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Butterflies and Hurricanes Pt. three |
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Butterflies and Hurricanes
Chapter three . . . Touch
~o~o~o~
Upon entering the door to Mother's dimly lit room, the smell of her incense assaulted my nose. Mother's room was set up completely. Her aged black-iron post bed was set up and completely made with her favorite quilts and her favorite oil paintings hung strategically around the crimson walls. Over in the corner was Mother's vanity with its small ornate stool beside it. Mother was not in the dim room as far as I could tell. I squinted in the light, but the small candle that had earlier seemed like a bright spotlight under her door, had become dim.
I nervously cracked my fingers in my fists. Mother had wanted to see me. Hadn't she? I had to remind myself; Mother can do what she wishes. Mother doesn’t have to see me right away, even though I knew it was probably the most important thing on her to do list. Mother was only hiding. Probably welling up her rage or forcing herself not to wring the life from me and just give out my punishment as usual.
I had not noticed from before that the window was cracked open slightly. A fierce wind forced its way under the window and blew the candle onto Mother's bed. Dark red wax spread over Mother's prized blue quilt. It spread rapidly over a dark flowery pattern, almost tracing it exactly. Within an instant, the wax hardened and dried. It was odd, but it was to be expected when around Mother. . . It was only her tricks. . .
Ignoring the oddities of Mother, I walked up carefully to the window and peered outside. All was suddenly calm. The snow was a sharp white against the violet tone of the night. The moon hung over head was full and its light haunted our small yard and gave a ghostly effect to the already seemingly dead trees. I had almost forgotten about the situation that dwelled somewhere inside the house with Mother, but a sharp shattering of glass from below, brought me back.
Quickly, I rushed to the door and cracked it a tiny bit. I peered into the empty darkness. Nothing. I concentrated, but nothing. I couldn't sense anything unusual with my human-like senses.
As far as I knew, I was unlike my family in the way that both Lunya and Siphul had something obviously special about them. Siphul's senses were beyond anything natural, and besides being able to peer into the mind of those who feared her, Lunya could just as easily control them . . .
As for me, nothing obviously special or useful. No super-heightened senses or telekinetic powers . . . Nope . . . . Nothing. Both of my other siblings can be, at times, useful to Mother. But as for me, I’ve never really had desirible powers. Yet Mother keeps me. Only because I am a demon. A demon like her, like Lunya, like Siphul.
Only because I can feel the feelings of humans am I useful to her. Only because I can attract hoards of free floating un-damned souls to Mother's hungry cold, undead hands. To Mother, humans are only like weak bugs. Prey to be had . . .
I've only had to kill a human twice in my entire life. They both became attached to me in an unearthly way. They gave me feelings so strong that it wrenched my heart to dispatch of them. I hate to kill humans. It hurts me in a way Mother could never . . . She is a pure evil soul.
Lunya loathed her with every fiber of her being for some reason unbeknown to me, and yet, she must know that Lunya can see everyone of her thoughts; it's probably all in a part of her plan. Then there is Siphul. I know Siphul loves Mother more than his life . . .
Then again, we're not Mother's actual children. Because Mother has never been an actual 'mother' to us. Mother has hit Lunya, Mother has caressed Siphul, and . . . Mother has never even touched me once.
In fact, neither of my siblings has ever touched me.
Only humans have. And when it happens, they find themselves acting stranger than I've ever known them to be. It's my only power acting out. Responding to their souls.
Alex is the only exception. He's the only human who has kissed me. The only soul I wasn't able to bring back to Mother . . .
Then again, I've only known him for a couple of weeks and we've only ever touched once. It might not be all that different. That kiss flashed in my mind along with his beautiful face. Then a light appeared from behind. Dragging me away from his beautiful face yet again.
"Annejalis" It was Mother's cold voice.
 Madame Joli Rouge · Tue Dec 15, 2009 @ 11:15pm · 0 Comments |
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