Fiction
Moving Murals
Paige Rutledge
The birds on the giant mural were moving again.
They always did this whenever Taylor was home alone.
She didn’t usually draw or paint whether she was left alone, for fear of her own sanity cracking beyond repair.
It wasn’t her fault she was home alone.
Salem and Jason had to leave because Salem’s mom had an appointment with her psychiatrist and Salem needed to be there to make sure her mom was okay, and Jason was the only one out of three who could drive legally since Salem still had her permit and her mom’s license had been revoked due to her fits of insanity that drove her to tears.
But that was okay. It would be okay.
Austin was supposed to be here. He was. But then they ran out of bread, Austin was craving a sandwich and he swore he’d be right back and he was just running across the field to Taylor’s family’s house and grabbing a loaf of bread because Taylor’s family hoarded it like the apocalypse was tomorrow, which seeing the way Taylor’s life had been in the past eight and half years, wasn’t entirely unlikely.
Taylor glanced at her clock. Austin’s barely been gone for what, two minutes? And she was already losing it.
She turned back to the wall. The half finished mural with the birds flying around and the people in the crowd moving. Why were they moving?
Maybe it was the paint fumes. It had to be The paint fumes. Didn’t artists go crazy from them in the past? Or was it simply just because they would use deadly stuff like lead and radium and mercury and arsenic in their products.
Taylor’s paint didn’t have that. She used acrylic.
Did acrylic paint cause hallucinations?
Probably.
Whatever.
She cracked a window.
Maybe that’ll help.
It didn’t.
The birds were soaring around the mural. It was silent but she could tell they were cawing out. She didn’t need to hear it to know it. The crowd was shifting. Faces she didn’t paint turned to look at her. Lifeless eyes staring at her. Blood stained hands reached out begging for her to join them.
She wasn’t supposed to be painting. Especially not a mural that was a direct artistic representation of her nightmares. She knew what would happen.
It had been five minutes.
Where was Austin!?
She needed to get out of this room.
Why wasn’t Austin back yet?
She couldn’t be here. She couldn’t see her friends' painted faces, whom she couldn’t save, staring up at her with lifeless eyes silently pleading for her attention. She couldn’t watch the birds soar around cawing out over the rambles of the crowd.
She couldn’t do this.
She needed out.
But where!?
There were murals everywhere.
Murals of friends, of foes, of her dreams, of her life. Murals of tragedies, death and happiness.
She needed out.
Why couldn’t she move?
She needed to get out of this room. Get to someone, anyone.
Her knees were weak. She was going to fall, and, if she fell, she would lose all her progress.
She would be back in that place where she was three months ago when Austin was out and it was before people realized how bad she was.
She couldn’t go back to that.
The broken one of pain and suffering, of death and decay.
She couldn’t go back to three months ago when she almost ended it all.
She would be back there if she didn’t get out.
But how was she supposed to do that when she was paralyzed with dread and anxiety, forced to watch the stares of the people on the wall, and she needed to get out.
Taylor grabbed the sleeves of her orange T-shirt and squeezed hard, cutting off the flow in her arms. She needed to feel something, anything. She needed to know that she was real.
Where was Austin!?
She needed to step away from all this.
She needed to breathe.
She would be okay when the mural was done because then they would leave her alone, but the mural wasn’t done so they wouldn’t leave her alone and she needed to get out. But how could she get out when everywhere she turned, she’d be reminded of the pain she had experienced. Whether it was in the bathroom mirror or the lifeless eyes in the living room wall, Taylor couldn’t escape.
She blinked tears threatening to spill from her eyes.
Breathe.
Right?
That’s the first step.
Breathe.
But she couldn’t, because all she could think about was the mural on the wall.
She needed to breathe.
Austin would be back.
He always came back.
So did Jason and Salem and Ms Matts.
So did everyone else.
She just needed to calm down, to breathe.
And then everything would be okay.
She just had to—
“Taylor?”
The door to the house had opened. The people stopped moving, their heads all turning to look away from the viewer. Faces disappeared. No more prying pale blue eyes or outstretched bloody hands trying to pull her in. Everything seemed to stop. The birds stopped flying. The room stopped spinning. The trees stopped swaying. Everything went still.
She finally could breathe.
Taylor took a deep breath before straightening up.
She was okay.
Austin came back.
He always came back.
“Yeah.” She said, her voice shaking more than it usually did. “I’m fine.”
Because that’s the first question he would ask. If she was okay.
She was now.
The door to her bedroom opened.
Austin poked his head in. “I brought bread and some of your mom’s homemade spaghetti sauce since she was making some and she wanted me to have some. I dunno. You sure you’re okay? You look pale. Like really pale.” He didn’t mention her voice. He never mentioned her voice.
“I’m fine.” Taylor repeated. “I will be.”
“Okay good. Come down when you're done.” Austin said, before leaving, going back downstairs to make that sandwich he had so desperately wanted.
Taylor took a deep breath.
She was okay. Nothing bad happened. She could do this.
She just needed to get it together and finish the mural and not have another breakdown and everything would be okay.
“Taylor?” Austin called again.
“Coming!” Taylor set down her brush.
She’d finish this thing another day, but today she needed a break. She needed to get out before her sanity cracked beyond repair.
She took one final glance at the mural before walking out of her room and downstairs to see Austin.
Manhunt
Rylie Ford
I hated almost everything about that place. I was squished in an inhumane position underneath a counter made primarily of rotting plywood. I usually loathed tight spaces, but this time I was thankful for the hiding space. I reached for the glow stick around my neck and twisted it slightly, praying it didn’t give away my location.
All I could do was stifle a cry when I heard the amplified beat of a drum, telling me it was time to move. My back and legs protested while I forced myself to pull away from the counter. I was hoping to get some fresh air now that I was in the open space of the record shop, but the air was just as stale as before. The contrast between the inky blackness and the glow around my neck was jarring.
The drum sounded twice in a row, a horrible sound to hear. They had caught someone. There was only me and one other runner left who could win this. I would have been okay waiting for someone else to win, but the idea of the seekers coming to me sent a chill down my spine, so I went to find them myself.
Playing manhunt in an old, dilapidated mall is not my idea of fun, and in no world would I willingly sign up for it. But, when you’re literally dragged here —and that is not an exaggeration— you don’t really have a choice.
Eventually, the fear of the seekers coming to me had dissolved a little bit, and real fears began to kick in. What if the building collapsed? What if some creep’s hiding in the shadows? What if I’m breathing in toxic mold right now? Or, worst of all, what if I back out and my friends think I’m a loser? That last thought was all that kept me from ducking into an old changing room or even just sprinting out of the exit doors right now.
