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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic

While the water was a never-ending candle, a stainless carpet, a forever book-I was a wingless bird, an unmarked calendar, a hollow hole.

I was also the new student at school.

I always loved the water.

It was calm and collected, during both night and day. It was clear, immaculate. Perfect. Immune to emotions, yet responsive to harmful actions. It could carry weight yet knew when to drop it. I had always wanted and was indeed raised to be like water and never fracture, just adapt and contain what happened inside my mind. But unfortunately, that never worked out for me. While the water was a never-ending candle, a stainless carpet, a forever book—I was a wingless bird, an unmarked calendar, a hollow hole.

I was also the new student at school.

“So,” A pretty, doe-eyed girl managed to say through a mouthful of gum as she slammed herself against my locker, “You’re new, right?” Her wide, sickeningly bright blue eyes seemed to scan through mine, her hands clutching a stack of books I was sure she never actually read. Her blonde hair flowed over her hidden, worryingly bony shoulders and I warily noticed how skinny her wrists were and how jutted her cheekbones were against the blossom blush that coated them. This girl was the type that would leave a red rose on your doorstep, only for you to discover it was covered in lipstick.

I inhaled a fresh air of breath, and responded with an unamused (hopefully intriguing), “I suppose.” The girl raised her thin eyebrows, the scent of her gum rolling over me as she closed her mouth suddenly. She sent a glance over her shoulder to her friends, before observing me again. She scanned me from head-to-toe swiftly and left with an impatient huff.

I narrowed my eyes and rubbed my forehead, annoyance coursing throughout me. I always did something wrong when talking to people. I sighed and snatched my books out of my locker, closing it just before the sound of the shrill bell rung.

When I entered the class, it was somewhat busy. Students were taking their assigned seats, the teacher was glancing around and mumbling something, and I had a moment to be relieved that I wouldn’t have to pick where I sat. The teacher looked at me expectantly, pointing to one of the few empty seats and I quickly shuffled into it. The person beside me was a geeky-looking girl with round, thin glasses. Her eyes were a toned honey, and her skin was littered with freckles. The girl had muddy brown hair that had untamable curls in it and seemed to have a kind aura surrounding her. She was the sort of person to write you a love letter, only to never send it.

I returned my attention to the front of the class, eyes drawn to the carpet, wishing it would flood with water and I could float slowly to the bottom, my lungs finally free of choking on air.

It was the afternoon when I stepped off the bus, the warm sun painting the sky orange and making my skin flush. My mother waited at the front door, her posture perfect and face pale. She stared after the bus, posing as a happy mother greeting her kid home, only for the act to fade when it vanished down the hill. Her gaze slithered over to me, her fingernails rough against the wooden door. My mother was a beautiful sort of horror, the one with the prettiest smile but the blinding teeth, the one with the observant eye but the close-minded head. She was the type of lady to stab you in the back and make you bleed but convince you it was your bodies fault for not being strong enough to withstand it.

I met her at the door, and she closed it silently—and then she was gone. I often wondered if she melted into the darkness and greeted the shadows like old friends because of how fast she vanished at times, and then I often had to berate myself for the silly, immature thought.

I straightened my back and looked around my new house that I still wasn’t used to. It was a gloomy place, with a living room that was perfect to stage a rich 90’s movie murder, with it’s matching patterned curtains and mat, displayed wine and Van Gogh’s starry night painting framed neatly on the wall. The kitchen was connected to it and had stainless benches that had cupboards filled with an unnecessary amount of clean, clear glasses above them. The kitchen had a white fridge that was void of magnets or other decorations, and a bin that never seemed to fill.

I wandered slowly up the stairs; my mind distant as I hung my bag over my right shoulder. I walked towards my room, unintentionally glancing inside my parents’ room. My father was on the phone to someone, arguing intensely. He was making gestures with his hands and a vein popped out in his neck. My father was a businessman known for his cold reputation and his unstable moods but calculated ideas. He was the sort of person to take everything away from you, and then force you to join him by dangling a bargain just out of your grasp.

