SongsandSweetRoses
(?)Community Member
Hilarious Autobiographer
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- Posted: Sun, 02 Mar 2014 01:44:34 +0000
All alone in the quiet darkness she sat. Long legs pulling in the musky black as the little stripes from the moonlight began to slip onto the carpet. Sadly, there was nothing to be heard. She stayed in the silence of the night. The bright green pixel lights on her alarm clock brightly read, 12:37. No sense of color was reflected. Everything was bleak and looked like and black and white film. With her icy blue eyes she scanned her room, one wall at a time trying to remember where her things were: The cross poster on one pink wall, a guitar and bass both hung on holders on each side of her window, an old computer monitor with a picture of a boy with a small, big-lipped smile. Her eyes stopped immediately at the boy’s big green eyes. He was in the woods, in front of a tree with his “Beats by Dr.dre” headphones over his ears. His hands parted across his black shirt.
Through the small yellow strip of light that was still shining from the hallway, through the creak of the door, the sound of her middle-aged mother screaming her lungs out. “I can’t take her anymore,” she began to sputter. “This has gone way too far, and I want this all to go! She is out of control…and I just…I just don’t know my own daughter anymore. Either we send her away, or I leave all of you.”
The girl leaned in closer to the echoes from her door. She focused on the words, “sending her away,” “Leave all of you,” and mostly, “out of control.” She couldn’t argue with that. Clearly, what was screamed was at least 85% true. The girl still couldn’t cry. It wasn’t the first time she had heard the same blubbering argument, but every night it had gotten louder and shrill
Across the room, she reached for her cell phone, perched up on a nightstand. She snatched it quickly and stormed into her closet, covering herself with old clothing. Without any hesitation, the tips of her thumbs punched in each number in less than 2 seconds. The only thing she could see was the numbers on the screen and she pressed the call button. The screen read calling, and showed the same picture that was still perched up on the computer monitor. The phone rang once. Twice. Thrice. Then a small muffled jingle, notifying it went to voicemail. She pressed the number again. Ringing. “Please answer…” she whispered, trying not to trigger her mother’s hawk like ears. “Please. Please. Please!” each “Please” increased in hoarseness. The girl’s heart, beating like a jackrabbit with every little thundery sound she heard coming from the hallway. Quickly, she covered the light of the screen with the palm of her sweaty hand.
A little sound was echoing muffled by the phone’s speaker underneath her sleeve. “’ell-o?” said a pixelated sounding voice. It sounded a bit cheery, but taken over by the night’s sanded eyes just beginning to close into a peaceful rest. After about 10 seconds of silence, the male voice sounded a bit worried. “Hello?” The girl carefully looked around through her cloudy vision. “Mels, are you okay?” Mels was still uneasy, but she still had to reply to the call she had originally made. “H-H-Hello.” Sounds of struggling and wrestling through bed sheets and grunting were heard through the speaker. Finally, he spoke again. “Hey,” he said. “You called-“
“I know I called,” Mels, now with tears welding in her eyes and her nose beginning to start sniffling back the liquid. “I just-“she cut herself off, not remembering what to say. A sigh was heard from the other end. “It’s okay,” he said, pressing his fingers against his forehead. “Just calm down and take a breath. Before you start to cry, tell me what’s wrong.” It was quite obvious Mels couldn’t hold back the tears. Just hearing his voice made her stomach churn. The call of his name could send her mind in six different dimensions in one time.
Remembering the times where she would go run off in the darkness somewhere, to drunken her in the black calmness. With her head buried in her knees, she could soak her soft jeans in tears. In a matter of moments, she could feel herself being elevated and the light brightening and glistening and then a small peck on the top of her forehead. There was never one sliver of space between her and the love of this boy’s arms, carefully carrying her like an angel. It was always like a flashlight had been gleaming on something in the dark for hours. But all she knew was that she was safe, and never felt more comfort in the days she had been home. Nor one hospital could break a more beautiful bond she could see rushing through her head. Even though she was not in his arms, his voice made her feel like he was right next to her, speaking into her ear.
“I was overhearing again,” Mels said, thinking back to reality. A sigh was echoed into her eardrum. “…Something to do with sending you away, saying you’re crazy, or is this a new one?”
“All of the above,” Mels replied back. “I don’t know anymore, Cori, I just want to get out of this place! Can’t you just take me away from here?” silence roared through the other end. Mels bellowed out migraine triggering sobs that drove her insane. “Melody,” Cori sighed. “I’m so sorry, but, you need to just let go of whatever the hell she has to say. To hell with it. I don’t know how much trouble you could get into if I took you. You know I would, of course I would, but, how could I take you?”
Melody rubbed her bloodshot eyes and walked over to her dresser, where she had specifically spotted an orange, see-through capsule, seeing as if it had withheld little tablets only the size of about a pea. Her fingers carefully unlatches the white cap, which read: “ABG-2242-DGSD.” the little white tablets rattled in the small cylinder as Melody picked up the bottle, and started to pour dozens into her other palm, while her cell phone was being hugged between her cheek and shoulder. “Um, Mels,” Cori said. “What’s that noise?” Melody did not reply, but rather place the phone on her dresser and gulp down the tablets in one full swallow. It had felt like she was gobbling down hard candy. She picked up the phone again. “Oh, that?” she playfully said. “I just had to move little things on my dresser ‘cause I knew how the Big Bad Wolf would react if she still saw-“
“-Saw what?” Cori snapped, sounding stern and worried. Melody collapsed and licked her lips. “Oh, um, things,” Melody murmured. “Things which men couldn’t understand.” It was perfectly clear the lie was as easy as riding a bike, but as stupid as falling off of one. Melody always had known how intelligent Cori was, and there was no doubt in her heart he didn’t believe it. “’Things which I couldn’t understand,’” Cori mimicked. “Right. I’ll nominate you as one of the world’s worst liars.” Melody’s eyes began to stream a few more tears. But, she still wasn’t sure if he knew exactly what she was doing.
