Short Story Writing

Turned Blue

     I told it I was lost in a dark hole; no one can hear me and I can not even hear myself. The place is lifeless; I do not see anything around me except black emptiness. I told it the place was beginning to scare me because I could not find the exit sign, a door that led out of this place. I asked it if I was ever going to get out, get away from this one memory. That memory flashed in front of me in an a manner so insidious and imminent. Every time it popped up, I jumped, and it seemed to silently laugh at me, pulling me deeper into a feeling of devilish fear.

     Everything is very confusing from where I stand. I keep asking it questions but it never replies; it only chuckles maliciously. His face is part of that memory. It's the only vivid thing out of the whole memory; everything else is vague, blurry. I think he was angry with me, but I can not be sure of it. His eyes were red with fury and it was like he was under a trance of some sort.

     Again, I ask it what was wrong with the man, but nothing.

     I think I was on the ground because he loomed over me, like a skyscraper over a city. He yelled and whispered and I tried to listen attentively, but I could not hear; I was focused on something else, a sharp shooting pain sent right through my body like a knife in the heart.

     Again, I ask it what the man was saying, but nothing. I asked why I felt a pain, but nothing.

     My hair is mangled, full of leaves and dirt. The perfect curls are gone and it makes me very sad; I had gotten so many compliments on my hair that day and now they will no longer think I am pretty. He doesn't have nice hair like me. Even though it is dark, I can still see his hair, it's gray. But, before, it was not that color.

     Again, I ask it how this has happened, but nothing.

     Extreme loneliness creeps up on me. All I have is that memory and all I want is for it to go away. So many parts are missing and I can not figure it out. Was I put in this place to find these missing pieces? Is someone looking for them? Who could it be? It laughs loudly at me now, laughing at my thoughts. It can hear me thinking. Why won't it answer my questions? Why is this all so funny to it? It continues to laugh as my questions pass in front of me through the dark hole frantically. I start to feel something wet on me and my vision blurs. Streams of salty water are falling down upon me, but I can not seem to find where they are coming from. I think my body is numb because I can not feel anything. In fact, nothing is moving.

     Again, I ask it why I can not move, but nothing. I ask what is going on, but nothing.

     “You,”, I scream. “You, filthy little girl. How could you lie to me? Now everything is messed up. This is not how it was supposed to turn out. I hope you know you made me do it.”

     Once a beautiful, vibrant girl, she lies in the woods on the cold ground. But, she would never again notice how cold the floor is.

     I frantically pace back and forth in front of her. I'm sweating bullets but it is 23 degrees outside. I can not explain what happened that night. Everything happened so fast. My hands are frozen in a layer of warm red liquid. My head hurts and I can feel the blood dripping down my cheek.

     As usual, she had come over earlier that night. She acted normal, as if I did not know her dirty little secret. But I had found out and I was furious. I heard her voice and her arms wrapped around me in a hug. That is when I lost it. My pulse was racing. As soon as I had lost it, I was back to normal, as normal as I find myself to be. The carpet was soiled, glass was everywhere, the walls spun like a carousal. It was over; everything was over and I sighed with relief. Now, no one would know what we had.

     “Silly little girl.”

     I shot up from what little sleep I had gotten. It finally answered me.

     “You know that face very well. Remember. Pull that night out of the back of your mind. Come on, you know everything that you have done.”

     I listened. I started to shake with anxiety and fear. I could not find where the voice was coming from. But, it did not matter, I had to remember, just like it told me.

     It was dark and I thought really hard this time. His face appeared in front of me. I knew him. I loved him. But, he lied to me. I was young and naive, but to me, it did not matter. It was just a number that kept us apart now that he knew, now that I knew. Before, I thought he knew because he was different. That night when I went over, his hair was not brown anymore; it was gray. I was so blinded by my fake life I was living, I did not even recognize the change.

     I was so confused. Why had things suddenly changed that night between us that night.

     “You know what you did to him. It is your fault. He did not lie to you, you lied to him. Remember?”

But, I did not lie to him. I thought he knew who I was. I thought he lied to me because he was not the person I found him to be before.

     I could not think anymore. I fell deeper into the dark hole.

    “You need to remember. Think, and think harder than before.”

     I hear it again. It is trying to help me; at least I think it is.

     I see the same picture again. I am on the ground; he is standing over me. He keeps talking about a flower. It was so beautiful and lively. But, it was deceitful and complex and now everything has changed now that he knows the flower's story. I can see that white orchid in his hands. Those are my favorite flowers. This one, however, is destroyed. The man is mad and upset about it. Had he known the true identity of the orchid, he would not be here now.

     Again, I ask it what the flower has done; it is just a flower. I ask why he destroyed the flower. Nothing but a silent whisper.

     I plead this time. I need to know. It answers.

     “It is not just a white orchid, child. This man was in love with a girl he should never had loved. She was blinded by a haze of desire. She lied to him, but she did not even know she was lying; to her, it was reality. So did he. They saw each other as people of different identities. To him, she was a grown woman with great ambitions. To her, he was her prince charming who swept her off her feet when they met at a high school football game. Put it together, girl.”

     I began to picture it again. What reality was real? The young girl's reality or the older man's reality? I feared I would never figure it out. I wondered, but, why was I here? What did any of this have to do with me? Why was it showing me this picture and why am I in this dark hole watching it?

It laughed at these thoughts I had.

     “Silly girl.”

     I could not move or scream. I wanted to squirm myself away from here and as hard as I tried, I could not call for help. But, then, it started to hit and it hit me hard. I realized that I had everything to do with this picture I saw over and over again. I began to realize that I was that white orchid turned blue. Then, it all slipped away from me and soon, I slipped away with it.