Young Writers Society

I ended up cutting this off a little sooner then I first thought So I will apologize if it is a bit off pacing-wise. It might be a bit rough as I have been busy with school this month. Regardless happy Revmo! 

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The creek turned into a long, guttural groan, and bits of white light played in the semi-darkness as it slipped from the door frame. It shattered the gray hues that covered Lilian’s frozen form, her muscles still stuck in a non-existent chase. All the while, the jingle of keys chimed like bells against the empty halls, never quite breaking through the daze that lingered in her eyes.

Soon the white light would crawl across her furniture, trying to embrace her. The warm glow stole the sickly uneasiness that came with the night. Despite the welcoming return of normal life, shivers traced her spine as the groan ended, and a figure graced her doorway. Rain fell from the thick cream coat that seemed to have swallowed everything except Libby’s head. The growing silence was broken as Libby took a claustrophobic step into the room. Only to have her knees pressed against the table like the dirty blonde hair that was smeared across her forehead.

“Hey, glad to see you aren't asleep. I made good on my promise…” Libby said, her eyes darted to the glass table, and then back to Lilian. “What the hell is going on here?”

Libby’s gaze was unshakable as she continued the process, hoping reason would be found in her reflection. Instead, a concern rose from the depths of her eyes, her search as erratic as Lilian’s gaping mouth. A thousand words were the first to shake off the stillness as they fought to be spoken. Her next step would be as light as a lie on the tip of her heavy tongue.

S-She should have said something, anything. This was the real world. It was over. This was real.

A gasp replaced the thoughts that threatened to leave her. Their danger was a mere undercurrent in the oppressive silence. Her gaze followed the swaying bag in Libby’s hand as if trying to find strength in the steam.

“I-I’m sorry, I can explain… “Lilian said, her voice frail. 

The weak offer wouldn't ease the rising tension, although it knocked off some of the shock. For a short time, the only response would be the crinkling of plastic and the click of the door. The heat licked at Libby’s fingers as the loose raindrops pressed against the wall. It left a trail of splotches in the wake of her clumsy side-steps. Her form ballooned in the reflection of the lone wineglass sitting on the table. Its presence seemed to smooth out the edges of confusion, dulling them into a realization.

“A-Are you drunk!” Libby’s stuttering accusation was punctuated with a thud and the smell of spices as the bag fell from her grasp. “I left you alone for a few days. What explanation could this possibly have? “

Lilian’s face creased with both offence and concentration, as if she could pluck the explanation from the wrinkles. Her throat attempted to push down a dryness through struggling swallows before her hands rubbed away the remaining daze.

To be honest, she couldn't grasp the events either, but starting small shouldn't hurt.

“I only had a glass today. Stop painting me as the town-drunk Libs. “An unexpected anger coated her words as she paused to pick the next few.” If you must know, there was a snake in my apartment and the thing was strange.”

Something stirred within her, a bubbling tempest clawed out of her chest and guided her shaking hands. They were flung out as if to ask the universe a question, even if they wanted to curl in on themselves and pluck the hair from her head. All she got was Libby’s arms around her and a damp trail carved into her cheeks.

Why was a half-truth the thing that broke her patience? Out of everything… 

Lilian stumbled back, her arms unable to flail against the tight embrace that kept her upright. The weight of the world bore down on her knees. Perhaps the tempest stole her strength to rage on, leaving her in its path of destruction. All the same, Libby’s hands dug into her back, steady and unyielding in their warmth. 

“You did everything you could love.” Libby’s voice was so soft it barely hit Lilian’s ears as she buried her face deeper in the coarse wool. “That’s why I’m here. I’ve got you now, I’ve got you, “

Lilian's hands curled against Libby’s chest, unsure if they should form fists or hold on for dear life. A growing sob squeezed the air out of her lungs, leaving behind her sinking body and wavering breaths. Hints of yellow roses and bluebells filled her spinning head like a salve on a long-festering wound that split open. Her heavy muscles twitched as if protesting the florals that coated her raw throat.

“I… I just wanted to help instead of taking, I can't keep asking and asking. “Lilian’s voice broke like glass against the floor.” I can't keep doing this. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…. “

Those words died on her lips as rogue letters morphed into cough-like sobs. Her throat went from aching to screaming as heaves took what little air she had left between them. A part of her hoped for her knees to give out, so she could melt into the dirt buried deep below her. Libby’s gaze didn't fall on Lilian’s tearful face instead, it was locked on the dull gray of her hair.

“Shh … Shh, it’s okay. I can fix it, I can fix it all.” Libby lingered, rubbing a few half-hearted circles against her back. “Now, will you let me get your inhaler before you choke to death? That might be hard to fix. Maybe while I’m doing that you can explain the getting hit by lightning thing?”

Sparse gasps formed a response as the arms holding her together slipped away. The florals and heat going with it, leaving Lilian to stumble towards the welcoming embrace of her couch. Her hands clawed at her throat, trying to force out a proper answer. Instead, the empty air was filled with the groaning of springs and the click of Libby's strides. Even with the clutter, she moved with the ease of a second home as she began to dissect the intestines of a drawer.

The start of this thing was so far gone from her mind, it may as well have been a year ago. Perhaps this one could be explained whole—no real bending required.

Her hand found the bruise that decorated her wrist in a tar-like colour. The fingers locked around it like a steel bracelet, as if afraid that the storm would break out of her skin. For a second her eyes refused to lock with Libby’s, instead falling upon her discarded meal. The events breaking into her mind seemed to push away the weakening coughs.

