For my primary four teacher, who stuck the idea of writing in my head. Even though it was silly stories about God knows what, she told me to never give up. I never knew then that I wanted to write when I was older but now that's all I can think of. She told me to dedicate her first book to her and I know she was only joking. But I did. Thank you Mrs Pollock, for helping me create my future.
That Night
On that night the lights flickered. Everything was quiet. She slipped one earphone in and then the other. She turned the volume up to its highest, not caring about the fact she'll ruin her ears.
"Am I more than you bargained for yet?
Graffiti covered the dark walls. The wooden shutters rattled in the wind. Walking home at night had always been like this. Cold, dark and mysterious. It was different that night though. Somehow, she didn't feel alone like most nights. The shallow alley way narrowed in the distance. Was this a different route? It couldn't be. Maybe she turned right instead of left on that odd turn a few blocks away. It was hard reading the signs when the streetlights were out.
I've been dying to tell you anything you want to hear. Cause that's who I am this week.
Sharp wind prickled at her neck like needles. A loud bang echoed through the alley, making her stop in her tracks. She looked around. Nothing. She was breathing heavily now. One step. Two step. Three step. Back into rhythm now, good. She had brown hair. It knotted and tangled in the high winds, sticking to her face and neck. She swiped it away. It was just like her Mother's. She'd seen her in pictures. She was beautiful, but she's dead now.
Lie in the grass, next to the mausoleum. I'm just a nautch in your bedpost.
She hummed along to the music. "Hey, Lady!" A small, quivering voice shouted. She hadn't heard. "You shouldn't be here," they warned. A poster for a missing child hung on a billboard, the blue-tack weakening with every breeze. Gates blocked the way at the end of the trail. The black paint was peeling off the metal. Weird, she thought. I certainly don't remember this being here.
But you're just a line in a song.
Broken glass lies on the ground beside her, most probably from the smashed window up above. She climbed the fence and readied herself for the jump. Steady. . .Steady. . .Almost ready. . .Jump!
Drop a heart, break a name.
Her ankle buckled on the land and she winced in pain. "Well done, Lila." She was always sarcastic. It was in her genes. Her Father had always been making jokes, so they said. He's dead now, too. That didn't matter, though. Sab and Jean had taken care of her ever since that accident on Elm Street. They were nice people. Lila had liked them. They weren't too pushy; they weren't too quiet.
We're always sleeping in, and sleeping for the wrong team.
"What are you still doing here?" They asked. "You should leave. It's dangerous here." The music was too loud. They were too quiet. She hadn't heard. She hadn't heard. It was getting darker, getting harder to see. She squinted her eyes. Even the moon was hidden in the buildings. Another bang sounded and she began to run.
"I've got to get out of here!"
We're going down, down in an earlier round.
Shadows followed her. One step, two step, three step. She felt her pulse in her head. Must keep going. They followed her round corners until she was back where she started. Lila was terrified. Never again will I go through the alleys. Never again, she thought. This was all too much. Her heart was beating rapidly. One breath in. One breath out.
And sugar, we're going down swinging.
Her earphones were sliding out of her ears but she pushed them back in. Anything to take her mind off of this.
I'll be your number one with a bullet.
She let out a sob. Sab and Jean told her to stay out of the allies. But they were quicker.
A loaded God complex, cock it and pull it."
Another bang. She was down. 'Never again will I go through the alleys.' It was true now. Her eyes started to close and she drifted off.
"I warned you," They said.
