Welcome Visitor: Login to the siteJoin the site

Streliteia is the flower for freedom.

This is her name, can she ever reach her streliteias?

A short story about discrimination and prejudice, if there is anything unclear, feel free to ask questions ^U^.

Submitted:Nov 23, 2007    Reads: 135    Comments: 2    Likes: 2   

I think I see spirits.
The creatures of night, which no other human have discovered, are transparent, untouchable and soundless. Every time I open my eyes, they are infront, in a reachable distance,but still so far away.
I have even once seen my big sister, I recognise her because her characteristics are exactly the same as mother; the same blue eyes and dark blond hair.
I was not born when she died, but my parents say it was an accident on the bus. Mother's tears poured more and more as her words emerged. Each droplet drenched dad's clean white shirt.
A fist landed on my cheek, I try to defend with my feeble arms, covering my pale face that is already covered with blood and rain. Then a kick aims at my shin, forcing me to kneel down, pleading them to stop. That is what I want to say if it was not for the pain on my throat.
Then I fell, completely soaked with filth. The rubies flooding out of my body contrasted with the dirt like roses in the night
After a few contended laughters, my attackers' tall and dark silhouettes turned to leave, sharing an umbrella and cracking jokes, like normal students.
I wiped off the imprint of red at the brim of my mouth and coughed, so loud that I'm sure they would come back and start punching me again. But they did not, probably not bothered with someone like me.
With a great effort, I layed my hands on the muddy ground, wet because of the rain, and pushed my tiresome torso up. I upturned my head to feel the water; the humid texture dripped alongside my face.
Psycho! Psycho! The voice was very distinct; totally parted from the chatter of the playground. It repeated continuously, and very sonorous, as if the person's mouth is aside my ear.
I twisted and turned, the echos of the tick-tocks of my clock fitted in rhythm with the calls of insults, faster and faster, until the pitch black ahead changed into a spiral, spinning with humiliations.
I knew, that this is going to be another restless night.
"Darling daughter Streliteia, it is time to wake up!" The misty voice of my mother said coldly, a sign that she is in a moody state.
Her footstep trudged heavily on our dated stair; I always thought that any minute it will break apart. But luckily it allowed my mother to pass safely. A turn on the doorknob, and already I can smell the scent of tea.
Immediately I opened my eyes. That must have surprised her because her mouth became an "o" shape.
"I see you are awake then, get dressed," she paused to swallow, finding it hard to continue, "we are going to the appointment."
Unwillingly, I followed her out of the house.
The sole of my shoes tapped against the pavement, it exaggerated the tense atmosphere between us. Every so often, I glance up stealthily at my mother, she is forever biting her lips.
Abruptly, she turned around, eyes focused on mine. Then all at once she hugged me.
"Sorry Streliteia! I really don't want to do this," My eyes dimmed, I don't want to listen. Then she grubbed my shoulders to pull us apart and looked hopefully at me - the muscles near her eyebrow twitched though, so I know she is still nervous. "You will forgive me won't you? You know it's not my fault, it is for your own good."
What could I say, when my own mother is taking me to an orphanage. She and dad no longer want me.
I have the sudden urge to slam a door on her; keep myself shut from everyone.
I trailed this instinct and pushed her off, I ran
Everyone thinks I am a maniac, they all hate me. What is wrong with a psychologically disturbed person anyways.
What did I do to deserve the assault from my classmates, the abandoning of my parents? Just because I am abnormal to others?
I hate everyone.
I climbed up the staircase of the nearest church furiously, frustrated and lost, I don't know what to do. Spider webs tangled with my hair, a smoke of anger rose up inside me. Even cobwebs have an issue with an abandoned lunatic now!
Bring up my courage and breathing slowly, I leave the unhappiness behind, and reach out for the opening, a brush of air passed me, the as the landscape enlarged, the current became stronger.
I see a bunch of Streliteia not far away. Maybe for the first time of my life, a smooth wide grin spread across my face.
An ambiguous figure appeared - is she crying? Liquids are shedding out of her sparkling blue eyes. Just like my mother did whenever my sister was mentioned.


| Email this story Email this Short story | Add to reading list


About | News | Contact | Your Account | TheNextBigWriter | Self Publishing | Advertise

© 2013 TheNextBigWriter, LLC. All Rights Reserved. Terms under which this service is provided to you. Privacy Policy.