Hi guys, I am sorry I have not written in a while. The following super short story is based on a slightly disturbing dream I had the other night and since a lot of my friends are requesting that I post stories, I decided to turn it into one. I hope you like it.
Sometimes I see the river like fragments of glass between the gaps in the trees. Sometimes the water looks so motionless and still until I lean in close a see the tiny ripples on the surface. Sometimes I see her disappear through the surface of the shadows.
The moment I began at my new school I noticed Illa disappearing. It was odd, the people around me only seemed to notice me when she was gone. At first she was gone for seconds, then minutes, then hours, but no one seemed to notice, they seemed to forget about her the instant she disappeared and instead they would turn their attention to me without a hint of realization of the empty space she had left behind. But maybe she didn’t disappear, after all I never saw her actually disappear, always after, never just when. But this time I saw her, just when.
The scratching of wheels against concrete headed towards the auditorium, stopping at scattered intervals at the auditorium door to let numerous conversations merge into one, consistent sound. It was five in the evening and darkness had begun to override the orange and pink hues of the sunset. It was not long until I could see stars swimming above the surface of the darkness as I through the glass door of the auditorium. Inside, it was light as the as we had swum under just hours before for our last day of school camp. Fatigue, a result of over expended energy crept itself up from my toes and through my body, burying itself in my bones, adamant not to move. Eventually it reached my eyes, weighing down my eyelids. As my eyes began to shut I noticed Illa winding her way between the tiny shadows towards the bathroom. The fatigue that had seconds ago overcome me rapidly seeped from my eyelids and back through my toes as I pushed myself off the floor to follow her.
I reached out an arm to push open the bathroom door and let it swing back behind me, the hinges creaking slightly. The doors of the bathroom stalls were all shut.
‘Illa.’ My voice bounced of the walls of the bathroom. There was no answer.
I turned to face the mirror lining the left wall.
‘Illa.’ Again my voice echoed but there was still no answer. But, there was a movement in the last stall.
Illa stepped out of the stall and stood behind me, staring into the mirror. I watched in the reflection as she reached her arms up to my face. Her fingers left remnants of its glacial cold on my skin but it did not become any less freezing. The cold spread down into her toes like the fatigue that had only minutes before seized her. I could not move, even when her fingers crept to my eyes and pressed down on my closed eyelids. I could not struggle even when pain filled every inch of my mind. Then it stopped. the cold crept away slowly, inch by inch. I opened my eyes. Illa was still behind me but her eyes…her eyes, they were gone leaving only empty sockets.
She walked past me, every step even as I slowly recovered from my fear, waiting for the door to creak back into its place before I followed her back into the auditorium.
No one seemed to notice Illa standing in the middle, dancing. It was eerie, her empty eye sockets appearing every time she turned to face where I was standing, just outside the bathroom door. She leapt and as she did tiny holes began appearing in her skin. I could barely contain my horror but as I tried to run to her a wave pushed me down. Salt exploded into my mouth, scratching my throat raw. As it subsided, I tried again. Another wave. Then another. Every time I tried to reach Illa a wave hit me.
More holes began littering Illa‘s skin like sinister freckles. Blood poured from them staining the floor, her clothes, her shoes, but she never slipped. The blood drenched her as she collapsed, her empty eye sockets staring at me. And staring at them I knew, I could not have saved her.
So, if this story had confused you, there is a method to my madness. As I was writing this short story I wanted it to be more than just as story and decided to give it some meaning. Illa represents someone who is in a constant struggle between two parts of herself, the dark side(who she gives into at the end and is also the reason why she disappears) and herself. The narrator is someone who notices her disappearing(a.k.a her struggle) tries to save her at the very last moment but cannot. Well, that’s it for now.
H.C.A Agate 