Forgotten Names


Toes curled tight, my arms clutching my side, tears streaming down my face. Bizarre sounds scratched my ears while I listen in on my surroundings. It's a harsh world really, so why would I expect the sounds of it be anything else? All around me people strode past with a smile on their lips. My mother would have loved this sight, the blystering crowd only in tune wih their own lives, so oblisvious to everything else. I wish I was still oblisvious.

Only a week ago it was, a funeral fit for a king, or shall I say queen? When my mother died it was more than sudden. But that's the thing about death, its only sudden. A random selection of random people. Before it all began I stood in my bedroom, the drapes pulled tightly shut submerging everything in the bleak darkness. I craved for that darkness, even now I do so.

Outside the sun was shinny brightly, almost shouting out in joy over this bleak day. Walking in circles about my room I tried to find something to focus on, to keep from crying out in pain. Book after book, tracing the bounds of the dusty thing with a single finger I let out a deep sigh. Pain ripped through my stomach Myths and fables ran under my brawny hands, legends and fairy tales. Grasping the largest bound book I tossed it aside to the bed.

Flipping through I read the names of the story titles. Thumballina, Cinderella, The Secret Garden, Snow White. All children's tales, smiling I began to read the tale Snow White. Reading I felt my pain subsiding, but my hands shook as I turned each page so carefully. Love's first kiss was all it took to wake Snow White, when she should have been dead. Poison apples are suppose to kill, not put the maid into a coma.

Closing the book I tossed it aside. Slamming against the wall the book slid to the ground open. Sighing I rubbed my eyes, the darkness never did do any good for the sight. Getting up I picked the largly bounded book up closing it correctly as to not ruin the pages. As I looked up I made the mistake to catching the eye of my exboyfriend in a photograph. He smiled warmly at me, it was the same smile he gave me when he said he found someone else. Someone else who was better. Slamming the picture down I heard the crack of the glass breaking. Another bad omen.

When life gives you lemons, you make lemonade. When life gives you death, you just feel bad. Maybe not murderers, if they felt bad they wouldn't kill. Taking my large suitcase I walked away from the bench I was resting on. Walking through the park I made my way towards a water fountain. Refreshing water helped clear my dry throat.

"Lady? Why do you have a suitcase in the park? Are you going to have a sleepover?" a small child asked dumfounded. Turning I smiled at her. Shaking my head I gave her a simple no before moving on. The sun beamed down on me warming my back.

At the funeral I had no shoulder to cry on. My mother was all I had. The body laid there before me, lowered into the ground. The light of the sun danced on the black coffin. Glancing around I noticed so many familiar faces. Distant reletavies, cousins whose birthdays were left forgotten, Aunt Tilly who had shunned the family that was below her, and so many uncaring faces from school. Of the very few friends I still had, only four could be seen actually showing sorrow. Lizzy, a girl to kind for the good of it, had been watching me the entire time. When she caught me starign at her she flashed me a smile. Turning around I watched as the coffin was lowered into the ground.

As the coffin hit the bottom, I had an urge to jump in with it. What would everyone have thought? Probably that I had gone mental. Oh! What gossip would have flown about the town? Mother would have laughed her head off when she heard the news. It was just like me, and she was the only one who thought it was funny. Mom. When it came down to the end of things, I knew she was probably better off. No more bills to pay now.

Pain built up inside my chest, that pain still subsided somewhere even now, only now I had it under control. The funeral was bleak, I remember that clearly. Even though I was in a daze that day, I clearly saw that no one but me cared over this dead woman. Throwing my head back I stared at the ceiling of the church for the entire service. Afterwards I was wisked off to my aunt's for the wake.

The car ride was bleaker than the funeral. I knew my cousins were uncomfortable around me. They both sat quietly in the backseat staring out their windows, probably afraid I would beat them if they did otherwise. My aunt tisked her tounge as she lectured me on the reasons of why my mother was irresponsable.

Closing my eyes I sat down on a near by bench. Looking up I saw the sky growing dim, night was approaching all too quickly. The air was so pure, it didn't feel right to just sit there. Part of me wished I had told that horrible woman off that day. My mother had just died and my aunt still saw it fit to critizie her. Shaking my head I let my bangs fall over my eyes as they began to water.

Standing up I walked away. The park was too simple, too peaceful, too perfect; but where was I to go now? Running was the only thing I seemed to be good at these days.

Taking one long stride my foot hit black asphalt. Looking up I found myself reaching the street exiting the park. My lips parted slightly as I looked up seeing a large advertsment for a Parkstone's Bookstore. It wasn't the flashy bright colors or the catchy saying on the bottom of the sign, my eyes barely saw the white letters. No, it was the two white fangs hanging in the background.