Walking was a chore. I constantly had to sneak around corners and I froze every time I heard the faint voice of a seeker or the whisper of shoes. One time, the footsteps got a little too close to me and I hid right next to the door of an old jewelry shop. My shaking eased a little when I saw the glow of a runners lightstick.
Sure enough, a blonde boy about my age with dirt smeared across his face turned to me. He jumped back and covered his mouth when he saw me, and I shushed him. I didn’t know him, but there’s no surprise there. I didn’t know most of the kids who were playing, actually.
I half smiled at him, and he returned the gesture. We were clearly both scared out of our minds. He had crouched next to me, honestly he would have been a little close for comfort in any other situation, but this time it was nice to finally have someone with me.The only thing separating us was a crack in the floor that revealed the bare dirt, a flower stemming from it.
“Do you think you could create a diversion? I can run in and bang the drum easily as long as the seekers are distracted,” he strategized. I wasn’t good at this game, but that sounded easy enough.
“I’m good at running. I’ll try to get whoever’s in the music store as far from the drum as possible.” We both gave a full smile this time. For the first time that night I was having fun. There was something a lot kinder about him than the kids who forced me into things like this. Maybe, after this was all over, he and I could be friends.
We positioned ourselves on either side of the doors to the music shop, where two seekers stood idly around a drum connected to an amp. I clenched my fist. It was annoying, with the way they were standing around I knew I never would have been able to get close enough to the drum to win on my own. I looked over at the blonde boy, who nodded and rolled his eyes. Clearly, he felt the same.
He hid behind a stall in the middle of the path, and pretended to sneak in the door. Once I was noticed, I made a run for it. I took them the exact opposite direction the boy was hiding, down several hallways. I knew there were two ways this could end. If the drum was banged twice, there was someone who had stayed behind and caught the blonde boy. Or, if we got lucky, the drum would bang rapidly. That means he got to it first, and he won.
Once I knew I had them far enough from the music room, it was all about not getting tagged. What was taking so long? I was being chased for what felt like eternity when the drum banged. Once. Twice. Three times. Over and over! I stopped and turned to the seekers who had been chasing me. I'm pretty sure if I had smiled any wider in that moment my face would have torn open.
While the seekers and I walked back to the music shop, I got to know them. They were siblings, twins actually. They offered to let me seek with them if I came back to play. They were a type of nice that I don’t think I would’ve found in my other friends.
When we got back to the shop, the blonde haired boy had already left. Apparently, he needed to be home before the game was even over. The only reason he had stayed was because he ran into me.
Even after all my old friends stopped playing, I kept visiting the mall. I made better friends, too, but that boy with the blonde hair never came back.
Deer
Rylie Ford
There's always been something a little wrong with me. I still remember when I was little and I had a habit of sneaking around and eavesdropping.
“I wouldn’t let that Angelica girl around my kids, if I was you.” I heard a mother tell her friend, once.
”The Redwoods daughter? Why?” The friend asked in return.
“That child’s definitely not normal. Once, when the family had me over for dinner, she started talking about how she remembers being in the womb. Not to mention she’s always finding dead animals or bones in the forest behind the block and parading them around the street,” looking back at it, I know that lady was just looking out for her kids. Still, hearing that was what made me realize maybe I really wasn’t like all the other children around me.
Most of my time, my life was pretty boring. When my mother wasn’t begging to take me to church and my dad wasn’t trying to show me how to handle a rifle, I was on my own. I didn’t have any siblings - or friends - to play with, so I usually just played by myself. Somehow, I’d always wander into the forest.
My parents never stopped me from wandering off. My mom tried at first, but my dad had grown up in the forest and insisted the time outside was good for me. The forest was littered with dead animals, both actively rotting and bones. As morbid as it is, I was fascinated by them. It was a weird interest for a kid to have, but it passed the time. Eventually my parents even let me keep some of the bones in my room, as long as they were thoroughly cleaned and weren’t on display for anyone to see.
My family had a business, too, but it had been struggling. We sold hunting gear, and ever since a new highway had been built and the deer population in the area had started to dwindle, business just stopped coming like it used to. My dad used to talk about the shop's “glory days” back when we raked in more money than nearly everyone else in the town. Those stopped shortly after I was born, but we were still wealthier than most of the families on the block back then.
Things changed one spring, I was thirteen then. The first thing everyone noticed was how many deer had been born recently, more than enough for people's interests in hunting to spark up again. My parents were thrilled. I didn’t care that much, but then the Cameos moved in across the street.
At dinner, my mother told my father about them. They used to live out in Colorado, in the middle of the woods, and moved to Vermont where the rest of their family was.
“And they actually have a daughter your age, Angelica, her name’s Elaine, I think.” My Mom was still hopeful that I’d make friends, but I wasn’t all that interested. Our family had a reputation to uphold, so having a daughter whose just not normal has always bothered my parents. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed.
That evening, I climbed out the first floor window and walked straight to the forest. I did this every night for awhile, I’m still not sure how my parents never caught on. Anyway, that’s when I met her for the first time. A girl laying on the grass, her head was propped up on a massive tree root coming out of the ground.
“Your clothes will get dirty.” I don’t know why I bothered saying anything, she had to know already.
”I know,” The girl responded, “what’re you doing out here? I figured I’d be the only one.”
”Bored,” I answered. Truth is, I don’t really know why I’m out here myself. Thinking back to it, I never did ask her why she was there. Maybe she was like me, and just ended up there.
”You live near here?”
”Yeah.”
I sat down by her, and we talked for a while. It started with her asking me about myself, and in return I’d offer brief answers. She stood out to me, though. I didn’t feel judged by her, so eventually I opened up to her. I learned about her, too. Her name was Elaine, she loves the outdoors, her favorite candy’s caramel, and she volunteered a lot back in her old town. She was also really nice, way nicer than me.
Something was off that night though. I swear I could see glowing eyes behind the bushes. Elaine didn’t see them, but I did.
“You’re imagining things, Angie. Don’t worry too much about it.”
Over the next few weeks, we kept meeting up. She was the first person who made me feel like everyone else. Eventually, we started to hang out outside of the forest. Soon enough, she was coming to my house and I was going to hers. By the beginning of fall, we were inseparable. Being friends with her made me realize that maybe I didn’t want to keep living my whole life shut away from everyone else.
We stopped meeting each other in the forest in the middle of summer. Actually, by fall, I had stopped going at all. Still, the night before school started again, I decided to go back one more time. Without realizing it, I ended up walking towards the tree me and Elaine first met, when I heard the most grating sound anything could ever make. It was a strained sobbing, whatever was making that god awful noise was struggling to force anything out of their lungs at all. What the hell was that?
