Ch.1 (insert title here)

A Chapter by Exa Lectric

It’s getting worse. I spend almost every moment of every day wishing I was gone; plotting ways to end it - all the while knowing it won’t ever happen, because everything I wish for never comes. Maybe my life is a joke �" and someone else is laughing. I wish it was over. Yet, I can’t help but wonder; would I just stop existing? Or would a new chapter begin? Maybe life is a cycle and maybe all of this has already happened, or maybe I’m not really real or maybe I’m just crazy! It’s more than likely that I’m crazy. I just get dragged further down the dark tunnel every day. I know I can never escape but I can’t stop dreaming it will, imagining the perfect life I could never have because life hates me - or loves for me to suffer. You’d think they were the same, but they’re not. If I’m hated, I have a chance to free myself, but if I’m loved to suffer I can never escape. They would miss my place, but who are they anyway? I don’t know. I don’t even know if they are a ‘they’. I don’t even know if they are real! Maybe it’s all in my head! Maybe I will wake up, my whole life just a dream. So many possibilities! I just don’t know what to think, I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what I can do, and I’m not even sure there’s anything for me to do. Whatever I try, it just gets worse. Why can’t it all end? Why can’t I learn the secrets only shared with those lost and forgotten? Oh! That’s right! Nothing I want ever happens. Thanks life, you suck.

I set down my pen and stared at the letters I had written. It felt so good to finally get all my thoughts on paper. However, it was also frightening. Someone could read it and then they would know. No one can know, not yet anyway.

I could hear the floor creaking downstairs. Whoever had fallen asleep on the couch had awoken and they were probably going to head upstairs soon. Quickly looking around me, I didn’t see anywhere to hide my secret scroll. If I put it under the mattress Ms. Twill would find it; when she made the beds or changed the sheets. But no one would have reason to go through my trunk for it, but that would be the first place for someone to look if they were snooping around my room. I was certain that Harper went through my things as soon as I left the house each day. She was always looking for something to hold over my head.

The candle flickered on my desk, drawing my attention. I took one last glance at the scrolling letters of black ink and held the sheet over the flame. The bright blue flame began to burn a hole in the center of the paper. Without blinking, I watched the fire spread through the paper while it dropped black ash onto the table.

Even after the flames had engulfed my secret I continued staring at the clear blue light. It was so beautiful and innocent! It wasn’t filled with darkness and anguish �" not even the slightest bit. How wonderful it would have been to be that light right then. But that could never be me.

Not soon after, I heard the footsteps on the stairs. Quickly, I blew out the candle and jumped across the room into my bed. Pulling the covers over my head, I heard the footsteps pacing up and down the short hallway for what seemed like eternity before finally retreating into the room at the end of the hall. Unable to keep my eyes open any longer, I fell into a dreamless sleep that lasted until morning.

I awoke with sunshine warming my skin and the sounds of birds chirping softly, the stream trickling over the rocks and the gentle rustle of leaves in the wind. I could smell the bacon and eggs being cooked downstairs with a faint aroma of wild flowers blooming in the countryside and the pure smell of the water not far away.

Climbing out of my bed, I walked over to the window and looked out at the country. I could see the rolling green hills with hints of color spread throughout them. Behind them, were the fields where the farmers labored vigorously to try to make a small profit. On a clear day, like most summer days, you could see the mountains off in the distance with just a few wispy clouds strewn about them.

Sighing I left my perch at the window and moved to my closet. I picked out a simple lace top which I pulled on over the black garment I was already wearing and I exchanged my baggy shorts for a pair of denim ones. After putting on socks and my favorite pair of old worn-in sneakers, I headed downstairs to await my chores.

Covering all the hallways and the staircase were picture frames. Each one was different but they all looked the same to me. Each held a portrait of a student who had lived in the house and a name below it with the years they stayed. The earlier ones were actually oil on canvas but as technology got more advance they switched to photography.

Personally I preferred the oil because the colors were much brighter than the lifeless black and white of the photography. The first photographs were very granulated but they did get better as time went on. It would be hard to tell who each depicted if that person was standing next to it. The most recent pictures were much better but color photography had just begun and Ms. Twill couldn’t afford one of those expensive cameras. She could barely afford the one she had now.

When I got downstairs, Austin and Harper were already at the table. Ms. Twill was at the stove, like usual, and she smiled as I took my seat. At the square oak table I always sat at the seat that faced out the window. The small window above the sink had lace curtains that had once been white but were now more of a creamy color. The old rickety chairs surrounding the table each had a different faded flowery patterned cushion tied onto it in an effort to make them comfortable but it didn’t work. After sitting there for ten minutes your butt would be numb and you would be itching to get up and out of the house as soon a possible.

