The Beach

I sat upon the deserted, wind blown shore with dark thunder clouds rumbling in the distance. I had been sitting on the sand for hours, watching the tide slowly creep ever closer. The wind pushed the waves into rocks that lined the shore, breaking them in a stunning display of white spray. Further along the rocks grew like a staircase towards the cliff face. Sand was blown along the beach at such a speed I thought I could see the shadows of horses galloping in its shape.

In the distance, the clouds lit up in a brilliant display of forked lightning over the waves. It was only in these moments that I could see the sky. The light created a different pattern every time it flashed across the sky. I loved looking at the lightning; it was a magnificent show of the power and beauty of nature all in one.

Turning my head to the right I saw a glimmer of blue sky amongst the dark grey. It was the only glimmer of hope in my life – and it was out of my reach. That was why I was here today. The weather matched my mood, and for this I was glad. Now everyone would have to suffer like me. But I wasn’t going to suffer for much longer.

I stood, carrying my shoes in my hand and walked towards the rocks on which the waves broke. The water was cold, but not icy; quite pleasant actually. I climbed up onto the largest rock I could reach, just shy of the shadow of the cliff, finally feeling the sense of power that had been stolen from me all my life. Each wave that broke on the rock sprayed over my face, cooling the invisible scars. The waves represented my anger and continued to break. Never-ending hatred would continue to break on these rocks until the world came to an end.

He had taken everything from me; my childhood, my innocence and, soon, my life. He drove me to this. Every slap, every punch, every kick – they were all coming back now, all in one fell swoop.  I had suffered silently for years, and now I was fighting back. I was going to haunt him. My death was going to haunt him. His guilt would be overwhelming. Perhaps he would soon come to join me.

My arms flung wide open, I closed my eyes and let the ocean spray cool my face and body. Then I jumped. The cold water came as no surprise to my body and I opened my eyes. The water around me was so clear, so blue, filled with many small bubbles from the waves. The water pushed me around, throwing me into the rocks, but I felt no pain. I couldn’t feel the water slowly filling my lungs; I didn’t notice as I died. All I felt was peace, and happiness that I was leaving.

Panic

I flicked aimlessly through the channels until I stumbled across a movie, not yet wanting to go to bed. It was a chick flick, one that I hadn’t seen before. Within two segments I had the plot and characters all figured out. It was nearing the end and the revelation of the main character. That was when I started to cry. What for, I wasn’t 100% sure. I don’t normally cry in movies. I got up and grabbed the tissues, my nose running and starting to block up.  But no matter how much I tried to blow my nose more seemed to accumulate just as fast. Next I started coughing. Phlegm was running down the back my throat and now my body wanted it out. So now my nose was blocked and I was coughing, breathing became a problem. I stood over the sink as my body retched and as I tried to calm myself. Tears streaked my face as I struggled to calm myself down; as I struggled to breathe. It was a long and tiring 15 minutes before I could calm myself down. I cleaned myself up and finally left the bathroom. Grabbing my phone I sent a message to the one person who knew me better than anyone else. As I composed it I could feel the signs of panic setting back in. Taking deep breaths, this time I managed to keep it under control. Exhausted, I crawled into bed. I couldn’t handle anything else until morning.

Bound

I sat bound to a wooden chair. My hands were tied together behind my back and I couldn’t move from my seat. A man stood by the only door to the room. The room was completely bare, the concrete walls and floor keeping the room cold. I shivered as the man came closer, from cold as well as fear. The man’s eyes were black and hollow, an emotionless tunnel to his soul. Locks of black hair fell around his eyes as he moved towards me. He raised his right hand as he reached me and I screamed, hoping someone would hear me and help me. But I had seen no one when I had been brought here.

“No one can hear you,” the man said roughly as he grabbed my neck with his left hand. He held my head to the side and used the knife in his right hand to cut off my left earlobe. I tried to move my head away, but the grip on my neck tightened and I felt myself being strangled. I stopped struggling and his grip loosened, but he didn’t let go. My ear felt as though it was burning and I could feel blood on my neck.

As the man turned my head so he could do the same on the other side I glanced into his eyes. Instead of being void of emotion I could see the flames of passion. This man was so sick and twisted that he actually enjoyed this.

Just for us

God you are perfect

Flawless, blameless

How can we forget?

How can we ignore?

The act you did

Just for us

You gave human life to your Son

You sent Him to earth

You let Him suffer

Let Him die

Just for us

For us your Son did suffer

For us your Son did die

Forgiveness, Eternal Life

For the price of an innocent lamb

Now we remember

What you did

Just for us.

Written 10 April 2006

Alone is where I know myself

My one and only attempt at writing in second person.

—

I love walking in the rain – you can’t see me crying. Alone is where I know myself. No one understands.

These are the lines written on the opening page of your diary, Fi, before your thoughts even begin. But I guess these are your thoughts – they just aren’t restricted by time; they are constant.

I want to give up before I even begin. I don’t want to read through your private thoughts and struggles, but I want to know why. I need to know the truth. I need the answers only you can give me. No one else knows. As you wrote, no one understands.

