The Girl Who Became

The Girl Who Became

      Thunder hits the pavement with a loud boom. The house creaks as the rain pounded on the natural wood. She sits on the couch, dirty blond hair swaying as the wind blew through a crack in the window. Pale skin shun through the dark as she flips the pages. A distant scream, like a Banshee howls in the deepest darkness; it passes through her mind as green eyes consume each word on the aged, dark coffee creamed page. The killer strikes, blood spills with each word as the dismal echo of darkness continued. The eyes are wide, carious as she turns the page. The Thunder gives a loud boom again, lightening fallowing soon after. The girl ignores it as the scene moves within her mind.

    Black cloak, shinning dagger glistening under the moon. The child is running as his sisters' killer chases after him. He's small, like the girls younger sibling. Brown hair, tanned skinned and blue eyed. His shirt ruffles in the wind. It's grey, far too big for him. He'd stolen it from his sister, before her death. His blue jeans are normal, if not slightly too filled with holes. He is panting in the woods, his feet giving a loud rat-tat as they hit the earth with broken white sneakers. The sole of the shoe flaps as he runs and the killer uses the sound as a tracker. He takes his time, hiding behind the blackened, shaded tree. The boy still runs, tears still streaming. His eyes are wide and frantic as his breath quickens in panic. He can't see the killer- he can't and oh god, the boy is so afraid... The thought process is interrupted.

    The girl is drawn out of the story, with a start as something outside moves. Her heart stops, the scream of the ghostly banshee slowly fades, retreating back into her mind. The loud BANG of something metal hitting the floor with an echo. The banshee returns as the girl returns to the page. It's nothing; just the cat. She returns to the echo of a world that she never lived in. She returns to the form of a frantic boy, crying as he ran from his sisters' killer. She's seven, brown haired and tanned skin, thinking of his dead sister. Thinking about how she could've saved her, could've....if only he'd been there.
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