Menewsha Avatar Community - A short story, sort of

[Note: I used this excerpt from a story that I'm writing for a creative writing class I took. Teacher didn't like it, so I was just wondering what all of you think^^ And sorry about the length, it had to be 10-12 pages. Also, please don't use any of this for your personal use. This is my blood sweat and tears, literally.]

I walk alone on the dark city street, looking at the tall run-down buildings. I wonder what has happened to this city since I left. Before, it was a prosperous city, bustling with people heading here and there, but now, look at it; it is as though a war happened, leaving the city completely destroyed. Tears come to my eyes with all the memories flooding my mind. After all, how can it be that after only two years, this is what is left? Or has it been longer? Five, ten, fifteen years? I loose track of time as I walk between the familiar buildings of my childhood.

A scrawny cat saunters out of an alleyway; it looks startled to see a human. Still I walk on, hoping to find something kept together, something that might hold memories I’ve long since forgotten. The cat follows; curiosity maybe, but I ignore it, pulling my blue windbreaker tighter, as the street gets darker and colder still. This can't be home I think, eyes tearing up more. What of my family, my friends? Did all this happen because I left? So many questions keep coming to mind with each step I take, getting closer and closer to what used to be the apartment building where I had lived prosperously with my family so many years ago.

Finally, I give up holding back my tears, and look up at the building in front of me. A single candle is alit in one of the windows of this old building three floors up. Could someone still be living there? I easily push open the door to the apartments, making my way through familiar yet unfamiliar territories to get to my old floor.

Reaching the door, I notice that it is ajar, and a lone figure kneels on the floor, as if in prayer. The candle flickers, casting shadows on the walls and floor from the very few objects that adorn the room, a table, chairs, and a bookshelf. I walk in, and the floor creaks with each step. The figure never moves, but seems to be like a statue. The cat, I notice still follows me, but goes right over to the praying person, and rubbed against the hands, making the person look up.

I take a step back and gasp. Mother, I place my hand over my mouth in shock and disbelief. I notice a smile appear on her lips as she carefully stands and walks over to me. Does she not notice my change? I smile back and let her embrace me. Now, I remember everything that happened and why this once glorious city now lay in ruin. It was my fault; I caused it all to happen. But Mother didn't seem to care; she opened up to me like she had done years before the chaos of it all.

She went to the old kitchen, which is also falling to ruin, and grabbed two cups for tea. She beckoned me sit at the table, the wood swollen from the years of the ceiling dripping, never getting a chance to get back to the normal shape and size. The tea felt good in my cold body, warming me through my veins and lightening my mood slightly, allowing my guard to drop. Her tea always had this effect on me. Why doesn't she see the change in me? I again ask while staring down into the cup of hot liquid.

“Fifteen years Candice. Fifteen years since you left,” Mother finally tells me, and I finally know the truth on how long it had been.

But the time didn't seem like it was fifteen years, but only two long years where I never was to see home, but help in destroy it. I look now at her face, studying the wrinkles and the gray messy tendrils of hair. How can she not notice? My eyes avert away from her face, in fear and drift around the room.

“I'm sorry Mamma,” I say, my tone sad and sounding as though it is coming from someone other than me.

I thought I heard a slight laugh escape her throat, but it was her crying. She cried freely, not holding it back like I did so many times before, all while watching my city being destroyed.

“Have you come to stay?” she asks of me, a glimmer of hope to her tone that I would say yes. If I did, I knew I would have answered her prayers.

I think for a moment or two before answering.

“I can't.”

Her head falls forward, going back into her praying position. The cat that followed me here now jumped up onto the table, meowing and rubbing against mother's hands, trying to comfort her broken heart. I stand up and comfortingly place my hand on her shoulder, my way of saying goodbye. I turn to walk out, holding back so many secrets and walk back to the empty city street below.

Once there, I turn and look back at the window of that old apartment where I saw her shadow blow out the candle. It felt as though from that sudden darkness my life was over, snuffed out like the candle above me. I just don’t understand why she didn't turn from me like the others before her.

I walk away from my past, and dread my future.

“You can't just walk away from what you did,” a voice tells me from somewhere to the right of me.

I look around but see no one. You’re just hearing things, I say to comfort myself, and picked up my pace a little. I pass under a flickering light from an old street lamp, but pass under quickly, head bowed so my face couldn't be seen.