I felt pure dread build up inside my chest, and before I even processed what was happening, I was running faster than ever towards the sound. By the time I got there, my vision was blurry and my lungs felt like they where bleeding. After a second I could see again, even though I wished, in that moment, I couldn’t.
Those deer. Those disgusting, vile deer were staring at me for what felt like forever, blood stained mouths, only to run off and reveal my best friend's mutilated corpse.
All I remember is feeling absolutely sick. I had seen dead animals all the time, rotting or fresh roadkill, I’d already seen it all by then. But this…
I don’t remember anything after that, until I woke up in a hospital bed. Apparently, I had ran to my parents for help, crying and all. None of that matters though, because when I woke up Elaine was long dead. The pristine image of the girl I had in my mind was bloodstained, and the image of her bloodied body was ingrained in my head.
For a while after that, I didn’t feel anything at all. I couldn’t even cry over what had happened. Then, I was so unbearably sad that it was actually physically painful. For once, the adults around the neighborhood looked at me like a human. They’d bring flowers to me and when I did leave the house they’d gawk at the girl who found her friend dead. At least the deer were back to normal.
I’m seventeen now, and tonight I’m visiting Elaine's grave. School starts tomorrow, and I don’t know how often I’ll get to see her. Her grave is on the outskirts of the forest, which had always been morbidly ironic. I wipe the ridges of her epitaph with a cloth and lean a neatly arranged bouquet of assorted flowers against her grave. Nothing really out of the ordinary about that, I visit her grave nearly everyday ever since I got my license.
Somethings off tonight, though. Whenever I look into the tree line, it almost looks like there are glowing eyes looking straight at me. It has to be some sort of reflection, but I’m going to go get a closer look just in case.
Rose Garden
Emily Watson
Motto has been out all night. He works as a vampire hunter and it has been a less than productive night. He’s new to the job, so he isn’t able to handle anything too serious yet. But he still hopes for a vampire or two. As of now, he’s been walking through an empty forest like someone looking for a lost shoe. He’s tired, bored, and frankly disappointed.
He looks up to the sky, sighing as he sees the sun begin to show its face. No doubt all the vampires are all going to hide in caves, or whatever they go, soon. Another night without a catch.
Motto decides to accept this and go home, but as he looks around, he can't see the path he has been following at night. He knows he got distracted during his walking, but had he really wandered off of the path?
He tries to find his way back for some time. His feet hurt, and he’s exhausted, his shoulders and eyes drooping as he walks.
He doesn’t find his path or the end to the woods, but he does find a house. It was tall and rather large, the dark colored bricks showing signs of aging in chipping and discoloration. The windows were thin and tall, all the blinds were drawn. There is a small porch leading up to the door, and around the rest of the house grew well maintained bushes of red roses.
No one would open it, most likely. Whoever lived there was probably asleep already, and wouldn’t be amused by a knock waking them. But, there was always a small chance. And Motto was so tired, he just wanted a moment to recharge. If someone was awake, they’d probably let him in. People love vampire hunters, after all. It was worth a try.
Motto slowly walks up the stone steps to the equally daunting door. Unease burns in the pit of his stomach and the back of his mind as he knocks, his wrist stiff.
After a moment, the door swings open, going into the house. A man, the one to open the door, leans against the frame.
He’s lanky, all of his features long. His jaw, his nose, his mouth and his limbs. Even his inky black hair is long, and pin straight. He’s sickly pale, his skin looking near translucent. His eyes are brown, but with the new sunlight catching them, Motto thinks, they look almost red.
”Hello.” The pale man greets. “What brings you here?”
”Well,” Motto begins, having to clear his throat just to continue to speak. “I was wondering, if you’d be kind enough, if I could come in and rest. Just for a moment.”
”Of course, of course.” The homeowner replies. “But what brings you to our,” he pauses for a moment, “neck of the woods?”
”I’m a vampire hunter. I was doing my job.” He says. Everyone knows of his type of work, and they’re always grateful. He hopes this would be the case.
The man chuckles, crossing his thin arms across his chest. “I’ve never seen any around here.” Still, he moves so his back is on the door, pushing it further into the house and clearing the doorway. Motto takes it as an invitation to come in.
”You’re welcome, then.” He says, his tone lighter than it had been as he enters the house.
The house is old fashioned, all the furniture looking antique. It’s rather dark, the light from any bulbs is faint. Creepy oil paintings hang on nearly every wall.
Motto hears the door shut behind him and he turns, seeing the one who let him in still leaning his back against the now shut door.
“Heathcliff.” He introduces. “Call me Heath.”
”Motto.” The hunter says. “You have a beautiful home.” He pauses to figure out exactly what he should compliment. “The roses outside are gorgeous.”
It seems to be the right thing to say as Heath smiles. “You like my roses?” He asks. Before Motto can answer, Heath seemingly speaks to the spiral staircase, calling, “Gale, he likes my roses!”
”Who does?” A tired sounding voice asks. There’s some soft thumps from the second floor and a man appears at the top of the stairs.
The man who comes down the stairs is tall and, like how Heath was long, this man was big. He has big arms, legs, stomach, and hands. His skin is tanned and he has a scruffy beard, his darkbrown hair messy and tied back into a loose ponytail.
”We have a visitor, look alive.” Heath says, looking back over at Motto. “This is my husband, his name is Gale. Excuse him, he was ready for bed.”
Motto nods, opening his mouth to introduce himself to Gale as he walks the rest of the way down the steps but Heath keeps talking.
”Gale doesn’t like my roses.” He continues. “He says maintaining them is a waste of my time, because no one will see them. But then lovely people like you come along.” He turns to Gale. “He said he likes my roses.”
“That’s nice.” Gale says simply, sounding more awake. Motto assumed this was typical, as well as not his business.
”The art is also nice.” Motto says.
”Oh that’s Gale’s collection.” Heath says. Gale nods, confirming it.
”I can show you some rarer pieces.” Gale offers.
”That sounds nice.” Motto says. “But I shouldn’t stay long.”
”Motto is a vampire hunter.” Heath says. “Poor thing has been out and about all night.”
“An important job.” Gale says, with a small smile. Motto thinks his smile looks odd. Like he has too many teeth in his mouth and he’s having a hard time keeping them in.
”Are you hungry?” Heath asks Motto. “I bet you are. You're not carrying much. Can’t imagine you have food with you. Would you like me to make you something to eat?” He looks to Gale once again. “Could you show him to the table?”
The decision made for him, Motto walks with Gale to a dining room. All the blinds in the room are shut. The table is a long, wooden table with tall chairs at it.
”A lot of dinner parties?” Motto asks as he sits down.
”No.” Gale answers honestly, “I just thought it fit the space.”