“There is no need for the inhaler. See, I’m fine. “The words grated against her hoarse vocal cords. “As for the lightning, the shopkeeper was being pushy, and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Libby’s eyebrows were poised with more unanswered questions that would not drop like the junk in her hands. Instead, she stayed locked on Lilian's face. Her mouth was pursed in a forming response even as she slammed the drawer closed. The sound morphed into the shuddering of windows as the grip around Lilian’s wrist tightened. Once again, those burning embers found a place in her skin while Libby returned to where she started.

“Are you sure you didn't exaggerate how bad the storm was? “Libby said. Every word was approached with a sense of timidness as she tugged at the table. “If the place got hit, it would be in ruins, but when I drove by there wasn't a spot of dust out of place.”

Her nerves seemed to shrink back, as if cringing away at the mere mention of it. They were coated in a tension that peaked along with the screech of the table dragging its way across her hardwood floor. Even her shoulders wanted to reel back before making a home by her chin. All while the glass and candle bounced along, tempting fate as they went.

She wished it was a tall tale, or a memory blown out of proportion. perhaps then the smell wouldn't haunt her so much.

“Trust me, I still have the book she conned me into buying right after. “Lilian’s gaze refused to fall onto the book mere inches away. “The very same book I need to get rid of.” 

Instead of letting the book burn holes into her soul with muted demands and not-so-quiet voices, she grabbed at the table. Her hand let go of her death grip when she snatched up the candle, trying not to breathe in the watery notes of lilies. A few hints stuck to her, twisting her stomach and carving a frown.

“Well, unless the clean-up crew works freakishly fast, the place is more than fine. Regardless, I thought you liked that candle. It was a gift, after all. “

The label stared back at her with fancy graphics and a sprawling name. Starlight Soirée: All Natural Beeswax scented with spices and lilies, with hints of lilac. Good for open-mindedness and positivity.

Oh, the irony…

“You can say that I’m turning on my kind, but you grow weary of the smell after a while. That’s besides the point. It doesn't matter what state the store is in or how you found out which one I was in, — the book needs to go. “

Libby paused, refraining from dragging the couch back into place with Lilian still in it. The coat caught up to her as she undid the clasps and threw it across the arm of the couch without a care. Although the old leather seemed to steal her focus as she took a step closer. Her hand moved towards the twisted pages while Lilian’s uneasy laughs rang out.

Hell to the no.

“You know, if you're going to beg me for a ride, you can at least let me read the book. “

The laugh rose in pitch until it was akin to a banshee's cry, all while her stomach flipped onto itself. Bile coated her throat as her hands flailed out in different directions. One had forsaken the candle and darted toward the book as the other batted away Libby’s hand as if it were life or death. The gray of her eyes hardened into a black as she drew in a shaky breath that bordered on a wince.

“It’s too strange even for me Lib’s … How about you drop this okay?’

Her hand found the cracking pages as her fingers twitched, awaiting the heat to consume her. Even her jaw seemed to shy away as she plastered on a failing grin. One that would be betrayed by hitched breaths and the bulge of her bracing arms. All the while confusion dragged down Libby’s features, her hand still frozen in place like time stuck in an hourglass.

She needed to move now.

With a forceful step, she rose from the couch, trying to imbue a sense of strength within her movements. The book twisted in her arms before the cover found its home against her chest. Her world would shrink into her next steps, the rest seeming to fall away.

“Lilian, wait! “Libby’s wavering voice broke through when the pair had crossed her bedroom. Her hands dug into Lilian’s arms. “Look I get it. You're stressed, but this is getting dodgy. Do you need help like professional help? “

What she needed was to get this thing out the door, or at least locked away.

“It’s not dodgy if I told you to drop it,” Lilian stepped forward. Libby's arms dragged her along.” The last thing I need is to have someone poking around my brain right now.”

For a second, she stared at the bathroom door as fingers clawed at her arms and shoulders. Libby’s grip bordered on desperation as she tried to rip Lilian away; as if seeing her face would be a form of salvation. Instead, Lilian’s shoulders squared while heat pulsed through her nerves. Every wave acted like a ticking time bomb. With an unsure breath, she reached out to the cool metal of the doorknob, letting it soothe her pain.

She already knew her grip on reality had slipped away…

“Lilian, please look me in the face and give me the book. If you're worried about the cost of help, your parents would pitch in. I would pitch in; just talk to me.”

“I don't want them to know — they are lawyers after all, and I can't take another peer-reviewed I told you so. “Lilian twisted the doorknob as the air swirled with the whispers of iron and earthy sweetness. “Besides, I don't need therapy. I need to get this book far away from me. “

The smell coated her throat and laced her tongue with the stinging taste of copper. It lingered, growing in strength as it attached to the sweat forming on her neck, marking her with it. All the same, it created a barrier that forced down an enraged wretch from Lilian’s throat. Soon the pressure of Libby’s grip fell away as the sound of stomach-turning gags followed.

“I think we have different definitions of being okay mentally, and I hate to tell you, but your bathroom smelling like blood doesn't help.” More gags seemed to sharpen these words further.” Why- does it smell like blood? “

Lilian’s face goes even paler as it contorts in pain and disgust with every sickeningly perfumed breath. Her nose wrinkled as her hand curled back into the cover, digging trenches into the leather. The muscles in her arms twitched as if they were fleeing from the bone long after the book left them. A blur of pages would cut through the air like a dart before scraping against the tile.

She had to think fast…

“I hope you're ready for a sense of Déjà vu because I can explain. “