“Running away doesn't work either,” said the same voice, but this one seemed to be coming from right in front of me.

Again, I look for the source of the voice, but again find no one. This frightens me more. I must be hearing things, I would have heard or seen someone walk out in front of me. But I didn’t. So no one must be here but me. I urge myself to keep walking, to get that voice out of my head, my thoughts. But what made me not get them out of my head was that I didn't know if the voice would speak again.

“Go back home. You know you have to tell your mother,” the voice said, closer this time and to the left.

I realize that the voice is circling me, watching my every movement. I wasn't scared this time, but didn't turn around, just walked on, not looking behind me, only ahead and of what was to come. This one voice couldn't, wouldn't be able to change my mind, I know, because many before had tried and were not able to prevail.

“You know you can't go on without telling her,” said the voice again, closer still and from behind.

She should have noticed. I shove my hands into the pockets of the jacket I wear. Does she not love me enough to realize what I have become? I clench my fists inside my pockets.

“Go back, you know you must. Go back and tell her. Don't walk away from what you have done,” said the voice, the circling getting faster as I walked faster.

The sooner I get away from here the better. I still ignore the persistent voice. I can't, I won't go back, I've said my farewell, now I must move on, all this is behind me. It has been behind me for fifteen years, I can't change what I have done, and talking about it doesn't change the fact that it happened.

The voice got softer, yet stronger, “go tell her what you are.”

I stop walking, realizing that it was my conscience trying to tell me what to do, I thought my conscience died with this new life I have, but apparently not. I hesitantly turn around. The street was still pitch black, but I walk back to my old apartment. I should tell her what I've become. I don't know how, but I know I must. She needs to know the truth about her daughter.

As I walk back, I gather my courage, my thoughts, and think about how I'll tell her the news. I reach the door again, and it is still ajar. It is completely dark in the room; there are no candle lit prayers. I approach her cautiously, the floor creaks, but this time she looks up. A tear runs down her cheek and I wipe it away. She shudders at my cold touch.

Her voice cracks this time as she asks, “Why have you come back?”

I hesitate a couple minutes before answering her. It was hard to answer, telling my own mother what I've become since I left her safe house. “I'm one of them Mamma,” I say, knowing she knew what I was referring to. I know one day I will have to udder that one word, even though I would kill myself for it.

In the dim light I see her headshake. I can tell by the look on her face that she doesn’t believe it, and I know she won’t want to believe it. I knew coming back here was a mistake; I should have just kept on walking. But I had to tell her, just had to.

Another tear runs down her cheek. “You can't be one of them Candice, you just can't. Fierce killers they are, but you, you are my little angel. How can you be one of them?”

I away from her, from her pain and suffering of the years long since passed, and of the truth I just told to her. I didn't know how to respond to that.

“I'm sorry mamma.”

Now that I've told her what I had to say, I thought I should have felt better than I did, but I don't. Tell the truth, the whole truth said a voice from inside of me. It was my conscience, coaxing me to tell Mother the whole story.

Mother looked at my face, shock in her eyes, I see that even though the room is dark. “My angel has become a devil,” she says, backing away from me. “Why Candice, why did you become one of them?” she asks, placing her hands over her broken heart.

“I was forced to Mamma. I was forced in helping to destroy the city, person by person until so many were gone that the city was left to fall to ruin,” I say to her.

Her hands go to her face as she starts crying harder than she had before. I feel as though I have something else to say, but can't bring myself to say it. Slowly I turn and walk to the open door. I turn around one final time.

“I'm sorry Mamma,” escapes my mouth once more, as I ran out to the street below. I keep running until I run into unfamiliar territory.

The trees and shrubs were completely overgrown, the colors of fall adorning the vines and covering the sign to whatever lay beneath. I move them aside. Now I remember, it’s the downtown park. I used to play here all the time, swinging happily on the swings, and sliding down the tall, now rusted, metal slide. I make my way through the park, and find the swings to still be standing. I sit on one, and gently swing back and forth, holding the rusted metal chains.

I rest my head on my right hand, looking out at the overgrown sights around me. It seems this is the only part untouched by the trees and shrubs. But why? Maybe someone knew this was where I could always be found. I push these thoughts out of my head, and enjoy the gentle swinging, and the breeze on my face. Off in the distance, I hear a twig snap. My head jolts upwards, my guard up and my eyes scan the landscape scanning for the source.

