you! Beware! I have warmed you! You will suffer!"He slammed the door shut behind him. She listened intensively as the chains on the lock clattered. She kept silent, and awaited them to leave. Their footsteps got further away, and finally, the door leading outside was shut, once again. She heard the trapped sound of more chains. Did they not trust her? Ha! Of course not! After what she did last time? No. She would not dare trust herself either. She watched them walk away.What was that? They were laughing! OH the nerve of them! They had just shut her up in a tower that she could never escape, and then they laugh about the whole event! She burst into tears and cries of agony.I am truly and sincerely sorry for this inconvenience. It must be frustrating to be interrupted when your head is wound up so tightly in what is happening in this story. You will thank me in the end, though. These interruptions are a necessity. Without them, you would be completely lost. To understand, you must feel. I am helping you feel.When you were nothing but a tiny lump of a child, a baby, you would cry when you wanted something. I can assure you, that when you would wail, your parents would certainly not ignore you. They would cradle you in their arms, and get you what you wanted. When you were a little toddler, you would get "boo-boo's" and "owies". You would be running merrily around, chasing a butterfly perhaps, or kicking a ball. Then, you would come upon a rock. A rather large rock. And over that rock you would fall. You would run to your mommy or daddy, and show them the blood that was running down your scraped leg. They would get you a band-aid, and kiss your owie to make it all better. Do you remember? I am positive that you do. And there was that other time when you stupidly ran into the wall and stubbed your big toe. You yelled out in pain. So, someone came and asked if you could wiggle it, to see if it was broken. Then they would lay you down on the sofa, and give you ice-cream. You see, you always have someone that is willing to help you. When you are crying for someone, you know that you will be heard. Can you envisage yourself shrieking out hopeless phrases, knowing that no one would ever hear you? Knowing that whatever you cried out, no one would bother to even try and save you?"No! Please! Get me out of here! You are monsters! I'm a person! As much of a person as you are! You can't do this to me!"She kept crying out useless words of frustration for hours. Why she did it? I do not know. She had to have understood that no one was coming. She knew that, but it did not matter. No one would free her. They were the reason that she was where she was. They were the reason that she was not able to finish what she had begun. They will very soon be the death of her.
When she could no longer utter a sound from her mouth, when her throat was throbbing and burning, she held her legs up to her chest and buried her face into her knees. Swaying from side to side, she remained in her corner. Above her were cobwebs, and below her, a thick carpet of dust lay. Completely isolated. As she cried, she also thought. Is this the end? Is this what I have been living for? Those thoughts did not help her much. In fact, thinking only made everything worse. That is, until she stumbled upon one very clever thought. She wondered why she hadn't noticed it before. She had gazed beyond it so many times. There was a window. A very large window. Its stained glass surface was so beautiful, that for a brief second, she could barely breathe. Everything had gone silent. Everything had been stilled. Even the wind through the trees had been hushed. The whole earth had turned soundless.It sat on the north side of the room. She floated over to it. Gazing down, she knew she could not jump and survive. She stepped back again. In the window, was a brilliant picture. A picture that was so depressing, her heart sank. She could not look away. It was calling her. There was a tree. A grey tree. It was bare. There was nothing on this tree. Although, there was blood. Yes, the tree was bleeding. Not one leaf still clung to its branches. The grass was not green, and the sky was dark. It appeared as though the whole picture was sobbing. The whole window had the look of death. The ghostly image would be painted in her mind forever.She stood there, only staring at the window, for, what seemed like, forever. Why couldn't she turn away? It was speaking to her. Whispering her name to come closer. To stay. What exactly was so fascinating about it? To what was she so intrigued? What was so mysterious about this overwhelming thought of gloom she was experiencing?That was when this very brilliant thought came to her. She would wait until the dead of night. What was in her mind, would become reality.She awoke just in time. The moon was high above her now, and the sky was in almost complete darkness. The stars gave off just enough light so that she could carry out what needed to be done. You see, she thought that she would leave people wondering. What would happen if she disappeared? The next morning, the guards would come up the staircase, and only an empty room would await them. The window would not show any breakage, and her body would not be found. She would be united with Him. Oh, how proud He would be! She could only dream of finding Him, until now. Nobody really knew where He was. It was said that once in a while, someone would come upon His bird-of-yellow. It was also said that they would find themselves in the presence of His cat-of-black. After their encounters, they would find themselves severely ill, and striding towards death. But they were not followers. They were not committed. She was. When they meet, he could teach her such things! Wonderful things! That is, wonderfully horrible things. She would never dare of being as powerful and He. There would be grave consequences for that. But if only she could be a portion of what he was, she would be completely more than satisfied."It will be a beautiful thing, when the relentless servant, and immortal master are united."Now, I must ask you, if you were as alone as you were imagining before, wouldn't it be nice to have a friend? You would probably do anything to have a friend, and I not right? Would not you be desperate? To have a friend, you may share your lunch with the person bound to be that friend. Or, perhaps offer to complete on simple task for them. But, could you ever imagine exchanging your very soul, and handing over your life for a friendship?She knelt down on her knees, and looked up at the sky. Her arms were extended out in from of her, and everything was eerily hushed."Deep in the dead of night,My destiny's fulfilled.Darkness will exceed my eyes,The night will remain still.No trace of me you'll ever find,For they will never knowWhy my body's not in sight,Or where I happened to go.I shall die and not return.I shall not feel any pain.Everything will turn to black.I will not die in vain."With her spell, she glided her fingers down the dusty middle of the window in front of her. Slowly, She stepped forward."So mote it be." With those powerful words, she closed her eyes, and gracefully fell through the window.
