Glass through the Eye

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic
This is story of which I wrote recently. Very Ironic and very eye catching. About a girl who goes through an illusion through life that every decision she makes it will affect her life one way or another.

Submitted: October 09, 2013

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Submitted: October 09, 2013

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There used to be more of them. Certain of this, Nastashia Frazier, 16 year old teenager, she knew that more of these used to cover millions of stadiums and movies theaters. Craving, not food, but yet hungry for love that everywhere was searched, but so rare to find.

Years, no one came for her, she was sent to orphanage to orphanage. It had seemed like someone had devoured all those loving parents who were willing to adopt any child with no company. She always imagined a married couple smiling with opened arms to receive her with love and care.

Papers fell over the court office. Nastashia frozed, her hands inches away from her mouth, and the social worker edged out of her seat. There, Nastashia knew what was coming ahead of her. Many had no choice to send her to an orphanage where she would completely meet death, St.Ursula; Frankfurt, Germany. The association did not know what kind of orphanage it was. So many deaths, so many killings. The association never asked why.

Doubts flowed through her mind that had her up her heels. Her dark hair hung shaggily around her eyes and had her luggage adjacent to her waist. She moved around the building confidently; or as confidently as someone could move with so much thoughts in mind. This made Nastashia seem more vulnerable to the world.

Looking around, the first thing she noticed, the orphanage was into politics; into a democracy. Offices and parties ran to become head chair of the destined lives of the helpless orphans. The Omaritians, those were people who wanted to make St.Ursula a better, enhanced place; no more killings. Omaritians cared about children; they cherished their lives.

The Armstrongs, their names seemed like a funny punch line. However, before Nastashia could think, she noticed more. Armstrongs wanted to swipe the children gone. They wanted more killings, the place could not keep receiving so many orphans; orphans who had no purpose to live. They believed that they couldn’t give the love they deserve; they deserved death if the orphans weren’t born with instruction and importantly, parents.

Nastashia knew that the second she walked into the orphanage; she saw many banners up. It seemed impossible for Nastashia to believe that the association did not know any of this.

The current principal, Mr. Edan Azariel, a man who looked around 50 years old, gray hair, tall and white; a man who worked for years in the orphanage, stood up to Nastashia and questioned her clearly,

“If you had the chance, would you vote for me? Of course not, all you children would vote for Omaritians if you had the choice. I am not right?”

“I have a right to live, I have a purpose to live; that vote would be for the Omaritians. It would be sick to vote for you heartless monsters,” Nastashia responded with confidence.

“I have no time to deal with opposed opinioned children, you insolent brats should be drowned to the ends of the earth. Trust me; Armstrongs’ like me have the right sense of you creatures. Orphans look for love, but really people would love you to have never existed. ” Mr. Edan swept back, a pinched look on his doughy face. His face looked like a baseball mitt, but yet ugly and disfigured. The color of his eyes were the color of old, rotten wood, the figure of violence in his pupil, smite Nastashia’s current look. Clearly, he needed a mint or a visit to a dentist.

The guards took hold of Nastashia and raised her up to Mr. Edan’s face and he said,

“Obviously you have answered rudely and wrong; which is a dishonor to my name. Next time, the last thing you‘ll see is a sword cutting your guts and your flesh being fed to the crows. Lock her up in the bathroom, it doesn’t matter how many girls are in there. This should teach her a lesson.” Mr. Edan commanded.

“Damn it,” Nastashia said underneath her breath.

As Nastashia was carried to the bathroom, she saw how kids and teenagers focused on her, licking their lips in fear; terror in their eyes, they were not happy, they did not feel safe. Nastashia was dying to get her hands on Mr. Edan. Though she knew that ship had already sailed a long time ago.

Last thing she remembered was that she was thrown into the bathroom and saw a Korean girl there. She was also terrified and scared. Nastashia’s first thoughts were escape. She searched for somewhere to escape and she did not find anything. So instead, she spent the whole night listening to the Korean child who was telling her more about the orphanage as Nastashia crunched angrily on the cracked, bathroom floor.