“Did you think you could hide from me, Pet?” said a cold harsh voice all too familiar to me. The figure walks closer, a grin playing on his lips.

I look away from him, wanting so much to avoid him. But he appears behind me, his arms wrap around my shoulders, and his head leans down so he is right near mine. He breathed on me, his breath held the stench of fresh blood. I turn from him, but he kisses my cheek anyway. Oh how much I loathe him, want him dead, but know I am unable to kill him, even though I am able to kill so many innocent people.

His hand forces my face back to his, where he forces me to kiss him in return. I shudder after our lips parted. He grins, his way of thanking me for the thing I hate doing most. He knows I hate this, which is why, each time we see each other, and he forces me to kiss. I want things to go back to how they were, I wish he had never found me, snatched me from Mother and into his grasp. Whereas I would age, he would not. I had aged until this year. My twenty-fifth birthday. Just last month. He made it so I would never age another year. I became like him. Thus the reason why I want so badly to kill him, I want to go back home, rebuild the city in which I grew up, and live with Mother. I know this is what she wants with all her heart.

I feel his cape wrap around my shoulders and his arms around my waist. Unconsciously, my body stiffens from his touch. By my waist, he lifts me and turns me to face him. I still don’t look him in the eyes, but at the ground. I hear a growl in his throat as he forces me to look him in his eyes. He laughs when he saw my saddened eyes; it is a chilling, eerie laugh that makes me want to recoil.

“You have told your mother what you are,” he says to me, still forcing me to look into his eyes. “You know what is to be done,” he laughs that same chilling laugh, sending a wave of shivers up my spine.

I shake my head in response, my red hair falling over my emerald eyes. “No, you can't!” I plead, even though I know it is impossible to stop him from his deeds. “I-I won't let you! Wasn't it bad enough when you killed everyone else from my past?” I ask, voice shaking with fear, as I still try avoiding having to look into his blue lifeless eyes.

He takes off running toward my old apartment, dragging me behind him. I try pulling away from his grasp, but he is too strong. I start screaming as loud as my lungs would let me. He chuckles as we stop in front of the door. I now stand in front of him, shaking my head, and still try to get him to change his mind.

“Please don't,” I say, my eyes watering up again. “She has suffered too much, just let her live!”

But I can't stop him. He pushes me aside and enters without delay to where Mother stands in the same spot I left her. She is petrified to see him, knowing what he is because when he grinned, his fangs were showing from under his top lip.

“NO!” I scream, running in to save Mother.

I pull her away from him, embracing her in a hug, but to my surprise, she tenses up in my arms. “I'm saving your life Mamma, he wants to kill you.” I try to get her to ease up in my arms, but she doesn't. She knows what I am.

“Foolish Pet!” he bellows, licking his lips and stepping towards Mother and me.

What have I done? I shouldn't have let him read my thoughts. None of this would be happening now if I had been more careful. I put my cheek to hers, watching him out of the corner of my eyes. I feel her shiver when we touch. I gather my courage again and speak to him. “If you kill her, you kill me too.” I say, hoping this would change his mind.

He chuckles, shaking his head, his black hair falling to the sides of his face. “Let her go Pet, it will be easier for you if you let her go,” he says with a frightening tone, one that I know as murder.

I begin to cry, and hold Mother tighter, stepping with her farther away from him. She still hasn't loosened in my arms, rather, she stiffens more with fear. I still try to comfort her, to tell her she will be okay, that I would save her from him. A single tear runs down my cheek and onto Mother’s.

She is shocked that I can cry. She didn't know my kind could, this helps to comfort her a little, but she only loosens in my arms a little. I smile at her and still hold her close. He glares at me, and still approaches. Before I know it, he has my hair and pulls my head backwards to look him in the face. I hold back my pain, showing mother how strong I am, but still I held her.

“Let her go Pet!” he bellowed, face inches from mine.

I stare into those blue lifeless eyes again and say sternly, “never.”

He brings his face closer to mine, and forces his lips on mine, and I have no choice from where I am but to kiss him back and give him what he wants, what I hate each time this is forced onto me. Mother was panic stricken as my grip loosens and he separates us. I cry again, wanting to still be holding her in my arms, to protect her from him. This monster. From Death.