Bite me and Die - FOUR

 

Lucky enough Ismael’s bedroom is on the ground floor, to the west of the mansion near a small patch of woodlands. She had not sneaked out in a while, never had to. As Ismael got older, she could walk out the door anytime she wanted. However, not without difficulty, ever since Hannah disappeared Dean had bodyguards with her 24/7 until she turned eighteen last year. She was about to experience a magical moment, a first kiss with a boy she liked. The bodyguards panicked and pounced on him, it was then Ismael decided she had enough. She wanted to hate Dean, disown him if she could but he was all she had.

Ismael packed the laptop into the rack sack and grabbed a hooded jumper from the wardrobe. Comb her thick-cropped hair with her fingers and it naturally falls into place, she had hated long hair since she could remember and never regretted letting Doris lose with the scissors when Ismael refused to go to a salon.

    “I use to cut ma young’uns haw, I have always wanted to be a haw dresser deep down but it was never meant to be” Doris told her when she first cut it. Ismael could not imagine Doris as a hairdresser; Mole Everest would be the topic of conversation and Ismael would not want that for Doris, behind Mole Everest there is a beautiful person. Ismael realized it was only her child minded thoughts that got in the way and knew she should pay less attention to what is on the outside. A child’s mind can be cruel sprung to Ismael mind.

Ismael cleared her thoughts and slung the rack sack onto her shoulder, went to the tall bedroom window and opened it; a strong breeze blew through and astounded her. She climbed out and knelt closely to the wall. As she hoped, the security guard was not patrolling yet and took a quick dash across gravel, and ran into the woods; just pass 2 large evergreen tree’s is a trail leading from the mansion. About five minute trek to St. Ann’s hill.

The wind tore through the trees and made a shivering groan, looking gloomier than Ismael remembered. However, it had been a while; trees were malting so everything she stood on would crunch under her feet.  Memories of Hannah began to play with her mind and out from behind a tree, an ululation of a young Hannah appeared. Wearing her favourite princess dress and then out jump a knight, with a plastic toy sword. Ismael froze as the memory played on like the home video of them. Sir Knight Tyne Ismael thought. Founder and protector of Princess Hannah she never forgotten her role. She often thought herself as Knight, being a princess held to many girly qualities and did not suit her. Hannah was always princess and rightfully so. She watched the ululation of Hannah and herself; disappear quickly in the bursting rays. Ismael was instantly saddened as it had dawn on her she failed her place at the knights table, failed all that a knight stood for.

Finally, at St. Ann’s hill, Ismael stood at the bottom and scrawled her face up; she dreaded this part of the trek. It was not much fun going up for Ismael, it is going down, another ululation of herself ran passed her and ahead Hannah was waving, encourage young Ismael to catch up. She smiled and remembered that day that she was glad Hannah was deaf, the mount of horrid language she picked up from Uncle Dean. Hannah would have been mortified to of read her lips.

Ismael followed them and the trek did not seem so bad. She passed the old witched well, where a defeated witch lay dead and rescued Hannah from her doom.  Then the role revised and doom became Ismael’s, the witch well is a muddy place and Ismael accidently fell into the mud. Hannah saved her but it did not save Hannah’s dress.

Then Ismael came to the lookout beacon, there imaginary castle. Instead of kingdom of Camelot, Ismael whispered “Kingdom of Chertcilot” Ismael laughed to herself cause there is no such name, not that it mattered to them being young as they was. She leant against a small wall and stared out at Chertcilot, admiring the pretty view. To the right of her, young Hannah and Ismael sat with the sun beaming through her ululation. This part of her memory caused a lump in her throat, watching Hannah speak with her hands. She missed it, missed her voice.

  *Why are you perfect and not me?* Hannah confined in Ismael. Ismael found it hard to swallow the lump in her throat, it was no use and the first tear fell. Young Ismael was not sure how to respond, simply because she did not know. Ismael never thought of herself as perfect.

   “I am not perfect” Ismael spoke slowly. “Just because you cannot hear doesn’t mean you are not perfect”

Hannah gave a puzzled look. *But I am still not perfect, this, not being able to hear you* Ismael took a step closer to the ululation of Hannah and tried to place her hand on Hannah’s shoulder but her fingers fell through. Hannah disappears, and Ismael is suddenly staring at her younger self. 

   “You can hear me, in here- your mind. You are perfect sis, maybe not in the eyes of others but of our family, and me” Hearing the own sound of her child like voice, choked her. Ismael spoke those last words before the accident, before a week of chaos. Ismael blinked and the wind took her breath away, just like her memories she saw before her.

Ismael dried her eyes and left a happy moment behind, continued walking and felt relief that the trail started to go down. Up ahead, a clearing came between two large bushes. As she stepped between them, a bright open green 100cre field filled Ismael’s hazel eyes. She saw the wired fence still had a hole to climb through; framer Paul missed this bit again she thought to herself. He had complained to her Uncle Dean, about a holes miraculous appearing in his fence years ago.

