I sit in chemistry class, chewing on the ends of my hair, absent minded. I'm at the last question on my chemistry test. It's on carbon bonding. I tap my pencil on my hand, thinking how to put the answer down. I sneak a look at my phone's clock. Twenty minutes. I check either side of me. I'm way ahead, as usual.
I scrawl the answer, nearly biting my lip through to deal with the ache in my wrist. I have dyspraxia. The muscles in my wrist aren't the strongest, and get tired after a while. That's why I have a laptop usually, but I guess drawing out atomic shells isn't something you can do on the latest version of Microsoft Word. I finish, and double check everything through. I'm going to ace this test.
My name is Hana. Like the cherry blossoms. I cringe every time I have to meet someone new and tell them my name, though most of the time I can pretend it's spelt 'Hannah', and pretend my life is normal. It makes me or my family sound like massive anime fans, which we're not. I guess it would be fine if my best friend hadn't convinced me it was a good to dye my hair over last summer, because now the previously neon-pink glare emanating from my head like a light bulb is in that weird, streaky, faded stage where it just looks badly done.
Like the daughter of death needs more reasons to stand out.
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A Tale of: Ravens, Scythes and Cherry blossoms
Художественная проза'All it takes to consult the dead is a pen, some paper, and a secret you've never told anyone else' Hana is the daughter of death, a hereditary position that has existed for as long as mankind has. She lives through each day with the caw of ravens i...