Thinking was beginning to become a harsh action. In just five minutes, Melody’s eyesight became black and white, then everything in the room began to duplicate. She placed the palm of her free hand on her pulsing forehead. Her breathing became hoarse as it gasped for more air. “Mels?” Cori shivered out of his body. “You okay?” Melody still didn’t reply.
From the distance, Cori stood in the darkness, only in his white socks, red plaid boxer shorts and green Element sweatshirt. Everyone (he thought) in his house was knocked out and in peaceful rest. He tried not to scream into the phone, spinning his now crazed mind into several directions. His chest thumped fast like a jackrabbit, his face melting into horror. “Melody!” he attempted to yell, but now, scream. He now never gave a damn if he would wake Maine. All he knew now was that he could scream until the world goes deaf.
Without hesitation, a quick act of slipping on sneakers, jeans, a sweatshirt and a phone, flashing gray that read the time and date in white pixelated letters. The only thing that was head was swift stomps and a door opening and creaking closed. What else could possibly happen? With a glassy tear in his eye, Cori swung his body onto his bike and pedaled; pedaled as if running from an invasion, charging toward him with guns. All he could think about was Melody’s precious face. A face that illuminated nothing but pure horror but so much beauty in the face, like the day he just met her.
It was toward the beginning of March, and the sun was almost the color of the clean, emerald grass. And there she stood, her head hung over a five-inch thick book, and her hair, the same color as warm, melted chocolate as it pours into a cold, silver tin. A purple jacket wrapped snuggly around her body and a white and blue striped shirt, flimsily opened at the chest. The other children around her seemed to not give a damn about this quiet girl, hiding shyly in the dimmed light of the shadows of the leaves still beginning to bud above her.
Crackled specks of glowing yellow peered around her and showing just a few words on the cream colored page, “The little girl snatched the doll from her. ‘No! My mother is dead!’” Although it was not enough to fully get the idea of what she could possibly be reading, a boy just her age walked limply toward her. His perfectly green eyes, glistening and attempting to catch more of the story. Just as he was about a few inches away, the page was turned and two blue eyes, the color of the Pacific Ocean, locked on the boy’s above her. He was hunched over, his hand on the tree. Still not trying to pay attention to the curiosity lurking in the girl’s eyes. He tilted his head, still trying to read the page. Unfortunately, those blue eyes couldn’t be outmatched.
Finally, he spoke. “Um,” he mumbled. “Good book.” He said, placing his palm over his head, now massaging the back of his sweaty neck. Of course, it was a lie but he didn’t have enough time to think of what he could say. It would have been plain awkward just to lean against the tree blankly, just staring at the page with a girl, questioning if you were really trying to look at something else besides the page. In reply, the girl nodded. “Yeah,” she said, sounding timid like a lamb. She bent the corner of the page and pushed the covers together, sealing it closed. “I’m supposed to read it for school.”
“Really?” the boy asked, his eyes wide and filled with more curiosity. “I had to read it, too. It took me about a week, due to better things to do, but I sat down and read the damn thing cover to cover and really loved it.” The girl was still puzzled at the stranger, still looking at the cover of the book. “Who’s your favorite character?” she asked, a bit of a hard tone in her voice. In that moment, the boy froze and murmured the word “uh,” about seven times before looking right back at the cover. “Oh, I like the little girl, who like takes her doll.” The girl rolled her eyes. “The little girl’s barely in the book. You probably don’t even know her name.”
“Well, I have a really bad memory. By the time I get back to wherever I came from, I’ll probably never remember talking to you.”
“Sadly enough, you still don’t know my name.”
And then it all turned blank in the back of Cori’s mind. It was all he could think about. He still could remember those words, every single one specifically. He was toward the end of Melody’s street, and his heart was already racing like a drum solo. Already his chest was on fire and his shirt drenched of sweat in huge stains that spread out every five minutes he pedaled. Everything he thought about that day had blown past him like the little puffs of fog with each exhale he pushed out. Melody’s house lights were sharply visible from where he stood, still half leaned on his bike. In one extremely zip-like turn, he speeded himself into the front of Melody’s driveway, but skidded forward and practically chucked his bike behind the back porch.
Though it was possible everyone was asleep, Cori checked each window that was lit yellow, by peeking his large eyes just slightly on the corner. By his vision of what his pupils could capture, there her mother stood. She was leaned out on the old, claw-ripped, leather couch watching what Cori thought was CSI: Las Vegas. The look on Cori’s face began to morph into a sickened frown. The thought of Melody’s fat, lazy, trash-talking mother just made his stomach churn. What bothered the most was based on the few words Melody choked out through her crocodile tears over the muffled speaker. Fortunately, Melody’s father was nowhere to be found. Cori couldn’t bare a thought about her father.
The coast was now clear, and Cori slid back into the cloaking darkness and searched for Melody’s window. The stars in the sky couldn’t help one bit, no matter how bright they could ever illuminate through the navy sea. Of course, Melody’s room was on the far right, but up at least 40 feet high. There was no sense of any possible way of transporting Cori up, in a slick quiet manner. Cori’s eyes attempted to search around for some kind of useful tool. At last, he remembered about Melody’s father’s ladder that was about 35 feet high and was still leaning near where he was standing.