Picking up my pace I moved to where a bus stop stood several feet down the road. No one was out, I was the only occupant of the street. Standing below the sign I looked up at the sky, the sun's light barely shown over the tall buildings.

Hate was a strong word, but I truely felt hate for my aunt. Those memories still bubbled in my mind and my heart throbbed. The wake was no place for me to have been. That day was all wrong. But I suppose we all have to fall at one time.

At the wake no one dared to speak to me. It was all too awkward. As I sat on the stairs with my back against the railing I found myself remenising of my mother. That was when my half-brother made his entrance. Rolling my eyes I looked over to see him pushing his way through the crowd to reach me. His face was pained. Anger had boiled up inside my chest, he had no place being there that day.

Unlike my father, my half-brother Wilson actually cared about me. Born several years before me, and several years after my parrent's divorce, Wilson found out that he had a little sister and made it a point of taking care of me.

"What in hell's name are you doing here? I told you not to go to the wake, just the funeral. You're tearing yourself up. These people don't care about you or your mother, they're just here so they don't tarnish their reputations." Closing my eyes I listened to my brother's harsh words. He grabbed my arm with great force pulling me up. Grabbing the rail I steadied myself from falling. "Liz called me. She said that she thinks your a mess. She was the one who told me that your bitch of an aunt had taken you to the wake. God, I knew I should have gone."

Pulling my arm away I stared at him coldly. "No. I told you, I didn't want you there. It was my mother's funeral, only people who cared about her- who wanted to say good-bye should have been there. It meant so much to me- that you didn't go. Please!" I spoke it gasps of breath, "Please just not make a fuss. We'll leave, we'll leave."

Wilson nodded. His eyes were sollum, understanding my pain. Walking behind him I followed him into his car. Buckleing in I found myself crying. I brushed the tears away on my sleave. "Thank you."

Wilson let out a short laugh hearing my broken words. "Yeah, well your welome."

Leaning against the window my head began to spin. It was like I was loss. "Hey Wil," I grumbled, the pain in my cheast was rising.

"Yeah?"

"I don't want to end up like her."

"What?" I could hear the confused expression in his voice. From what Wilson had shared with me, he had basically confessed that he thought my mom was perfect. He only met her a few times, but when he had he was treated like a spoiled child. I guess that the attention made him love her like he would his own mother, if only his own mother cared about him. "You are making no sense."

"I don't want to end up dead. I don't want to be forty years old and look back on my life and realize that there was never really anything there. She had nothing, she was alone in debt up to her eye balls; and she was in so much pain. I only wish I could have helped her, there had to have been something. But- it's too late now. Now there's only me left, and I can't seem to make any sense of it."

Laughing his head off Wil wheeled the car off the road pulling into the garage of his house. Parking next to the red mustange my brother looked to me with all signs of humor gone. "It's been a long day for you. Just come in and relax. Your heads a mess," Getting out of the car I could still hear his lecturing, "Dad's in his study. I'll let him know that you're here. You can just stay in my room."

Walking into the house I smelled supper. The maid Rosa was busy at work probably, Wil's mother couldn't cook if her life depended on it. Walking through the empty halls where there was not one single picture of Wilson I enter his room. His room was so much different than the rest of the house. His room actually showed signs of life. Sitting on his bed I kicked my shoes off.

A few minutes passed before Wilson enter with a grim look on his face. "My mom wants to talk to you. I told her that you weren't feeling well but she won't listen." Standing up I made my way to the door. My hand rested on the handle. "You don't have to go you know."

Closing my eyes I thought of the altenative before opening the door. Moving through the house I found his young blond mother in the living room, sipping a cup of tea. "Hello dear. Sit down please," she said directing me towards the lone chair sitting across from her. Taking a seat I fell under her gaze of judgement. "I wanted to say I'm sorry. But we should put this all in the past. There are other areas of importance we need to cover."

"Such as?" I asked with a steady voice. I was surprised with myself, the anger for this woman made me so calm. She ruined my life, my mother's life, and worst of all Wilson's life.

Setting her tea cup down she crossed her legs polietly folding her hands on her lap. "My son."

"What about Wilson?" I asked with curiosity in my voice. This woman's true intentions evaded me.

She smiled tapping her chin with her finger. "He loves you. But you're holding him back. That boy can do anything, but he's afraid to leave you behind. Did he ever tell you why he didn't go to Oxford?" She didn't wait for my response. The truth was that I didn't even know he had applied. "He didn't want to leave you here alone. The last three jobs he was offered were shot down because he didn't want to move away."

"So what?" I asked glaring at the woman.

