Mirror Ripple: Dying Remnants & Daring Desires

By: Sistine the Angel of Hell

Original by: Limited Edition

Letter 1

It was the day I stand out, all alone. The emptiness tugged and pulled at my mind. It was the day unlike those before. The day my shadow whispered a verse into my ear, drowning reason, then told me goodbye/

Dust, setting on everything. The dust of the dry months danced gracefully in the air as the truck bounced, jostling any and all of its occupants, up and down. The breaks squealed and whines as Uncle’s bare and chapped sole pressed down in a torturously slow manner. The two-door pick-up came to a stuttering halt and I jumped out, disregarding the hesitation, the door swung closed. I trailed the pads of my fingers cross the flaking white and marine blue paint, just scraping around a rust crater. The sound of Uncle’s voice wafted past m, as he called out to me, slamming the driver side door closed. It all fell on deaf ears.

‘What…’

My eyes were on the early twilight on the horizon that kissed the flower fields in soft pinks, and oranges, and gave the gravel road a dark brown hue.

Idly the clouds danced by, quelling the risen dust. Idly the clouds drifted by close to the earth. Perhaps I saw you that day. Maybe flying with those clouds, far from me and my reach. Perhaps, maybe that was why my shadow left me that day.

‘…what if all we seem…’

Uncle gently took my hand from the door. My whole hand fit into his, limp and pale. As he urged me onward into the house, I woke from my daydream. Staggering behind him I stole another glance, looking back at the meadow with the colors peeking out from under the sun-kissed green; my shadow was gone.

‘…What if…what if…’

The ride hadn’t been too bad. Uncle’s southern accent was like a lullaby to a baby to my ears the whole trip. He’d spoken of nothing of importance, and I skimmed the foliage out the window, my arms folded across the frame. Winds of the highway had whipped my hair into my face and drowned my eyes in salty lakes as seagulls circled above screaming their woes. I rolled up the window at that moment; it was cold, too cold and I didn’t like seagulls, they cried too much.

I thought about it, watching the home-made cookie crumble, the crumbs littering the table as I took a bite. I sat there listening to Grandma and Uncle speak in hushed tones. Uncle then left with a bag full of snacks for the trek home held tenderly in front of his chest, he ruffled my hair as he passed me.

‘…what…’

Gazing about the kitchen, I thought. The pale green wall fashioned an old Grand Father clock. Bloodshot eyes and the reddened, raw tissue around them stared back at me out of the face glass. The dark brown stairs that, was behind my chair, were ascending into the darkness that was the rest of the house swam in my hazy vision.

A Shadow.

A blonde head peeking from around the corner. A stunning fiery gaze directed at me for a second and then is all vanished. My eyelids fell over my burning eyes and I turned my face to the ceiling. It wasn’t like I remembered. Not that it had changed, or anything. Rather because I hadn’t been here for so long.

Grandma stood at the sink washing jelly jars and the last rays of the sun flowed over her graying hair, she looked angelic. She dried her hands on her red and white checkered apron, then walked over to me. She placed them on my head, kissing me on the cheek and stating my room was ‘upstairs, first door’. I couldn’t tell if she knew about you.

‘…what…if…’

I dragged my feet up the wooden, creaky stairs. The one bag I brought along, held by two fingers over my shoulder, landed with a clunk at the foot of the bed while I flopped on the bed itself. The patchwork quilt smelled of Grandma and cleaning detergent and had been warmed, somewhat, by the sun that was always on my floor. I pulled my legs close to my body, hugging them, my feet cold in the thin socks. I warmed rather quickly though and soon Grandma stood at the threshold with a dull lamplight and the half-disgusting smell of meat wasping past her. I trudge in time with her steps to the hard and cold metallic table. I would have figured her to have a wooden one. We sat quietly, with only the clink of the forks and knives to keep us company, and I stared at the stairs.

‘…what…if…we…’

The worn, old, creaky stairs that allowed you to pad across without a sound. And there you stood. Your sandy, almost white, hair hung low in your eyes, un kept. You stood just behind Grandma, whispering silently. You murmured a secret to Grandma, leveling your child-like face to her ear. I felt like I was suspended in some kind of gelatin, unable to move or speak, or think properly.

So I said nothing.

And you said everything.

And she said nothing.

And I couldn’t you.

Could she even hear you?

I envy how you could talk to her without uttering a word, how she understood you. Those fiery, brilliant eyes never left mine.

And then it al vanished.

Between Grandma and I was just deafening silence.

But your silence was filled with a million words.

OoOoOoO

Ok, that’s the first chapter. Sorry it took so long to get it out. I will have the second one out tomorrow. Promise. Also, I’ve been studying my ass off. Mid-terms.. gag… please review.!!