Without hesitation, Cori leaned the tremendous orange ladder against the white, paint chipped wall and leaped up as high as he could. With every creaking sound or metal clanking, Cori winced and took slower steps up. He could already smell the rose scented candle possibly still burning in the bottom of Melody’s window. As the warm welcoming scent entered his nostrils, now intoxicating into his lungs, Cori still couldn’t find a sense of comfort in anything. All he could think about was either falling to a bloody death or broken limb or a screeching voice, possibly demanding he go, and disappear out of Melody’s life. Or, at least in a memory.
When he was inched up about ten feet away from what he thought were hot pink curtains, he began to now zip and slip in through the frame. At this point, Cori felt like Robin Hood, or a Knight or, maybe even a prince, just to find his “treasure,” or whatever, and have it be sleeping softly in a layer of purple and white polka dot patterned blankets.
Knock, knock, knock.
No answer.
Knock, knock.
Nothing. Finally, Cori slid the icy glass open as it screeched like the brakes on a tire. As it began to rise, he stopped and whipped his head around, checking for any lurking black figures. Even though there was nothing and no one there, he still wanted to play safe and keep his back on watch. As he began to creep into the frame, he noticed no candles were now lit. It was almost like the room had no windows, or any sense of knowing what a light was. Carefully, Cori took one little step onto the blue carpet floor and perched like a bird. “Mels?” he whispered. No reply. Cori swallowed the lump beginning to grow in his throat and tried again. “Mels.” Again, no reply. “Please don’t play with me. I don’t want to play games.” No sense of noise was heard.
Hesitant, Cori crept forward, on the balls of his feet. As he walked around the perimeter of the room, there was still no pulse or breathing piercing his eardrums. He thought for a moment in hopes that Melody might have been just taking a shower or wandering around somewhere else. Or possibly, run away to his home. Either way, it was impossible. He knew Melody, possibly better than Melody knew herself.
Curious, he searched down on the floor, hopefully spotting any signs or clues of Melody’s silence. His pinky toe had been covering a book, about four inches thick. His other toes just waved into the frizzy carpet. Bending down, his fingers slid across and just brushed over wrinkled clothing, a hair brush and what he could have thought was a cat, curled up and purring his dreams out loud. “C’mon.” he mumbled.
He was now at the end of the room, near a mirror and a large dresser, about a decade old, with old peeling stickers just hanging for dear life. Many of the knobs had probably found a new home in the dump, as many silver screws, pricked out, jabbing into Cori’s side as he slid himself right. As his left foot just moved about two inches off the ground, it had already hit something. Something, soft. Something…cold. In a matter of moments, Cori jerked himself down to the floor as his hands felt around. Hair, smooth and strait. Flesh, cold and what felt like an oozing liquid pouring out an open stripe of what could be crimson. Cori’s nostrils could already smell and his tongue could dance and easily taste blood.
The wound was open as to what felt like an arm, a shoulder, or worse…a neck. At the side of the body, a flimsy palm was partly open, as a little capsule of tiny tablets, only about ten or eleven now cascaded all over the floor. Finally, a trembling hand had reached a little switch. Quickly, Cori snapped it on, and everything ended as soon as what his now tear-glassy eyes had suddenly captured.
Melody was dead. His dream…was dead. There was everything, his everything, lying pale, stiff and sprawled out on the floor. His trembling fingers traced her collar bone so gracefully, trying not to move any piece of hair, still faintly falling down her shoulders. Most of it was sprawled out on the carpet, like rippling waves. He reached down to the end of her arm, where he sharply spotted the bright red. A long opened stipe was perfectly cut clean against her wrist. The speckles that had fallen to the floor moments earlier lead a little trail from a brown-red stained point, poking from the wood of the dresser.
He didn’t care about the blood on the point. He didn’t care that the frosty breeze came cutting through the opened window. He didn’t care that the lights in the room were lit. Most of all, he didn’t care if he was caught. Cori now wanted to be caught. He placed his arm underneath Melody’s back and lifted her limp body into his arms. Salt tears came out like Niagara Falls, spilling onto Melody’s pale, lifeless cheeks.
Cori could do nothing, now; If only he had started running and racing toward the house when Melody began to cry. If only he had just gone as the dusk began to redden. If only…no, there was nothing left. Cori’s being had grown dim and was as dark as the room before he had turned on the light switch. “Oh, Melody,” he whispered through his quivering lips. It was extremely difficult to speak, knowing that no reply would be heard back. “I wanted to tell you something…” he attempted to say.
Melody’s iPod quietly sang near her bed. What was heard through the tiny speakers were swift guitar riffs and a boy and girl, singing in harmony.
“Forgive me I’m trying to find.
I’m calling, I’m calling at night…”
Cori’s ears sealed the music shut from his mind, wishing he were deaf. His hands were locked like chain links, bounding around Melody’s body. Cori’s chin was perfectly rested on Melody’s head as they limply swayed in a rock to the music. After recognizing the song, Cori began to murmur the lyrics aloud, while gazing down at Melody’s soft hair. It fell down like rapids, collapsing onto another. Little crumples of dry blood still clung, causing tangles of clumps beginning to form. In frustration, Cori began using his fingers, combing out the remains and smoothly fixing the locks.
