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Tragedy: Chapter 2
I could hear my death calling my name, laughing wickedly and coming closer, as closer as it could. My heart was walloping rigorously, hitting my ribs and almost breaking them. Shrieks led out my throat out loud and suddenly everything started to fog in front of me. Everything was fading away except the sound of shrill shrieks that were producing scratches in my throat, it went dry and sore, my lungs were out of breath and they were smarting very badly. Everything went dark abruptly; not even a single sign of luminosity, instantly, I felt my eyelids opening. A hazy bright covering was veiling over my eyes that made me blink twice or thrice before I could open them wide. The muddled mask was vanishing now; the ringing cries leading out my throat were also dimming. The fear in me was getting away; a chill of Goosebumps originated from my palms and went through each nerve in my body and mind.
Everything was limpid in front of my ogles; it was my room. I was feeling a flowing velvety sunlight touch on my palms and forehead. The reverberations of my cries were gone but I was breathing hard with my mouth open.
I gawked at the ceiling, pallid white in color. It was pricking my eyes, like needles pressed gradually inside them. I blinked more. Tears glided from the corners of my eyes, making a way down between my cheeks and forehead and warming it. My eyes soon drenched, moved them to see around me and saw a figure.
I could still feel Goosebumps over the skin on my head and in each hair dwelling over it. The figure had black locks spread over her shoulders. I immediately recollected, ruling out of my mind, the scary nightmare, I had just seen; Mom was staring at me with her big, engraved at corners, bulging black eyes. Her skinny cheek bones were blushing. She had lines of distress drawn on her forehead and at the corner of her eyes. Her wan coffee skin beamed in the bright light coming inside from the window. Every ray of light seemed to immerse in her cheeks. Her skinny pale fingers ran through my silky black curls, producing Goosebumps and relaxing me.
Everything was soundless abruptly; like I’ve been dragged out of cries at millions of funerals held at concert. Without a qualm, I got up to embrace Mom. I hard-pressed my eyes close, the tears started to prickle inside my throat. “I love you, Mom. I don’t know how I would be able to live without you.” I lead the words out my throat trying to overpower that crying sound in my throat and water distorting my sight.
I cuddled her more securely; that strong emotion of being apart from the world and in threat was starting to rule over me again. That dream was burning my head again.
She moved her fingers through my tresses and chafed my back to condole me. “I love you too, my dear. And I’m always with you. Guess you had one of those scary dreams…” she knew the reason of my situation and apparently my bawls would have proved that I had a nightmare. She kissed my forehead and started to rub my hands. “Don’t worry and don’t think too much. I don’t know what upsets you and you never tell as well…” she broke for a pause and I could say her by expressions that she knew but she didn't wanted to show. I lowered my head and smiled as she said that. “Maybe you should try and tell me. Well, now you should hurry for school,” she said starring the table clock placed by my head.
I curved my head to look beside me. My hands moved automatically; I pointed my thumbs at the table clock. It was getting late for school. “Guess I really should,” I said stretching a smile at the corners of my lips and narrowing at Mom. She smiled again and stood up from the bed; bend to kiss my forehead again. “I’ll get your breakfast ready, be quick,” she said. “Yeah, Mom,” I whispered. She left the room with a smile.
And like the usual routine, I dismounted the bed, and went en route for the bathroom. It never took protracted for me to get fresh and dress up for college. I wore a blue top and jeans; which were warm enough for the freezing weather. After all through, I went downstairs my room, towards the living room. There were sofas so stunningly adorned with alluring colors; which can only be done by Mom. They caught my interest consistently, though not prolonged but as for guests, who were mostly Mom’s friends, they were eulogized the whole time. I turned for the kitchen, from the living room. According to the new spanking setting of the house, Mom had budged the dining table into the kitchen; a diamond shaped table in between four chairs, equally spaced. From all that I could see in my house; I could for eternity admire Mom’s likes and keens.
I sat at the table. “Good Morning,” I greeted Mom. She greeted the same, smiling. Mom put plates on the table and arranged the breakfast in her noteworthy chic manner. She sat on the chair in front of me. She smiled at me; and so did I. “Thanks,” I said as Mom proffered a glass of juice to me.
“Ashley Beeley?” Mom said in a stumpy voice. I had my head dropped; I hoisted it and looked at Mom with a perplexed expression. She took my full name; that was puzzling. “Yes, mother,” I said smiling, in the way she asked me. She didn’t smile. More puzzlement; might be a decisive thing was in the pipeline to be asked or said. “Are you feeling well?” she asked in an agonized tone. “Yeah, am alive and well Mom, why?” I answered smiling softly in a soothing voice, leaving a question. “It’s just your eyes…” she made a face. “What about them?” I asked cutting short right away. I knew where she was going. “Dark circles?” I broached another question sooner then she could answer the former. She shrugged; my eyes widened in flummox. Oh no_ Dark circles were the only thing I couldn’t eternally put up with.