I quickened my pace into my room and closed it behind me, muffling the sound by pushing it slowly. I noticed that it had already gotten fairly dark outside, and I pulled my window down so I wouldn’t get even more cold than I already was. I dragged the blind down and turned on my lamp, eyes trained on the ground. I quickly switched my clothes and sighed, my hand trailing through my hair as I did so.

I turned to my bed and laid down on it, my eyes gazing up at my white roof. And then I closed my eyes, and I was drifting. Floating away in infinity, my arms spread out. Pressure built against me, and my skin peeled. Inky blood wandered away from me, and my bones crumbled to stardust. And then I was a nebula, stars bursting around me from both birth and death. The darkness surrounding me wavered, and once again I was lying in my room, light creeping through the outskirts of my blinds. I sat up and frowned, a headache forming in the crevices of my mind, cracking against my skull.

When I entered the school, my migraine hadn’t dismissed itself as I had foolishly hoped it would. The loud, unpredictable clusters of people around me didn’t do the aching any favours, and I breathed in deeply, my eyes closing for a split second. When I opened them back up, I determinedly walked through the hallway, heart humming in my ear. I glanced around and was about to head for the toilets when a hand touched my shoulder, making me flinch unconsciously. I turned around and my eyes met charcoal ones.

They belonged to a tan, short and plumpy woman. She had short black hair and a kind smile upon her lips, an expression that was rarely dedicated to me. She had thin, oval-shaped glasses and had folders upon folders in a tight grasp. Her large ears stuck out rather profusely, and she shifted her weight to the left of her. She was the type of woman to mix honey into her morning coffee on the porch of a house infested with greenery.

“Hello, dearie,” She said, her voice light and sweet like berries, “I’m sorry to intrude, but I couldn’t help but notice how distant and down you seemed yesterday. I was wondering if you could need someone to talk to?” Her eyes crinkled into a pitiful look, her warm gaze settling on me.

I was so stupid. Why had I displayed my emotions in such an obvious manner? I should always know better than that. I leaned into her hand on my shoulder and summoned a happy and cheerful look on my face. I was now a bright girl who liked the colour yellow, a person who would read in her spare times before gathering berries to make jam. I was a girl who this lady could relate to and trust, the one who’s smile could light up her face.

“Oh, I’m so sorry if I seemed like that yesterday,” I stated, my head tilting as I rubbed the back of my head in what I hoped was a nervous manner, “I was merely worried about how my first day would go.” 

The woman immediately took my bait and grinned even more, her pink lips nearly vanishing, “Well, I’m so happy that you have joined the team! Have a good day sweety, and please remember my offer will always stand.” She then walked off in quick, busy steps, and I let out a breath.

The smile on my face dropped back to a frown, and my shoulders immediately tensed again. I rubbed the place her hand had been. Maybe, in a different reality, I would have accepted. She would have got me help, and I would be out of that house and the past would be behind me and I would get to watch sunsets in the afternoon and drink honey mixed with coffee. But that…that was impossible.

I, once again, began to walk through the school again, a perfect mask casted on my face.

The grass beneath my feet was prickly, but I stood on it anyway, my face placid. I was at a lake near my house that was sanctuary to no one but the wildlife. It was a delicate place with thin trees that set the sun to a constant soft light that reminded me of a place fairy would call home. Clean, round pebbles bordered around it and were comfortable to walk on in contrast to the grass. I inhaled the air, and sat down on the stones with a small, stiff smile. I felt peace rise in me, and I glanced down at the gently rippling water.

My reflection stared back at me, and I shivered as a breeze glided around me. The wind whistled throughout the trees, a song meeting my ears. The natural music was beautiful, and I parted my lips slowly to breath in its lyrics, my eyes still trained on the water.