There was still nothing coming from Melody. Her chest was perfectly still. She resembled a doll they would use in an action movie. The only part that was depressing was that this wasn’t a doll. Melody was real; more real that Cori could ever know. Cori didn’t want to think about the day they met. He didn’t want to think about her call. He didn’t want to think about her embrace when she cried. All of this was dead. Not another moment could be made. Not another funny memory they could laugh until they cried about. Not a perfect day to bend on one knee, for hopefully leading them to a whole new world.
No. It couldn’t end this way. Cori’s face began to harden into a sickening frown. It was like a little match just sparked into his mind. Soon, the light would become a flame. The flame will burst into an inferno. Cori didn’t hesitate. With great rage, fear and sadness absorbing in his heart, Cori laid Melody’s body onto her bed, pulled the covers over her and took one step out of her door.
The hallway way barely lit. The insect infested light bulb blinked like a strobe light at a club, stop for a few seconds then start blinking again. Inside the glass, a little pile of bugs, possibly ladybugs were buried on top of one another under a false light of heaven. An orange kitten curled peacefully on a five foot high pile of laundry, making light snoozing sounds as Cori’s feet padded by. The cream colored walls were cracked from the fights and roughness of the past eight years of Melody’s family enduring. In a matter of moments, Cori’s feet reached the top of the cherry wood steps, curling down to meet the reason why he had left Melody’s body.
Each step felt like a thousand. Each step creaked in response to the balls of Cori’s feet’s greeting. Every creak gained volume as Cori moved about eight inches down with each little tip-toe. Although no little confused, female noise was heard, Cori reluctantly stayed in shady character.
As he began his heart-thudding journey, he examined the walls. Cori could swear he saw a crack stretching across the wall as his body yearned to the next step below him. These walls resembled the ones in the hallway, except they seemed a bit strangely colored. If Cori wasn’t mistaken, he could clearly see little splotches of a vibrant color stained on the sheetrock. The color was a primary color that seemed to paint a horror story. A shade of red. The color of blood.
Without taking a second glance, Cori turned away from the heart-breaking painting, disgusted beyond belief. Fortunately for Cori, from where he was, there were wooden pillars, pushing into the popcorn ceiling. The first floor was strikingly visible and lit a faintly yellow. Some black clothing was illuminated into an unattractive green-like color. The carnations, now finally bowing to their wrinkling end were still beaming of their mustard pigment. None of this could matter to Cori. It only made his heart filled with an intense hate; a hate that could never be erased. This self-doubted house glanced back at Cori’s sanity, which was increasingly beginning to fade like a candle that was shortened by the centimeter long flame, finally sizzling to a simple gray spiral, swimming into the frothy air.
Another black and white flash rippled back into his mind. A little echoed muffling laughter of youth. There were two voices: a girl, and a boy. Cori didn’t need to think back of whose voices they were. It was like he whacked himself in the face with a sarcastic remark. Cori held his pulsing forehead and glided down into a sitting posture, with only nine more stairs to descend down.
The sound of bells was clanging into his skull. It was almost like they were hanging there, with a mind dangling on by a simple thread.
Again, there she was…
“C’mon!” the female voice shrieked. “Hurry up. I’m hungry!” a panting male voice was increasing in volume as it stumbled closer to the other voice. “I’m sorry, Mels,” the male voice bellowed in reply, his knees bending and wobbling for an end. The male’s forehead was dripping with sweat, sticking to his hair and his shirt, seeming as if he had cut through a water sprinkler. “But when you’re me, having to carry you for about half an hour nonstop in the sun that’s hot as hell, you have no idea.” The female voice slightly giggled in response to the over exaggerated complaint. Mels wrapped her swinging arms around the boy tightly, even though they were slipping from the sweat. Her mind was only set on the exploding humor extending into the trees above them. The boy placed a wearily arm around her torso that tugged around her like a vine. Mels’s shirt was beginning to stain of the boy’s sweat from his arm and soaked navy blue T-shirt. “Corinthian Matthew,” she said through her uncontrollable giggling. “You’re such a boy.” Cori couldn’t help but chuckle and lengthen his smile.
Cori always knew Melody as the cute, little ball of fun that was just hidden underneath the dark brown hair and dark colored jackets. He had just remembered that they had went for a long walk in the white sand and frigid waves of Bar Harbor. In that tear dripping moment, he could remember what had happened that day: Cori chased Melody to the end of the cove and back, Melody’s finger met the snap of a little crab, and the most clear thing he could remember was Melody accidentally running into his chest, sending Cori descending to his back against the powdery sand and the redness coating his cheeks as Melody’s lips had pressed against his. The most emberassing part he distinctly remembered was when Melody murmured, “Your lips taste like the sea…”
And then the memory was gone. It flashed away like the blinding light of a camerea after it captures a photograph. Cori’s glassy red eyes blinked about five times before shivering the memory away. As his long journey down the cherry wood had fallen to an end, as if he could already see a black figure blinking on the wall, Cori knew what was meant to be done.
Deep in the waving shadows, Cori pushed his back to the wall, twisting his head and jerking his pupils to the shadow’s true identity. Melody’s mother, her wrinkling hand, pinned down to the black marble patterned island. Her face resembled a sepia picture frame that had been recently picked up out of a dusty, cardboard box. Straw-like hair, silver gray at the root and began to darken into a colored brown that was somewhat similar to Melody’s. It was tangled together like vines and intertwined to form clots of knots. This was all pulled back tightly back by a rubber band, just outstretched to the point of snapping loose. The clothing wrapped around this woman was seven times larger than her actual figure, hiding her true skeleton-like torso, with spotted flesh, beginning to melt in globs still wobbling to stay. She was not aged to a millennium, and not aged to three decades. Her cloudy, aquamarine eyes could be swimming in rivers of memories, possibly of the times her daughter was, in her opinion, sane. Without a second glance, Cori began to reveal himself, the shadow beginning to slide down his back.