Motto nods. He figures this is his chance to get a few words in. “How long have you and Heath been together?”
”Married fifty years, if you can believe it.”
Motto couldn’t. They both don’t look any older than their thirties.
”You don’t look fifty.” He says, his surprise showing itself in his tone. “Let alone like you were old enough to get married that long ago.”
”Eh, we were pretty young when we got married.”
Motto nods and Heath enters the room. He carries in a plate which he sets down in front of Motto. On it, a steak sits alone in a puddle of its own blood.
“Do we not have better food for guests?” Gale asks, leaning on a wall behind Motto.
”We ran out.” Heath says, waving a dismissive hand.
Motto pokes at the meat, feeling it’s practically raw on the inside. He holds back a grimace to not seem rude.
”Could I have some water?” He requests.
“Of course, of course.” Heath says, disappearing once again. But he returns quicker this time, carrying a glass. He once again sets it down in front of Motto.
Motto picks it up, but his movements pause as he stares at it. He can see the painting on the wall behind him, right over his shoulder. But he can’t see Gale.
No matter where he tilts the glass, he can’t see him.
He stands quickly, letting the glass fall. It shatters on the table.
”What was that for?” Heath asks with a frown.
Motto doesn’t answer. Finally things start to make sense to him. Gale’s young face, the smile, the lack of a reflection.
Gale was a…
”Vampire!” Motto yells, stumbling to the side, knocking the chair he had been sitting onto the floor.
”Ah, there we go.” Heath says, like someone just told him the answer to a riddle.
Gale moves from behind Motto to be beside Heath, his expression calm and neutral.
”Stay away!” Motto cries out, yanking the silver cross on his belt so hard the leather strap holding it in place snaps. “Stay away.” He says again, firmer. He feels more confident now that he has a defense. He holds out the cross and stops moving. It was only a few inches from the two.
Heath suddenly growls lowly. Gale puts an arm around him, pulling him close.
”Excuse my husband.” Gale says in a steady voice, placing his hand on the side of Heath’s head, seemingly stroking his hair. “He’s not fond of silver.”
Then, he moves his hand down, revealing the side of Heath’s head again. Where his ears now are scruffy wolf ears. Heath’s eyes find Motto, looking anything but human. His once-spindly body looks different as well, larger and more muscular.
“Werewolf.” Motto mumbles to himself, mostly out of shock. He’s heard of them, but he’s never been trained to handle them. It wasn’t common for them to coexist with vampires. He didn’t realize there would be an exception.
”I’m not a fan of crosses myself.” Gale says, grabbing the cross in a swift motion. There’s smoke as the smell of burning flesh faintly fills the air. Gale grimaces at the burn, showing his jagged and sharp canine teeth.
Motto, still shocked and terrified, lets the cross be pushed out of his shaking hands. It clatters on the wooden floor. His knees ache with threat to collapse.
Feebly, he reaches for the wooden stakes on his belt but then his eyes fall on the wolf ears. A wooden stake wouldn’t do anything to a werewolf, and he didn’t like his chances with one after staking his husband.
Heath is looking more animalistic by the second, a grotesque snarl showing his sharp teeth.
Motto didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t take down both of them, and they didn’t seem willing to talk it out now. He internally curses himself for pulling out the cross.
Terrified of what would happen once Heath has fully transformed, he decides his best chance is to run.
He bolts for the door, his heartbeat making his head pound.
Motto struggles with the door handle, his hands continuously slipping due to being sweaty from fear. When he finally gets the door open, he hears Gale speak.
”Don’t go easy on him just because he liked your roses.”
Motto runs out the door, not bothering to close it behind him. He runs through the woods, cold morning air pricking his cheeks.
As he runs, he hears heavy footsteps coming from behind him, syncing to the quick beats of his heart. Whatever was chasing him wasn’t human, or at least it wasn’t anymore. It’s on all fours, growling fiercely.
Motto listens to the leaves crunching behind him, and he knows whatever it is can run much faster than him.
The Hound
Sara Rosas
In all my life, and in all my dreams, I’ve never seen something like this.
“Beautiful isn’t it?” Samuel, my lab partner, has been working on something for quite some time now and he would never let me see what it was. Now I wish he would’ve never showed me.
“What the hell is that?” I muttered without taking my eyes off it.
“It’s our new guard dog.” He said as he started typing something into a keyboard on the side of the enclosure of his new ‘dog’.
I feel the coldness of the lab through my coat. It’s dark where we are, but the inside of the enclosure is blinding.
“That’s not a dog.” I looked closer at it. “That’s in no way a dog.”
A cow is put in, the dog or whatever Samuel created prepares to run at it. Once it did it started to tear the cow apart. It didn't even look like a cow once it finished.
Blood is everywhere and so was whatever was left of the cow. The creature is staring at us. I feel chills going all the way through my body. My palms are sweating and my heart is beating fast. What is this thing?
“Samuel, can it see us? Isn’t this reflective glass?” I glanced over at Samuel, too scared to look away for too long.
“It can’t. Calm down Kate, it can't get out.” He said as he started writing stuff down on his clipboard.
The creature's bones sounded like they were snapping each time it walked. The skin of the creature looked like it had bleached human skin, and it had strange features but looked too human. It looked human, but it’s on all four of its long legs. It looked human, but its spine was practically out of its body. It looked human but it had long sharp teeth and claws. It looked human but it had the snout of a dog.
My thoughts were cut short by that thing jumping at the glass, making the screeching sound of what resembled some sort of animal getting eaten alive.
I jumped back and grabbed Samuel.
“You said it couldn’t see us! Are you sure it can’t?!” I held onto the sleeve of his lab coat. “And are you sure it can’t get out?” I had something new to worry about. This thing inside the blood covered room could cover this whole lab in our blood too.
“It definitely can’t get out, but it probably just smelled us through the glass.” Samuel didn’t sound so sure about what he said, which made me feel worse.
All I can think about was the fact that he has created something so horrifying and blood thirsty as an experiment. I don’t even want to look at it anymore.
“I’m leaving, Samuel.” I turned around and started to walk away into the only hallway with lights there was at the moment.
I could hear the thing trying to break through the glass, and the further I walked away the louder it screamed.
I came into work the next morning and went into the greenhouse to run some tests on the new plants we made. All I could smell was chemicals and flowers, the sun coming through the glass is warm compared to the other rooms of the lab.
I heard some glass breaking, but that was normal for these guys. I continued taking samples of the plants and organizing them.
Then, I heard Samuel’s voice.
“Kate, Run!” He was running towards me and was clearly panicking.
Then that thing he created jumped out at him and started to eat him. It ripped off Samuel’s head. Seeing me made it angry. It spit out his head and started growling at me. I ran into the freezer room as quickly as I could.
