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I'm walking in a field of wheat. Look left. Look right. Nothing above. Nothing below. 'I think I'm alone.' There's something in the distance, a smudge of black. In the instant my eyes focus on it, The scenery changes. I am brought to the smudge, but it isn't a smudge. It never was a smudge.
I'm standing on grass, The wheat field is now but a speck in the distance, and I am shivering in my place as I am faced with the most terrible and emotionally scarring thing my brain could ever have concocted. I am looking down on Drake's rotting corpse.
I'm shaking violently at what I see. Parts of him are covered in moss and other fungal matter. An ant runs across his face and into the grass. Some of the skin on his cheek has deteriorated, leaving some of his teeth visible. Other than that, his face is not obscured and easily recognizable. The image burns itself into my mind, creeps into my soul and seeps through to the marrow of my bone. The image becomes exponentially more unbearable when his eyes open and stare at me. “How dare you come back, melody.” He says monotonously.
He stands in an awkward and yet still fluid manner, which adds to the intense horror of the situation. “What gives you the right?” He asks in the same monotony. My breath catches in my throat. I take a step back. I'm back in the wheat field. I look around frantically, alarmed by the change in scenery. “What gives you the ******** right?!” I jump and turn around, my eyes wide with alarm. He's looking at me with such hatred, that I'm almost afraid of him.
I take a step back. He follows me every step, until my back hits a tree. We're back in the grass area. His hand is at my throat, squeezing tightly. I grab at it, struggling for air. “You should have died there Melody.” I see a pair of red eyes behind his shoulder.
I shoot up awake in the wheat field. I look around,trying to regain stability in my legs. There are three women standing before me, one in a red robe, one in a white robe and one in black. Their heads are down, facing the ground. One lifts her head and looks at me with eyes that aren't really seeing. “Who are you?” I whisper. “I am Atropos, fate of the past.” I nod to her unsure of how to act. “You tread very dangerous waters, child. Your fate is like a fine thread. Tread lightly, one wrong step and your thread will snap, and all of the things you worked for will surely fail.” My eyes widen. “Use extreme caution in your every move.” I nod again. “Thank you Atropos, I will use your wisdom well.” I bow my head in a way my mom taught me, meaning respect.
I shoot up in bed, frantically looking about. In an effort to calm myself, I place my hand on my chest and take a deep breath. “Atropos.” I mutter. I glance over at my clock. It reads 5:01. I sigh and get out of bed deciding to walk down the hall for a shower.
~*~
When I was a child, My mom told me about Japan. I always found it comforting. It was like I could still consider Japan home even though it was she who grew up there. I remember one particular story she told me. It made an impact on me. Probably because I found it so odd.
She told me that when she was in high school, she was hopelessly in love with a boy. She loved him for three years but one day, when she finally got the courage to confess her love to him, he rejected her. She stayed home from school for a week crying. She cut her hair short and went back to school the next week. When I inquired about why she would cut her hair, She just smiled and told me it was just a thing that girls did when they had their hearts broken, to start the healing process and symbolize a new beginning. I smiled back at her and told her that she was silly because back then, I didn't understand. But now I do, and that's exactly why I'm going to do what I'm about to do.
I stand in front of my mirror and wipe away the steam. I tie my damp hair at the highest point of my head with a scrunchie. With Drena's knife in my hand, I take a deep breath. In one fluid movement, I slice off what used to be my security blanket. As I watch it fall to the floor, I watch as all the memories I have flood my mind. When faced with myself, the person I used to be, I let her go and watch as she fades away. 'I'm a new person. I have no need of you.' I look on the top of my head where the scrunchie struggles to keep hold. At last, It slowly constricts around the very ends of my hair and then around nothing and falls to the floor. I sigh and clean up my mess then grab a towel and shake my hair out before walking out of the bathroom door, the portal to my newness of being.
~*~
My face pales when I see my closet in all of its frilly fru fru glory. 'How soon we forget.' Yes, this was the wardrobe I was accustomed to before Drena's errr...influence...
“You want to train in that...” Drena stares at me like a vegan would when faced with a plate of steak, a combination of annoyance and disbelief with a side of nausea all wrapped up in one patronizing gaze that was her own. I stomp at the ground. “And what is wrong with what I'm wearing?! It's completely in style unlike well, you.” Her eyebrow twitches. “I TOLD YOU to wear appropriate clothing!”
“My clothing is appropriate!” I put my hand on my hips in frustration.
“For what?! Picking daisies?! You're here to train!”
“And why can't I train in this?!”
“You are in a dress! What makes you thing that is even remotely suitable for the strenuous activity I have in planning for you?”
“I WOULDN'T KNOW 'CAUSE I DIDN'T GET ANYTHING YOU SAID! SPEAK ENGLISH!”
“I was speaking English stupid, your limited vocabulary is your own problem, not mine.”
“...”
“Go home.”
“Wait, what?”
“Go home and change your clothes and bring a dictionary with you while you're at it.”
“The drive alone is 20 minutes!”
“Then I'll expect you here in an hour, don't be late.” I grunt and walk back to my car, passing Mercedes on the way. “Heya Mel! Oh, What ARE you wearing?” She tosses her springy blonde curls over her shoulders. I narrow my eyes. “A dress, Sherlock.” She smiles, unaffected by my rude sarcasm. “So she sent you home?” I nod. It's pointless to lie to her, her ability is one that allows her to know when people lie. Funny enough, she can't lie. “Why are you here Mercedes?” I ask hoping to get some info from her. “I need to talk to Drena.” She shifts her weight a bit. “Why?” I tilt my head. She just smiles and walks away toward the main house. I roll my eyes and turn my key.
Ah, those were the days, The ones where all our relationship consisted of were harsh words and Mercedes's continuous intervening. We were such a fun trio. Eventually, I decide on a pair of jeans and a frilly black top to be hidden by our school's hoodie.
I walk into the kitchen glancing around looking for something nutritional I can pick up and eat on the way. I put an apple in my kangaroo pocket and peel a banana on the way into the living room. Dad is already awake and sitting on the couch watching the news. “Morning Dad.” I say taking a bite out of my banana. His head swings around. “Jesus Melody! Why are you up?” I shrug. “A friend invited me over.” He takes a quick glace at the clock. “At six in the morning? For what?” I swallow the last bite of the banana and put the peal in the trash. “For lunch. We're gonna muck out the stalls first.”
“Stalls?”,He questions. I pick up my purse. “Her family owns a stable.”He stares at me like I'm crazy. “And you are going to work there?” I nod. “That's what friends are for.”He laughs. “Ok, see you soon.” I roll my eyes and head out the door. “I'll be late!” I throw over my shoulder and close the door hearing a muffled 'Sure you will' through the wood. Rolling my eyes, I head to my car and start the engine Making a mental note to drop by the store and pick up a dictionary...'For old times sake.'