Ismael waited for her memories to come, but they did not come. She still remembered though, hand in hand, skipping through the sheep as they scattered away from them. Hannah loved chasing sheep and when breeding season came, Hannah would name all the baby lambs. An over grown willow tree caught Ismael eyes, the very same tree they carved their names into; Ismael felt an urge to see it again but she could not waste any more time. She climbs through the hole in the fence and walked in the long grass, the surrounding sheep seemed tense and afraid than usual. A familiar sound catches Ismael ear, she walked a little further and came upon framer Paul loading sheep corpses onto the trailer. The tractor was still chuting and spatting its smoke. She approached the trailer warily and peeped over the edge. The wind gulfed her nose with the scent of death, decade and odour. Just a glimpse of them and her stomach churned, the smell sat in her mouth and made her gag.

  “Old habits don’t die do thee!” Paul said confidently. Ismael turned around with the back of the hand covering her mouth.

   “It’s been a long time!” Ismael mumbled through her hand.

   “That it is pet, are yaw ok?”

Ismael glared towards the trailer and Paul scratched his head nervously. “Oh, that. I am use to thee smell now. Do yaw want a lift? Like old times!” Paul winked and placed his farmer capped on.

  “Sure!” Ismael smiled and sensed avoiding memory lane seems imitable. It hurt her deep down.

   “What happened to the sheep? There is so many” She kept staring at them, most were headless, eaten to bone. Ismael stomach churned again and held her waist.

   “That’s within three weeks, I’ve collected maw than that pet, in one day. I’ll shoot those wild mutts sooner or later” Paul scoffed.

   “My shot gun will see ta that!”

Ismael shivered, and caught a glimpse of Paul’s shotgun, resting against his thigh.

   “Dogs did this?” She shivered again at the thought.

   “Yep dogs!” Paul nodded. Fear of dogs was suddenly hit her in the face, then; a flash back came and went. The German Sheppard that cause her to swerve off the road, no. she thought and shook her head.

   “Are yaw ok?” Paul asked looking over his shoulder.

   “Fine; how is Sebastian?” She wanted to change the subject as vivid episodes taught her mind. Blood, dogs and tormented sheep, played like a mini projector in her head.

Sebastian would have been the first boy she kissed, thought of that moment made her blush and her heart fluttered. Just a second faster and their lips would have met.

   “Ye he good ta, at college now studying Economics.”

   “That sounds very Sebastian. I’m happy for him,” She said. “Money was never far from his mind”

Paul smirked. “Did he give yaw ‘change the world’ speech? That boy is too tall for his boots.”

Ismael giggled, she remembered Sebastian ‘change the world’ speech very well and is convinced he can do it, only if he thought less of money.

Paul drove into the farm and then into the barn, he jump down from his tractor and quickly covered the sheep. Ismael followed behind and watched him tie the ropes to a hook on the side of the trailer. She still liked Sebastian, there is something about him that still made her heart flutter even when they have not spoken for over a year. He probably has a girlfriend now she thought. Blonde hair and tall she thought on and looked at her watch.

   “Damn, I must go. Campaign meeting and I’ m late,” Ismael said quickly.

   “No problem, I’ll tell Sebastian yaw drop by”

Paul saluted and winked; Ismael smiled back and saw a glimpse of his son. Paul grey eyes though delicately carried by lines; were very much his sons. Her heart fluttered again and caused her cheeks to go pink in front of Paul. Feeling embarrassed, Ismael saluted back and walked away quickly so she could redeem herself.

 

Back at the mansion, Lady Doris trotted down the corridor and stood at Ismael’s bedroom. She knocked lightly encase Ismael is asleep.

   “Dear I have yaw toast, sorry it is late. I got caught up in what I do best,” Doris said through the door.

   “Are ye awake pet?” Doris began to worry a little and turned the knob, the door opened.

  “Ismael,” She cooed and walked further into the room. Doris looked over to the bed and saw Ismael had gone. She placed the tray on the desk and took a moment to look around properly. A draft blew around her tiny ankles; a shiver made her shoulder jitter and peered over at an open window. Doris huffed and stormed over to the window, she fought with the curtains beings blown by the wind and managed to close it.

   “That gal with never grow up,” Doris tapped her foot and huffed, She thought as much, Ismael had sneaked out again. She straightened the curtains and trotted back to the desk, as she went to take the tray. Another cold draft coiled her, the hairs on the back of her neck rose. There was a sudden eerie presence, disturbed even. A tense Doris peered around and noticed nothing. Just could not shift this feeling of someone else other than Ismael have been in the room. Doris left the room promptly and closed the door firmly behind her. She wanted to report to Dean this time, in the past Ismael antics were innocent and thought it was useless reporting Ismael each time she disobeyed her uncle. She was young and troublesome but then they all are. She thought to herself. This time Doris sensed a difference and a difference does not mean good things. 

Author's Note

Completed..

Reviews

[EMF]

I loved it. Every delicate drop. Such a wonderful counterpart to your poems, and just a note to Misty Blue Eye's. You're not the only one who reads it. And I bloody loved it. More please. Now. I'm waiting. Well? It's good enough for me to not want to waiit

[Misty Blue Eyes]

i like this much better. why am i the only one who reads this??

[Misty Blue Eyes]

i like it so far....