The window of the bus was clear but blurred. The wet snow on the window slipped down the glass, and the watery sight whizzing by came into view. I gazed lazily out, waiting for the moments to slip by secretly and for my day to be at an end.
The clicking of the wheels spun by every second or so. Constantly hearing the notion of the moving bus, I tried to block it out with my thoughts. My thoughts were pretty simple. My thoughts were about Josephine Jane Black. About today.
The museum had been dull. I’d seen barely nothing, just a few items in glass cases. The museum was set in a medium size family house, empty and thick with dust. Josephine’s belongings had been like any other girls of that time, dresses of faded colours, books torn and weathered and old moth eaten teddies with ripped ears and tattered paws.
She had a straightforward life, with parents and siblings and a notable intelligence but nothing much. The poor girl was tortured when they had first seen the wings she had. They had just tried to make her tell them why she had them… but she didn’t know so she was just left in pain. Then a doctor had started asking questions: Dr. Alfred Williams. He didn’t find out anything. He just wrote a report saying she was writhing in a pain unknown to humans with unusual things on her back.
After this Josephine was sent to an institution for mad people. She stayed there for the last three days of her life before she died, the most influential part of her story in my eyes.
Josephine lived her last days in ‘daze’ (as the doctors called it), she wasn’t really conscious; she just walked around and talked. She spoke of only one thing. A place called Glea. The nurses in the institution said she told stories each hour, every one different but all in the one place: Glea, and always accurate. She spoke of it like she was there, like she was the girl in the story, like she was doing the things she said.
I didn’t know if I believed that. I didn’t want to but I feared I had no other choice. And it was just so real, everything in her story seemed just like my issue and although I saw it as ridicules it still seemed real.
My eyes glanced down to my watch, the seconds clicking by, moment by moment. I bit my tender lip. I only had twenty minutes, I had to be home in twenty minutes or mum would be home… and I was ill- well I was meant to be. I couldn’t just not be there. I had to be home, sick, in bed.
But the traffic was building up, each car grumbling its way down the road as slow as humanly possible. I sighed.
There were only some people on the bus, each watching me, a girl who should be in school, looking nervous. I tried to hide my face in my jumper. It was useless though but at least these people didn’t judge me, at least these people didn’t point and laugh. At least they didn’t know my past…
*****
I walked down the path. Snow cooling me tired feet, freezing me little toes in the useless pair of shoes I had. The watery glaze over the thin icy had melted slightly so puddles leaked through in some place. I just hopped around them.
The streets were empty, all the kids were still in school, adults at work and any others keeping warm inside there houses.
I felt lonely. All day I was seeing things I didn’t want to, hearing stories which were just too real… and it was all getting too much. I sighed and carried on walking. Every step now seemed like a mile, every corner like an amazing achievement.
It was darker now, like most winter days, with thick snowy clouds blocking the limited sun beams.
I headed around another corner and down the shadowy alley, high fences and battered garages surrounding me, tall trees with finger-like branches and rotting leaves around each corner. The people that lived here were bad, ruff people that scared most people, I quickened me walk.
One more corner. I saw the shadow-less light trickling through the darkness. But then unexpectedly a figure immerged from the dusky hidden passage. A silhouette edged closer to me. I froze, motionless.
“You really thought you could run away from me…” The voice was hard and merciless. I recognized it but was too shocked to process the thought.
“Little Ebony Jessup, the bright girl who every envies. But you’ve got your own problems… haven’t you?”
It was Claire. My eyes teared up, I just didn’t want to be hurt. But it was too late now. I stumbled back, careful and slow with each step, but there was nowhere to go… nowhere to run.
“Where are you’re parents Ebony? You’re real ones, hey Ebony”
I vision cursed my mind…
It was my third birthday, just me my mum and my dad, all happy and joyful, all together. But then a new vision, we were in the car, on the way to somewhere I can’t remember. But hen the car stopped, spinning its way down the hill. I was safe in my car seat. But they weren’t.
“Speak up Ebony… Are your parents dead…? Well they’re probably are happy now they’re not with you. Hey...”
“Leave me a- alone” I stuttered. My voice was scared, terrified.
“Why should I Ebony?” She stepped closer, away from her previous position.
That was it, a gap, an escape. Without hesitation a darted through it into the step were the shadows were gone. I kept running, not even stopping to look behind me. I didn’t have the time. Sprinting down another road and corner, I was now in my street. I was now safe.
Getting my key out my bag, I took the last few steps to home, knocking on the door. But then I realised. On the drive. A car, my mum’s car.
Shit. What the hell was I meant to do? I couldn’t say I’d gone out for milk because I didn’t have any…
I heard footsteps wonder closer. I heard a worried woman, storm to the door. Mum opened it. She grabbed me then and wrestled me into a hug before letting go and pulling me inside.
“What the hell Ebony love? You tell me you’re sick- to trust you and then you go and just leave… without a note?”
I stayed quiet.
“I thought you’d gone, that you’d run away. Your dad’s on his way home and I nearly called the police. So I call the school. Mr James answers and tells me he hasn’t seen you and goes around the classes but no-one has seen you either, but then he explains to be that you’re being bullied. And you didn’t tell me, do you not trust me or something?”
So that is how Claire found out, from stupid Mr James.
“I was at the library, studying.”
Mum was tearing up, “I thought we were a family, and families help each other, through good and bad times.”
“I didn’t want to hassle you, you’ve done so much for me. I…”
“Well I can’t protect you… why does she even bully you?”
“Because I’m clever, because she can. Everyone hates me, but it’s fine. I just ignore what they say, why they laugh and stare.”
She gestured for me to go on,
“About my past. About my parents. About their deaths…” I was beginning to cry, tears spreading down my soft checks.
Mum grabbed me again into a hug, holding me so tight I felt as protected as possible. There was a clunky sound from the front door. I saw my father appear, running into the room, he stopped and sighed with relief.
“So she’s safe. And the bulling”
“Yes… we’ve gone over that. And it’s all going to ok now. I promise, Ebony.”
“You are to never leave again without a note, never ok? You really scared us.”
I nodded.
“I’m sorry. Really, I just wanted to catch up with work and I just didn’t want to scare you about the bullying”
Dad bent down and joined us. The family I had now all together, but something in my mind wasn’t completely happy, because although I loved them and although they protected me, I couldn’t help but feeling like I wanted my real family. The family I couldn’t have.
*****
I sat on my bed. Warmed by the covers, I felt secure and worriless. Now Claire might go away. Now they could help me, the best they could.
I snuggled back into the blankets and began to rest my eyes. In the hope that tomorrow I’d be ok, that tomorrow I’d have no wings. That it was just a weird dream… or more like a nightmare, and it would just disappear. That tomorrow I would look in the mirror and see only myself, my long brown hair and sweet eyes and no wings.
Hope was all I had now, the hope to be normal Ebony Jessup.