Short story I’m fiddling with, simply to write. :)

Prompt: “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” it said, grinning from ear to ear.

                                               Ch. 1: Xel

    “It’s so nice to finally meet you,” it said, grinning from ear to ear. Its tail flickered wildly from side to side, like a cat’s when it was excited. “I’ve been waiting for you a long time Hazel!”
   

Hazel swallowed thickly, the scream dying in her throat. It was roughly three feet tall, and the most bizarre creature that possibly ever walked the planet. It was a quadruped, with a tail that was immensely bushy at the tip, narrow eyes that glowed a soft red in the dark of her closet, and pointy ears coming off the side of its squat face. “What…what do you mean, finally?” she squeaked.

    Its long, narrow snout seemed to grow wider in its grin, pointed teeth flashing. “Well you see. Hm. Haha, forgive me, this is a little awkward.” To her astonishment it ducked its head shyly. “I’ve been watching you for a long time now. Since conception, to be precise.” Its head raised just a fraction to see her reaction.

    “Since conception,” she repeated. Another hard swallow. Her throat was tight, her chest squeezing painfully from the adrenaline rush of opening her closet door to find this….thing waiting for her. And while it was being extraordinarily polite, there was something incredibly creepy about the words ‘watching you since conception.’ How do you even respond to something like that? She could only stare.
  

  “I see. I know, this is very confusing,” another flick of the tail. Swish swish. “But I promise you, you’ll know exactly what you need to know.”

    “Which is what exactly?” Hazel’s voice was shaking too much for her liking.

    “Oh well, you’ll see in good time. We actually must be going, we’re rather late.”

    “Late?”

    It grinned cheekily at her. “Yes, late. Really, we must stop this habit of you repeating after me like a parrot.”

    She flushed angrily, tempted for a second to slam the door in the creature’s face. But she had a feeling that was a bad idea, for whatever this creature was, it had rather large teeth, and regardless of its impeccable manners, she wasn’t so sure it was a force of good. “What are we late for?”

    “Ah. Well. You’ll see.”

    “So I’m just supposed to follow you blindly somewhere in the dark?”

    “Yes.”

    “I think I’d rather just stay here, if you please.”

    “I’m afraid I can’t let you do that.”

    “Look, uh…thing?, it’s really nothing personal, but there’s a pretty good chance you’re going to eat my face.”

    “Oh I would never do something so uncouth!” It actually looked mortified. “And you may call me Xeljkramahliyjgklkzts,” it added.
   

     “Is…is that English?”

    “Is it too hard for you?”
   

“Can I just call you Xel?”

    “Very well, if it’ll get you to just follow me quicker.”

    She sighed, glancing back at the large shape that was her bed. She longed to just sleep. But it wasn’t every day that some great big mysterious creature appeared in your closet saying it had been waiting for you. Since birth. Ugh. Maybe she was asleep. She hoped she was asleep. “I still don’t know about this….”

    “Would it help if I promised you I won’t eat you?”

    “Um…yes?”

    “Oh excellent. Please climb onto my back and we shall be off!”

    “Oh no, I’m way too big-“

    “Just get on would you!”

    Hastened by the large teeth and tinge of impatience, she quickly sat on its back. To her surprise, she could feel the cords of muscle and sinew beneath her stretch and bend and sturdy itself, the closet around her shaking and breaking as the creature grew until she was comfortably situated on a beast that was now roughly the size of a tiger. That was intensely terrifying.

    “Now hold on!” Xel said, and suddenly lunged forward.

    She let out a scream and dug her fingers into its sleek grey fur as it ran towards her bedroom wall. Oh gods they were going to crash. She shut her eyes and waited for impact.

    Except it didn’t happen.

    She opened one eye. They were outside and Xel was racing through the street at an incredible speed. Her eyes watered as the wind swept across her face and freed her hair from its towel prison, rustling her clothes and driving a deep chill into her bones. Xel was dodging people with ease, its large front paws taking expert turns and its smaller back paws giving a terrific driving force. Yet, it wasn’t exactly comfortable to be jolted up and down and side to side with each step.

    “Why isn’t anyone seeing us?” she shouted, the wind plugging her ears.

    “They simply don’t need to,” came the even reply. Apparently Xel was used to this fast movement, as it had felt no need to shout.

    Feeling even more confused, Hazel ducked down, trying to escape the wind and figure out where they were going. Yet, the more she looked around her, the more she realized that something was definitely wrong. They had left behind her city street in the middle of the night, and now were fast approaching what appeared to be a forest (and she was absolutely sure  there were no forests in the area) as the sun was rising. There was absolutely no way that time had gone by so quickly. She looked behind her and could make out her city still shrouded in night, the lamplights twinkling in the distance. She glanced ahead. Definitely sunrise, definitely dense trees, definitely not normal.

