Painting Poison

Painting Poison

Status: In Progress

Genre: Science Fiction

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Details

Status: In Progress

Genre: Science Fiction

Houses:

Summary

My name is Evelyn Solano. I am the twelve year old daughter of Philip and Jaylen Solano. 24 hours ago, England was ravaged by a virus which infected half its people, turning them into mutant monsters. My village is dying, and I’m the only one who can stop it. I am the only one left.
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Summary

My name is Evelyn Solano. I am the twelve year old daughter of Philip and Jaylen Solano. 24 hours ago, England was ravaged by a virus which infected half its people, turning them into mutant monsters. My village is dying, and I’m the only one who can stop it. I am the only one left.

Chapter1 (v.1) - Chapter 1

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 24, 2017

Reads: 36

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: May 24, 2017

A A A

A A A

 

Chapter 1

Maybe it was a warning. Maybe the sudden change in the brisk wind was a sign. Maybe the shaking of the apple tree in my garden meant something more than what I thought it to be. Maybe, just maybe, there was a reason.

 

1 Week Earlier

 

Half of the population was dead within the first five minutes, all the civilians turned into creatures unrecognizable compared to their former selves.

As I stopped to catch my breath, I spun around, only to be greeted by the rag doll of which had silently fallen out of my tattered pocket. My mother glanced over her shoulder and saw me hesitate, not wanting to go on. Her brown eyes flitted to the doll as her delicate lips screamed,

“Evelyn, no, just leave it! We have to get out of here!”

The doll was in my reach. If I could just step over the muddy water…

My father’s voice rang out over the trees this time. “Evelyn, come on!”

I glared back at the doll, wishing I had worn my nice coat with the blue flowers on it in order to prevent the doll slipping away. Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream pierced my ears, and it sounded vaguely familiar.

When I turned around, I saw my mother lying in agony. I went to her, feeling the tears creep into my eyes. Her blood was pooling underneath her. I heard her draw her last shuddering breath. It took just as long for me to register my mother’s ‘death’ as it did for the monster to inflict the same fate on my father. The creature stared at me, and I saw his features. No nose, jagged, black teeth, and eyes the color of a sunsets cloud. I stared in horror at this, this thing.

The monster lurched towards me. I glanced down at the crimson water my doll was drowning in and squeaked, “Bye, Julie.” I felt the impact of the creature’s strength against me, crushing my bones I was sure. The air stopped inside me, and I couldn’t scream. My head began spinning, and I could feel shock creeping into me. Though my vision was blurry, my eyes unfocused, I could make out a small building in the distance. Without thinking anything through, I sprinted towards it. The monster watched me, and then gave up, I assume thinking I wasn’t worth the hassle.

When I dove into the building, a sudden wave of anxiety hit me. I took in my surroundings, noticing the broken toilet seat, torn, black drapes and one severed toe in the corner. I clamped my hand over my mouth, trying to stifle a scream as well keep from gagging. Suddenly, my body stiffened, pleading me not to move a muscle. There were footsteps outside, certainly not from any human. I saw the monster's foot poke under the door, one toe missing from it. My eyes darted to the corner, a horrible realization coming to my mind. I tip-toed over to the digit, regretting what I was about to do. My foot pressed on a creaky floorboard, causing a loud ‘erch’ to emerge from the rotted wood. I could practically hear the snapping of the creature's head as its eyes glared towards the aged keyhole. I froze in place, silently praying,

Please, don’t look through the hole. Please, don’t open the door. And, please, please, PLEASE don’t find me!

The monster’s grunts were becoming louder. This could only mean one thing; becoming closer. Without daring to move my feet - I didn’t know which floorboards might still give me away - I reached over and tapped the severed toe.

The door handle slowly began to turn. I could see the monsters breath through the door cracks in the freezing warehouse. My face became stiff, harder than a rock. I sat down where I was and placed my head between my knees. I looked at the little lines in the wood, focusing on the dirt and moss sprouting from the ground underneath. I thought of my mother. Her curly brown hair the same shade of her eyes. How her skin was olive, yet so full of color. The naturally red lips which were sown to her skin. I thought of all our memories together.

 image?w=448&h=1&rev=1&ac=1

The falling snow outside created a warm blanket of happiness. My eyes focused on the flakes, the white dreams which tumbled from the clouds.