I swooped from the chair at another twinkling of an eye, and ran towards the living room. There was a large mirror attached to the wall, which was joining the room and the kitchen and just below the stairs. I scrutinized my face, predominantly the eyes. Nothing; had perfectly big black pristine fresh eyes. My hair was smearing over my shoulders in their flawless innate shining corkscrew way. I cherished my hair as they were gorgeous fine curls toning flawlessly with my facial features. And the skin tone was fresh as well. I frowned in confusion that Mom has gotten me into and smiled instantly as I comprehended; she got me. She knew me well and she always got me on my feeble points. I usually forgot that she could make a fool out of me all right. That always made me smile.
I went into the kitchen again with a smile in an okay-you-got me expression. She was jovial in the same evil way after all the time she won. “Mom,” I jiggled my head still smiling. “I’m sorry, dear,” she said as I sat. She continued,” You looked as if you were upset and I couldn’t resist making you smile_ and you know I like joshing you.” She smiled and grabbed a toast to eat. I had half eaten mine while she was speaking. “You’re an inimitable mother, indeed. And that’s what I like the most about you,” I said. “Thank you, dear,” she spoke. The smiles on our faces were not gone until I took a sip of juice and she went busy eating. Not long when I heeded footsteps on the stairs and approaching the kitchen. That must be Alice; we had our rooms upstairs.
Alice entered the kitchen and sat at the chair at my side. “Good Morning everybody,” he greeted. He was grinning and his spruce thin lips were beautifully stretched at corners. “Hello beautiful! You had a nightmare?” he said after we greeted him. “Oh, so you heard me,” it wasn’t shocking that he knew without being told. My head lowered and expression faded. It was quite an embarrassment. I could bet Dad has also heard my shrieks. “Well your screams proved to be loud,” he was still smiling. His shady auburn eyes were teasing me. He chuckled as I made a face on what he said and it was more teasing. “Mom,” I emphasized on the word; my tone was complaining.
“Alice,” Mom eyed him and he made a puppy dog face as to let her see he didn’t mean to mock me. He smiled at us. Just after that, a meek voice greeted us; Dad sat at the fourth side of the table between me and Mom. He glanced at me with his shadowy russet eyes and beamed and it was probably an indication that he had been reported by my bawls that I had had a nightmare. However, he didn’t negotiate about it and without another word he started eating.
I used to have nightmares. These nightmares made my life miserable. I acted like a healthy and alive girl but deep down inside there was darkness; no matter whether my eyes were open or close, there was darkness and the nightmares would hit my head even when I was awake. Every time I saw a nightmare, it felt like I am buried alive in a grave and I wanted to get out but there was no way; they felt so real, every part of them, everything I touched in them and everything that I felt in them. As soon as I would wake up they would be gone but it felt like they haunted me for the rest of my day. They all started after my accident; the accident which took my memory away from me, not all of it but the part which was the most important. How did the accident happen? Why did I have the feeling that there was no accident? And most notably, there was a sign engraved in my palm; where did that come from? I didn’t remember having a tattoo; but that sign was not a tattoo. It looked like it had been impressed in my palm. The thought of it was really agonizing and bewildering but everyone in my family and friends would simply say that it was a birthmark. I knew it was not and I also knew that no one would tell me what it was. I glanced at my palm while I ate and snubbed the thought of it; flouting it would be better because I didn’t want to start my day with a headache. I lifted my head and looked at everyone.
Everyone was busy eating. Dad had to go to the hospital. He was an estimable and meticulous doctor. Mom had to go to the primary school she was the favorite teacher of the kids of her class. Alice was studying with me in college. We were in the same grade but our choice of subject was different. All of us were going somewhere and I was the lone one getting behind my schedule. Alice first class was going to start at 9:00 am sharp and mine was at eight in the morning. I peered at my wrist watch. It struck seven thirty; half an hour was adequate for me to drive to college and it wasn’t really far.
Mom stood from her chair, hurriedly washed her hands from the sink and parched them with towel dangling on a stand by the kitchen’s door “Okay everybody, I have to go now. I don’t want to be overdue or else you know what kids are like and what destruction they can cause,” she smiled pressing her lips hard together and moved her hands in the air. I had a mouth full of juice; I nodded and repressed a smile to prevent the fluid coming out of my mouth.
“I’ll drop you Rose,” Dad stood up from the chair. He seemed to be in a rush; might be I wasn’t the only one getting late. Mom’s school was in a way to Dad’s hospital. “Oh, that’s really sweet John. Thanks honey,” Mom made an aw-face like usual when Dad offered her something. “Okay bye people, and Ashley don’t forget to lock the door. Have a nice day,” Dad winked at me, smiling. Alice chuckled. Dad was all in probability ringing a bell about last time I forgot to lock the door; but providentially, our home stayed out of harm’s way. I gave a teased look to Alice.
“Yeah Dad, I won’t forget and thanks, you too have a nice day,” I said. They left from the kitchen and went into the living room. The entrance door was attached to the living room; I heard it open and shut. I looked at Alice. “Actually, you’d be locking the door today. I’d be going quickly now. I’m getting late,” I said while standing from the chair and heading towards the kitchen door.