The girl, a sorcerer, looked up to Nastashia and asked her if she wanted to see her options she had to live. Nastashia, confused from the question she had asked her, agreed.

She pulled a dusty gesture from the palm of her hand, closing her eyes. A shining, blue emerald appeared and floated on the tips of her fingers. Nastashia couldn’t believe her eyes for an image came into her view. Tattered rope bracelets crossed both the image’s wrist. Her worn jeans were rolled up at the bottom to expose her, long thin, bare feet. Her faded floral red blouse hugged her slim shoulders and flared out her stomach.

“My friend, help me. Please have mercy upon me, let your grace cascade my temple from top of my head to the soles of my feet. Take my offer, and give me your soul to eat. In return, a better reincarnated life I shall provide for you,” her voice suddenly sang.

“No, I do not want that. I do not wish, for I do not believe in you,” Nastashia said softly.

The woman disappeared, for a new shadow had appeared. Nastashia’s jaw dropped. This man was as sterile and dry as his surroundings. His face a plastic sheen and it seemed he liked to stand under darkness. Nastashia had a presentiment that this man was no good news. He projected an austere authority both quiet and deadly. He demonstrated that he can whisper to a rat to death with the razor sharp incisions of his carefully nuanced words.

“For you have requested my help, and my help you shall receive,” the shadow spoke with a practiced élan.

Nastashia shook her head vehemently, but yet inching farther away from him. The shadow had seen her expression; he had lost interest. The disoriented man disintegrated into a heap if ash.

A girl, desperate as her, appeared. Her black hair, like lace, was a cascade to her shoulders. Gray eyes illuminated like a silver blade light from the moon of each night. Kneeled down, she seemed to recite a plea from her inner self.

“You have called me, and here I am. Let me dine with you. For your prayer will be fulfilled, if you only let me roam your soul and have dinner with me,” her voice sang, but with a trembling tone that gave Nastashia a feeling of suspicion.

“You have my word, come out and celebrate,” Nastashia shifted her weight.

Ever since, all that Nastashia felt was sleep. All she found was the Korean girl talking as if they had already started a conversation.

“Mr. Edan, he every day checks the ways where some orphans can find way to escape; the last ones got killed for their disrespectful action. Also, next week is the big war, the war between orphans,” the girl lowered her head.

“What war? This does not seem like a battlefield, how can this happen?” Nastashia seemed baffled as she wiped her eyes to wake herself up.

“Remember, our principal is an Armstrong, he seeks death. Since we live under his power, he can do anything with our lives. Also, we’ve all been tricked, people who have the age are not voting, it’s us. Mr. Edan asked each one of us who they would vote for. Whoever you chose, you’ll be fighting in that side next week,”

“What does it prove then? We shouldn’t be fighting,”

“It proves the election. Whoever side survives, the leader who is running will become the new principal,”

As the room started to become quiet, she wondered how long the war will last. There are more than 700,000 orphans in the orphanage.

As days went by, Nastashia felt a pair of eyes watching her. Someone, a fierce glare, the gaze bounced onto Nastashia senses.

The day had come; everyone urged into their sides and started to train. Nastashia racked her brain for concentration; she held a pistol, it felt not right; she had no choice to only train with it.

A streak of nerves passed through Nastashia. Lately, the war preparation had been getting out of hand. Some of the children had been killed because they refused to train. Others have disappeared into the desert, no news of them whatsoever. Everything else had been downright dangerous. War day had come; everyone was taken to a wide hallway and got separated to their sides. The Armstrong were against the Omaritians. Some were terrified, others were confident to fight.

Nastashia walked in and stood behind a tall teenager who was in front line. At the moment, Nastashia became a coward and ran to the last line; in the corner of the hallway. It was close where the teachers and leaders were. Nastashia ran through the leaders when her dorm advisor attached her leg to a rope; and Nastashia tripped.

“Good Luck,” her dorm advisor said and let go.

“Hopefully, God can help me,” Nastashia lifted herself up.

