The Unfortunates : of befriending Alice Walker

The Unfortunates : of befriending Alice Walker

A Story by Renad.M.M
"

Jenna follows Alice everywhere, and Alice follows her not-so-normal instincts everywhere. where is that going to leave them?

"

I remember Alice once saying that the world is a s****y place. And according to our situation right now, I couldn't agree more.

Alice is my best friend, the kind of best friend that puts you both in trouble. And maybe, just maybe, once in a decade, Gets you out of it. she likes 'the nature' she says, she also likes cats and boys. Which might explain why she looked like one.

-like a boy, not a cat. Pft-

 

2008, September 4th    -

"relax, its not like she was happy with her life, we saved her a lot of years filled with depression and ultimate worthlessness"

"SHE'S DEAD" I screamed.

"GOOD FOR HER"

"you're a monster Alice!!"

"I was told. Monsters are awesome" she shrugged carelessly.

I collapsed on the wood's cold ground, feeling the stinging tears in my eyes starting to flow. Blurring the disastrous view 4 feet away from me. 4 feet. A BODY. A DEAD BODY.

I felt my stomach shrinking as I exploded into sobs. I was overwhelmed by the terror and fear, I couldn’t gather myself to leave, And it was already midnight. And believe me, woods aren’t as beautiful at midnight. Its freezing, the wind is howling, carrying the sickly stink of wood rot and blood. I could hear leaves rustling as the wind disturbed their peace. It would be quiet for a while, still. Almost as if we weren’t on earth. As if weren’t alive. But then the quiet is interrupted by a sudden squawking bird, or an underfoot crackling. Leaving the terror grow in my chest.

"she's 12" Alice claimed.

"Alice, she looks way older than twelve"

"not her age. She's 12, that’s her number"

"I don’t know what you're talking about and I don’t think this is the time to start being creepy Alice. You already freaked me out by what you did"

I saw Alice from the corner of my eye, standing up and rubbing the dirt off her short.  somewhere in the darkness.  turning around herself rhythmically while humming a song..

 

 

Brick brock, tick tock

Stone the dead, dead duck

Brick brock, tick tock

Stone the dead, dead duck

 

" its going to rain Jenna, come dance with me" she yelled.

I suddenly was terrified by her, who is this person? She just committed a crime right in front of me and now she's singing and dancing ?

"Alice, its really late. we should do something with the body and leave. Im really scared" I said between my sobs.

"oh fine just stop whining you idiot"

 

 

Alice got on her knees and started digging with her bare hands. As I joined, a shiver escaped through my veins when my hands touched the cold dirt.

Dig

Dig

Dig

Dig

My fingers are freezing, my fingernails are black, Almost as black as the woods.  Filled with dirt and blood and horror. We finished burying the body and Alice started whispering.

"jenna, its time. We have to go back"

"isn’t that what I was saying for the past 3 and half hours?"

"it wasn’t dangerous to be here, now it is"

 She grabbed my hand and we sprinted through the woods finding our way to the street. Alice seemed to know the way out as if she's been here everyday of her life. And I ran with her unconsciously, feeling her grip tightening on my fingers, feeling the danger and the fear rises, the fainting voices of the wood getting louder. Birds, leaves, howls. Birds, leaves, howls. It felt just like if the woods were waking up. Now, after midnight.

I closed my eyes and ran with Alice

The voices rising

We run faster

The voices rising

I trip over something

The panic rises

"get up now now now"

The woods are waking up

We run faster

The voices disappear

We stop running, standing still in the middle of a narrow street in Angle Inlet.

"we're safe" Alice declares.

© 2016 Renad.M.M


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HEY THERE, i havent decided if this is going to be a short story or a novel. i will decide depending on your reviews. Enjoy the story, hope you like it!

Posted 8 Years Ago



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Added on August 7, 2016
Last Updated on August 7, 2016

Author

Renad.M.M
Renad.M.M

jeddah, Saudi Arabia



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someone once said "writers who spend all night writing, addicted to caffeine and smoking hand-rolled cigarettes, are a myth". that someone is Harry Quebert. more..

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