She returned my glare with more anger than I could have given. Her heart only held pure hatred. "No one likes you here. I believe my son and that bimbo he's in love with-"

"Liz," I said softly inturrupting her glare.

Glaring at me she reached for a small white sheet of paper placed on the end table next to her. "As I was saying, I believe they are the only people who care about you. So I don't think my offer will be that bad. Throwing away everything when you have nothing isn't that hard is it?"

I shook my head looking away. I could see Wilson's shadow as he stood in the hall eavesdropping. "Your father is rich now. Thanks to me of course, but we have enough money, more than we need really. Twenty thousand dollars and a plane ticket, is that good enough?"

Directing my gaze back at this woman I examined her face closely. The dragon smiled wickedly as she waved the paper, an envelope in the air. "What are you talking about?"

"God! You really are a dim girl. I'm giving you money and a one way ticket to where ever you want. All you have to do is leave and never come back."

The words echoed in my head. Watching Wilson's shadow I saw him step out from where he hid. His face was full of grief. "I brought her here to get away from everything, to relax. Leave her be mother."

My mouth formed an 'o' as I stared at her. Wilson kept speaking in a hushed tone towards his mother with such fierce passion. His jaw probably hit the floor after my reponse.

"I want a new identity, I want a promise that it will be as though I were dead as well. Make me disappear. Forget me, forget this shadow of a girl, and never mention me again. So do we have a deal?" I asked grimly. Staring at the floor I couldn't look up at Wil.

"Well then," she asked with bright eyes, "Where do you want to go?"

Gasping for air I tried to block the face of my brother. The pain creaped around my chest threatening tears to explode. The fate was mine to choose, but not a minute passes where I question if I had made the right choice. Laughing I looked up to see the head lights of the bus. I never did like Corinna Seras. She was a prick, she always followed everyone else never living life to how she wanted.

I'm glad she died that day. Now I was left with broken memories. At least I was happy. Floating by in life wasn't really what I would call a life, but it would do. Climbing onto the bus I payed for the fare and sat in the back as I avoided curious stranger's glances.

Sitting there I stared out the window seeing the tall buildings pass by. I found myself wondering if I would ever find what I was looking for. The truth was that I didn't know what I was looking for. The fangs were a sign to follow though, directing me in my journy.

What I was searching for couldn't be found in stores.

It couldn't be bought.

Nor traded.

No, what I searched for was a place in time, my immortality. Give me life to mourn an eternity on these bare roads of fate, and hold my hand as I cry my soul into a thousand pieces. A ghost of time, stuck in place of a shattered soul.

The thoughts were curiously outragous. Honestly, I was even ammazed with myself. I mustn't be sane anymore. The night fell swifty. I lived for the darkness, the sun just seemed to happy for me now. Ever since her death I found pleasure in the darkness.

At first I thought it was just the depression setting in. But the pills wouldn't work, there was always something there, something threatening to bring me crashing down. My will just wasn't the same. But as I sat on the plane, as Corinna Seras laid dead somewhere in my chest, I realized that I had lost all will, because of one silly conscious thought of death. The Grim Reaper sat beside me in his black cloak, covered with the bones of the forgotten, staring into my broken soul.

There was nothing left for me, the thought of suicide briefly hung in the air. It hung there taunting me with release. So I decied to give myself one year. One long year. What the streets of London held I could not be sure. Everything was unplanned, and by going on a whim I found myself here, sitting on a bus, traveling to a book store, all because I saw a set of vampire teeth. It was crazy, but I truely am not all sane anymore.

My fingers laid upon an unbounded book of dusty manuscripts which held stories of young girl's minds, Aladin, The Princess and the Pea, and Sleeping Beauty. My breath was caught in my throught as I stared at the reflection in the foggy window of the deserted bus and my lower lip trembled with fear. There was no question that there was someone there, yet she seemed to be a ghost in my eyes. And in a flash she was gone, brushed away with the passage of time, dead and forgotten.

What would come next? I could not say.

I could only sit back and listen to the tires running down the road at their own slow pace, making their way to the last stop of the night, where I would exit onto the streets of London, and wander about until dawn.

Persing my lips into a tight line I wondered where it was that such author's of fairytales lived to come up with such stories of happiness and love. Was there such a world where happiness thrived in complete peace? If there was, I would most certainly try to find it; for a woman I once held dear to my heart lived for such a world. This woman once held her darling daughter in her arms and read aloud such tales, and promised that young girl a perfect life. She promised to keep her safe, and glue her back together when she had broken into one million pieces.

That girl was once me.

Yet who was me now?

For I had no name,

and with no name can I really exist?