As I sat down, Ms. Twill placed a plate piled up with eggs in front of me. She sat the glass ketchup bottle on the table in front of me. As I picked it up and began to take off the lid Harper wrinkled her nose in disgust. I smiled and shook some out onto my eggs. Then I sat the bottle down and took a bite of my eggs.

Just to annoy her even further, I picked up the bottle again and poured some more out. I slowly screwed the lid back on and sat it on the table, all without taking my eyes off her. She looked mad enough to leap across the table and knock me onto the floor. She had barely enough control to refrain from doing so. Her anger management therapy with Mr. Boford must have begun to work. But I couldn’t let a perfect battle go to waste. Now could I?

I pushed the bottle toward Harper as far as I could reach and said in the sweetest voice I could muster, “Your eggs are a little bland. Don’t you think? Why don’t you put a little ketchup on them?”

Her face was turning bright red. I never did figure out why she had such a hatred for ketchup on eggs…

“Here,” I continued. “Let me get it for you.” With a big angelic smile I opened the bottle again and walked around the table to her place.

She lunged. I handed the bottle to Austin and moved barely three inches closer to him. That was all it took for Harper to miss and topple onto the ground.

Only when Harper landed on the floor next to Ms. Twill’s feet did she turn around to see what was happening. Her hearing was going at her tender age of 62 and she probably didn’t even hear us talking but immediately she knew I had done something to aggravate Harper again. She hadn’t figured out what though.

Before she could, I gave her a kiss on the check and thanked her for the wonderful breakfast. Then, before she had any time to respond, I bolted out the front door leaving it open wide behind me. Only when I was out the door did I allow myself to laugh. Laughing was so natural to me. I don’t think Harper has ever laughed in her life.

While I was thinking about Harper’s reaction to the ketchup incident, I realized my sketchbook was still up in my room. Not wanting to go back through the kitchen and face Harper and the wrath of Ms. Twill, I walked around to the back of the house. Ms. Twill always sided with Harper on everything. But it was still worth the trouble. I usually disappeared until dinner opting to skip lunch with everyone. By that time Ms. Twill would have forgotten about everything and Harper would have cooled down enough not to remind her about it.

I looked through the window in the living room and I could only see Austin sitting alone on the couch so I crept into the room. Austin and I had a strange relationship. Neither of us even knew each other’s last names but when one of us was in trouble, which was always me, the other would know to come help. He was always getting me out of tricky situations and keeping me from doing the stupid things I wanted to. I wish I could say the same, but I was always responsible on the rare occasion he got in trouble.

However, when it came to Harper, he didn’t interfere one way or another. He’s like Switzerland when it came to our war. He neither helped me nor stopped me and the same for Harper. At first she tried to enlist his help but he would refuse to even hold her napkin if we got in a fight. So in a way he was on my side. He claimed he was “just protecting the furniture”, but I knew better.

I was halfway across the room before he was alerted to my prescience. I put my finger to my lips to signal for him not to speak because it would inform them of my whereabouts. He smiled and pretended to lock his lips and toss me the key. I nodded, pretended to catch the key and finished crossing the room.

Luckily, the stairs opened into the living room and not the kitchen so my trip was much simpler. I counted in my head as I crept up. One, Two, Three, Skip one, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Turn, Skip two, Step on the left side, Skip one more, and two to go.

After only a week at the cottage I was able to successfully move up and down the stairs undetected. I couldn’t even hear myself sometimes and I have excellent hearing.

I crossed the hall and entered my room. Walking over to the desk, I brushed my bangs out of my face and picked up my red leather-bound sketchbook and charcoal pencils. Tucking them to my chest I walked back across the hall and down the stairs again. Without looking at Austin, I left the cottage once more.

Once outside again, I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding. Not sure where I wanted to draw, I followed the path around the side of the house and into Ms. Twill’s gardens. She was very proud of her gardens. She had many exotic plants imported from around the world in them. And in the winter she carefully put each and every one into some sort of container and sat them around the cottage. I often drew the plants in her gardens but today I didn’t feel like being so close to the house. I continued along until I was out of the gardens again.

The main road up to the house stretched out before me. Often I wished I could just walk away. Not caring where I ended up as long as the journey was relatively pleasant. Sighing, I crossed the road and headed toward the stream. A cool breeze surrounded me any twirled my hair around my face as I walked.

I swear the wind is alive. It always had to recognize me before it would calm down and playfully relax around me. When I reached the stream I found a rock large enough to sit on that was close enough for my feet to be in the water. Taking off my shoes and socks, I sat down to draw. I opened my sketchbook and picked up a piece of soft black charcoal.

Closing my eyes, I began to draw. I never knew what I was going to draw, just the feelings of my hands sweeping across the pages. After an unmeasureable amount of time I opened my eyes to see what I had begun.