“Mommy, did you know that each snowflake is unique?”

My mother’s eyes barely looked up from her computer screen. “Really? Who told you that?”

“Last year in Kindergarten, Ms. Greensborough told us. One day the snow was falling, and we all ran over to the windowsill. Then she told us that each snowflake is unique.”

“That’s lovely dear.”

“Mommy.”

With a sigh, my mother said, “Yes, honey?” There was a hint of irritation in her voice.

“What does unique mean?”

“Evelyn, go ask your father, please. I’m very busy.”

“Okay.” I marched to my father’s office, annoyed that I was getting no attention what - so - ever.

“Hi kiddo. What can I do for ya?”

My father spun his chair around to look at me, but I could see that his eyes were tired.

“Daddy, what does unique mean?”

“Um…unique sort of means, well, it sort of means different.”

“Am I unique?”

“Eve, you are more unique than any child I have ever known.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It’s an amazing thing.”

“But kids say that is weird to be different.”

“What kids?”

“Kids at school.”

“Evelyn, look at me,” his usual happy face was suddenly hard and serious. “Being different, unique, is an amazing thing. Don’t you ever forget that.”

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I realize that I have tears in my eyes. I briskly wipe them away and shamefully stare at my dirty fingernails while I think about how much I hated my mom then.

My next thought is about my father, the happy – go – lucky one in the family. His looks were the exact opposite of my mother, blonde, stick straight hair and deep blue eyes. How his skin was pale and smooth, and his colorless lips. I think of how his eyes used to twinkle when he would look at an instrument. I used to go to all the concerts he wanted me to.

 image?w=448&h=1&rev=1&ac=1

“Well, honey, what do you think?” I looked up at the stage and cringed when I tried to take a breath: beer, cheese and fries. I looked up at my father, wondering why he would make me go through something so, um, unlike me.

“It’s great, dad. Although the smell kind of makes me want to puke.”

My father laughed and said, “Eve, I didn’t sneak you into a bar for no reason! Just wait until the band starts playing, then you will thank me!”

I looked around, wondering if I was really meant to be here. I told my father I was going to get a drink, and walked up to the bar.

“What can I get you?”

I looked up at the menu and wondered if I should get a soda or a Shirley temple. “I’ll have anything without alcohol, please.”

“Oh, honey, you can’t be in a bar and not have any alcohol!” The woman called back to someone in the kitchen, “Harry, two champagnes up here!”

“Right away,” the man named Harry responded.

“Two?” I asked. “Why two?”

“Doesn’t a bar waitress deserve some treatment every once in awhile?” Her breath smelled as if she had tasted more than one cocktail that night, but I simply nodded my head in agreement. Then, I explained,

“Ma’am, it is very kind of you to treat me, but I assure you I wouldn’t like anything.” The smell was overpowering, and I started to feel sick. The room started to swirl around me.

“Sugar, are you alright? You look a little nauseous.”

“Yeah, I’m fine, I just need to sit for a while.”

“You sure? Cause I’ve got something for that!” She looked at me and winked, as if to say…uh-oh.

“Um…Harry! Call this girl a cab! And get a trash bag while you’re at it! Hurry!” She looked at me with a worried expression. I saw it in her eyes, something was going on.

“I’m fine, really.” My voice quivered as a group of drunk teenagers glared at me. The smallest one said,

“Wanna’ cam with us?” With a slight gesture towards the group.

“No thanks,” I stated. “I’m good right here.” I patted my rickety chair, feeling the paint scrapes beneath it.

“Aw, come on. Whatcha thinkin’? We are fun.”

A little gruff this time, I mumbled, “I’m fine.”

“But, girl, we’re…” I cut him off with my anger and disgust.

“Leave me alone!” The bar waitress drew her attention to me, a shocked expression on her face. I glanced at my father’s booth, thinking that I don’t want to disappoint him, but that I needed to get out before I was sick. “Just the check please,” I whispered.

“Right away.”

I walked back to my dad and glared at him.

“Hey, kiddo.,” My father looked at my face and questioned, “What’s wrong?”

