Immortal Child

Immortal Child - Chapter 24

~CHAPTER 24-Two Is Better Than One~

Roxanne

They were all bowed down; praising me in a language I couldn’t understand. I took my place between Alexia and Mike, staring wide eyed at the scene playing out in front of us. The one, who acknowledged me as the Immortal Child, sang at full volume, leading the others. None of them once made eye contact with me.

“Please, just stop it!” I shouted over the racket.

They fell quiet immediately, and looked at the leading one for a sign. She came walking to me slowly, not once meeting my eyes. It reminded me of when I was in high school, the way the freshman treated me. They were terrified of humiliation, afraid of not having my approval. I felt a sharp jab in my dead heart, and I realized for the first time since my change, that I actually missed the normality of being a teenager, a human teenager.

The girl lifted her eyes to my face, and I could see rejection burning in them. The same rejection when I told a freshman to get lost in school, laughing at their degradation. I felt slightly bad for hurting this girl; she didn’t seem to be much older than me. She was maybe nineteen or maybe twenty years old.

“Forgive me great one.” she said barely louder than a whisper.

“Please…” I said, pressing my fingers to my temples. I could see that it was going to be hard to convince them to treat me like a ordinary person. “…call me Roxanne.”

“Roxanne…” she trailed off. I could sense that she felt uncomfortable calling me on my first name.

“What is your name?” I asked the girl who was stood unmoving a few feet away from me.

She stared at me for a while, probably incapable of speaking. She blinked once, clearing her throat and in due course opened her mouth.

“My name is Chipo…” she said waving her hand in front of herself. “And this here is Daya, my younger sister.”

They were both beautiful girls. Chipo was a long, slender girl. She wore a long dress that fell to the floor, and I could see she was barefoot. The dress had the most striking colors, a mixture of orange and red, with green patterns curving down the sides. Chipo had a soft face, with the fullest set of lips I have ever seen. Her head was shaved bold, and I knew that I would never be able to pull that off. Her younger sister, Daya, who was now only a foot away from Chipo, was gorgeous. She had wide brown eyes, observant about all things around her. Her hair was short, almost bold. She wore the same pattern dress as Chipo; instead it was colors of pink and baby blue.

“This is my grandmother, Jundayi.” she said, gesturing to an elderly lady. This was the same lady who led me here, mumbling in a language I couldn’t understand. Jundayi was just as beautiful as her granddaughters, instead she had white hair, and an older touch to her features. She smiled at me feebly and mumbled something unintelligible. I looked at Chipo for a translation.

“She does not speak your tongue. She can understand to an extent, but not enough to have a conversation.” said Chipo.