Butterfly Kisses
It was in the little glances. Their eye's flickering sideways, just for a moment, just long enough for the message to come across. They knew, they were one of the many who knew. Every little detail written out like entertainment. Scrawled across bathroom walls, pinned to notice boards, a secret whispered like gossip among strangers. Even a outgrown fringe, with its blonde tips giving butterfly kisses to her cheeks, was far more gentle than the last she had received, forceful and unwanted. The soft cotton of her scarf, pale blue wrapped thrice around her throat no longer echoed of rough calluses and bruising fingers. Even the rings wrapping her wrists like ugly daisy chains were wilting, their colour receding. It had been days, endless sleepless nights accompanied by questions without answers. Breakfast was a sudden quiet that held like a stage curtain, leaving the audience to wonder and watch, a voyeur only looking with listless eyes to false told sympathies, just waiting for it all to end so they can speak their piece. The sudden sun shower, with the soft pattering of water on rooves, overshadowed memories of pleas and yells. That night was cold, empty in the past; while the sun was warm, a happier future.
The sea witch.
She was out of place, a crossing of worlds, universes colliding, meshing and twisting around her; a flood of choices, decisions, endlessly made. The water, the sea, in all its mighty power swelled gently around her foot. Coyly, the waves lapped over brightly painted toes, their emerald green glinting like scales under the translucent blue. Her other foot was planted firmly in the golden red sand, toes buried in the small gems that layered the beach. Her dress was the off white of sea foam, tinted blue, and wrapped gracefully around her; the green strands of her hair drifted like seaweed in the ocean breeze, endlessly long and gathering water and sand that glistened like morning dew. Dark blue eyes stared blankly out at the world, while ruby lips muttered in a language unheard in centuries. It echoed, sinking into the earth, into the sky and bringing with it regrowth and new beginnings. The pale grey scales faint on her skin glittered silver in the sun, reflecting a chandelier of light that mirrored the world, a spectrum of colour that bled life and love, devotion and affection. She was both the beginning and the end, immortal and eternal.
She whispered things the winds couldn't hear; she tells the world of the future it can't see.
Eternity in the life of a seed.
There was a seed, small, hollow and green. A seed floating in the void space, a vacuum of darkness, deep and endless. It was the beginning, and from there life would grow; it was the end, and to it, life will go. As time passed and as time stalled, a crack made its way through, splitting the seed in two, creating and echoing sound throughout the no-longer-silent void. And with that came the stars, shattered fragments glittering in the distance. And with that came black, and white, and all manner of grey. Once the echoing stopped, vibrating down fates twisted yarn, and silence was once again, there was colour. The palest of greens, luminescent, curled slowly, steadily outwards, and waited.
The burning of the stars gave love to life, maturing and growing, ever so slowly. Green to brown, thin to the ever expanding bark of trees so so old. As it grew up it also grew down, the rustling of ever multiplying leaves mirrored the slow, methodical knotting of roots below. As the tree grew, building and building, higher and wider, new growth appeared, splitting the bark, small, green and eternal. Along with its new growth, were flowers, were fruit. And from that came life. Came the universe. Came the planets.
As the flowers grew, wilted and died. Budded and shrivelled, seeds took their place. Those seeds, larger and larger they become until they drop and float. Hovering between leaves and ground. And even greater they build, more stars forming, fragments twisting and turning until planets form. A universe, suspended in space, slowly drifting to join the others glittering in the distance.
And it is on one of these floating plateaus of life, that we stand. Drifting but linked evermore, to the great tree.
Restart: Day 1, 26 children and me. Why.
You know, this wasn't how I had been expecting the day to end, with me sitting here, the milk crate underneath me creaking every time I shift, and I worry about waking the children who have finally gotten to sleep. Mary, my darling little sister, is still clinging to my leg with one hand, the other curled up tightly as if she was trying to hide her pain from the world. She wasn't hiding from me, though, not when we're all we have left. As you know, I never liked the thought of having children, with their tiny lives dependent on me, both fragile and stubborn at the same time. Now it seems that I've got 26. 26 small children, all under ten looking towards me for answers. It's terrifying, and I don't know what I'm doing. It's not like I'm much older than them, but a few more years must seem like an eternity for someone so young. And now I'm angry, and scared, but mostly angry.
'The day didn't start like this, all I had been doing was walking Mary to school, early and for an excursion to the zoo, where she would get a chance to see the lions and tigers that she had been waiting for all week. Now we were locked in the school, for who knows how long. Just me and these children. And as much as I want to hate the adults that left us behind, those that did not run probably saved our lives. A heroic sacrifice but the other way around probably would have worked out better. And now my hand is shaking, and honestly, I'm surprised it took this long. Sorry if I seem to be rambling, I think the shock has finally worn off but at least I'm not crying yet, my tears would just make the ink run and then how would you read this. If you're reading this. Maybe it's just laying in the corner of the school, gathering dust and slowly rotting. That doesn't sound so nice. So hello to those reading, hopefully I had given this to you to read as a memoir or it's been written into an autobiography and there will be more after this day. It will be thick, with days and days of life and love and happy children. Or maybe it was end tomorrow on a happy note when someone finds us. Please find us.
Ah, I have to go. It sounds like waters leaking and we can't lose any that we have. Don't know how much time we have until the next rain, hasn't rained in weeks. And while food may be harder to find, a lack of water is more dangerous. Hey look, all that information that was crammed in my head actually seems to serve a purpose after all. And here I was complaining about those lessons. I guess I should thank mum next time I see her. When I see her next. Next time. Hopefully. We just have to survive this. And Zombies. Of all the things.
Well, this is Sarah signing off, until next time. There is going to be a next time. Definitely. By the way, Mary is still the cutest in her class. Even with left side of her face scabbing. So cute.
Red in Silence
Red fire curled around her ears, the scarlet flashing orange in the sunlight, with pale eyelashes glittering with every flutter, like red butterflies hovering around a bright blue well. It was not the first time that I had seen her, the bright colours catching the corner of my eye every time I walked past. Even among the flowers that she tended, with the mottled yellows and fuchsia pinks, daffodils and violets, and the plain beige apron did nothing to hide her from view. The red flashed between the green of the foliage, dancing. She was a stranger to me. Just a person visible through the shop's decorative windows, the elegant silver vines trailing towards the roof, magical and fae-like. Sometimes it felt like looking through a fairytale doorway, though this time it wasn't hidden behind coats in the back of a closet; instead, it was on the busy street where thousands of people walked, modern life passing by while the quiet stillness inside was scented by roses. Life curled peacefully around her fingers, unhurried and unrushed. The silence called to me, from where I stood among the buzzing of everyday life, the endless shuffling of footsteps. The bell chimed. The door opened. The stranger smiled at me and opened her mouth to speak.