“Yeah, don’t worry. Consider all’s done, good day,” he said in a contented tone. I headed towards my room and went inside it; quickly brushed my teeth like always. In a jiff, I clutched my bag and the English assignment I had been given as homework. I ran downstairs towards the entrance door and opened it up. “Bye, Alice,” I said out loud in the direction of kitchen where Alice could easily hear me.
At the entrance, I saw a newspaper folded. My parents were in absolute dash and the paper was overlooked. I picked it up and ran towards my car without another thought. Dad had left the garage open; he was brainy enough to know that I would be heading towards my car just after he’d gone. My car was one of two we owned; dad’s was black and mine was silver. Mom never liked driving; she would get a taxi or call a friend when dad was not available to drop her somewhere. And Alice had a bike; a shining black bike with some sort of blue designs over it. I never paid much attention.
I had the keys in the pocket of my jeans. I put the key in the door lock and opened it up. Just before I could sit in, I saw a grey car coming. It was Daisy’s; Daisy Green was a childhood friend. She stopped and lowered the front seat window. She moved her goggles from her eyes and budged them onto her glossy flaxen hair. “Hey, want to have a lift?” she inquired loudly, smiling. I locked the door of my car and shut the garage door. I didn’t lock it as Alice would be locking. I went towards her car and sat inside. “Yeah sure,” I answered her question. She grinned and started the car. She ran the automobile at a miraculous speed.
We didn’t start talking for a little while. And in that moment I observed her dress; an up-to-the-minute murky sapphire shirt appearing from under a grey designer’s upper. The jeans she wore were same as mine but it looked ideal on her. She was fashion cognizant and goggles were her specialty; whether or not the sun shone, she would wear goggles. She turned her head and looked at me with her grey eyes.
“You seem quite,” she started. I moved my ogles away from her dress and looked at her with a slight frown and repressed smile.
“No, I’m not,” I said graciously. She nodded and kept on driving. She didn’t speak further and went busy in driving. She knew I had a tranquil personality; never much talking and chitchatting around. I wasn’t a bore either. Might be she predicted that I wasn’t in a mood to talk. Daisy was totally opposite from me; but she cherished me and so did I because we were friends since our infancy.
I looked out from the window at the trees passing by swiftly. I couldn’t look at them moving past us speedily as my head started to twinge a little. I dropped my head and my eyes fell on the newspaper in my hand which I totally forgotten about; wasn’t either in the frame of mind to open and read it. I was looking at it aimlessly when my sight fell on the word “Pursuers”. It was written in bold letters. There was something written before it, which hid in the creased side. I didn’t endeavor to unwrap it; thought Daisy wouldn’t like it. But it had my consideration firmly. I read some words discernible in the article just below but couldn’t comprehend what was in print. I wanted to know what was written about the Pursuers. My head started to ache hard. I couldn’t flout the thought been cracked in my cranium just then but I threw the newspaper at the back seat rebuffing the thought. “Pursuers,” I questioned myself in a whisper. It was refreshing the vision I had seen the preceding darkness.
“Pursuers… How do you come up with the thought of them?” Daisy heard me. I started to gather words to answer her. “Just read in the newspaper_” I broke for a pause when suddenly a thing clicked me. “I threw it a t the back seat, I’d pick it up at pack up,” I pointed my thumb over my shoulder, at the back seat.
“Oh that’s okay. Well what did you read?” she showed interest in knowing what was written about “The Pursuers” and why wouldn’t she? She would like everyone else because Pursuers had been the malevolence folklores of our town. I used to hear regarding them in my childhood but they vanished or most likely the stories about them were growing old and mind-numbing. They were becoming illustrious all over again. I on no account believed they subsisted and nor was I believing that they’re back in town. How could they be? They were just stories; stories passed on by people from ages. I wondered what was so charming about these stories or whatever those were.
“Nothing, just the heading including the word,” I made a face and rolled my eyes.
After a silence pause she cleared her throat and asked, “Do you think they are real?” that was a weird question and she asked it as if she wanted to know what I had to say about that. She didn’t blink and I could sense by body language that she waited for my answer. “No, they are phony; we hear forged tales about them, certainly,” I said carelessly, moving my head straight.
“What if they’re factual? I mean what if they exist?” Her words traumatized me. The discussion over Pursuers was making me uncomfortable and I felt like having fever.
“No, they don’t. Pursuers... Chase you down? Eat your soul? Vanish your memory? Really! Can you believe all that stuff? These are stories that people tell each other when they’re bored,” I was getting a little annoyed and irritated all of a sudden. I was surprised at how I was acting; couldn’t help rolling my eyes and my body was heating up. My hands were closed in fists tightly.
“Okay, no need to hyper. Chill! I was just…” she stopped the words coming out of her mouth. I deduced she saw me rolling my eyes in disgust. She had her hand on my arm facing her side; rubbing my arm as to pacify me. Shortly, her hand was back on the starring. I didn’t want to act like that but I didn’t know what had gotten into me those chronicles about the “Pursuers” had been infuriating before and they were getting legendary once more. I wondered what made people start over again. My head ached and my dream was appearing itself in my skull. Pains irritated.