We wept. We wept an ocean of tears. We wept like there was no tomorrow. And for me, if felt like there wouldn’t be. I couldn’t visualize a day without her. And who could blame me? Until that day there hand never had been a day in my life when she hadn’t been there, caring, loving, funny, stubborn, my teacher, my best friend. She was my shoulder to cry on, my secret keeper. She knew all my secrets, every single one of them. Even the deepest secrets of my heart that no one else knows. And now she was gone.
I was born in some year of human measurement of time in an abandoned gas station. My mother was a petite Siamese mix with crystal blue eyes. She was a stay at home mom. My father was a full time witches cat specializing in scaring the superstitious. I got his looks. There is not even a hint of any other color on my silky black fur. I take great pride in my fur. I was one of five kittens. All of my sisters; Nikia, Gamzattie, Swanhilda and Coppalia looked and acted just like mommy, but I Exxon, her darling baby boy was destined from the start to be different. Life was good with mom, we rarely saw dad. She was a great cook and was always willing to play with us. She was always watching out for us keeping us ( okay mainly me,) out of trouble until one day when a monster roared into our peaceful home.
At the time, being a kitten, I had no idea that the monster was a truck. I know that know of course. You learn a lot in nine lives.
The castle stood on a cliff on a tall and intimidating mountain overlooking the remains of the once glorious town of Estdale. It is said that the castle of Olithel has never been taken in battle, its position on the mountains is strategically perfect for defense,
Inspired by Frank Sinatra's Strangers in the Night
Silently I slipped threw a side door into a dimly lit corridor. My back pressed against the wall I shuffled away from the door as quietly as I could praying no one had seen me disappear. My fingers moved along the wall searching for anything I might run into; the met with something warm, firm and breathing. I snapped my arm back to my side as I gave a small jump of surprise. I turned to find myself face to face with the stranger I had seen in the ballroom.
You are walking through a graveyard, its dark and stormy, you feel like your being watched. You see a shadow and you feel a chill run down your spine. You wonder for the hundreth time why your doing this, why you were stupid enough to play truth or dare. As your pondering this
I'll be gone for five weeks this summer so I don't know how often I'll be able to post. Just a heads up.
All teenagers do something stupid at some time or another. Being a teen myself I have done my fair share of stupid things (and will probably do a lot more) but out of all the things I’ve done I’m probably most famous for my adventures with a substance called Jet Glue. Jet Glue is like super glue but stronger. Dancers, like me use it to reinforce out point shoes. It works really well. Sadly Jet glue is also really good at getting stuff stuck to my fingers and…. My belly button.
Picture this: the backstage of a tiny theater: complete chaos. Teens and preteens rush around franticly adding the last minute touches to there costumes and make up. In the middle of it all stands two girls, one brunette, that’s Ella and one half brunette half blond (but that’s a different story) wearing a provocative costume straight out of the Arabian Nights. In her right hand she holds a bottle of eyelash glue. Her left is attempting to hold a purple plastic jewel over her belly button, but every time she try’s to move her finger it comes with it. That’s me.
“Its not working!” I said
“You just need to hold it on longer.” Says Ella (the first of the voices of reason in this story,) while she makes a face in the mirror due to poking herself in the eye with a fake eyelash.
“I don’t have more time!” I cried as the jewel dropped off my belly button.
Next we tried to hot glue that stupid jewel. Yes you read that right, hot glue, as in hot glue gun. A really hot glue gun to be precise since it had been on for about an hour re-glueing glitter and sequence to peoples costumes. I spare you the details of how it felt but lets just say that the hot glue gun wasn’t pleasant and didn’t work.
Finally in desperation I said, trying to sound like I knew what I was doing;
“There's only one option left. I’m ganna use jet glue.”
Instantly I was surrounded by a group of girls and one boy all franticly trying to talk me out of my plane. Sadly for me I didn’t head their warnings. Ignoring the cries of protest around me I walked to my giant black bag reached in and pulled out my jet glue. I then proceeded to do the stupidest thing I have ever done. I glued a piece of plastic to my bear skin. My friends warned me not to, and I really wish I had listened.
Right after I glued that plastic to my belly button my teacher came rushing down the steep stares that lead to the stage clattering in her heels all the way, holding a bottle of extra strength eyelash glue. Looking at me she asked:
“ Did you get it on?”
Proudly displaying my stomach I answered
“Yes. I used jet glue.”