“Hopefully, God could help us all,” she added.

That’s when the pistol sound went off demonstrating that the war had started. The swish of bodies falling filled the atmosphere and floor, people outside stalked by and leveled their glares on the war. Everyone threw themselves to the floor, while the orphans fought. Nastashia tossed her hair over shoulder and ran on.

Nastashia ran to her room and grasped her luggage, ran to the bathroom and locked herself in there. The first thing she hoped was that no one can find her. As she was looking at the floor, found a big, loose drain. She took off the lid and found a way down. It seemed to be an elevator down to the underground sewers. She only needed someone to put the lid back on. That’s when someone appeared from the bathroom halls. It was the socerer. Nastashia had no time to ask why she was there; the girl was probably wondering the same thing. Instead she asked her for a favor.

“Put this lid on top while I go down. I need to get out of this death wrath,” she demanded.

“You can’t escape! Not without me,” the child cried.

“Then you can come with me,” Nastashia stated as she figured out the drain lid.

“No, I can’t and you can’t. If you go down that drain and an alarm will be set off. You’ll be caught.”

Nastashia stopped what she was doing and got out the drain. She couldn’t risk her life.

She remembered that she had another plan.

Nastashia shrugged, then spun her shoe and marched the opposite direction. Pacing, she tried her best to clarify her way out of the blood bath that was happening. She raised her head and headed for the door, with petrified chattering, as if hope had been lost.

Then she came along, the girl, who had dined with her. She had brought a luggage with her. She tucked a strand of inky black hair behind her ear and crossed her arms over her chest. She had promised that Nastashia’s desire would come true; and she had come for that.

“Here you go, try something on. An ID is in there, use it and go.” she nudged Nastashia and vanished.

Nastashia leaned against the bathroom stall and walked over. She opened it, and an outfit appeared and slammed against her temple. She had been magically disguised.

“Impossible,” she said, forcing a smile.

She walked out; no one was in the hallways. Exhaustion and anxiety settled around her like a heavy cloak. She was walking through with her head down, and when raised it, she found herself staring at Mr. Edan. She jumped, startled.

He stared, but walked away. Nastashia reaction was to run away as fast as she could outside. It felt a 500 pound potato sack was lifted once she was. A warm feeling swelled in Nastashia’s stomach, and she felt herself be swept in her thoughts. It was touching to see an Omaritian carrying a baby in his hands and comforting her. Only if the world had real sense about them Armstrongs, she thought.

Her disguise had swayed away when she was found at a quaint restaurant called Le Flor, surrounded by lavender covered trellises and beautiful rose gardens. It was incongruous to see such architecture in adobe-filled Gebäude; made everything else seemed very exotic.

“Surprise!” the grayed-eyed girl appeared, her dress covered with white linens.

“Why are you here?” Nastashia asked.

“Well, why to congratulate you on your day of freedom! Too bad that other girl couldn’t make it. Nastashia, I have great news for you. I wanted to tell you that once that disguise is off that you would become that most beautiful maiden in Germany. Is this not great?” she explained as the oak beams crisscrossed the building adjacent to them, and tiny vases held light pink roses alongside the beautiful lights.

“Yes! But how is my life is going to start now?” Nastashia asked as she watched a black cat carrying food in the back of the girl.

“Just go with the flow, you’ll find your way. Remember I’ll be here if you need me.” she giggled when she disappeared.

Nastashia turned for she was startled. A gentleman in a skinny tie stared at her at the eyes. He saluted and had said nothing, surprisingly. For Nastashia’s beauty had no words to explain. This man was the prince of Prussia. Who at the sight of Nastashia, he wanted to marry her. Interestingly, it happened like that.

The city was fast asleep behind the shuttered husks of tinkling light. Nastashia listened carefully at the radio. With a few callers chiming in, including a crotchety woman who speculated that the whole wedding were beautiful news. In a castle she homed. From the highest of heights, to the depths of the sea, people everywhere anxious for the big day. Nastashia looked at the stars above, admiring the moon and wondering who their creator was.

