Hey everyone. This is a story I wrote for the Creative Writing Club at my school. I would really appreciate critiques on this one, so please rate and review. Thanks a ton for reading.

-TGN

Concerning Life

by TGN

Céleste pushed through the violent flow of rain and hail, scarcely able to believe what she was seeing. The small village of Mort de Plusieurs lay in ruins, smoke spiraling up in torrents to meet the sky. The screams that had found their way through the noise of the storm still rang in Céleste’s ears, and the smell…It was nigh unbearable.

Céleste picked her way through fallen beams and bloody corpses, tears running steadily down her pale face. Aveline…her dear sister Aveline…Where was she? Certainly, she had found a way to escape the carnage…

But even before Céleste turned the corner to her sibling’s home, she knew there was no hope. The houses lining the bloodied streets had been cleaned out completely, and most were no longer standing. The spot were Aveline’s house had been was demolished, and there…at the foot of the rubble…

“Cher dieu! No!”

Though the body was severely mangled, there was no mistaking it. Céleste’s eyes widened in terrible shock, her face streaked by her tears, as she took her sister in her arms, sobbing renewed. She pushed back her sister’s hair, touched her face, gazed into her eyes…

And then she turned and threw up.

It was too much, far too much for one to handle…Céleste stumbled back the way she had come, never ceasing in her tears. She had almost reached the outskirts of Mort de Plusieurs when a new sound met her ears. It was slight, and had she not been accustomed to the near silence, she might not have noticed it.

“Aide…Aide…Aide me…”

Help. Someone was asking for help…Someone was still alive.

“Ne pas inquiéter. I am coming.”

Céleste followed the slight, calm voice. It didn’t sound frightened, or injured, or anything in particular. It simply was. But Céleste didn’t notice any of this. Her attention was consumed by the idea of assisting this person, in place of her sister…

“Bonjour? Is there anyone there?”

“…Oui…Here, ma’am…”

In the center of a ring of houses a small child, female, sat with her chin resting on her knees. Her small face turned up as Céleste approached. It was streaked with dirt, but there was no trace of tear. Her light grey eyes peered up at Céleste through black strands of hair, slightly analytical. Céleste disregarded this and pulled the child into a tight embrace.

“Not to worry, mon cher, not to worry…I am here…” She turned to look down at the girl. “What is your name, cher?”

The dirty face met Céleste’s gaze, without feeling. “…Non. I haven’t one.”

Céleste wiped some dirt off of the girl’s face with her sleeve. “Then I shall give you one.” She pulled her close again.

“Annete.”

“Annete! Breakfast is ready. Wake up, cher!”

Annete, who had not been sleeping to begin with, arose from her mahogany desk and walked over to the door of her room. The voice of her would-be mother sounded once more, but Annete did not bother to quicken her pace. She descended the stairs, never looking anywhere but straight ahead.

“Ah, there you are, cher! I had wondered if you had fallen into a coma, the length you children sleep these days…” Céleste chuckled good-naturedly.

Annete sat at the end of the table, in the seat farthest from Céleste. “My apologies, mère. I meant no disrespect.”

“Ah, why must you be so formal? Once, just once, might you call me mama? Are these fourteen years we have spent together so inadequate for kinship?”

Annete’s head bowed mechanically. “I am sorry…mama. It was not my intention to upset you.”

“Oh, do not think on it, cher. It is breakfast, we should be merry!”

“Merry” was not a word often used to describe Annete. Perhaps “dark” or “brooding”, or even “mute” under most circumstances. But never “merry”. She was always clothed head to toe in grey or black, hardly an inch of skin exposed. Even her unsmiling pale face was mostly covered by long black bangs that fell over the lenses of her glasses. Her hair was cut halfway down her neck in the back, occasionally causing passersby to debate over her gender. None of this bothered Annete, however, as she spent most of her time in public trying to avoid people and their pointless conversations anyway.

“Yes, mama…I thank you for making this wonderful meal.” In reality, Annete did not care for any of the food on the platter Céleste was placing before her, but was not bothered enough to do anything about it. Céleste beamed.

“You are very welcome! I have made all of your favorites…Bacon, eggs, even strawberry crêpes! I hope you enjoy them.”

“I am sure that I shall…”

Wide awake…wide awake…

“You do worry me sometimes, the way you eat so scarcely.”

Runaway…runaway…

“I apologize. I shall try and avert your worry in the future.”

Erased.