Once I got in there I locked the door. It was colder than usual. I sat down in the corner in fear. I saw it looking at me through the little window in the door.
It looked down and it started to turn up the dial on the side of the control system, making the room even colder. My heart beat started to slow down and my fingers started going numb. I’m terrified of what’s coming my way.
I had two choices: freeze to death here or have the chance to get mauled to death by something man made.
I accepted my fate, but then the creature ran away.Maybe it was a sound? A scent? A movement? I didn’t know, but it is my ticket out.
I opened the door and quickly ran. My feet still hurt from the cold but I kept running. I get out of the lab and to my car. I drove to the police station.
“Please! Please help! There’s an emergency at the BioLab Creations!”
The cops looked at me and came over. They started asking questions about it and eventually they drove us back to the lab.
They can’t find anything but bodies. But I saw the broken glass in the greenhouse. It was gone.
I panicked and left the state, hiding in a small town in Mexico called Bacalar. I knew it wanted to hunt me. It killed everyone else in that laboratory, so it wanted me.
Then it found me. I’m hiding in my bunker as I’m writing this. I don’t know what else that lab created, but all I know is that this thing was one of the worst. I worked there to cure disease and help keep nature alive, not create something so dangerous.
But my time might be done.
Water Scribbles
Justin Schumacher
March 26, 2008 3 YEARS BEFORE THE INCIDENT
The sound of rushing water filled the quiet air and danced with the sound of a soft hum. By the creek sat a petite woman with dark auburn hair that swayed in the breeze. Her hum harmonized with the current as the sound of a pencil scratched across a small drawing pad. Strokes began to form a picture. Across the creek stood a small log cabin; the windows were cracked, and graffiti was recklessly drawn over some of the logs. It looked like the slightest breeze could make the door fall off its hinges or knock the cabin down. Yet to that girl it was a masterpiece.
“Mia,” a voice called out, breaking the peacefulness in the air. Mia turned to face where the voice called her name.
“Amber,” Mia called back. She waved her over, patting the ground for her to take a seat. Amber sat down next to Mia. “Isn’t it so peaceful here?”
Amber looked around the small creek, breathing in the brisk air, “I now know why you love this place so much.”
“It’s a great place to draw, and look over there,” Mia pointed across the creek to the small log cabin.
“Mia, that place looks like it’s about to crumble at any minute," Amber remarked.
“But isn’t it so beautiful? The structure of the cabin, the way it’s still standing after all this time...I love that little cabin,” Mia daydreamed. Her pencil started creating strokes on the notepad again. “I would love to live there one day.”
“You would literally die if you ever did,” Amber reminded her.
”I would not. Of course I would get it remodeled before moving in since it is a little dangerous, but otherwise that’s my future home,” Mia’s eyes gleamed as she stared at the cabin. Thoughts ran wild of the things she could do with it; she imagined raising a family there.
“If that’s the dream, I guess I could back you up on it,” Amber said with a smile. Mia laughed before wrapping her arms around her best friend. “Doesn’t mean I’m paying for it though, just saying I won’t crush your dreams anymore. Your dream. Not mine.”
“I know, I know. Who even knows if that place is for sale anyways,” Mia said as she let go of Amber turning back to the cabin. She was almost done with her sketch.
Amber looked over at the notepad, “is that?”
“Yeah, it’s the cabin,” Mia replied.
“You really are obsessed with that cabin,” Amber laughed. Mia jokingly punched her arm and laughed. The drawing resembled the small cabin, but in a fresh new view. The logs looked full instead of rotting, the doors and windows closed and tidy, almost seemingly different than the one across the creek. “If the cabin actually looked like that, I would live there myself.”
“It will look like that, one day,” Mia promised her.
October 31, 2008 3 YEARS BEFORE THE INCIDENT
There I was staring at myself in the mirror, “you got this Mia. You’re going to knock the socks off of that panel.” I splashed my face with cold water. The pure shock woke my senses right up. “Who am I kidding. I’ll never get into Carnegie.”
I walked back over to my bedroom, sitting down on my bed. On my bedside table sat my portfolio, I pulled it off the furniture and stared blankly at it before I flipped through the pages. They aren’t bad pieces, but just not pieces I think will get me through the critique.
My phone began to ring. It was Amber. “Hello?”
“Oh my god, are you still at home? Why haven’t you left yet, you’re going to be late to your interview,” Amber ridiculed.
“I don’t think I’m going to go anymore. They’ll see my art and just laugh at me. What was I even thinking, applying to Carnegie. Only someone with real talent could get into that school,” I tore myself down as I stared at my pieces.
“Don’t make me come over there. You know you’re just getting in your own head. You are an amazing artist, and they would be stupid not to accept you. Go to that interview, Mia,” Amber said through the phone.
“Okay, okay, I’ll go,” I said as I got off my bed and started packing up my portfolio and getting ready for my critique.
“That’s my girl. Tell me how it goes when you’re done. I’ll talk to you soon. Bye,” Amber said before hanging up.
A smile crept across my face. Amber was right–I’m a good artist. I shouldn’t already be giving up on myself. I grabbed the bag I packed everything in and started heading over to my car. I got into the driver’s seat and stared down at the steering wheel. I was nervous, but excited. I started the car and was off towards Carnegie.
“Miss. Warner, you’re next,” a lady told me. I got up from the waiting room, portfolio in my hand. I was sweating. I wanted to turn around and head back home, but I forced myself into that empty theater.
“Miss. Warner, it’s great to see you. I’m Professor Calkins, if you don’t mind handing over your portfolio we’d love to take a look through it while we ask you a couple of questions,” one of the professors said to me. I handed her my portfolio and watched as they flipped through it.
“These are some extraordinary pieces, Miss. Warner,” another professor said to me, “how long have you been illustrating?”
“Since I was twelve years old, sir. My mother put me in art classes at a young age. I sort of just fell in love with it. I enjoyed the way I could let my imagination run wild, I loved drawing landscapes the most,” I told him.
Professor Calkins took out a piece from my portfolio; the small cabin. “Tell us about this piece.”
I smiled as she turned it towards me, “I call that one ‘The Log Cabin.’ It’s a small log cabin that is by a creek that I live close to. I would always go there and just stare at it, thinking of all the possibilities it could offer. To me it’s my future home, a place I could raise a family, a home that would last for years. To others it might just look like an abandoned cabin, but I see it as more than that. It’s truly one of my favorite places that I have ever drawn, and I feel like I have captured it perfectly in the way that I view that log cabin.”
The critique went on for a good hour, until Professor Calkins said, “thank you, Mia, for your time. You’ll hear an answer about our decision in two to three weeks. Have a great rest of your day.”
