The Sorrow Of Autumn Allen

A Story by Raekiel

Short Story

     Autumn Allen was a normal girl, at least until her sixth birthday. On her sixth birthday, something happened that changed Autumn's life forever. It started about a week before her birthday, when she came home from school. She had just entered the second grade, and on this particular October day she had gotten a ride home with a friend, because it was threatening to storm. When she knocked at the door and got no answer, she thought that perhaps her mother had gone for something at the store. When her father found her six hours later, sitting on the doorstep drenched in rain, he called the cops.

    They never found her mother.

    But that wasn't what changed her angelic demeanor. Six months later, she told her father that she had made a new friend. Elated that his daughter had finally overcome his wife's disappearence, he asked her to ask her new friend over. When she replied that she could only talk to her friend in her head, her father became angry at her pretending, and sent her to her room.

    But she wasn't pretending. After a few years, Autumn learned to keep quiet about her friends in her head. They stayed with her, commenting on her life and the people in it. When she entered high school, she made few friends because of the voices. When she was asked out by boys, it was due to the voices and their uproar that she declined. And so, in her final year of high school, she stood on top of her father's office building, looking out at the approaching storm.

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    The heavy breeze ruffled her long red hair, tangling it with the small debris it was pushing along. The gathering storm was going to be a massive one, just like the one that had swallowed up her mother. The dark skies were broken only by massive flashes of light, directly overhead. She craned her neck, watching them dance a brief dance while the thunder boomed around her. The neon snakes slithering in the sky seemed close enough to touch.

    Laying back on the roof, she raised her hand, imagining that she was grabbing them. In the chaos around her, the voices were all but silent. If she wanted to, however, she could call them up to her and speak with them. She though mutely about calling them and asking them why they tortured her so, but for now, the repetitive booms of thunder were keeping them at bay. She hadn't had this kind of solace since her mother had gone.

    The first of many drops hit her face, then showered down around her. They pelted her face, stinging as they hit her. As they slid off, they mingled with her tears. Autumn hadn't had this much time to think in a long time, and of course her mind immediatly went to the things that kept her up at night; her mother's disappearence, her father's seemingly inconcern over his wife, and other things, things that had happened more recently, which the voices wouldn't and couldn't leave her alone about.

    The numerous things she had seen that had forever blackened her image of her father. The numerous things her so- called "friends" had done and let be done to her. Better to let the storm wash away all of that.

    She laid there on the roof, silently watching the rain as it fell to her, the flashes of light streaking across the sky. Unbidden, an image of her mother being swept away by a faceless person came to her mind. She tried to brush it away, and with the effort it took to get rid of that image, one of the voices rose to the surface.

    It was a male voice, one she had heard in her mind before. And his words shot to her heart, bringing up the pictures she didn't want to see: The life insurance. You saw it, we all did... He took it out on her the day she disappeared, didn't he? And the pictures, the pictures... She pressed her hands against her temples, trying to squeeze him out of her head. Yes, the pictures. The pictures of him and the woman, some other woman, and what was the woman wearing? She was wearing the necklace her mom used to wear, the one she had always loved to play with when her mom would pick her up and cuddle her.

    And the date on the pictures? What was the date, lovely one, what was the date? She screamed, and slammed her head backwards against the paved roof. For a few seconds, silence. For a few seconds, black. Warmth seeped out underneath her orange- red hair. She had inherited that from her mother, the color of her hair....

    And just as quickly as the respite had come, it vanished. The voice returned, louder,

    YOU KNOW HE KILLED HER!

    "No he didn't he wouldn't he loved her she was his wife

                        HE KILLED HER HE PLANNED IT YOU SAW THAT HE KILLED HER YOU SAW THE PICTURES YOU SAW IT YOU SAW IT YOU SAW IT YOU

    "NO HE DIDN'T HE WOULDN'T STOP IT STOP TALKING TO ME GO AWAY HE WOULDN'T DO THAT

    THEN WHY DIDN'T HE HELP FIND HER?

    She screamed again, tired of all the lies and tired of the voices and tired of the pain, and saw one option.

    She took it.

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    Walking out of the offices, Robert Allen pressed the button on his keychain to unlock his car. Walking around the side of the building, he came upon his daughter's broken body, a smile still playing on her lips.