The First Sign of Change

The night was bright. The low hanging moon shone like freshly fallen snow. Shadows rose from the depth of the moonlight, creating a world that few could see. But Xavier knew of this beautiful world. This world that his young mind was just beginning to know. He stepped out onto the well worn side walk, and took a deep satisfying breath. Such a beautiful night.
Xavier was going out on a date with his girlfriend of two and a half years, and it seems as if everything would be going as planned. He was going to ask for her hand in marriage, even though they were so young, both age seventeen. The cool night air seemed perfect, and the orchestra of peepers and bullfrogs made him feel like the happiest person in the world. The crunch of gravel underneath his feet was the only other sound he could hear over this natural music. The whole world seemed to shine its happiness onto him in those few moments. He looked at the moon and made a wish.
~*~
“I had so much fun out tonight, Xavier,” says Annabelle, “we should do this again soon.” You could hear the happiness in her voice, and Xavier paused before speaking back to her. He thought of the wonderful dinner at her favorite diner, and then the ice cream they got at Rosey’s Olde IceCream Shack.
“There is just one more thing I would like to do before the night is over,” he said as he slides down onto one knee, and pulls out a little white box. Annabelle’s eyes widened and a the small smile she held on her face grew into a grin so big, you would of been able to see it from outer space. Her ruby red hair looked like fire with the streetlight making it glow, and her green eyes shown like emeralds. The freckles on her face seemed to disappear into the slowly forming blush on her cheeks.
“Annabelle, darling, will you marry me?” He asks breathlessly, opening the little box. The nerves in his stomach are all twisted up in a great big ball of yarn that is just about to unravel, when he hears her answer.
“Yes, yes, one million times yes!” She yells. Excitement swells in Xavier’s heart. He gets up and slides the small ring onto her fingers.
This must be the happiest moment of my entire life so far, Xavier thinks.
Then everything goes blank.

A Dead End for Annabelle

Xavier has no idea where he is. Or, for that matter, what he did last night after he popped the question. He keeps his eyes closed for a moment, trying to remember, but nothing comes to mind. He opens them and finally takes in his surroundings. What he see’s shocks him.
Blood. Blood everywhere. The walls; blood, the floor; blood, the ceiling; blood. Blood in his hair, the taste of blood in his mouth, under his fingernails, caked on his clothes. Blood. Blood everywhere.
Annabelle. Where’s Annabelle?
In the middle of the horrid and gruesome mess he finds one thing, one single thing that would make him the most fearful person in the world. Something sits in the middle of the room, and it’s a ring. Annabelle’s ring.
Omigosh, no. No! She can’t be... Just NO! Xavier thinks. His mind was racing, trying to comprehend what was going on. Were he and Annabelle attacked? No, he was sure he would of had some defensive bruises and scrapes. But, wait. He rubs away some of the blood with a fairly clean portion of his shirt, his eyes see long scrapes going up and down his arm.
He needed to get out of the room. He needed to get help. He needed to find the rest of Annabelle. She must still be alive. She has to be.
Annabelle, Xavier thinks, I’ll Find you!

~*~

A few hour later, Xavier sits in a police station. He was clean now, dressed in the clothes of a stranger. He didn’t care. He felt nothing inside. Only a dull and mind consuming numbness. Annabelle, Annabelle, Annabelle, Annabelle, gone, gone, gone, gone. Those two words where the only things that registered on his vacant mind. Then a new one enters.
DEATH.
That one word. It eats away at his mind, his soul, until nothing is left. DEATH. ANNABELLE. DEATH. Annabelle dead.
Everything blurs together. colors, shapes, faces, textures. they all blur together into one face. Her face. Annabelle’s face. Her sparkling green eyes, the hard edges of her high cheek bones, her golden red hair, like that of a foxes winter coat. Beautiful. Dead. Gone. Who did it?
Who did it?
Yes, Xavier was going to find out, and when he did, he would kill them. Because they killed Annabelle.
~*~
A full week later, Xavier is at his home in Queens, New York. The sky is overcast and the promise of rain is in the air. It seems fitting, with Annabelle’s funeral being today. She was being buried in a plot that over looked Manhattan, and it was the most beautiful place. But it was now a forever sad place for Xavier. It was the final resting place of his one true love. And Annabelle would of loved it, the simpleness of the spot. She would of written one of her many poems about this place, had she been alive. But she wasn’t.2
The funeral begins, just as the first rain drop falls from the sky. It drags on and on and finally, it is Xavier turn to get up and speak about Annabelle. And he do.
“Not many of you know this but the night Annabelle left us, was also the night that I asked for her hand in marriage.” Gasps erupt through the small crowd of loved ones. Xavier feels his eyes well up with tears. “And we where both ready for it. I loved her, and I still do. I think I always will.” The first tear falls, slowly making it way down his face. Everyones eyes bore into Xavier as he continues, “I think that that the best way to honor Annabelle’s memory would be to read one of her poems:
They float down from the softly singing sky
The intake of breath that is one thousand and one diamonds falling
Each a miracle, waiting to be discovered in first light
Cries of joy and distaste, as one awakens from a deep slumber
To fall into a new blanket, of burning coldness
This blinding white angel of snow.”
I pause, then continue on. “She called that one ‘Snow Angel.’ It was the first poem of hers that she ever showed me.” And with that, Xavier’s time to speak of her is over. The tears on his face are flowing freely now, and he thinks this must be the first time he had cried for her.
He, being the last one to speak, was also the last to leave. Walking up to the closed casket, and places one hand on it.
I’ll mis you, Annabelle, he thinks.

You Can’t Handle the Truth

Xavier looked in the mirror. He couldn’t even recognize himself. His eyes, one blue, one green, were dull, with large bags under them, and the bark brown hair atop his head was lifeless. His face was hollow, cheekbones prodding the the tight skin. He was the ghost of himself.
A ghost.
Suddenly, struck with an idea, he scampers over to the closet. I must have it somewhere.
He looks, and looks and he cant find it. Diving through huge piles of clothes, and through boxes and boxes of games, he can’t find it. He keeps looking.
Then, at last, he finds it under the pile of clothes, and the boxes of games, at the very bottom, a Ouija board. The box has worn edges, the writing is faded and it smells like dust. Xavier hadn’t used it in a long time. Not sense he was fifteen. He removes it from the box and sets everything up.
“Who’s there?” He asks it. It starts to move.
A-N-N-A-B-E-L-L-E it spells out.
“Annabelle?” Tears come to his eyes. It moves to the word ‘Yes’.
“Who killed you?” Xavier’s voice shakes as he asks this question.
She spells out six letters. Six horrible letters.
Y-O-U-D-I-D. You did.
Xavier remembers What happened that night.

~*~

“You’re going to be put away for a long time,” The police officer tells me, leading me through the lobby of the court room.
“I Know,” I tell him, “but I didn’t know what I was doing, it was like I was possessed.”

~*~

The End?

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 27.04.2012

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Widmung:
To Mrs Mochamer, who told me to write my heart out.