The Adventures of Lori and Apples

Love and other "stuff"

Apples.

I try to focus on my reflection, but it's hard when I reach into the depths of my mind.

Yes Lori? Comes the tinkling reply.

Do you think I'm … pretty? I ask hesitantly.

There is a faint pause. I can feel Apples processing my words. Apples does this when I ask a strange question like that. Sometimes it unnerves Apples how open I can be with my mind, and how blunt I can be with my questions, but it also irritates Apples when I'm vague and closed off. You can't please everyone!

Yes, I finally hear with finality. Your prettiness makes putting up with your annoying thoughts easier.

I scowl, my vision wavering. The mirror surface ripples, and I almost lose myself. But my eyes, those large, pearlescent blue-purple orbs bring me back. Like I said, keeping myself in the real world while I cast out my mind is difficult.

You're not very nice sometimes Apples, you know that, I retort sharply.

Boo-hoo! Apples' voice is snide. I'm very upset.

You should be, I snarl. You big meany.

If I'm so bad, why do you keep talking to me? Apples counters.

I … I'm stumped for words. Why do I keep talking to Apples? Apples has no real gender, but I'm assuming Apples is a 'he' creature. Apples' voice is soft and musical, like bells,  and pleasantly deep, but with no real gender to it. When I speak of Apples I never refer to … him … as a him, or a her, nor an it. Just as Apples.

Well? I'm waiting for an answer, Lori, Apples growls.

Argh! I give up! I close my eyes and hang my head over the sink, strands of white blonde hair falling in front of my face. After a moment of hard breathing, I open my eyes. The white porcelain sink begins to whirl and warp, and my pale hands begin to morph into claws. Colour bursts across my vision, and my arms and legs begin quacking, trembling terribly. I almost fall to the ground, but I manage to lock my knees in place.

Lori … what are you trying to do? Apples' voice is sharp in my mind.

I um … I think I'm trying to stay in control of my body while I talk to you, I manage, my thoughts slowly deteriorating. I don't think it's working, but.

You don't say! Apples sounds very angry. Lori, if you do that, you'll lose your mind. It'll probably kill you, too.

My hands grip the side of the sink painfully, the talons cracking the white porcelain material. Could it really kill me? I ask incredulously, my thoughts swirling dangerously from my mental grasp. Black splotches form in front of my eyes, and breathing becomes hard.

Lori!

I snap back to the present, my eyes wide with fear, sweat trickling down my pale face, my hair hanging in limp strands down my back and face. I'm breathing hard, my lungs burning as though I hadn't been breathing for quite some time. Maybe I haven't been breathing for quite some times. I turn on the tap and wet my face, wiping at it vigorously. I turn the water off and grab some paper towels to dry my skin. Looking in the mirror, I can see that most of the colour has returned to my face, and my eyes are dull and lost again.

A siren sounds, and I remember where I am. School. Damn it all to hell! I pick up my messenger bag and run from the girl's toilets, cannoning straight into a muscular, rock hard chest. I bounce back, hitting the closed door of the girl's toilets, and look up meekly to meet a pair of amused, pale brown eyes, half covered by hair ranging from blonde to brown to black, framing the most beautiful face I've ever laid eyes on.