I thanked them for their time before taking back my portfolio and exiting the audition room. A giant smile was on my face, I felt really good about myself. The minute I got into my car I called Amber, “so?” she asked me.
“It went really well, I think I might have a shot of getting in,” I told her.
She screamed over the phone, “I’m so proud of my Mi Mi. See aren’t you happy I made you go to that interview. I knew you could do it.”
“Yes, yes, I couldn’t have done it without you. I love you, Amber,” I told her.
“I love you too, Mi Mi. Now get home and call me in the morning,” she said to me.
“I will, I will. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Bye,” I told her before hanging up the phone.
April 26, 2011 6 DAYS AFTER THE INCIDENT
Mia stared at everything she ever knew in that house. Her artwork hung up in the master bedroom, his clothes still hanging in the closet. Tears began to run down her face as she remembered all of the fond memories they had together. She heard a knock at the door.
“How’re you doing?” Amber asked as Mia opened the door.
“It hurts, Amber. I miss him so much,” Mia said, trying to hold back tears.
Amber wrapped her arms around her friend, consoling her. “I know Mi Mi, it will get better. Believe me, it will get better. It’s just too soon to try and heal.”
Mia cried in her friend’s arms, trying to calm herself down. The soft touch of Amber’s hand on Mia’s back helped calm her down. “Maybe I don’t deserve happiness.”
“Don’t ever say that again,” Amber scolded her.
Mia pulled away from Amber’s embrace, wiping away tears from her eyes, “I’m sorry. It just feels like it. Here, come inside. Let's sit down.”
December 15, 2008 3 YEARS BEFORE THE INCIDENT
I walked around the small town of Carnegie, staring into the shop windows at all of the Christmas decorations. I haven’t started my own Christmas shopping yet, and planned to get started today. I walked into one of the shops browsing the selection of decorations. They had everything from giant snowmen to Santa Claus hat tree toppers.
I stopped at one of the aisles that was filled with ‘ugly’ Christmas sweaters. “This is horrendous,” I said to myself as I picked one of the sweaters up.
“I think it’s cute,” a male voice said from behind.
I turned around to face him looking down at the sweater in my hands, “so you’re telling me you would wear this?” I gave him a questioning look.
“Why not,” he said with a shrug, taking it from me. He put the sweater over his head, putting it on, “I think I could win a fashion show with this.”
He began to start posing in the sweater. I couldn’t help myself from laughing, “you look ridiculous.”
A smile crept onto his face as he stopped posing and grabbed another sweater from the rack handing it to me. It was uglier than the one he was wearing. “Put it on,” he told me.
“God, no. That’s uglier than the one you’re wearing,” I replied, pushing the sweater back in his direction.
“Come on, just put it on. It’s only fair,” he teased.
“You put that sweater on willingly,” I retorted.
He gave me a sly smile as he put the sweater in his hands back on the rack and took off the one he was wearing. His golden blonde hair was messed up from removing the sweater, but his bright smile never faded. “What are you staring at?” he asked me.
I didn’t even realize, but I was staring directly at him, “your hair is a mess.”
He let a small chuckle leave his lips as he raised his hands to his hair fixing it, “is that better?”
“Very,” I said with a smile. Suddenly my phone vibrated in my pocket. I reached for it and looked at who messaged me; it was Amber. “Shoot, I have to go.”
“Do you have a date or something,” he asked me as his smile began to fade.
“No, my friend is just waiting for me outside,” I told him. His smile turned more into a smirk now.
“Oscar,” he said.
“What?”
“My name’s Oscar.”
“Mia.”
“It was nice meeting you, Mia,” Oscar said as he leaned against the clothing rack.
“Same with you, but I really must get going,” I told him as I began to leave the shop.
“What took you so long?” Amber asked me as I stepped off the last step in front of the shop.
“I met a guy,” I told her, trying to hide my excitement.
“Oh my god. Mia, did you get his number?” she asked me.
“Shoot, I knew I was forgetting something. Maybe I’ll run into him again one day,” I said to her as I looked back towards the shop.
“Or you could just go back in and get his number,” Amber said, pushing me towards the door.
“Amber, no. If it’s meant to happen we’ll run into each other again. I’m leaving this one up to fate,” I told her.
“Sometimes ‘fate’ needs a little shove,” she told me as she pushed me towards the steps again. This time I lost my balance and saw the ground rushing towards me. A hand grabbed me before my face got real personal with the ground.
“You should watch where you’re going,” he said. I recognized the voice, but it couldn’t be.
“Oscar?” I asked as I looked up to see the face that saved me.
He smiled at me as he helped me gain my balance again. I shot a deadly glare at Amber.
She shot me two thumbs up before walking away. “I thought you were meeting your friend out here,” he asked me.
“Turns out that wasn’t until a little later,” I lied.
“So you were trying to avoid me in there?” he asked me as his eyes lowered and I could see that he was biting the inside of his cheek.
“No, no, not at all. It’s just. It’s. It’s a lot to explain. Do you want to get hot chocolate?” I asked him before I dug myself deeper into a hole.
“I would love to,” he said to me.
April 20, 2009 2 YEARS BEFORE THE INCIDENT
Mia’s phone vibrated in her pocket, she tried to ignore it but it wouldn’t stop. She motioned to the professor and asked if she could step outside for a moment. The minute she walked out of the studio, she took her phone out of her pocket and answered, “hello?”
“Mia,” Oscar said over the phone.
“Oscar, I’m in class right now. I can’t really be on the phone. Is this important?” she asked in annoyance.
“Oh shit, I didn’t even realize what time it was. Is there any way you could ditch class?”
“Oscar! Why would I ditch class?”
“Because I miss you,” he said.
“That’s not a reason to skip,” Mia replied.
“I think it’s a valid reason to skip. Don’t you love me?”
“You know I do.”
“Then skip class for me.”
A small chuckle escaped Mia’s lips as she switched her phone to the opposite ear and rummaged through her purse, “you’re lucky you’re cute.”
“Does this mean you’ll skip?”
Mia pulled out a small slip of paper from her purse and a pen, “what’s my excuse?”
“Your mom’s in the hospital.”
“I am not saying that, Oscar. Try again.”
“How about,” his voice trailed off as he thought about a decent excuse she could use, “just say it’s a family emergency. They can’t ask questions.”
“Fine. I’ll see you soon.”
“I love you.”
“I love you too,” Mia replied as she hung up the phone and placed it back into her pocket. She scribbled onto the slip of paper ‘Family Emergency’ and shoved the pen back into her purse before she walked back over to the room.
Mia entered the studio again and walked over to the professor’s desk sliding him the slip of paper. He examined it and looked back up at her before he shooed her away. Then she was in her car and driving to Oscar.