Although he was strikingly visible in this light, Melody’s mother did not flinch. Surprisingly, she did not move her eyes to meet his infuriating gaze. Melody’s mother used her thumb to squash a little bug then carefully used a napkin to shroud it in. Cori took a huge step forward.
Through the small yellow strip of light that was still shining from the hallway, through the creak of the door, the sound of her middle-aged mother screaming her lungs out. “I can’t take her anymore,” she began to sputter. “This has gone way too far, and I want this all to go! She is out of control…and I just…I just don’t know my own daughter anymore. Either we send her away, or I leave all of you.”
The girl leaned in closer to the echoes from her door. She focused on the words, “sending her away,” “Leave all of you,” and mostly, “out of control.” She couldn’t argue with that. Clearly, what was screamed was at least 85% true. The girl still couldn’t cry. It wasn’t the first time she had heard the same blubbering argument, but every night it had gotten louder and shrill
Across the room, she reached for her cell phone, perched up on a nightstand. She snatched it quickly and stormed into her closet, covering herself with old clothing. Without any hesitation, the tips of her thumbs punched in each number in less than 2 seconds. The only thing she could see was the numbers on the screen and she pressed the call button. The screen read calling, and showed the same picture that was still perched up on the computer monitor. The phone rang once. Twice. Thrice. Then a small muffled jingle, notifying it went to voicemail. She pressed the number again. Ringing. “Please answer…” she whispered, trying not to trigger her mother’s hawk like ears. “Please. Please. Please!” each “Please” increased in hoarseness. The girl’s heart, beating like a jackrabbit with every little thundery sound she heard coming from the hallway. Quickly, she covered the light of the screen with the palm of her sweaty hand.
A little sound was echoing muffled by the phone’s speaker underneath her sleeve. “’ell-o?” said a pixelated sounding voice. It sounded a bit cheery, but taken over by the night’s sanded eyes just beginning to close into a peaceful rest. After about 10 seconds of silence, the male voice sounded a bit worried. “Hello?” The girl carefully looked around through her cloudy vision. “Mels, are you okay?” Mels was still uneasy, but she still had to reply to the call she had originally made. “H-H-Hello.” Sounds of struggling and wrestling through bed sheets and grunting were heard through the speaker. Finally, he spoke again. “Hey,” he said. “You called-“
“I know I called,” Mels, now with tears welding in her eyes and her nose beginning to start sniffling back the liquid. “I just-“she cut herself off, not remembering what to say. A sigh was heard from the other end. “It’s okay,” he said, pressing his fingers against his forehead. “Just calm down and take a breath. Before you start to cry, tell me what’s wrong.” It was quite obvious Mels couldn’t hold back the tears. Just hearing his voice made her stomach churn. The call of his name could send her mind in six different dimensions in one time.
Remembering the times where she would go run off in the darkness somewhere, to drunken her in the black calmness. With her head buried in her knees, she could soak her soft jeans in tears. In a matter of moments, she could feel herself being elevated and the light brightening and glistening and then a small peck on the top of her forehead. There was never one sliver of space between her and the love of this boy’s arms, carefully carrying her like an angel. It was always like a flashlight had been gleaming on something in the dark for hours. But all she knew was that she was safe, and never felt more comfort in the days she had been home. Nor one hospital could break a more beautiful bond she could see rushing through her head. Even though she was not in his arms, his voice made her feel like he was right next to her, speaking into her ear.
“I was overhearing again,” Mels said, thinking back to reality. A sigh was echoed into her eardrum. “…Something to do with sending you away, saying you’re crazy, or is this a new one?”
“All of the above,” Mels replied back. “I don’t know anymore, Cori, I just want to get out of this place! Can’t you just take me away from here?” silence roared through the other end. Mels bellowed out migraine triggering sobs that drove her insane. “Melody,” Cori sighed. “I’m so sorry, but, you need to just let go of whatever the hell she has to say. To hell with it. I don’t know how much trouble you could get into if I took you. You know I would, of course I would, but, how could I take you?”
Melody rubbed her bloodshot eyes and walked over to her dresser, where she had specifically spotted an orange, see-through capsule, seeing as if it had withheld little tablets only the size of about a pea. Her fingers carefully unlatches the white cap, which read: “ABG-2242-DGSD.” the little white tablets rattled in the small cylinder as Melody picked up the bottle, and started to pour dozens into her other palm, while her cell phone was being hugged between her cheek and shoulder. “Um, Mels,” Cori said. “What’s that noise?” Melody did not reply, but rather place the phone on her dresser and gulp down the tablets in one full swallow. It had felt like she was gobbling down hard candy. She picked up the phone again. “Oh, that?” she playfully said. “I just had to move little things on my dresser ‘cause I knew how the Big Bad Wolf would react if she still saw-“
“-Saw what?” Cori snapped, sounding stern and worried. Melody collapsed and licked her lips. “Oh, um, things,” Melody murmured. “Things which men couldn’t understand.” It was perfectly clear the lie was as easy as riding a bike, but as stupid as falling off of one. Melody always had known how intelligent Cori was, and there was no doubt in her heart he didn’t believe it. “’Things which I couldn’t understand,’” Cori mimicked. “Right. I’ll nominate you as one of the world’s worst liars.” Melody’s eyes began to stream a few more tears. But, she still wasn’t sure if he knew exactly what she was doing.