    Giving up entirely on her surroundings, the wind making it harder and harder for her to keep her eyes open, she simply closed her eyes and willed herself to wake up from this nightmare.

Lately the nightmares are getting worse.

I keep reliving those days when she just wouldn’t even get out of bed because she was so high. Staring at her door, afraid that I’ll be put into foster care any day now because she’ll stop breathing. And that inner part of me seeing how angry I was and watching as my sister and I just fight and fight, hating ourselves because we were so powerless.

Then there’s no food. The only food we eat now is lunch from school we get for free. I dread coming home. I dread the weekend. I won’t be able to eat Saturday because nothing is in our fridge. I think about stealing money from her purse to go grocery shopping. Just one more time. I wonder if I should walk to the store, it’s over a mile, or if I should take the bus. That’s two dollars I could need. I wonder if I could get myself a coke. I loved coke. When she woke  up, she usually would go for a cigarette run. She’d get me a coke then. It was a reminder she was still breathing and I wouldn’t be put back in the system again.

When I got home, I put my bag down, and staring down the hallway at her door. I don’t steal. I am a good girl. I am a good girl. I am a good girl. I am a good girl.

But I’m so hungry.

I slowly open the door.

Her blinds are shut, she’s curled up in a tight ball, face down. The room has an acrid taste to it, stale with the hint of unwashed human and something darker. Something I knew she lived for and something I hated more than anything.

I listen for her breathing.

I can’t hear it.

Oh god.

Oh god.

She is dead. I am dead. I am going to lose everything.

I pick the pillow up from near her, heart thumping in my ears. I feel like I can’t breathe, something cold writhing in my stomach, clawing at my chest, causing my hands to shake.

I watch for the rise and fall.

Rise and fall. Rise. Fall. Rise. Fall.

She’s breathing.

I let out a shaky breath and slowly put the pillow down. She doesn’t move, no sign that she even registered I was just inches away.

My eyes sweep the room. I see the pipe just a foot away on the nightstand and just close my eyes. I don’t want to think about it. I have a goal. She always keeps it near her. I look down. At my feet there it is.

Worn brown leather with holes in it, overflowing with coupons and change. I slowly open the pouch she keeps her money in.

Disappointment floods my being. There’s only a $20 there. She’d know if I took her last $20. I spot her EBT card. I knew the pin. There had to be some left this month. I quietly pocket it. I count out change for the bus.

I put everything else back exactly the way I found it.

As I creep towards the door, she suddenly sits up right, staring straight into my soul.

Blood rushes into my ears, I feel like I’m going to faint, I’m cold all over.

“Allie?” She croaks.

“I’m sorry mom. Just go to bed,” I whisper.

“Kala?” she looks confused. “Why aren’t you in school?”

“School’s done for the day,” I say flatly.

“Oh.” Her eyes cloud over again, and I know I’ve lost her. She’s already sinking back into the bed. “Let me know if Chrissie comes.” she says with the last bit of lucidity. Then she giggles, turning over to stare at the wall.

I back out, breathing hard.

I am still a good girl. Right? I am a good girl…good girl…. I looked at the EBT card, feeling sick. What if she needed this? I just did something bad. Very bad. It wasn’t too late to turn back.

I look at the clock. 3:30 and Allie is still not home. School’s been out for an hour and a half. My stomach moans its hunger.

I have five minutes to run to the bus.

The driver sees me counting out nickles and pennies to make a dollar and just waves me on, handing me several transfers. I say thank you quietly, shaking as I get in my seat. I’m not used to kindness. Most bus drivers just yell when I have so much change. I’m used to yelling.

When the bus drops me off in Haleiwa, I look longingly at the fast food restaurant across the street. I haven’t had it in  years. I think only of a happy meal. They were usually the only toys we got in the year besides Christmas. Though, we only got them on special occasions. Usually a birthday. Or if mom had been particularly frugal and craved french fries. Which rarely happened.

My stomach growls again and I walk the rest of the way to the grocery store. I get honked at by someone from school, sneering at me from the passenger seat. Another high schooler drives by. They shout at me to go back to the mainland, being a stupid haole bitch. Their friend laughs and says I look like a boar and watch out, that someone will shoot me. They drive away, sniggering and turning up 98.9. Even though I was in 8th grade, I knew most of my upper classmen.

It’s nothing new.

