Rae traced the jagged cut in the writing desk below her hand. Had it been any other way, she might have let it go. Six years. Six short, fast years was all it took. Six years to become so powerful, and six years to have that power diminished. She could still remember that day, the hour, the time, even the shade of the sky. It was a deep, stormy blue. Rae supposed it had always been fated, their relationship. Mothers and daughters never got along well, especially when fate was destined to take its toll. And the color of the sky never lied. Yet, for some unexplainable reason, she had never imagined it ending like this.
“Fate is not something you have any control over, Rae,” came a voice. Startled, Rae looked up at the shadowed face of her brother. “Fate is something that can never change, whether it’s your daughter’s or your own. Just because Leah was murdered doesn’t mean that it has to be your fault.”
His ever-changing eyes were the color of a crow today. They were the color of mourning. Somehow, though, he did not look as grieved as his eyes told. Jall’s eyes never lied. The only explanation was that he was carefully putting on a reassuring face, as if his eyes didn’t exist. There were no lines of depression sitting atop his forehead. There were no signs of the foretold desperation at the inability to do anything about what had happened. Jall was not a person who regularly accepted fate, yet, somehow, it appeared that he had. Despite the obvious farce, Rae turned her head in disgust.
She flicked an overwhelming strand of sadness away, clearing her mind of all emotions. Just thoughts, only thoughts, she repeated over and over in her mind. For too long she had been living by emotion- it was time for logic to take a part in her thinking process.
To others she had been just another Fated. To Rae she had been a way of life.
Logic, Rae reminded herself, turning back to Jall. “Dispose of it,” she said firmly, knowing perfectly well that she would regret the decision later.
Jall looked alarmed, his black eyes flashing green for the slightest bit of a second. “You want me to dispose of her… body?” Jall stuttered, struggling to form the resigned expression that his face had displayed just seconds before.
Rae swallowed. Logic, she chanted. “Yes,” the response came quickly, too quickly, as if to make the decision known before she changed her mind. “It’s the only way I can forget that she ever existed.”
One Simple Song
Allen
I’m trapped in a cage of Moore.
Before the wild bird sings,
Of all the beauty in the world,
Trapped in a cage of lore.
Allen shook his head. Silence, he thought, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. I need silence. If only there was a place, a thought, anything to keep me from becoming like Mom. Desperation tinged his mental voice as he realized exactly what he had just said. Like Mom.
Hadn’t he always vowed never to go crazy like his mother?
Hadn’t his eleven year old self spent days in his room, crying, worrying that it was genetic?
All of the days,
I sat under your oak tree,
Under the door
Allen shook his head once more, irritably. Could he ever get a chance to think? Without that, he would be like this forever. Have to get it out of my head, he thought, crazed. I have to get out of my head. Need to. Have to. How...
The song ran in his head again, and his thoughts became rambling incoherent sentences. One way, he thought.
One way, got to know, one way, find out, girl’s voice, haunting, no sleep.
Slowly but surely, Allen Cromer was going insane.
There was something unexplainable about that particular discovery. To most of his friends, Allen was the sanest person they would ever know. He never drank, he never stayed out past midnight, and he never failed to look after his family. If anyone were to go insane, it would not have been Allen.
Another unexplainable thing was that Allen knew he was going insane, not to mention his thoughts. After all, as unexplainable as they might be to the person lurking in Allen’s mind at that very moment, the thoughts all made sense to Allen.
The girl’s voice sang the song in his head once more, playing one time after another until Allen banged his desk, causing the wood to crack. This normally would have made him jump. Desks were strong, they didn’t break.
That brings the tally up to three. He didn’t imagine the dramatic, inhuman changes in his strength.
And he didn’t imagine the reaction of the people around him, despite the fact that he barely noticed it. Allen was popular. Conceited. Arrogant. You could call him all of those things. He based his entire life on other people’s thoughts; he thrived on them. People loved him. Normally, everyone would have clapped when he broke the desk, admiring his strength, but now they looked terrified. There was something in his eyes, a crazed light; something that made him like the old man with the shopping cart sitting on the street corner. You want to trust them, but you know you can’t.
“Allen?” his teacher questioned timidly. She had become afraid of him in the past few weeks, as had everyone. He had gone from her very likeable star pupil to the guy sitting in the back of the class, brooding angrily.
Allen was a complete cliché. Quarterback of the football team, class president, boyfriend to the head cheerleader. Everything in his insignificant life was cliché- everything except his mom.
“Allen?” said the voice again. The teacher’s concern and fear was evident to the class and the lurker inside Allen’s mind, but all that Allen heard was a distant noise, a quiet rumbling, like the buzzing of a bee. Her words blended into the song, making a sort of melody.
Suddenly, lights. There were lights everywhere. To Allen it was like Christmas. He was the starry-eyed ten-year old with the awed expression. For just a few seconds, Allen was thankful for the relief, but then the song started up again.
All of the days,
All of the days of Moore.
It was sung by a six year old girl dressed like a princess. The mirage was strong, never flickering, never fading. It made Allen feel like he was at a drive-in theater, except he was the only one there. Her mother sat down beside her, lovingly. The girl turned to her mom and giggled. Allen felt a pang in his heart, looking at the relationship he had often wished he had.
Trapped in a cage of lore.
When the song reached the end, the girl’s expression changed drastically. Her eyes transformed to a deep, dark red, the color of blood. Her voice grew deeper, throatier, as she started the song over, and her pupils widened until there was no white left to contrast with them. The mother grew panicked, and tears streamed down her cheeks. With a sad expression, she banged her child’s head against an old writing desk. The child sang softly, hauntingly once more. The mother’s screams mixed with the song, creating a terror-inducing melody.
Through his blurry mind, Allen heard himself shout with terror.
The image cleared, but the song kept playing.
Before the song took its toll on his brain, Allen had attempted to sing it, but he had never been able to. It was like the words just wouldn’t come out. He choked on them, causing him to cough violently and gasp for breath.
One, a voice in his head would say. Only one.
Now everything was a blur, everything except the song.
Allen didn’t notice the strange looks his friends kept giving him or even the pain in his fist at that very moment.
Breaking the desk, he burst out of the room, following the one coherent thought in the mess that was his brain. One way, one way, one way.