“Well, you better get ready. You aren’t getting younger by the minute. The wedding is at midnight.” the {girl} appeared from behind, leaning on a recliner. Her legs thrown up the table as if she was the boss

“Oh! Yes. Just taking a last look outside,” Nastashia said quickly.

“How’s the groom?” the shadow grinned.

“I think he’s happy and excited for tonight,” Nastashia said. She wasn’t sure how he was. It hadn’t been at the top of her priority list at the moment. She had spent the whole time looking up at the stars, as if she was destined to be there.

The girl stood up and grasped Nastashia by the wrist.

“Come on, let’s go to his room to say hello!” she pushed with anxiety.

Nastashia entered the room and saluted her fiancée. Her fiancée saluted her with a kiss on her hand. She reached over his shoulder and kiss she gave, but she tipped over. Books spilled onto the carpet. Water rolled over the table and bed. Instantly, the man sprang up and held out hand to lift Nastashia.

“No!” Nastashia exclaimed. Men had raised the tower and ran up to her fiancée. Shrill of alarm bells rang inside Nastashia eardrums. Danger had entered the castle. A violent streak crossed the room. Without breaking pace, one of the men flings a dagger to her left, a ferocious sidearm thrust. The dagger shoots out, twirling as it sails across the space, blinking with reflected moonlight. It looked as though it’d missed the husband by a foot; but again, the dagger swings around in a wide arc, boomeranging toward him. With that dagger in mid-flight, the man, charged toward them, flings another dagger, this time to the opposite direction to Nastashia’s right.

Her head tried to follow it, within seconds, she had already lost it. She had lost sight of the other dagger as well. However, she had turned around and found her fiancée on the floor, breathless. The men had left too, leaving a dagger in front of her.

Oh meine geliebt!” the door had opened and the maid hollered. She ran out screaming and announcing the prince’s death; yelling also the supposed assassin’s name, Nastashia.

Inside Nastashia’s soul, she felt like pus oozed out from open sore in her heart, milky yellow emulsions that coagulate with her skin. She felt like as if her upper lip melted away and detached on one side, and hangs on one end, hanged against her cheek. She was accused of something that she never committed. However, she knew she’d still be condemned. For such a horrible act, she’d suffer horrible torturing and she’d slowly dying of pain.

“What are you going to do now?” her mind and the shadow behind her questioned at the same time.

“You’ve been here all this time? Why didn’t you do something? Now I will suffer of things that I never deserved to get!” Nastashia hollered eyeing her widely as she turned around with fear.

“What done is done. I can’t do anything here,” she responded,

“You brought me here, you gave me this life, you were the one who gave me the gift, and your promises were lies, what have I done to deserve this?” Nastashia sobbed and kneeled.

“There is one thing I can do, here. Drink this. You will die, but at least not in pain,” the girl handed her a bottle of black liquid and disappeared once again.

Nastashia seized of the bottle. Her palm was shaking all the way to her tip of her toes. She heard guards running from behind. Capping the bottle, Rays of dawn sun saturate the outside of the castle, a sea of purple and orange. There was Nastashia; standing in the midst of the colors, colors radiates her pale skin, mixing with orange of the sea, the green of her eyes. Her mouth is slightly parted, full and whole. She is not screaming, not yet disintegrating. One more last look at the faded stars she gave,

“A life, all I was looking for, and love. I did not find it here. Tomorrow I will find my way, in the stars,” she swallowed the bottle and dropped it, the same way Snow White dropped her apple when she found death.

Lying on the bathroom stall, back at orphanage, Nastashia was found dead. The Korean girl opened her eyes, shut her hand and held it on her lap. As the room brightens, she stood up. Eyes were everywhere around the room. The Korean girl rotated in a slow spin and the bathroom door opened.

“Another rebellious soul gone. She dined with darkness. Oh, death she would’ve faced anyways. Good job Deyanira,” Mr. Edan stated once he entered the room. With no mercy or compassion, he walked out.

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© Copyright 2017 Cynica . All rights reserved.

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