-1769-
"Let go of me!" No matter how hard she screamed, her distressed cries would not relieve her. She would be dead the very next morning. No one would care, either. She bellowed at the very top of her lungs."No! You cannot do this to me! I am innocent!" Her pale face was plastered in tears. Those tears flowed down her face, and seeped into the deep gashes engraved into her pasty skin. It burned. Her flaxen hair was covered in dirt and dried blood. They kept dragging her up the dark, stone stairway. She stared up at the man on her right. His grip on her arm, she knew it could not be loosened. Though that did not stop her from trying. She opened her mouth as extensive as she could. She bit down so hard, that she could taste his warm blood slither down her throat. The man lifted his heavy arm and threw her off of him. Her body hit the hard wall and she fell to the ground."You shall all pay! Cannot you see my innocence?" Why did she even bother? No one would help her. She had nobody. She needed still to try. She just had to escape! She could not stay and await her execution. Something had to be done. Trying to get free, she dug her nails into the stone wall. She dug them in, so hard, that fresh blood from her fingers trickled down her limb.
If you would be so kind, let me interrupt this story for a brief moment. Have you ever been so alone? So alone, that you had absolutely no one to confide in? Imagine that there was no one at all who found you halfway decent. Imagine that you were frowned upon by every single creature. You would most certainly feel unbearably alone. Being alone doesn't mean that no one is near you. There could be two million, fifty five hundred and one people around you, and you could still very well feel alone. The world, "alone" is not something that you can see. It is an emotion. An emotion buried deep inside somebody, or something. That emotion makes you so desperate, that you could very well do anything to keep from staying alone. I can almost guarantee that you have heard of, and know the meaning to, the word solitary. That word does not have the same meaning as the world alone. People that are solitary, they choose to be so. People do not choose to be alone. If they do, then they have absolutely no idea what alone is.She would not be hanged! No matter how death came to her, she would not die in vain. That had been decided from the very start. Yes, it was true what they had said about her. She was anything but innocent. She was so very guilty. It did not matter. Nothing mattered. She knew that she could not escape. She would remain in this evil tower until destiny had its way with her. She hated it, how she seemed so weak. How she could not be free. She hated how vulnerable she must seem to them. She hated how she was their marionette. Twist her arm and she would cry out in pain. Pull her hair, tears would unwillingly slide down her cheeks. She's real. She hated it how they pretended that she wasn't. If they plunged a knife into her heart, she would bleed. She would die.
"We shall see you tomorrow. Do not try anything. Not a thing will be of use." The guards voice seemed so gentle. It seemed as though he were to sing a lullaby. She growled at him menacingly."He will punish you! Beware! I have warmed you! You will suffer!"He slammed the door shut behind him. She listened intensively as the chains on the lock clattered. She kept silent, and awaited them to leave. Their footsteps got further away, and finally, the door leading outside was shut, once again. She heard the trapped sound of more chains. Did they not trust her? Ha! Of course not! After what she did last time? No. She would not dare trust herself either. She watched them walk away.What was that? They were laughing! OH the nerve of them! They had just shut her up in a tower that she could never escape, and then they laugh about the whole event! She burst into tears and cries of agony.I am truly and sincerely sorry for this inconvenience. It must be frustrating to be interrupted when your head is wound up so tightly in what is happening in this story. You will thank me in the end, though. These interruptions are a necessity. Without them, you would be completely lost. To understand, you must feel. I am helping you feel.When you were nothing but a tiny lump of a child, a baby, you would cry when you wanted something. I can assure you, that when you would wail, your parents would certainly not ignore you. They would cradle you in their arms, and get you what you wanted. When you were a little toddler, you would get "boo-boo's" and "owies". You would be running merrily around, chasing a butterfly perhaps, or kicking a ball. Then, you would come upon a rock. A rather large rock. And over that rock you would fall. You would run to your mommy or daddy, and show them the blood that was running down your scraped leg. They would get you a band-aid, and kiss your owie to make it all better. Do you remember? I am positive that you do. And there was that other time when you stupidly ran into the wall and stubbed your big toe. You yelled out in pain. So, someone came and asked if you could wiggle it, to see if it was broken. Then they would lay you down on the sofa, and give you ice-cream. You see, you always have someone that is willing to help you. When you are crying for someone, you know that you will be heard. Can you envisage yourself shrieking out hopeless phrases, knowing that no one would ever hear you? Knowing that whatever you cried out, no one would bother to even try and save you?"No! Please! Get me out of here! You are monsters! I'm a person! As much of a person as you are! You can't do this to me!"She kept crying out useless words of frustration for hours. Why she did it? I do not know. She had to have understood that no one was coming. She knew that, but it did not matter. No one would free her. They were the reason that she was where she was. They were the reason that she was not able to finish what she had begun. They will very soon be the death of her.