I walk by Haleiwa Supermarket. It’s too expensive for us. I cross the street instead, cutting into Fujioka’s supermarket’s parking lot. The paint is peeling and their air conditioner is fried today. There’s always a faint rotting stench that tinges the air along with a fishy smell. It’s worse today.

Good. They’re having a big sale. I have a feeling it’s because everything is going bad fast, but it’s a good thing for us.

I pass by the produce. I covet a few of the apples, but I notice one has mold around its core, the others bruised. It’s too expensive anyway.

I head for the back where I grab the cheapest hot dogs there. They’re 2 for $3. This is a good day for me and my sister.

I look at the buns. They’re more than the hot dogs are. I grab the cheapest loaf of bread instead. I think we still have a jar of peanut butter at home. I grab boxes of pasta but then I notice that spaghetti sauce is too expensive. It’s nearly $4 a jar. And Allie won’t eat Alfredo sauce so I don’t even bother looking at it. I put back the pasta with a sigh and grab saimen instead, splitting evenly between chicken and beef flavorings. Allie likes the chicken ones. We could have four a piece. That would last us most of a week.

I cheered up a bit at the thought.

The mac n cheese here is pricey. I stare at it. Weigh the benefits. Allie would want it. She’ll be mad I didn’t pick up cereal either, but it’s just too pricey. Nor could I afford milk nor do I want to lug it all the way back home.

I love mac n cheese though. It’s the only thing I never get tired of. But neither does Allie. It’s probably her favorite food.

I pick up the smallest box. It’s single-serving. My sister at least would be happy. I grab some spaghetti-os too. They’re two for a dollar. I don’t like them as much, but it’s better than nothing.

As I check out, I look at the sodas. I have $10 worth of stuff in the cart. If I have enough…then….then I’ll indulge. I nod to myself. Yes. I deserve it.

The surly cashier rings me up. I hand him the card.

He eyes me up, but decides to not ask any questions. I don’t know whether it’s a compliment he thinks I’m old enough, or an insult. Or maybe he just understands.

I doubted it though.

He tells me there’s not enough. We’re a dollar short.

I thank the bus driver in my head and give him half of the change. He bags everything.

I think I have enough for that coke. Oh, I really really wanted that coke. I haven’t had one in at least two months. That was the last time she had gotten me anything. (She spent all the money on cigarettes, upgrading to a pack and a half a day so there wasn’t leftover money for my coke) It would remind me what happiness was like. Just for a little bit. My stomach rumbled, but I ignored it. I needed this coke, it would be balm to my depression.

I took a can from its lukewarm fridge and put it on the register.

“$1.04” he says without looking up.

I stare at the change in my hand. I forgot about tax. .99 didn’t mean .99. I feel my eyes water a little.

I pick it up and put it back in the fridge.

He just watches.

I sit at the bus stop with my groceries, nose deep in a book I had borrowed from our school’s library. I’m mainly using it as a deterrent, as there’s someone next to me shouting at the top of his lungs that we all needed to be saved.

When the bus stops in front of me, I want to cry with relief.

The walk home feels long, as I’m weighed down by the purchases. But it means we’ll have dinner tonight. That cheers me up.

I see the car parked out front. Mom’s friend must be here. But when I enter the house, it’s quiet. Her door is open, but I don’t hear movement. They probably went to the beach or the cemetery. For privacy. No neighbors to call the cops when they smell it.

I put the food away. I make saimen tonight for Allie and I.

By the time Allie gets home, it’s past 10. I reheat her bowel, and hand it to her.

She looks at it. Then at me. “Don’t we have cereal or something?” She asks with disdain.

I shake my head. “This is what we got.”

She takes it and goes into her room, slamming the door.

Mom still isn’t home.

I turn on the small brick tv we have. It’s sitting on the floor and you have to wiggle a stick to get the power to turn on, since the button came off. It’ s better than nothing though. We also don’t have cable. But I do have an n64 that someone gave me. I have one game. Donkey Kong 64. I turn it on, picking up the controller.

I stop playing when I see a roach scuttle by.

I swallow a scream, jumping onto the couch. It’s already 1. Mom still isn’t home. I berate myself over and over in my head for being such an idiot. It’s just a roach. It’s just a roach. It’s just a roach. But it moves towards the couch and I jump onto the armrest. I can’t help it. Something about them scares me so much. I would usually yell for mom to kill it. But she wasn’t here.

She usually at least comes home. Or did she work tonight. She would be home in an hour if she did.

I made two peanut butter sandwiches, thinking she’ll be hungry when she gets in.

It’s 2 am.

She’s still not home.