“Oh Caroline,” she said placing one hand on her forehead and shaking her head slowly
“Your ganna hurt.”
Fast-forward a couple hours to after our performance of The Nutcracker condensed. Same place as before except now all the costumes are coming off drenched in sweat. Bags are being collected and there are frantic cries of “where’s my shirt!” from every direction.
I’m the girl standing by the door blocking everybody’s way with her giant black bag as she displays her belly button to a bunch of little kids.
“So Caroline, what are you going to do about your “belly button ring”?” asks the first voice of reason while making quotation marks with her fingers in the air.
“Oh I think I’ll leave it on for a while, “ I said pulling up my shirt.
“I mean this baby’s not going anywhere anytime soon.” I pulled on it to demonstrate my point and I promptly accidentally pulled it off with a great deal of pain.
I had a rash for a week and you could see the imprint of a jewel for a month.
The sound of her heels clicking down the hall filled me with a sense of dread. She had found out. I just new it. She knew. How she knew didn’t matter, at least not at the moment, my main concern at the moment was what she was going to do to me. I was sure it was going to be horrific. She was evil. E-V-I-L evil. She was practically Lord Voldamort unforcanetly for me I’m no Harry Potter. The heels stopped outside my door. In a moment of panic I decided to pretend I knew nothing. Complete innocence. I knew it would never work. The doorknob twisted and in stepped the witch of my fairytale. My sister, completely dressed in black, from her leather jacket complemented by her leather miniskirt to her leathel looking leather stiletto boots.
“Hi Lesley” she said in a fake cheerful voice with a fake cheerful smile. “What’s up?”
“O nothing “ I said all innocently shrugging my shoulders. I flopped back on my bed trying to look board out of my mind whale fighting the urge to curl into the fetal position.
“Hmm.” Bridget walked over to my dresser and started poking threw the clutter on it. She said nothing for a few moments and neither did I. Then out of the blue she blurted out
“Have you seen my choker?"
“Your choker? I asked still trying to play the innocent
“Yes my choker, the one with the cross on it.” She turned to look at me and her eyes were boring holes into my head. I flipped over onto my stomach and began to play with the fringe on my pillow.
“Umm…no can’t say that I have.” I was lying. And she totally new it, but see even though she knew I was lying she didn’t accuses me. See that’s what’s so evil about her, she’s strategic. If she’d right accused me I would have started yelling “I did not!” and that would have just gotten us arguing and then mom would come and brake it up and she’d never get to do anything to me. She walked over to stand beside my bed. Then she crouched down till she was level with my ear and whispered
“ Well if it’s not sitting on my dresser by 4:30 tomorrow……….your screwed."
I can't see anything, not even my hands stretched out in front of me, searching for anything. All my other senses become stronger, I can smell the fear on my own skin, I can feel my pulse racing threw my viens but most of all I can hear the bloodcurdaling screams that fill the air. I know not who they come from, or even if there my own. They swirl around me enveloping me in a coccon of terror. My hand find a wall and I freeze. The scrams are right on top of me, smuthering me as I sink to the ground, back pressed against the wall. My eyes squeze shut, my knees come up to my chest and my hands clasp over my ears at though they would squeez my head into pudding. All in a desperate attempte to block out the howls of this nightmare.Theres no light at the end of the tunnel, all the worlds closed off, leaving me alone to sob for eternity in this excapless pit of dispair. Theres no one there, no one to help me breath without these sobs that wrake my body stealing my breath away. No one to wipe away the tears coursing down my cheeks, no one to hold me close and sothe my fears. Theres no one left. Can't I just die, whats the point of being hear? Can't I just dissolve and become one with this darkness. Theres never going to be another day. Just let me die!
Then from beside me I hear a tiny voice say;
"Uh exscuse me but um.. your sitting on my hand."
Thats when I relize theres someone beside me, I'm not alone and I never have been. Theres always been someone right beside me. I'm not destiened die in this crushing darkness anymore, theres someone to push back on the blackness with me. My sobs subside and the howls fade as the beginings of a new dawn approch.
He heard the knock again and approached the door, rifle in hand. Slowly he opened the door, just a crack and said
There was no answer. He closed the door and turned towards me saying;
"See its nothing, just some branch or something."
Those were the last worlds he ever spoke. The door swung open behind him, reveling a tall hooded figure. A shot rang out and he crumbled to the ground. And my world dissolved into darkness.
All works are the property of C Kempfer unless otherwise indicated