I wish I were winged. Deirdre trouped along with her laughing group of friends through the abandoned neighborhood. Her insides ached. She missed Adelaide. She longed for the presence of many who had flown from her. Yes...wings. When one sees a flock of birds dancing through the sky, it is no oddity for one to break off abruptly and begin to fly in another direction. But that is estrangement now. She would get countless questions if she told the party that she was going home. Sighing, she begrudging followed her group that seemed to loudly disturb this land's sacristy. She missed her constant solitude. Her only desire was to be alone. To mull through the thoughts and dreams that unceasingly haunted her. I wonder if....
Moments later, Deirdre found herself alone. It was as if her friends and her forsaking of them were a mere dream. It was all so very still. The sky's ceiling a opaque gray. Her breathing that did not interfere with the wind and trees conjoined classical. Aimlessly, she roamed this desolate paradise. Wind chimes rang in eerie sweet cacophony. Houses that her friends would likely vandalize observed her. These were her. These, with the chipped paint, rusted metal, and broken glass. She found herself in every one of them. As if we are lost entities. They did not know why they were now deemed abandoned anything's. They simply knew that the once content caretakers became tired of them. We are burdens. Just sacks of uselessness that break the backs of the innocent. We both know that those caretakers deserve more than we can give them. But we gave all we could.
One of the rejected shingle-faced sirs was unlocked. Deirdre could not resist. She was tired. She wanted clarity. Only to be alone. Her sickness tugged at her throat, warning her of the danger this would be to partake of, urging her to simply go home. Darklit streets are no place for kids. But it gives me more of a home than you ever did.
Deirdre was in a box. Outside, came a dead hum. She pushed with weak arms all around her, trying to feel where she lay. It was all a hard cold wood, with barely enough room to turn over. Pushing herself up to the head of this box, Deirdre could faintly make out the strains of “I'll fly away.” What the..... A small crack in the box's side allowed a bit of filtered light inside. Laying back down with heavy gasps, Deidre perceived a roughness on the ceiling. Claw marks. And blood. She was in the body of someone being buried alive. Urging herself to inhale and exhale, Deirdre shut her deep eyes and wildly writhed with all her might.
Bits of something were knifing her face and head and chest. Something glasslike had just been shattered, and the explosion of it sounded like one thousand mouths gnashing together teeth. This gnashing was hurting her entire upper body. Something penetrated her eyelid and scratched the surface of her cornea. Something like pain was urgently felt. Opening the other eye, Deirdre saw her catastrophe. The moon adulterated her privacy, and echoed light on the antique looking porcelain lamp. Deidre must have slammed into it. Why would I......the dream. Salty tears came much too rapidly, blinding her in both eyes. Shards of glass pierced her face and eye and neck and chest. Little streams of blood formed rivers that soaked her. That was not the matter at hand though. This dream had been the worst. And Deirdre was lost as to what it should say to her. Only the fact that such a fate was her greatest fear, struck more little girl terror into her than she ever thought possibly. Opening her eyes again, she remembered where she was. In the middle of some god-forsaken town hours from house.
Deirdre staggered out of the debilitated forgotten. The clouds must have seen her exit, for they immediately cloaked lady moon in black. All that could be distinguished were the silhouettes of claw like trees and houses that seemed more like shapeless blocks than anything of consequence. I just need to find my way out. “Why?” Unsure as to who had pierced the bleakness with audible words, Deirdre could not answer. Not only for the fear, but also for the inability to formulate an answer. “I need peace. This is not peace. This is fear,” she feebly cried out. No answer. Maybe this is peace. Maybe this is all I have wanted to run to. Just to be lost. “If you can't find yourself than how can I expect to find you?” Whatever the beast was sneered. I've no other choice and nothing further to live for. Wavering on her feet, Deirdre began to walk in no direction. Just away from myself.
After an immense amount of seemed time, Deirdre could wander no further. Her glass infested eye was only half way open, but had swollen so much that it was nearly impossible to see out. The glass that held the rest of her body captive felt as if it had driven farther inward, and was creating black crusted dents in her pale skin. She collapsed on the wiry ground, and just stared at her surroundings through the live eye. Her ears tried to prove themselves, and grasped the silenced bushed and damp grass all around in search of danger. Never before had Deirdre thought of this place as dangerous. Unassuming and still. Not dangerous. Now the thoughts pestered her like surely the gnats would be if the night were not so frigid. A spark of blue flashed only three feet in the distance. It was gone....then returned. Baffled, Deirdre outstretched a frail arm towards it. She felt drunk. That mite of blue was the only hope in this eternal blackness. She felt as if only black and white were the colors now recognized. Blue. She needed the tranquil glassy blue of whatever treasure produced light as that. The blue reproduced to two specks simply gazing at her from three feet away. It glided nearer. With it came a deep rasping. Closer. Closer. It inched nearer to her, until at last looking straight down on her small dirty body.
A huge gray wolf. It looked at her with eyes blue but dead. Deirdre deliriously reached up to it's massive face, when suddenly fatigue stole her from the present. Her lifted hand fell with a thud.
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