I huddle on the couch, staring at the back door. The roach had crawled under it. I hoped it didn’t find its way to me.

‘Please let her be alright. Please let her be alive. Please let her be okay. Please come home soon. Please come home soon.’ It’s a mantra, repeating over and over again in my head.

At 3 I see that a roach crawled onto the sandwiches. Something insides me breaks. Tears well and I feel them slide down my cheeks until they wouldn’t stop. A torrent of emotion breaks through the dam I had sealed.

I know I have to throw them away. But it’s food we could have eaten. It’s my stupid fault. I should have known better. The roach crawls away and I put them in the trash with trembling hands. My tears had stopped, and I forced myself to calm down.

I don’t cry much and even then, not for long. I had cried for 10 seconds. That was too long. I tell myself to not let it happen again. I was getting weak.

She comes home at 3:30. She’s yelling at someone.

I hear a car squeal away.

She staggers in, frowning when she sees me awake. She had put on make up, it was smudged, her eyeliner bleeding into her ears. She looked like she had been crying.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

“I couldn’t sleep. I was worried.”

She laughs and shakes her head. “Go to bed Kala. You worry too much.” She goes to her room and I watch the door close.

I stare at it until the sun rises, donkey kong music still playing lowly in the background. I fantasize that I lived in a place like that family I had seen on tv once at a neighbor’s, where the mom woke up and her door would open this early and she made pancakes and orange juice and asked if you did your homework and took you to school.

And didn’t do drugs.

The roach crawls on the wall as I wake my sister up to get ready.

And because I’m having a really shitty week, I’m going to write about a dream I’ve had.

The world was grey. The trees were bent and broken against a howling wind while the snow blanketed the rest of the earth’s rotting corpse.

In this dead forest, a girl stood waiting. She had been waiting there for days, her body numb and aching. It was dangerous, and she knew that she was probably going to die. But she couldn’t give up, because he had promised her.

He had tied a piece of red string around her finger and sealed it with a kiss and told her that he’d be back.

She knew he had to come back. He would never break his promise to her. He never had, even when they were kids.

Everyone had told her to give up hope. But she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. They had known since they first had held hands and took off running to play that they were going to be together forever. He’d never throw that away.

Her heart jumped when she heard the clopping of a horse approaching. Her wait was finally going to be over. She knew it. As the grey figure appeared, she started to run. She didn’t get four steps before she fell, her body crying out in agony. She couldn’t even brace herself, her arms had locked up from the cold.

The horse walked by her, its rider’s gaze straight ahead. Unyielding. Uncaring.

It wasn’t him.

She laid there until she couldn’t feel the pain anymore. She only got up when her heart stopped beating and her hope died. No, of course it wasn’t him.

When he tied that string around her finger he had asked her if she was willing to wait for him to be able to afford a real ring. So they could do this properly. She had said yes without hesitation. Horses were costly. How could she ever think he had a horse?

She slowly leaned up against a tree, closing her eyes and allowing the snow to fall on her once more.

The forest was eerily still, the wildlife had left long ago.

She remembered when they had come here for the first time as lovers instead of friends. Everything had been so green and beautiful, filled with magic that only new lovers could see. She could feel where he had carved their initials in the trunk against her shoulder. Just like she had when he had first kissed her. And again when he had told her he loved her in a whisper filled with hope under the stars.

The forest had been filled with the song of birds then. The sun had shone through the leaves with a light so pure and golden she had been so sure that there were fairies nearby. When the moon had been out, the forest felt sleepy and calm, its inhabitants content and warm in their dreams.

Her eyes opened as she heard footsteps. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself, her heart was pounding so fiercely she was sure it was going to give out. She felt dizzy and nauseous. It had to be him. Who else would be mad enough to be on foot in a snow storm?

As a silhouette formed, her heart slowed. She fell back against the tree. She watched as the stranger avoided her gaze, bundled up in his furs, as if afraid she would ask for one of his coats. She closed her eyes as he disappeared into the grey forest.

She could feel the tears behind them, frozen under her lids.

He wasn’t coming back.

He had promised her. They were going to get married. She had sold the last of her clothes so that she could get that house. She had painted the door red like they had always wanted. His mom had given her shoes that had been his grandmother’s for the wedding and his dad had made them chairs so they could see the stars on their porch and her mom had helped her sew until their fingers were raw and bleeding so that she could afford a dress.

And now it was for nothing. He wasn’t. Coming.