“It took you long enough,” Oscar said as Mia began to get out of her car.
“Shut up. Just be happy that I actually ditched class for you,” she replied as she ran over to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. Oscar hugged her back and placed a soft kiss upon her head.
“How much longer until you’re out of school?” Oscar asked.
“Just a few more months.” Oscar groaned. “You’ll survive. I believe in you, besides this is just light work compared to you leaving me for 3 months to go to that swimming tournament,” Mia reminded him.
Oscar squeezed her tighter in his arms, “what if I backed out of the tournament?”
“You can’t do that.”
“Why not? Then I wouldn’t have to leave and we could be with each other forever.”
Mia laughed as she pulled away from the hug and placed her arms upon her chest, “because you’ve been training your whole life for this moment. It wouldn’t be right if you just gave up on your dreams for me.”
“What if you’re my new dream?”
“Oscar, no. You’ll never forgive yourself if you drop out.”
“I hate when you’re right,” Oscar complained.
January 20, 2011 3 MONTHS BEFORE THE INCIDENT
“You didn’t think you should have told me this sooner?” he screamed at me. He rarely ever screamed at me. I must have really messed up this time around.
“What would it have mattered, anyways? You’re leaving for Italy in three months. You’ll forget all about me, and find some new prettier girl,” I yelled back at him.
His fist slammed against the door. I locked myself in our bedroom in the apartment we shared. “Why is that always the excuse you resort to, that I’m going to find someone better? Do I not show my love enough for you? Is every little thing I do a joke to you?” I hated when he was right, but my overthinking still always got the best of me.
“I don’t know Oscar. I don’t freaking know,” I told him. I was asking myself the same question. Why didn’t I tell him sooner?
“How can you not fucking know!”
“Don’t curse at me,” I cried. I hated when we fought.
I heard the sound of his fist slam against the wall on the other side of the door. He was going to have to pay for that, but I wasn’t going to bring that up right now. I brought my knees up to my chest, my arms wrapped around them. Tears ran down my face. The stinging always hurt.
“Mia, let me in,” Oscar told me. I wanted to, but didn’t at the same time. I was too scared to face him.
“Oscar I’m really sorry.”
“Mia, just open the door.”
I picked myself up from the floor. I stared at that brown wooden door for what felt like months, my hand reaching out towards the handle but never unlocking it. I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t face my mistakes.
“Why did you do it Mia, just tell me why,” his voice cracked. I couldn’t stand hearing him so hurt.
“It’s getting harder, Oscar. It’s just getting harder.”
The door handle jiggled. He tried to enter, but the lock prevented him. I reached out towards the handle and unlocked the door. The door swung open as he rushed over to me. His arms wrapped around me and pulled me into a giant hug. I could feel his tears slide down my shoulder. I couldn’t help myself. I began to cry too. “I’m really sorry, Oscar,” I repeated.
Oscar grabbed my right wrist, sliding up my sleeve. He stared down at the scars. Tears filled his eyes. He brought my wrist up to his lips and laid a gentle peck. It hurt, but was soothing at the same time. “You know I love you Mia, but please no more. No more hurting yourself. I don’t know what I would do if I lost you,” he said to me as he held me close.
I wasn’t so worried about him losing me, I was more worried about the idea of losing him. I don’t know what I would do if I lost him. Him going to Italy scared the life out of me, but I couldn’t tell him that. I had to be supportive of him. “I know. I’m really sorry,” I told him.
He held me close, kissing my forehead as his thumb caressed my wrist. I didn’t deserve him, and I knew I didn’t deserve him. He was sweet and caring; did I deserve someone like that?
June 20, 2011 2 MONTHS AFTER THE INCIDENT
Mia wandered around the small town of Carnegie, looking into the windows of the small stores. Most of them have changed from three years ago. She ventured to a store that still stood after all those years, the same shop she met Oscar in. Mia walked down the different aisles, mesmerized by the selection as memories flooded her mind. Tears began to catch in her eyes. She fought the urge to let them fall.
“Do you need help, Miss?” one of the workers asked her.
“No, I’m alright. Just looking,” Mia replied with a smile, the worker nodded his head before leaving her alone. She walked to the aisle where the ugly sweaters used to be. Now they were replaced with antique ballroom dresses. Still ugly though, she smiled to herself.
Mia wandered down the aisles a few more times before she left the store. As she opened the door to leave she could still see Amber waiting outside for her in her giant winter coat. She looked down at the stairs where she was pushed before Oscar caught her. Mia let out a light sigh as she walked down the stairs, and she turned to admire the little shop. It was her new favorite place to go to now.
She walked around Carnegie for a while, remembering all of the memories she had with Oscar. Their first date, the day he stood up in front of an open mic and started singing to her, and she couldn’t forget the time he was teaching her how to roller skate and he lost his balance and fell face first onto the pavement. Mia wished all the good memories of them didn’t have to hurt
so much. Suddenly her phone began to ring.
“Hello,” Mia asked as she picked up the phone.
“Mia, are you walking around Carnegie again,” Amber asked over the phone.
“No, of course not.”
“I know when you’re lying. You do this to yourself all the time, it’s been two months since Oscar passed away. I think it’s time for you to do something other than chase ghosts.”
“I can’t just move on from him, Amber. He was my perfect guy. He treated me so well. He actually cared about me. No one could possibly replace him.”
“That might be true, but you’ll never know unless you try,” Amber pushed.
“I just can’t right now. It still hurts too much.”
“I know sweetie, I know. But it’ll be a good distraction. Just give it a try. For me, please. You could download one of those dating apps.”
“Are you kidding me?” Mia asked.
“You’re not looking for love.”
“We’ll see. I’m not going to find Oscar in an app.”
“That’s a start. Do you wanna come over for dinner? I miss spending time with you.”
“Sure, what time?”
“5:00. I’m making shepherd's pie.”
“Sounds delicious. I’ll see you then,” Mia said as she hung up the phone. She stared down at her phone. Was she really about to try and move on from Oscar? It seemed almost impossible to her. But Amber was right–it would be a good distraction. Mia opened the App Store and downloaded the first dating app she could find. She’d wait till she saw Amber to set it up.
Mia continued to walk around Carnegie one more time before she headed back over to her car. She got into the driver’s seat and started the engine. She sat there for a minute, thinking how, if she leaves, this might be the last time she’ll ever walk around Carnegie again. Was this the last time she would walk hand in hand with a ghost, she wondered to herself. Mia positioned her rear view mirror so she could see the town one last time. She smiled and then pulled out of the parking spot and made her way towards Amber’s house, ready to start her new chapter.