Why, Fi? I need to know why. No one knew that you were going to do this. No one knew how you really felt. So why didn’t you tell anyone? What didn’t you tell anyone? What was so upsetting that life couldn’t overcome it? Nothing can be that bad, can it?

Your parents came and saw me in your room. Both have red eyes from crying. I guess that mine would be the same. Dearest Fiona, I miss you already. I don’t know why you had to leave. I hope you don’t mind me reading your diary, but you have left me no choice.

I thanked your parents for letting me into your room. Though I have been in there many times without permission, now is different. You changed everything. They say that they don’t have the courage to enter, and only I – as your friend – would be allowed in. I know that they want answers too. They had no idea what you were going to do Fi. Neither did I. No one did.

It starts to rain just as I reach home, and I think of the words you wrote. Why did you need to cry? Why was it that you did not tell me? Death may have seemed like the easy option out, dear friend, but did you not think of those you would leave behind? Did you not think of me? This may sound selfish, but you have ruined my life, dear one. I will never be the same. I will never be able to look at situations the same again, not without you here beside me. But maybe you are here. I don’t know if you went to Heaven, or Hell – though I certainly hope not – or whether you are a spirit, lingering between our world and the next.

I’m crying for you Fi. Are you happy now? Or did you just realise that there are people you left behind that really care for you? But now it is too late. You’ve already gone Fi, and you can’t come back.

Your diary lies beside me on my bed, but I don’t know whether or not I should read it. I don’t want to – it is yours, it is private – but I want to know what you were thinking. I want to know what drove you to do such a thing. I want to know what killed my best friend. That’s you, Fi, you are my best friend. Or should I now say were my best friend, seeing as you’re not here anymore?

Dearest Fiona, why? That is the question everyone wants an answer to. That is why I know sit here with your diary – your private thoughts and struggles – open on my lap. I’m sorry it had to come to this. But you’re not here now. You can’t stop me. I’d cry more for you, my dearest friend, but I don’t know why. This is the only way I can find out.

Alone is where I know myself. This is where I’m going to find you, Fi. This is where I will discover all that which you did not tell me. I’m going to find you where you are alone.

Before the King

Before the King in courts of gold,

Advisors stood, advice they told.

The doors burst open and in there ran,

A sinner, a killer, an unclean man.

To his knees before the King he fell,

The advisors, disgusted, “Out!” they yell.

But the King he quietens his advisors cries,

Gets to his knees and looks into the sinner’s eyes.

“My son, my child, please be at rest,

Pray, stay with me and be my guest.”

To his feet the King did rise,

The advisors in their eyes, surprise.

It goes to show our King’s great love

To never reject those who repent from Heaven above.

Written 3 April 2006

Not Perfect

I’m not the perfect girl.
I’m not who you expected.
Perhaps I was, but not now.
People change;
I’m not perfect.
I can’t live up to your expectations,
They’re just bringing me down.
I’m slowly destroying the image,
Your image of me –
It’s not who I am.
I’m not perfect.
I fail in tasks, I swear.
I’m disobedient, I drink, I lie.
I just wish you could see
Who I really am.
Not an angel, not a saint,
Not perfect.
Just me.

Written 17 October 2006

 

Fog

It is like a fog that clouds your mind, your thoughts and ability determine logic. There is no darkness, just clouded thoughts and feelings, a numbness that takes over. Anger boils and quickly rises to the surface when normally you would be calm. For hours the cloud will eclipse your mind and thoughts, and when it finally dissipates it leaves you with a feeling of emptiness and regret. What have you said, what have you done, what will you do next?

New post 2

My sire was an alchemist far ahead of his time. I was his student, a rarity as I was female. Females of my time were looked upon as second class citizens, and knowledge was not their gift. But Marcus saw that I was different. From my first birth as Marcellina from which my natural mother passed away, Marcus was the only one to care for me. I was his wife’s only child, and I was special. From a young age he saw my thirst for knowledge and educated me privately. I was his best student, which became his undoing.

I was well past the acceptable age to marry when I was reborn as the Alpha. I did not want to become someone’s wife to bear children and cook and clean. It looked like I was to become an old maid, a burden to society and a disgrace to my family. I was educated, and I wanted to bring a revolution. But it was Marcus’ research that changed both of our lives irreversibly.

I was astonished that he had thought of the concept. It was extraordinary. The quest for immortality had been highly sought after, and yet Marcus’ idea was ingenious. He never explained everything to me, and yet I volunteered to be his test subject.  He assured me it was safe. The thought of immortality was too good to pass up, even just the possibility.

But now I appear like any other young lady in her early twenties. I learned quickly to adapt to the changes and social norms of the time.  I speak fluently over 10 languages and have perfected each accent.  I can be a typical American teenager, or a Swedish university student, or a classy young French business woman. I have spent time on all continents of the world, and no one has suspected a thing.

New Post!

I came up with this today at work:

When I was first born they called me Alpha, the beginning, the first. I was a miracle. The knowledge bestowed upon them from their God. Now they call me Omega, the end. Almost three thousand years have passed since my birth, the initial research on me I thought buried, destroyed by my own hands. I thought I had eliminated all knowledge of myself.