The next months at school were like flashes, every second turning into a distant memory that guided and also haunted me. Every day was a replica of the last, and I slowly turned into multiple people who acted differently for each person. Time had gone fast, but yet I constantly wondered if it actually does go quick, or do we just gradually forget the past?

It was a Monday when another new student arrived.

It was an innocent-looking girl with green, flora-dipped eyes and dimples. She had brown freckles that strewn her face, and a nervous smile that quirked up on the right side of her mouth. She had pink lips that had no crinkles in them, and pure white teeth. She was immediately on the good side of everyone, and I hated it. Because she was the type of girl to not have to fake her happiness.

I watched as she became friends with the doe-eyed, blonde-haired girl. I watched as she shared smiles with the freckled, nerdy girl. I watched as she was treated like a daughter from the sweet, short teacher. I watched as she was everything I wasn’t.

It was a Friday night when I heard a sound from behind me. I was at the lake again, which was nearly my second home at this point. I swung my head over my shoulder, my gaze resting upon her. She had a surprised look on her face, her eyes downcast on me.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized swiftly, “I didn’t realize anyone else was here.”

I narrowed my eyes, saying quietly, “You come here often?”

She shifted on her feet, and I stayed still as she rubbed the back of her neck, “I found it the day I got moved here. My mum had insisted I looked around and discovered my surroundings. I’ve come here every morning since, but I guess I thought it would look pretty tonight.”

I stayed silent, and picked at the dry grass, my back now facing her. I pushed down the snarl in my voice as I stated, “Well, I also found it the day I got here.” So, it’s my place, I added silently in my head.

“You also moved here?” the girl seemed to have interest and curiosity in her voice as she questioned, “When did you get here?”

I licked my bottom lip and listened to the crows crying out in the trees for a moment as I replied with a bored, “three months ago.”

I heard her sit down a little bit behind me, her shoes shuffling on the ground, “Cool!” She exclaimed, and then added, “I got here at the start of the week.”

“I know.” I said quickly, my eyes staring into the water that was hardly moving under the dark, starless sky.

Silence answered me, and I turned my head to see the girl staring at the ground, her eyebrows furrowed. She was fiddling with her laces, and the moonlight on her eyes seemed to make them glow with an evergreen emerald, which was sparkling in contrast to the grass.

I turned around again but stilled when I felt her waddle softly forward until she was sitting beside me. She met my eyes for a moment, before she leaned forward until her nose was nearly in the lake.

“It’s beautiful,” She whispered, one of her hands wrapped around her hair so it wouldn’t fall in the water and get damp, “Isn’t it?” She was examining the water with peculiar, wide eyes and a soft, comfortable look. And, in this moment, I knew she was the never-ending candle, the stainless carpet and the forever book.

I felt pure rage at the thought.

And then I grabbed the back of her neck, a surprised yell about to erupt from her mouth. I forced her face into the water, my pupils slit, my hands cold, my lip upturned and my mind steel. She struggled against me, her legs kicking out and her hands wrapped around my arm and anything she could grab. I gritted my teeth and continued to hold her, bubbles flowing to the surface in protest. Angry wind flew past me, and the trees shook, and the water rippled, and the grass died and then her body went limp and her hair got wet.

My hand released her neck, and I closed my eyes, a breath flowing through my mouth. With my eyes still shut, I pushed the warm body into the lake, the only sound being the scrap of her shoes against the pebbles. When I opened them, I gazed down at the water. The silent, calm water that would guide her body throughout it and eventually be found and no one would ever find out what had happened on this Friday night. The lake would once again, be my place and welcome only me, and the wind would sing for me again, and I would be able to drown in the melody of it.

Afterall, I always loved the water.


Submitted: January 11, 2020

© Copyright 2020 lacuniaa. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:




Very well written. A lot of emotions, especially the feeling of being excluded, of not fitting in. Some surreal, almost poetic descriptions.

Sat, January 11th, 2020 8:24pm


Thanks for reading, and of course commenting!

Sat, January 11th, 2020 3:20pm

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