Thinking was beginning to become a harsh action. In just five minutes, Melody’s eyesight became black and white, then everything in the room began to duplicate. She placed the palm of her free hand on her pulsing forehead. Her breathing became hoarse as it gasped for more air. “Mels?” Cori shivered out of his body. “You okay?” Melody still didn’t reply.
From the distance, Cori stood in the darkness, only in his white socks, red plaid boxer shorts and green Element sweatshirt. Everyone (he thought) in his house was knocked out and in peaceful rest. He tried not to scream into the phone, spinning his now crazed mind into several directions. His chest thumped fast like a jackrabbit, his face melting into horror. “Melody!” he attempted to yell, but now, scream. He now never gave a damn if he would wake Maine. All he knew now was that he could scream until the world goes deaf.
Without hesitation, a quick act of slipping on sneakers, jeans, a sweatshirt and a phone, flashing gray that read the time and date in white pixelated letters. The only thing that was head was swift stomps and a door opening and creaking closed. What else could possibly happen? With a glassy tear in his eye, Cori swung his body onto his bike and pedaled; pedaled as if running from an invasion, charging toward him with guns. All he could think about was Melody’s precious face. A face that illuminated nothing but pure horror but so much beauty in the face, like the day he just met her.
It was toward the beginning of March, and the sun was almost the color of the clean, emerald grass. And there she stood, her head hung over a five-inch thick book, and her hair, the same color as warm, melted chocolate as it pours into a cold, silver tin. A purple jacket wrapped snuggly around her body and a white and blue striped shirt, flimsily opened at the chest. The other children around her seemed to not give a damn about this quiet girl, hiding shyly in the dimmed light of the shadows of the leaves still beginning to bud above her.
Crackled specks of glowing yellow peered around her and showing just a few words on the cream colored page, “The little girl snatched the doll from her. ‘No! My mother is dead!’” Although it was not enough to fully get the idea of what she could possibly be reading, a boy just her age walked limply toward her. His perfectly green eyes, glistening and attempting to catch more of the story. Just as he was about a few inches away, the page was turned and two blue eyes, the color of the Pacific Ocean, locked on the boy’s above her. He was hunched over, his hand on the tree. Still not trying to pay attention to the curiosity lurking in the girl’s eyes. He tilted his head, still trying to read the page. Unfortunately, those blue eyes couldn’t be outmatched.
Finally, he spoke. “Um,” he mumbled. “Good book.” He said, placing his palm over his head, now massaging the back of his sweaty neck. Of course, it was a lie but he didn’t have enough time to think of what he could say. It would have been plain awkward just to lean against the tree blankly, just staring at the page with a girl, questioning if you were really trying to look at something else besides the page. In reply, the girl nodded. “Yeah,” she said, sounding timid like a lamb. She bent the corner of the page and pushed the covers together, sealing it closed. “I’m supposed to read it for school.”
“Really?” the boy asked, his eyes wide and filled with more curiosity. “I had to read it, too. It took me about a week, due to better things to do, but I sat down and read the damn thing cover to cover and really loved it.” The girl was still puzzled at the stranger, still looking at the cover of the book. “Who’s your favorite character?” she asked, a bit of a hard tone in her voice. In that moment, the boy froze and murmured the word “uh,” about seven times before looking right back at the cover. “Oh, I like the little girl, who like takes her doll.” The girl rolled her eyes. “The little girl’s barely in the book. You probably don’t even know her name.”
“Well, I have a really bad memory. By the time I get back to wherever I came from, I’ll probably never remember talking to you.”
“Sadly enough, you still don’t know my name.”
And then it all turned blank in the back of Cori’s mind. It was all he could think about. He still could remember those words, every single one specifically. He was toward the end of Melody’s street, and his heart was already racing like a drum solo. Already his chest was on fire and his shirt drenched of sweat in huge stains that spread out every five minutes he pedaled. Everything he thought about that day had blown past him like the little puffs of fog with each exhale he pushed out. Melody’s house lights were sharply visible from where he stood, still half leaned on his bike. In one extremely zip-like turn, he speeded himself into the front of Melody’s driveway, but skidded forward and practically chucked his bike behind the back porch.
Though it was possible everyone was asleep, Cori checked each window that was lit yellow, by peeking his large eyes just slightly on the corner. By his vision of what his pupils could capture, there her mother stood. She was leaned out on the old, claw-ripped, leather couch watching what Cori thought was CSI: Las Vegas. The look on Cori’s face began to morph into a sickened frown. The thought of Melody’s fat, lazy, trash-talking mother just made his stomach churn. What bothered the most was based on the few words Melody choked out through her crocodile tears over the muffled speaker. Fortunately, Melody’s father was nowhere to be found. Cori couldn’t bare a thought about her father.
The coast was now clear, and Cori slid back into the cloaking darkness and searched for Melody’s window. The stars in the sky couldn’t help one bit, no matter how bright they could ever illuminate through the navy sea. Of course, Melody’s room was on the far right, but up at least 40 feet high. There was no sense of any possible way of transporting Cori up, in a slick quiet manner. Cori’s eyes attempted to search around for some kind of useful tool. At last, he remembered about Melody’s father’s ladder that was about 35 feet high and was still leaning near where he was standing.
Without hesitation, Cori leaned the tremendous orange ladder against the white, paint chipped wall and leaped up as high as he could. With every creaking sound or metal clanking, Cori winced and took slower steps up. He could already smell the rose scented candle possibly still burning in the bottom of Melody’s window. As the warm welcoming scent entered his nostrils, now intoxicating into his lungs, Cori still couldn’t find a sense of comfort in anything. All he could think about was either falling to a bloody death or broken limb or a screeching voice, possibly demanding he go, and disappear out of Melody’s life. Or, at least in a memory.