“What do you mean? You dragged me down to a bar for teens ages eighteen and up, causing me to have a pounding headache from all the noise. I go up to the bar to get a drink and the waitress tries to force me into drinking alcoholic drinks. She says,” I mimic her tone in a high pitched, obnoxious voice. “‘Oh, honey, you can’t be in a bar and not have any alcohol!’”

My dad interrupts me with a concerned look on his face. “Honey, can you tell me,” Now it’s my turn to interrupt.

“No, dad, let me finish.”

“But,”

“No! The waitress screamed for some random dude named Harry and the the entire room was spinning! Some random gang wanted me to go with them who knows where, and they wouldn’t leave me alone! So, you tell me, why did you even bring me here?”

“What?”

“Why?”

My dad thought about that for a moment, shaking his head. “Listen, Eve, I wanted you to have a fun night. Let’s just go home.”

“Exactly! That’s what I’ve been saying the whole da-,” My dad arches one brown eyebrow as if to say ‘Watch it, young lady.’ I take a deep breath and continue, “The whole time. Dad, I love you, I’m sorry.”

“You realize you’re grounded, right?”

“What!”

“You have caused quite a commotion for these poor people. The staff-” Then, he cut off again, his eyes closed as if he were deep in thought. I look around, rubbing my temples, trying to get the headache to go away.

“Whatever.” I looked at him with hatred.

“Evelyn, you listen to me. You are not in charge!”


 

I sit up, his words bouncing off my skull. You are not in charge. You are not in charge. I look up at the door, the monster’s footsteps echoing throughout the whole building. I look back at the toe, wondering if I should sit here and let myself die, or die trying to avenge my parents. So, I tiptoe up to the wall and make a list out of the blood of a young woman.

 

Which One Is Better?

Option 1 - Stay put

Option 2 - Avenge Mom and Dad

 

 

Pros of Option 1 vs 2

 

1 - I might stay hidden and survive

2 - I could get the chance to live for my parents and avenge them

 

Cons of Option 1 vs 2

 

1 - If the monster finds me I’m trapped

2 - I might die in the process of fighting

 

I stared at my list written in blood, wondering who was murdered, and what they will become. Will they remain bloodless and cold, or will they form into creatures far beyond compare of the strongest bear, the fastest cheetah? I glare at the writing as it drips down the stone wall, silently cursing under my breath. One or two, one or two, I mutter. I hear a thump at the window. Long fingernails screech down the glass and leave marks. I jump backwards, my hand covering my mouth once more.

The monster jumps up towards the window, latching onto the pane and banging it’s head against the glass. Shards fly everywhere, digging into my limbs. I look at the corner, the toe somehow untouched, and, without thinking, fly towards it head first. I land on my cheek, feeling something crusty under me. Ew.

“Give it to me,” the monster roars, reaching, trying to touch my fingers.

I stand up and face the nightmare. “You want your retched toe?” I scream. “Come and get it!”

The thing jumps through the window, shaking the ground with such intensity that I have to grasp the wall.

I look to my left, seeing a small, glistening object in the patched pocket of the dead man next to my list. I squint, seeing the dull blade against his black pants. I run, faster that I ever have before, and grab the knife by the tip without thinking, slicing my hand down to the bone.

“Ouch!” I cry out in pain. I use my good hand and glare at the monster, preparing for murder. I step up to him and launch the knife into his head. The monster wails, blood spurting out into my face.

The monster gives his last cry. I see the reason he was turned; a hatchet lay, snug and tight in between his collarbones. I reach down, checking for a pulse. I jump once I feel his skin: Ice. The hatchet wobbles when I try to pull it out, but, after minutes of yanking, the axe breaks free.

The blade isn’t that sharp, but it is enough to get a few good kills out of. The grips are worn, and will probably give me blisters if I’m not careful. It’s orange stripes are faded, but I am not worried about aesthetics.

I step outside, breathing in the air, and soon after regretting it. I take in my surroundings, paying close attention to the trees, water, and buildings. But the thing that draws my attention most are the bodies; bloodless. I stare at my destiny, wondering if it will never be the same here.

My name is Evelyn Solano. I am the twelve year old daughter of Philip and Jaylen Solano. 24 hours ago, England was ravaged by a virus which infected half its people, turning them into mutant monsters. My village is dying, and I’m the only one who can stop it. I am the only one left.

 


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