Light to Dark

Chapter One--The Introduction

Chapter One--The Introduction

I am Brithe Hukel.

That is my name and risky is my game. I smile at danger, possible harm, and chances to endanger my own life. Or might endanger my life. Maybe it is not such a great achievement, after all.

My fist clenches just at the thought. The nagging, insistent, taunting concept that tortured me. Why? I have absolutely no idea. I guess some things are just innately aggravating. Maybe this would annoy anyone. I have no clue, because I am the only one.

The only person in the world who cannot die.

I guess there might be a way, something out there even I cannot survive. But I know in my heart I'm immortal. My should-be-dead, guilty heart.

This revelation might confuse, so I think it may be my job to elaborate. It is one of the most gruesome and horrible memories of my life. So be prepared.

It all started when I was sixteen. On November 7, my birthday. The worst birthday ever.

And also my last...

I am overjoyed at today. My mother gave me such a beautiful dress. I can't wait for a chance to wear it. Dad is all sweet smiles, handing me the box, so small I could probably close my fist over it. I'm puzzled. Daddy usually gives me the nicer gifts...

I open the box carefully. It is blank black box on the outside but the inside is all white. And on the white, a thin silver chain. I pull it out and gasp. The silver, ultra-thin chain is completely bare excluding one shiny crescent moon, set at the top point--where it connects with the chain--with a midnight blue jewel, which happens to be incredulously beautiful. Words cannot aptly describe it.

I hug Dad and he smiles, fastening the tight necklace--almost a choker--around my neck. When I go to bed, I'm still wearing it. I promise him that I will wear it always--even if he's gone far away, he says, the necklace will keep him close to me in at least one way. It's one of the few things he asks for. I comply without a thought.

Then I'm laying in bed, savoring my sweet sixteen when I smell something funny. Like when Mom accidentally burns the food she's cooking, only different. More...overwhelming. In seconds, I'm coughing. There's a loud beeping. It takes me second to realize it is the smoke alarm.

Still in my pajamas, I stumble through the door to the hall.

And flames engulf me.

I scream as I feel the burning tongues clinging to my skin. My first thought is my parents and I run to their room. Some part of me knows this is really idiotic, but I have to make sure Mom and Dad are safe. It's my second nature.

"Brithe!" I hear Dad call. I hurry towards his voice. Already his body is charred and blackened. I cry out and fall to my knees by him. I stretch out my ivory-skinned arms and grab his hand. The difference is literally black and white. Only later do I realize my skin had not burned. "Blithe Brithe, my little jewel," he says and smiles. It is too late to get him out and he dies right there. My tears evaporate almost instantly.

I look around and find my mother as a bundled heap on the ground. "Mom!" but I know it is too late. Finally, the survival instinct kicks in, and I bale. Not, however, before I look at my parents' dead bodies and give a sob of grief.

The next day, in the orphanage--the only day spent in the orphanage--I had tried putting a bullet through my head. Grief and sadness and regret and guilt had pushed me too far out of my mind. The gun positioned on my temple, I had pulled the trigger.

Nothing had happened. Just a lot of pain.

The shot had gone off, of course, but after the hole formed in my head, I ran to the mirror and watched it heal almost instantaneously.