When he was inched up about ten feet away from what he thought were hot pink curtains, he began to now zip and slip in through the frame. At this point, Cori felt like Robin Hood, or a Knight or, maybe even a prince, just to find his “treasure,” or whatever, and have it be sleeping softly in a layer of purple and white polka dot patterned blankets.
Knock, knock, knock.
No answer.
Knock, knock.
Nothing. Finally, Cori slid the icy glass open as it screeched like the brakes on a tire. As it began to rise, he stopped and whipped his head around, checking for any lurking black figures. Even though there was nothing and no one there, he still wanted to play safe and keep his back on watch. As he began to creep into the frame, he noticed no candles were now lit. It was almost like the room had no windows, or any sense of knowing what a light was. Carefully, Cori took one little step onto the blue carpet floor and perched like a bird. “Mels?” he whispered. No reply. Cori swallowed the lump beginning to grow in his throat and tried again. “Mels.” Again, no reply. “Please don’t play with me. I don’t want to play games.” No sense of noise was heard.
Hesitant, Cori crept forward, on the balls of his feet. As he walked around the perimeter of the room, there was still no pulse or breathing piercing his eardrums. He thought for a moment in hopes that Melody might have been just taking a shower or wandering around somewhere else. Or possibly, run away to his home. Either way, it was impossible. He knew Melody, possibly better than Melody knew herself.
Curious, he searched down on the floor, hopefully spotting any signs or clues of Melody’s silence. His pinky toe had been covering a book, about four inches thick. His other toes just waved into the frizzy carpet. Bending down, his fingers slid across and just brushed over wrinkled clothing, a hair brush and what he could have thought was a cat, curled up and purring his dreams out loud. “C’mon.” he mumbled.
He was now at the end of the room, near a mirror and a large dresser, about a decade old, with old peeling stickers just hanging for dear life. Many of the knobs had probably found a new home in the dump, as many silver screws, pricked out, jabbing into Cori’s side as he slid himself right. As his left foot just moved about two inches off the ground, it had already hit something. Something, soft. Something…cold. In a matter of moments, Cori jerked himself down to the floor as his hands felt around. Hair, smooth and strait. Flesh, cold and what felt like an oozing liquid pouring out an open stripe of what could be crimson. Cori’s nostrils could already smell and his tongue could dance and easily taste blood.
The wound was open as to what felt like an arm, a shoulder, or worse…a neck. At the side of the body, a flimsy palm was partly open, as a little capsule of tiny tablets, only about ten or eleven now cascaded all over the floor. Finally, a trembling hand had reached a little switch. Quickly, Cori snapped it on, and everything ended as soon as what his now tear-glassy eyes had suddenly captured.
Melody was dead. His dream…was dead. There was everything, his everything, lying pale, stiff and sprawled out on the floor. His trembling fingers traced her collar bone so gracefully, trying not to move any piece of hair, still faintly falling down her shoulders. Most of it was sprawled out on the carpet, like rippling waves. He reached down to the end of her arm, where he sharply spotted the bright red. A long opened stipe was perfectly cut clean against her wrist. The speckles that had fallen to the floor moments earlier lead a little trail from a brown-red stained point, poking from the wood of the dresser.
He didn’t care about the blood on the point. He didn’t care that the frosty breeze came cutting through the opened window. He didn’t care that the lights in the room were lit. Most of all, he didn’t care if he was caught. Cori now wanted to be caught. He placed his arm underneath Melody’s back and lifted her limp body into his arms. Salt tears came out like Niagara Falls, spilling onto Melody’s pale, lifeless cheeks.
Cori could do nothing, now; If only he had started running and racing toward the house when Melody began to cry. If only he had just gone as the dusk began to redden. If only…no, there was nothing left. Cori’s being had grown dim and was as dark as the room before he had turned on the light switch. “Oh, Melody,” he whispered through his quivering lips. It was extremely difficult to speak, knowing that no reply would be heard back. “I wanted to tell you something…” he attempted to say.
Melody’s iPod quietly sang near her bed. What was heard through the tiny speakers were swift guitar riffs and a boy and girl, singing in harmony.
“Forgive me I’m trying to find.
I’m calling, I’m calling at night…”
Cori’s ears sealed the music shut from his mind, wishing he were deaf. His hands were locked like chain links, bounding around Melody’s body. Cori’s chin was perfectly rested on Melody’s head as they limply swayed in a rock to the music. After recognizing the song, Cori began to murmur the lyrics aloud, while gazing down at Melody’s soft hair. It fell down like rapids, collapsing onto another. Little crumples of dry blood still clung, causing tangles of clumps beginning to form. In frustration, Cori began using his fingers, combing out the remains and smoothly fixing the locks.
There was still nothing coming from Melody. Her chest was perfectly still. She resembled a doll they would use in an action movie. The only part that was depressing was that this wasn’t a doll. Melody was real; more real that Cori could ever know. Cori didn’t want to think about the day they met. He didn’t want to think about her call. He didn’t want to think about her embrace when she cried. All of this was dead. Not another moment could be made. Not another funny memory they could laugh until they cried about. Not a perfect day to bend on one knee, for hopefully leading them to a whole new world.
No. It couldn’t end this way. Cori’s face began to harden into a sickening frown. It was like a little match just sparked into his mind. Soon, the light would become a flame. The flame will burst into an inferno. Cori didn’t hesitate. With great rage, fear and sadness absorbing in his heart, Cori laid Melody’s body onto her bed, pulled the covers over her and took one step out of her door.
