journal nine

A Story by Abigail Shell

From a writing prompt in class.

The cold wind cut through my coat and seemed to hit the very bones of my body. I was already shivering relentlessly. My thin flimsy coat and this blanket were all I had. I huddled up under the blanket, which a stranger had given me earlier this week, gripping it tighter in my already straining white fingers as if doing this would make me warmer. I leaned my face back against the cold hard brick of the building I had chosen to spend the night against.

The sun was already setting. The sky looked like a painting with a soft yellow background that had crimson paint spilled on the bottom. It was a beautiful sight yet also a grave omen. When the sun went down the temperature would take a sharp drop plunging me into the cold darkness that always threatened to swallow me up.

I dropped my head into my lap and pulled the blanket up over my head. Don’t cry. I can’t cry. I thought to myself. If I cried now the tears would freeze and make me colder than I already was. Just a week ago I was sitting in my overly expensive house with my family who proved to be crueler and deeper cutting than the wind that was swirling above my head now.

My family was vastly rich and famous which is why I couldn’t go into shelter. They would find me. I already knew they were looking. It was on the newspaper I had found a couple days ago.

CEO of Blueberry Technology: Daughter Missing

Of course they would make it seem like they missed me and truly wanted me back. They would go through the works. The private detective, the special interviews with lots of tears, even going so far as to put a reward out if someone found me.

I didn’t want to be found. I would rather die out here in the cold than live in that wreck of a family. There was no love, no warmth, no depth to anyone it seemed. I wanted to be lost. Even now shivering in the winter wind I was the most alive I’d ever been even if the only reason for being alive was my closeness to death.

The air grew colder and colder even under the blanket. There was no longer feeling in my hands or feet. Time no longer had meaning to me. I sat there until I couldn’t feel anything. But it was when I started to feel warm I knew I was close to fading. I had the sudden urge to rip the blanket off of my head. I wanted to end facing the world. I managed to get the blanket off my body with my numb fingers. I couldn’t even make a fist if I wanted, let alone grab the thin edges of the blanket. Around me was blackness, but in the dark of the night I could finally make out the stars.

As I looked around me I could make out a dark figure creeping closer to me in the shadows. The dark figure had a joker-like grin on his black hole of a face. As he crept closer on his tiptoes I saw him draw out his arms. Then they were around me engulfing me. They were strong steady arms yet they were soft too. I could feel the emptiness inside this being. The longing to be close to someone. He tipped my face up to his and as his lips touched mine I drew in my last breath as he stole the essence of my being. For that moment neither of us was alone.

Then my body was still. My dead eyes still peered up at the sky as if I was still awake. Death stepped back from my body and began to make his journey to the next soul he would selfishly take to try and brighten the life of darkness he lived in. Like me he had just wanted to be loved.