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Escape From Fate

Novel By: Moira Garcia

10 year old, Nikki Green, is a child of abuse and neglect. When her birthday comes around, she gets a special art-set from a anonymous, and everything she draws turns into reality. But what if her world of fantasy wasn't her own? What if it had a mind of its own, and never wanted her to leave? View table of contents...


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Submitted:Jan 27, 2013    Reads: 110    Comments: 30    Likes: 9   

"Shut the hell up you tramp!"

Father's voice boomed, and crackled like lighting as he threw mother across the room with brute force. She shrieked in pain as she hit the wall, collapsing onto the ground, her muscles shook and turned into a light red and then struck into a deep purple. She looked up at me, as I held my plushy a pink-rabbit named hoppers close, using her long and stained ears to wipe my face in a double-layered coat of dry tears, mother took her now crooked and bent discolored fingers and tried to let me know it was going to be okay, and begin to hush me, I think it was more for her than it had been for me. Father had been drinking again, and assumed mother had been in a mischievous affair with the neighbor, I began to cry watching mother bleed on the floor and nearly choke on my own spit. I let out a long, dry cough as he turned his attention to me

"You got something to say-you little shit!?" he said, gritting his teeth.

Why can this not just end? Why…He stormed over to me, and warned me to stop crying or else I'd have something to cry about. I just couldn't, every time I tried I wouldn't be able to breathe, it'd be just a bunch of rabid gasps for air. His face turned the color of flames, as his whipped his hand up, straightening it for the critical blow. I closed my eyes, and held my breath as it struck me, a striking pain in my left cheek-that would surely leave a mark. It doesn't hurt as bad as it use too, after being hit so many times the pain becomes less, I don't know if it's become weaker, or if I'm just use to it by now. But nevertheless I grabbed my cheek, and sunk down to the floor. He liked it when everybody was down on the floor, it made him feel like he had power, as if he was in charge. He gave me a quick and medium-charged kick in the chest and stormed off-stomping his feet making it clear he was leaving, the second he left; I let out the long gasp of pain I had held in from that forceful kick, I let it out along with a vial of saliva, my chest burning. I crawled over to mother, as she lies there, silently bawling, I whipped away her tears and tried to smile. She opened her arms, and I crawled in, her head resting on my shoulder as she cried and rocked me back and forth.

"It's going to be okay" she repeated over and over.

Next week is my birthday-I'll be 10, I know this isn't the best way to start it out… I've always gotten letters with 10-15 dollars apiece in, but I never actually get the money, father takes it and gives me a speech about--- how when I get a job and pay for the house, and the food, then it'll be my money. He leaves me the card though; I guess I should be happy about that. It's been a few days since that freak-out; he isn't usually home on week-day so we can go about our normal-business most of the time.

"Rosalie, you've got a present!" Mother calls to me.

She sounds much better than she did the other day. I raced into the living room, and jumped to the floor gliding on my knee to the middle of the room, as brown-package lying on the floor with a single black and white bow on top, and a small letter attached with scotch-tape on the side. I gently peel it off, being careful not to rip the package, and read

'To Rosalie Green

From: Anonymous '

The person had left it blank, maybe they had just forgotten…

I open the package, mother staring at me as I do, just as curious what was in the mysterious box as I was, I make a small hole and poke my fingers in tearing the box open slowly and gently. Inside what a large and fancy-looking box of art supplies, I loved drawing and painting, a smile swallowed my face whole, along with mother. She patted my back and told me
"Well, now you better be off and paint me a beautiful picture!"

She helped me up, and swatted my back playfully as I rushed into my room and took out a long-piece of bright paper from the supplies, I stare at the bright-white paper, I'd only ever had old yellow paper to draw on, and this was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. I giggled and smiled, and dip my brand-new bright red brush into the paint, swirling it around, and slowly dragging the brush down the paper, the lines were so deep and dark. It was like when you get a new sharpie, it's so dark, and perfect you just want to color in and write as much as you can! My stomached churned my mind blank, and my hands taking control as I painted out a plain with a single tree. The grass a light yellow, and mixes of orange and red in the back, and that single tree, the bark so light and complex that's where you eyes would be focused on, the tree leaves were a mix between a dark purple and a light pink, lavender like. I smile and look at it-no-I look in it! I took a deep breath, as I smelt the fresh air as if I was in the painting. I closed my eyes, and felt the wind touch my face and opened my eyes, and found myself barefoot, the cool wind brushing against my face circling me singing to me and the soil sinking in-between my toes. I looked at my hand, they were glowing almost, in front of me a beautiful and large tree with purple leaves-wait… I realized something…

I was in the painting.


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