She Sell Seashell By the Seashore

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Mystery and Crime  |  House: Booksie Classic
It should be a story of love. Love has no time limit, right or wrong.In the name of love, can human nature judge you rationally. M (short for Monica) and J (short for Justina) are twin sisters. They were all the same blondes, but there was a very ugly scar on the face of J from the broken belly. This scar made the treatment of the two little girls very different. When they were in high school, one day when J was out of school? she saw her sister's split personality and killed her boyfriend one two many times and decided to send her to a mental hospital. In the hospital,M gave birth to a daughter, which inspired her motherly love. J finally found a husband, John. Everything is getting better. But isn't it always said that water overflows when it's full. Then, in the middle of the night, the sound of conch comes from the sea. Who is blowing it? Who is the child who doesn't want to abandon the veil? Who is the shadow that accompanies it? What secret does that woman have? Let's start with the worst.

Submitted: January 31, 2020

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 31, 2020



Once upon a time, a boy and a girl met.

At a peaceful evening,  they were holding each other’s  hand and walking down the moonlight. Billows whispered aside, nightingale’s lyrics gently flowed through the woods. Then, a loud noise struck the woods, destroying the tranquil atmosphere which they enjoyed so much moments ago. The boy suddenly dropped dead. Girl walks aside said peacefully: “Target one has been taken down,  who’s the next.” She quickly disappeared with the  smoke that the gun made. Nightingale’s requiem dropped on her feet, she walked to the sea. Slowly, she put her pistol down on the seashore, picked up a seashell and sat down, her shadow is being reflected by the moonlight.

 The silence engulfed her as she reached for the charm on her neck. Pushing her fingers into her wrist she sighed. Another night, another loss of life. Her life. 

No pulse greeted her fingertips as she sighed, no breath escaped her lungs. When would it be over? Her eyes closed and the curtain fell. A darkish shadow approaches, wearing all black suits. The twitch of its mouth opened, quietly it whispers: “she sale seashells by the sea shore.” A strange hands with a child come next to her, he said, this child actually belongs to you.

The wind blows by, like the touch of a lover, gently pushed back the child’s hair that was covered on half her watery, fluffy face, recovering the other half— that are completely burnt and corrupted. In the deep, deep part of her injured eyes— there was sadness and whisper of the forgone. She took hand of the darkish shadow, and quietly slid to the place where lied the body of that dead boy. The shadowy person who was almost unseeable in the night was carrying the body of the lovely girl, who was wined by the stranger with words, moving in a slow pace with its eyes empty as dark holes. They lay the two together and rest their feet, standing beside them, both looking satisfied but sad. 

Far away, by the seashore, there was one blowing the seashell, blowing the solemn harmony, and the music seems to get louder and more clearer. The mysterious stranger took the hand of the child and they ran, they ran like the wind, they ran like waves running cross each other, avoiding making a splash.  They were gone. In the wood, in  the moonlight, there were one lovely girl standing at the place of that two bodies laid. She gently put the seashell beside the body with her own face— her sister. She laughed a horror laugh, she laughed so hard there are tears in her eyes; she laughed so hard that the cuckoos in wood are screaming with her; she laughed so hard that the fleet child clung to the mysterious person more tightly and it started to dash as if its life was depend on this.

She sat beside them, the two heartrending, miserable lovers that are haunted down by the police. She took off the neckless on her chin, the one with the gold letter J, and took off the one on her dead sister’s, the one with the gold letter M.  Replace herself with the M one, then she sat there and hummed a humming lullaby, the one that mother would always sing when they were only little babies, and memories flowed out. 

J was born with a hideous birthmark on her forehead, that covered her half face. Like a halloween scary makeup except you have to wear it everyday. Even her mother disgrace her as her daughter. Her perfect-looking sister however, got everything, that is until the day she was found to be psychotic. J will never forget that day, when her sister was taken home by the police because she stabbed her boyfriend Dave over and over, when mumbling “he loves being killed by me.” Later M was found out to be pregnant, after she had her baby in the mental hospital, she claimed that she was refreshed and completely alright. They were about to send her out, that was a week before she burnt half of her own baby’s face to memorize her sisterJ.

She was took away from her baby, a month later she was gone. Someone said she broke out, people felt uneasy letting a loco run off just like that. Some saw the face of M on the news and decided that she was cute and was not dangerous after all. she process the kind of loveliness that some may even want to sacrifice themselves just in order to save her. They wanted to teach her, they wanted to teach her and make her one of their processions, crazy as it sound but their plans and thoughts grew in the dark.

Her baby, the deserted orphan with no name was unwanted. The angel with a watery, lovely face was her own creation. She gave birth to her and endow her with the devil’s kiss. 

Back in the forest, the mysterious shadow-liked person slow down, and gently put the child down, avoiding making a splash.

“ We are safe.”, the voice came out of the person wearing all back, it was the voice of a middle-aged man, a deep, calming, reassuring voice.  The moonlight shone through the bushes, showering down, uncovering his face, it was a face of a man in his forties, still in great shape. The edges of his eyes are in the same direction as his eyebrows, giving him a sharp and cold look. His hair are all pulled back, you could still see few clear scar just around his hair line, they are completely healed but still shown a little under the dim moon light. The child face was still in great horror. There are tears in her good eye, she looked at the man with a desperate look, looking for his rescue. He was a savior to her, he was the god, he was the one who gave her reborn, and she know he will do anything to make her safe, and make the fierier her his belongs to him only and forever. 

“You are safe.” He walked toward her, quietly.  And raise a hand on  her forehead, kissed her on her lips. After a long while, she nodded.

“She is already dead, we have to go.” He them mumered in her ear, but she did not move.

"She is sick.", the child through him, two eyes filled with desperate tears.

"Was." he corrected.

"What r e going do, John?" she broke out. This is the name he said she'd call him, not daddy, not Mr., just John. She wished she know why.

"To get you someplace to sleep, that's what we are going to do." John kissed her again, on the lips. This time it was a little harder. She could feel the warm air he breathe out and a touch of his stubble.

"Alright then," John put two of his fingers of the edge of her lips and lifted them upwards, forcing her to smiled. She smiled at last, holding her two arms up for him to reach.

The wind was blowing sound, dreadful sound with the trees collapsing over on one another. "Not so fast.", the cold voice came with the wind.

"Justina.", John bowed with distant and over stagy gesture.

"John." Justina replied with a hand unintentionally stroking the seashell, " And you, baster." her eyes were fixed on the child, who now began to cry.

"She is the kid of your sister." John became impatient." Come on, J. Be reasonable. We wanted no part of your killing plan."

"I didn't kill M." J laughed a little. "Not to say she did not have it coming, but I didn't kill her." "But…you!" she pointed her finger at the little girl, "are a crying little piece of shit. And you, are really son of a bitch. I can't believe it John, first my sister, then her child. " after her own words did she became intrigued, she pointed the sharp side of the sea shell at the girl "What about your own wife John, what about me, en?" she cried a little, alone with the little girl. John wasn't crying, he just looked into the distance.

© Copyright 2020 EnigmaticEnigma. All rights reserved.

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