Two Sisters

My first attempt for a short story. I know it needs a little work, but I would like to see what you think.

The forest was in a mist of night. The ground was painted in a carpet of assorted colors. The branches were bare, and the air was crisp. When you breathed in you would feel the burn form the frost in the air. But that night wasn’t an ordinary night. The sky was blood red as the forest was left ablaze. The source of the fire was unknown, but in the fire was a single house. This house was burning away, and everyone inside it was dead from the flame’s grasp. But not all hope was lost. As the fire destroyed the forest with its unending hunger two lone girls with hair the color of the sunset and skin as pale as milk ran away from it, hand in hand. The girls were sisters. Twins in fact, and they ran to stay alive. All of a sudden a large tree branch fell in-between them. The girls were forced to let go of each other. One girl was running where ever she could to find her sister. She ran and ran till she tripped and hit her head on something hard, a rock maybe, and passed out. The girl laid there all night as the fire raged on, but miraculously she was unharmed. Not a single ember touched her fair skin. But when the girl woke up she couldn’t remember anything. All she could remember was her sister and her name, Annabelle. Wandering through all the ashes and burnt debris the girl, Annabelle, stumbled upon a woman. At least she thought she was a woman. The woman grabbed the girl by the wrist and led her to a small house that would be her home for 3 years.

 

            Annabelle walked across the lone house. Annabelle was always on the second story. As she looked around all she could see like usual were hazy lines. Her vision was impaired so that all she could see was vague black and white outlines. And even these outlines swirled together so that she never knew what she was looking at. Annabelle felt her way across the room by placing her hand on the cold, stone wall as she walked. All of a sudden Annabelle recognized that the swirling black and white masses were actually a worn out mat of yellow straw, a battered and brown stool, and a worn bucket sitting in the corner. Staring back at her was a girl of medium height wearing a torn skirt and a ratty bodice. The girl’s fair skin was bruised and dirty, and her sunlit hair was tangled with ragged edges. The girl’s breasts had started to develop, marking that she was no longer a child. The girl that stared back at Annabelle was Annabelle her self, and she was looking in a mirror. This was the only way that Annabelle could see clearly. Just then a click was heard from the door and in walked the women who had brought Annabelle here. When Annabelle looked away from the mirror to inspect the women, she wasn’t surprised to only see swirling black and white lines, all hazy and misty. “Come with me,” the women said in a surprisingly gently voice. Annabelle knew the routine and held the women’s hand as she led her down the stairs and into the kitchen. Once Annabelle was looking through the mirror in the kitchen she went to work. She started cleaning dishes, sweeping the floor, and stirring the pot that was cooking their supper for that night. Annabelle knew that the woman was watching her, but she always stayed away from the mirror out of her sight’s reach. When Annabelle was done cleaning the women led her to her room, and locked the door. Once Annabelle was alone, the girl cried. She was treated well here with the woman, but she was a prisoner. She could never go outside, lie in the grass, or pick a flower to put in her hair. The woman kept her here for reasons unknown. Annabelle went to the straw mattress, reached under and pulled out a rope. For the last 3 years Annabelle had been turning the straw into a rope. Would the rope hold her weight? She didn’t know. All that she knew was that this was the only way Annabelle could ever find her sister, Snowbell. The thought of her sister’s name brought Annabelle’s mind back to the only memory she had before the woman took her away.

 

            The temperature was blazing that night. Sweat soaked her flimsy skirt and bodice as Snowbell led her through the flames. Snowbell had to lead her by hand in hand, because she couldn’t see. The flicker of the flames blended in with the crooked branches of the trees in a mass of twirling black and white swirls. All of a sudden there was a loud noise as the lines jumped in front of her. During the process she lost touch of Snowbell, her only way to see in the world. Annabelle couldn’t lose her beloved sister, so she ran around calling her name until she fell down hitting her head. Then it all went dark. When she finally woke up from her dreamless sleep, she found that all was quiet and felt like warm snow. Annabelle walked through the ashes barefooted as she felt her way by touch. The trees were brittle from the flames and crumbled at her slightest touch. After hours of this Annabelle crouched down and cried, the embers still hiding below the ashes burning her legs, but she didn’t care. All of a sudden she felt a tap from some one. The person told her to get up, in a voice so familiar, and led her out of the ashes. Eventually they reached a house far into the woods....

 

Annabelle stopped her self right there. She had to finish the rope soon. It was almost long enough to reach the bottom. Hearing footsteps Annabelle threw the rope under the mat just in time before the woman walked in. “Come. The food is ready,” the woman said in her surprisingly gently voice. Annabelle was led down the stairs until she felt a chair and sat gently down in it. Once she found the spoon, after randomly feeling around for it, she started to slowly eat the soup. The soup was simple, made of rice and broth. It was plain tasting, but filling. After that quiet meal was done the woman led Annabelle back to her room, and locked the door. Annabelle went to work on her rope, carefully twining the straw in her fingers to thread and twining the thread into the rope.

Many hours later Annabelle thought the thin rope was long enough to reach the ground. Tying the end of the rope to the window sill she took in a deep breath and jumped down the side of the window. It seamed like hours, but took only a single minute when the rope snapped and she hit the ground. Annabelle felt around for her rope, and picked up the part that landed with her. She felt her only hope in her hand. Annabelle rubbed her finger on the rough threads of the rope that she had so caringly put together. She put down the broken rope. She was free. Now she could find her precious sister. Now she could fine Snowbell. Annabelle walked around the forest for hours. It was all so new to her. The crisp air, the rustle of the leaves at her feet, and the feel of the rough bark. What she had expected. But what she didn’t expect was the loneliness and the fear she felt. She heard sounds she never heard before, and all the lines of her furry like vision swirled together in an unfamiliar like way, all which gave her fear. Like a coward, Annabelle ran back the way she had came, tears in her eyes.

When Annabelle finally made it back to the house she had called her home she heard some one crying. Quietly she walked up to the muffled cries to find the woman who had cared for her and kept her safe from the dangers of the forest. She tapped the woman’s shoulder to be shocked her self as the woman jolted up in surprise. Annabelle was about to say something, but she found her self unable as the woman hugged her tight. Gently Annabelle felt her hand being held as she was led into the house. The woman took her up the stairs and stood next to her in front of the mirror. Annabelle knew what to expect. The comfortably soft straw mat, the small and humble wooden stool, and that simple and that wonderful little bucket sitting in the corner. What she didn’t expect to see was what she saw standing next to her. Annabelle saw the same fair skin and sunlit hair that she her self had, almost identical except that the woman’s hair was well trimmed and her skin clean and with no bruises. . The woman had the same breasts starting to develop that she her self had, and wore clothes that were similar, but also different; being that the skirt and bodice weren’t torn and worn with age. When Annabelle looked at the similarities and the differences of her self and the woman she realized that the woman was a reflection of her self. Annabelle hugged her sister, weeping tears of joy. All these years she had been wondering where she would find her sister, and that all along her sister, Snowbell, was the one watching her, protecting her, and caring for her. Snowbell had been weeping her self now that Annabelle finally understood who she was. “It’s supper time Annabelle,” Snowbell said. Smiling, Annabelle wiped her tears and reached for the familiar touch of her sister’s hand. As Snowbell led Annabelle down the stairs, Annabelle promised her self that instead of daydreaming of what she didn’t have she would appreciate the few, but meaningful things she have.