The hallway way barely lit. The insect infested light bulb blinked like a strobe light at a club, stop for a few seconds then start blinking again. Inside the glass, a little pile of bugs, possibly ladybugs were buried on top of one another under a false light of heaven. An orange kitten curled peacefully on a five foot high pile of laundry, making light snoozing sounds as Cori’s feet padded by. The cream colored walls were cracked from the fights and roughness of the past eight years of Melody’s family enduring. In a matter of moments, Cori’s feet reached the top of the cherry wood steps, curling down to meet the reason why he had left Melody’s body.
Each step felt like a thousand. Each step creaked in response to the balls of Cori’s feet’s greeting. Every creak gained volume as Cori moved about eight inches down with each little tip-toe. Although no little confused, female noise was heard, Cori reluctantly stayed in shady character.
As he began his heart-thudding journey, he examined the walls. Cori could swear he saw a crack stretching across the wall as his body yearned to the next step below him. These walls resembled the ones in the hallway, except they seemed a bit strangely colored. If Cori wasn’t mistaken, he could clearly see little splotches of a vibrant color stained on the sheetrock. The color was a primary color that seemed to paint a horror story. A shade of red. The color of blood.
Without taking a second glance, Cori turned away from the heart-breaking painting, disgusted beyond belief. Fortunately for Cori, from where he was, there were wooden pillars, pushing into the popcorn ceiling. The first floor was strikingly visible and lit a faintly yellow. Some black clothing was illuminated into an unattractive green-like color. The carnations, now finally bowing to their wrinkling end were still beaming of their mustard pigment. None of this could matter to Cori. It only made his heart filled with an intense hate; a hate that could never be erased. This self-doubted house glanced back at Cori’s sanity, which was increasingly beginning to fade like a candle that was shortened by the centimeter long flame, finally sizzling to a simple gray spiral, swimming into the frothy air.
Another black and white flash rippled back into his mind. A little echoed muffling laughter of youth. There were two voices: a girl, and a boy. Cori didn’t need to think back of whose voices they were. It was like he whacked himself in the face with a sarcastic remark. Cori held his pulsing forehead and glided down into a sitting posture, with only nine more stairs to descend down.
The sound of bells was clanging into his skull. It was almost like they were hanging there, with a mind dangling on by a simple thread.
Again, there she was…
“C’mon!” the female voice shrieked. “Hurry up. I’m hungry!” a panting male voice was increasing in volume as it stumbled closer to the other voice. “I’m sorry, Mels,” the male voice bellowed in reply, his knees bending and wobbling for an end. The male’s forehead was dripping with sweat, sticking to his hair and his shirt, seeming as if he had cut through a water sprinkler. “But when you’re me, having to carry you for about half an hour nonstop in the sun that’s hot as hell, you have no idea.” The female voice slightly giggled in response to the over exaggerated complaint. Mels wrapped her swinging arms around the boy tightly, even though they were slipping from the sweat. Her mind was only set on the exploding humor extending into the trees above them. The boy placed a wearily arm around her torso that tugged around her like a vine. Mels’s shirt was beginning to stain of the boy’s sweat from his arm and soaked navy blue T-shirt. “Corinthian Matthew,” she said through her uncontrollable giggling. “You’re such a boy.” Cori couldn’t help but chuckle and lengthen his smile.
Cori always knew Melody as the cute, little ball of fun that was just hidden underneath the dark brown hair and dark colored jackets. He had just remembered that they had went for a long walk in the white sand and frigid waves of Bar Harbor. In that tear dripping moment, he could remember what had happened that day: Cori chased Melody to the end of the cove and back, Melody’s finger met the snap of a little crab, and the most clear thing he could remember was Melody accidentally running into his chest, sending Cori descending to his back against the powdery sand and the redness coating his cheeks as Melody’s lips had pressed against his. The most emberassing part he distinctly remembered was when Melody murmured, “Your lips taste like the sea…”
And then the memory was gone. It flashed away like the blinding light of a camerea after it captures a photograph. Cori’s glassy red eyes blinked about five times before shivering the memory away. As his long journey down the cherry wood had fallen to an end, as if he could already see a black figure blinking on the wall, Cori knew what was meant to be done.
Deep in the waving shadows, Cori pushed his back to the wall, twisting his head and jerking his pupils to the shadow’s true identity. Melody’s mother, her wrinkling hand, pinned down to the black marble patterned island. Her face resembled a sepia picture frame that had been recently picked up out of a dusty, cardboard box. Straw-like hair, silver gray at the root and began to darken into a colored brown that was somewhat similar to Melody’s. It was tangled together like vines and intertwined to form clots of knots. This was all pulled back tightly back by a rubber band, just outstretched to the point of snapping loose. The clothing wrapped around this woman was seven times larger than her actual figure, hiding her true skeleton-like torso, with spotted flesh, beginning to melt in globs still wobbling to stay. She was not aged to a millennium, and not aged to three decades. Her cloudy, aquamarine eyes could be swimming in rivers of memories, possibly of the times her daughter was, in her opinion, sane. Without a second glance, Cori began to reveal himself, the shadow beginning to slide down his back.
Although he was strikingly visible in this light, Melody’s mother did not flinch. Surprisingly, she did not move her eyes to meet his infuriating gaze. Melody’s mother used her thumb to squash a little bug then carefully used a napkin to shroud it in. Cori took a huge step forward.