The Apology
Justin Schumacher
“I’m sorry,” I whispered quietly from across the table. My tone was softened and tender, hands trembled with fear of the response I would receive.
He looked up at me from the other side of the dining table. He was still picking up food off his plate with his fork. I made him a filling feast full of pork, potatoes, and corn to possibly soften the blow. His gaze was sharp with disdain mixed in. I could feel the judgement. “For what exactly?” he spoke in monotone.
”Do I really have to say?” I pleaded. I didn’t want to relive my mistake.
”What are you sorry about?” he spoke sharply as he stabbed his fork into a piece of pork, lifting it to his mouth.
“Darrell, please, I’m begging you. Can’t we just move on?”
”Grace, answer the question. What are you sorry about? What possibly could you be apologizing for?” He asked me. I could see his fists tighten—he wasn’t a weak man either. “Go ahead Grace, tell me why you are sorry.”
”It was an honest mistake, you must believe me.”
”Is it mine?” The question hit me like a bullet, I reached for my stomach gently placing my palm on top of it. I felt a kick. It had to be too early for a kick, it felt more as an aching pain.
”I do not know.” It was a lie, I knew exactly who the father was. There was another kick.
”I want a Paternity test,” Darrell demanded. He said it with such ease as he took the napkin from his lap and cleaned his face. He worded it as if it meant nothing and affected him nonetheless.
”No!” I protested.
”It was not a suggestion, Grace.”
”It is my body, and if I say I do not want a Paternity test, there will be no Paternity test.”
There was silence in the room. Tears began to form in my eyes, the crash of a glass broke the barrier holding them. Pieces of glass laid on the table, some in Darrell’s hand which was covered in blood now. Pieces of glass laid with pieces of my heart now. There was another kick.
Darrell stood up from his seat now, taking the napkin and wiping his hand. The clean napkin was now red, filled with blood and anger. He walked over to me as he unbuttoned his cuffs and as he touched them they began to turn red as well. He towered over me as I sat there, resisting the urge to look at him. I could not face him. “Look at me,” he scolded.
I shook my head with my eyes clenched shut to keep the tears from falling. His large hand grabbed my cheekbones and raised it towards him, I kept my eyes closed. I trembled in his grip. I would not give into him. “Darrell, let go of me,” I spoke in a whisper. I didn’t want to aggravate him anymore.
”Why did you do it!” His index and thumb tightened around my cheekbones as he held me in place. His figure loomed closer into me. I could not move my head, but my eyes stayed closed. “Have I not shown you enough love? Have I not given you everything your heart desires?” He motioned with his free hand to everything that surrounded us. I could not keep my eyes closed much longer as they flooded with tears.
”Please, let me go,” I begged him. His giant hand came lashing down as he slapped me across the face. The impact stung.
”I gave you everything!” he yelled. “I gave you a life, a career, a future, and how do you repay me? By cheating on me! You have the nerve to not let me know if that child growing inside you is mine, or the foul, disgusting grouch you decided to sleep with. You owe me, woman.”
My blood boiled. I stood up from my chair, glaring up at him. “I don’t owe you a thing. I worked hard for the life I live now. You might have helped with the process, but that does not mean I owe you. You are the one who fell in love with me, and I fell in love with you as well. We vowed to respect each other and love one another. Yes, I may have cheated, but that does not mean I don’t still love you. I messed up, I will admit that, but I will still withstand my vows to you. That doesn’t mean I owe you.”
He was silent. All he did was stare at me, a lump in his throat.
”I will not sit here and let you disrespect me. I am baring a child, which could possibly be yours. I will not let this child listen to its parents argue on and on about a mistake that I have committed. No, this does not mean you should forgive me for cheating, but you should care for this child as if it’s yours. We should live as a family.”
Darrell moved closer to me in silence, his hands moving to my stomach as he held the little child inside me. He looked into my eyes as he said, “you know who the father is, don’t you?”
I looked at him. Hesitant. “Of course I know who the father is.”
”Well?”
”It’s yours.”
”How do I know you are speaking the truth? All night you have been lying. Why should I believe you now?”
”I understand your stance of distrust, but I promise you I am telling you the truth. This child is yours. I have done the calculations in my head comparing the times of my affair back to you, and it’s not possible for the child to be his. So it’s yours.” I spoke with confidence as I explained myself even more to him. It seems I have been doing that a lot lately.
His eyes lit up with delight, a smile broke that glooming glare. He got down on his knees as he kissed my stomach, every inch of it. Every kiss felt like a warm sensation, it tickled, I couldn’t help but let out soft laughs. Darrell embraced me tightly as he held my head in his hand, stroking my hair. “I love you so much, Grace. I’m sorry for hitting you earlier. I don’t know what came over me.”
There was another kick. I held my stomach. It felt as if my body was turning against me. My heart began to race, I felt light headed. My index and thumb moved up to my temples as I held my head and stomach. The pain increased. Darrell watched in horror. ”We need to go to the hospital. Now!” I gripped the handles of my chair, it felt like my insides were turning inside out.
I watched as Darrell scrambled to the other room, hopefully grabbing the phone. I screamed in agony and pain, the feeling of labor, but not actually being in labor. I bit my tongue as another kick hit me from inside. Tears began to fill my eyes as I realized what was happening. This child would never see the light of day, I would never be able to call it mine. Its tiny hands will never be able to hold onto mine, its soft giggles would never be heard. Every emotion rushed towards me in a wave. Darrell finally came back into the room. “The ambulances are on their way.”
Everything was happening so fast, but so slowly at the same time. I felt like I could watch a single water droplet fall in slow motion. The pain was unbearable. The ambulance finally arrived when they began to strap me up to a bunch of machines and rushed me to the hospital. Darrell was a mess, clueless to what was happening. I watched him carefully, every movement he made. Those giant hands clinging tightly to his elbows—I could tell he was nervous. My body felt weak, completely limp. The nurses already could tell what had happened and they didn’t hide it very well, but Darrell was still clueless.
I finally made it to the hospital bed where I laid as they examined me. Darrell stood in the corner of the room, watching from afar. The distance between us felt cold. My body shivered. I looked down at my hand, on my finger laid my wedding ring. It was a stunning giant diamond; he truly did know how to pick out jewelry. But looking at that ring now didn’t give me the same joy it did a few years ago. Instead it made me hollow and empty inside. Tears began to fill my eyes, unsure if it was from the pain or from looking at the ring. My eyes looked up towards Darrell as I coaxed him over.
He took my hand in his and held it firmly. A soft squeeze as the nurse reached for the wounds. “We’ll get through this together,” his tone was reassuring.
I looked up at Darrell, my eyes puffy. In a whispered breath I said to him, “I want a divorce.”