When she could no longer utter a sound from her mouth, when her throat was throbbing and burning, she held her legs up to her chest and buried her face into her knees. Swaying from side to side, she remained in her corner. Above her were cobwebs, and below her, a thick carpet of dust lay. Completely isolated. As she cried, she also thought. Is this the end? Is this what I have been living for? Those thoughts did not help her much. In fact, thinking only made everything worse. That is, until she stumbled upon one very clever thought. She wondered why she hadn't noticed it before. She had gazed beyond it so many times. There was a window. A very large window. Its stained glass surface was so beautiful, that for a brief second, she could barely breathe. Everything had gone silent. Everything had been stilled. Even the wind through the trees had been hushed. The whole earth had turned soundless.It sat on the north side of the room. She floated over to it. Gazing down, she knew she could not jump and survive. She stepped back again. In the window, was a brilliant picture. A picture that was so depressing, her heart sank. She could not look away. It was calling her. There was a tree. A grey tree. It was bare. There was nothing on this tree. Although, there was blood. Yes, the tree was bleeding. Not one leaf still clung to its branches. The grass was not green, and the sky was dark. It appeared as though the whole picture was sobbing. The whole window had the look of death. The ghostly image would be painted in her mind forever.She stood there, only staring at the window, for, what seemed like, forever. Why couldn't she turn away? It was speaking to her. Whispering her name to come closer. To stay. What exactly was so fascinating about it? To what was she so intrigued? What was so mysterious about this overwhelming thought of gloom she was experiencing?That was when this very brilliant thought came to her. She would wait until the dead of night. What was in her mind, would become reality.She awoke just in time. The moon was high above her now, and the sky was in almost complete darkness. The stars gave off just enough light so that she could carry out what needed to be done. You see, she thought that she would leave people wondering. What would happen if she disappeared? The next morning, the guards would come up the staircase, and only an empty room would await them. The window would not show any breakage, and her body would not be found. She would be united with Him. Oh, how proud He would be! She could only dream of finding Him, until now. Nobody really knew where He was. It was said that once in a while, someone would come upon His bird-of-yellow. It was also said that they would find themselves in the presence of His cat-of-black. After their encounters, they would find themselves severely ill, and striding towards death. But they were not followers. They were not committed. She was. When they meet, he could teach her such things! Wonderful things! That is, wonderfully horrible things. She would never dare of being as powerful and He. There would be grave consequences for that. But if only she could be a portion of what he was, she would be completely more than satisfied."It will be a beautiful thing, when the relentless servant, and immortal master are united."Now, I must ask you, if you were as alone as you were imagining before, wouldn't it be nice to have a friend? You would probably do anything to have a friend, and I not right? Would not you be desperate? To have a friend, you may share your lunch with the person bound to be that friend. Or, perhaps offer to complete on simple task for them. But, could you ever imagine exchanging your very soul, and handing over your life for a friendship?She knelt down on her knees, and looked up at the sky. Her arms were extended out in from of her, and everything was eerily hushed."Deep in the dead of night,My destiny's fulfilled.Darkness will exceed my eyes,The night will remain still.No trace of me you'll ever find,For they will never knowWhy my body's not in sight,Or where I happened to go.I shall die and not return.I shall not feel any pain.Everything will turn to black.I will not die in vain."With her spell, she glided her fingers down the dusty middle of the window in front of her. Slowly, She stepped forward."So mote it be." With those powerful words, she closed her eyes, and gracefully fell through the window.
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