Memories, near and far…Forever trying to fill the void, trying to cross the gap…How can one see what isn’t there? But if it is there, waiting, then one must only turn and look…

Snow fell lightly upon Annete’s head as she exited the rather large house she shared with her guardian. She seemed not to notice this, and only opened the worn-down umbrella in her hand by sheer force of habit. In her other hand, she clutched a black bag, similar to those of businessmen, only bulkier. As she walked meticulously down the lane, many heads turned to follow her progress. Annete ignored them all and continued her excursion.

Two blocks away, a small café with strands of opaque Christmas lights glittering in its windows had just opened and was already attracting a host of freezing patrons. Annete joined them, though not for a lack of warmth, and took a seat in the most isolated booth available. Within a few minutes, she was sipping a cup of warm cider and had a faded black notebook on the table in front of her, reading.

“Yes, but if it were so easy…” Annete murmured, absorbed in the words on the page before her.

It starts to pull…

She flipped a page, cider sitting on the edge of the table, forgotten. “Yes…But then what…?”

Question…

“How would one go about such a thing?” she mused.

Question who…

Annete paused. “A…a question…?”

Question who you are.

The sound of shattering filled the crowded café as Annete stood suddenly, knocking over her drink. There were several small shrieks and someone shouted, but Annete paid them no heed. She stuffed her notebook into her bag and seized her umbrella as she hurried outside back into the cold.

I will fade.

Riddles, questions…They swirl around one’s head, taunting their consciousness, creeping into their dreams…Is the strain of existence worth the reward? Only time can tell…

Annete stopped running only after the city lights were visible as tiny pinpricks in the distance. She fell to the ground, head on her bag, umbrella strewn across the ground to her right, breath coming in short bursts. She felt something wet on her cheeks, and reached up a hand to find herself crying silently. As she made this realization, the light went from her eyes. Memories filled her head…Memories of a town, laying in ruin, of the smell accompanying the dead bodies…

“…N…Name…”

The word came slowly, and was accompanied by the memory of a woman, bending down to speak to a small, lonely child…

“…Non. I-“

“Haven’t one.” Annete sat up slowly, her eyes unfocused and staring off into the distance.

Was this the answer to the question she had been asking for so long? No proper response could be received from Céleste…That great fool. “Oh, Netta, I adopted you. Where you came from is quite unimportant, we are together now!” Together. Oh, how Annete hated her, hated her presumptions, hated her speech, hated the way she looked…How could she think, even for a moment, that Annete wanted anything to do with her? How dare she tell people that Annete were her daughter? How insignificant was she, compared to the conundrum which had haunted Annete for as long as she could remember?
Who am I?

Light…darkness…They cannot exist together, but neither can they exist apart, for one should never forget that without light there is no shadow…And the innocence of a child may be overshadowed…

“Cher!” shrieked Céleste as Annete came through the door, expression emotionless. Céleste’s eyes were swollen, and she clutched a sopping handkerchief in her hand. “You are home, you are home, oh cher, cher, I was so worried!” She came forward to catch Annete in a tight embrace, but was stopped as a hand closed tightly around her neck.

“I think, mére, that I have overstayed my welcome here…As have you.” Annete’s hand tightened around Céleste’s throat, causing her to gag as tears swam to her widened eyes. Annete bent down so that her face was an inch from Céleste’s as she began to whisper.

“Don’t worry, you won’t die alone. You will go as your sister did, slowly…all of you shall…But you have housed me for so many years, so I shall give you the great honor of being the first to die…”

Erased.

Aimée stared in wonder at the city that lay before her, scarcely visible through the blizzard that covered the landscape. She stumbled forward, tripping over unseen objects that littered the ground, and not until the smell reached her nose did she realize that they were corpses.

“Oh Mon dieu!” she exclaimed, having the strong urge to turn and run in the opposite direction. Just as she was about to give into this impulse, however, a small voice sounded through the cold.

“Aide…Aide…Aide me…”

Aimée started at the voice, then hurried through the freezing winds to locate the source. In what appeared to be the center of the city, a small child sat, her pale face turning blue from cold. Aimée hurried over to her, warming the child in her arms.

“It is alright, do not fret…What is your name?”

“Non. I haven’t one.”

Memories, near and far…Forever trying to fill the void, trying to cross the gap…How can one see what isn’t there? But if it is there, waiting, then one must only turn and look… Riddles, questions…They swirl around one’s head, taunting their consciousness, creeping into their dreams…Is the strain of existence worth the reward? Only time can tell… Light…darkness…They cannot exist together, but neither can they exist apart, for one should never forget that without light there is no shadow…And the innocence of a child may be overshadowed…

Never should one forget this, these small fragments of truth…For the consequences could be as dire as death, the only difference being you may yet be trapped…

In life.