She let out a small sob, covering her face with her stiff, frozen hands. She had refused to cry. She hadn’t let herself cry since he left four years ago. But he had been coming back then. The more she tried to stifle, the harder it got until it came out in a tirade of tears, her body shaking as sobs wracked her body, sending blood flooding back into her limbs as her hoped dried up.

She remembered when he told her that her dad had died and had held her until she fell asleep from crying so hard. She could still hear his heartbeat lulling her to sleep when she thought she’d never sleep again because the pain was so intense. She remembered his smile when she had brought home a kitten, mewling in her apron, desperate for food, even though neither of their families could afford to feed themselves. She remembered how warm his hand was when his sister had died before she had learned to walk and they had held hands as they wordlessly grieved, she remembered the way his eyes would crinkle up when he would laugh after she had made a bad joke.

All at once, her grief subsided. She slowly slid her hands away from her eyes, her body quieting. She opened her eyes.

And let out a soft gasp.

He stood in front of her, his smile just as warm as she remembered, his eyes looking at her in the way he only did.

They stared at each other, wordless. Her heart beat furiously, she felt dizzy again. She was so happy she thought she was going to faint. She couldn’t feel the cold anymore. Yet, she was frozen in place. Afraid to move. She didn’t want this to be a dream.

He reached a hand towards her, then stopped, suddenly hesitant.

His smile dropped.

“I’m-“

“Don’t,” she whispered, trying to reach for his hand. Her limbs were still trying to warm up, her movement was slow and clumsy and stopped halfway through as the pain intensified. “Please.” She suddenly felt afraid.

He held up his other hand. A rose. It was so red, her eyes burned from its intensity. She hadn’t seen color in so long. She took it with shaking fingers, holding it tight against her trembling body.

“I’ve never stopped thinking about you,” he said, offering her a half-smile.

“I know,” she whispered, her eyes filling with unwanted tears. “Can we make this last? Please-“

“I will always love you,” he said, unhearing, his voice so soft that she could barely hear him.

She closed her eyes as he kissed her. It was so cold when he usually was so warm.

“I love you too,” she said as she opened her eyes.

She stared out into the stars, clutching a withered rose in wrinkled hands. She rocked back and forth on her porch in a chair made by a man long dead, the red door behind her.

A letter lay in her lap. The paper was faded and torn, the ink barely legibly and tear stained in places. She took it and smoothed it out with tired hands.

I’m coming home to you, my love. We won today. I’ll meet you by our tree. I haven’t forgotten my promise.

It had been written and sent before his returning camp had been attacked by desperate soldiers unwilling to live in a war they had lost. His body had come with the ring he promised, and nothing more. He had been so cold.

Alert, Kala being a whiny idiot ahead. You probably don’t want to read it. If you feel like reading my whining, then you’re a better person than even me. And I wrote it.

I think I’m in the worst slump of my life. Everything is going wrong and I have no idea how to fix it. It’s like my life is steam rolling itself over and then bulldozing itself and then imploding, then sweeping up those ashes and stomping on them. Ugh. I’m trying to not sound so whiny. But. But. UGH.  I feel like I’ve seen the end. And it sucks. Somehow I saw that only a few people ever get to be happy doing their job and the majority just sticks with whatever shit they get stuck with to make ends meet and they live a miserable existence. And I’m going to be stuck in that. Oh fuck fuck fuck. How did I screw up? How did I end up 21 with no job, dropped out of college with no idea what she wants to do? How did I end up such a fucking fat loser with no relief in sight.

It’s just amazing how fucking stupid I feel. How can I not know what the fuck I want to do? Why can’t I just think “I want x” But no. I fucking can’t. I’m such an idiot I can’t even tell if I like to draw or sew or cook or all the shit other people think I’m good at. Lately I only think I’m good at being a shitty human being. Why can’t I just figure out what I can do?

How do you get out of this? If anyone knows, please tell me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this shitty, even after all I’ve been through. I feel even worse than I did when I was going through my mom’s attempted suicide. (that makes me feel like a shittier person) It’s been two months and  it’s like all the passion in my life has dissipated and left me feeling depressed and hollow. I don’t even want to wake up anymore, because there’s nothing to wake up to. That’s so pathetic. I’m trying the best I can. I think. Maybe I’m not. I dunno. I can’t tell anymore. I think I’m trying really hard. But maybe it’s not hard enough. Shouldn’t someone with the amount of time I have be doing something better? Or at least making more money or improving myself…or something.

If you have any idea where I can find one of those mystical “journey where you find yourself” for what I want to do with the rest of my life, let me know. Either my way is barred with thorns, brick walls, and an unreachable castle with attack bears or it’s right in front of my damn face and I’m too stupid to realize it.