| Michelle felt like screaming. She walked quickly with her head down, making eye contact with no one, and her simple black clothes making her melt into the background. It was a grey miserable day, and the rain fell too heavily to ignore but too lightly to hide form She walked through the high street (if it could be called that) of her small town, which was part of the great suburbia known as the Southeast of England, where millions of people spend their comfortable lives doing precisely nothing. She wasn�t crying, and as she reached the bus shelter where she took refuge from the rain, she realised that she was no longer even angry. Anger often welled up in her like a great wave grows and assaults a beach, but it always then left her, like the tide that always rolls back again without harming anything except its own power. Michelle realised that the worst day of her life had been the day she realised that her parents were human. Luckily that day had been the metaphorical period of time after one change and before another rather than the literal 24-hour period in which the Earth spins on its axis. She discovered her parents� faults slowly, but the one that hit her the hardest was when she realised that her parents no longer understood her. They probably never did. They were probably just lucky when they guessed she had her fingers in the biscuit tin or knew if she fancied a boy at school. She now realised that she never told them anything. When her mother asked her what she had done that day she would answer �not much,� or if it was a school day she would possibly tell her a the result in some test. She never told them what was happening with her friends anymore. They didn�t know what her friends talked about, and they certainly didn�t know anything about Michelle�s sudden discovery of her own sexuality. Michelle blushed slightly at this thought. They knew of her obsession for the music of David Bowie. Who could fail to notice when she played it non-stop? They even knew that she watched films starring the great man, because they had watched them with her. They didn�t know that Michelle was obsessed with the Labyrinth. She had never had the courage to buy the soundtrack or even the video, though she borrowed it from a friend. They certainly didn�t know, and were never going to know, Michelle�s deep desire for the Goblin King. She thought the words over and over again, pleading begging. Occasionally in the past she had whispered them to herself, but the Great British reserve was real and didn�t let her expose herself in such a way as to say them loud enough to be heard by anyone. She got bored of being stared at by concerned mothers who hurried their children past the miserable teenager, mistakenly fearing those dressed all in black more than those dressed all in white with a read baseball cap, and walked to the park where she sat on a bench facing the green lake. She worried about the future, trying hard not to remember any conversations she had had with her friends incase they depressed her more. She was good at putting her foot in it. What would she do if she failed her exams? What if she hated the subjects she had chosen to study next year? Did she want to go to university? It all seemed so far away, but at the same time she was terrified that she might suddenly have to make a life changing decision without prior thought. She barely noticed when a man dressed all in black, including an old fashioned hat sat next to her, even thought she moved her bag for him. She scribbled down some abstract lyrics in the little book she carried with her, and suddenly became paranoid the man would try to talk to her. She quickly gathered her things feeling like a little old bag lady, and started back home. On an impulse on the way home she bought the labyrinth soundtrack, and instantly regretted it as she realised that she now had no money to go out with her friends at the weekend. She sighed as she realised that she would have to make herself lunch and beg the fare from Mum. Another place another time. A graveyard in West Essex to be exact. It was now November and a girl of about fourteen or fifteen was regretting her choice of route home. She was wearing a large yet quite old brown coat, done up with gold coloured buttons, which had clearly been bought to last her some years. Underneath she wore a brown jumper and pleated skirt, a yellow and white striped blouse, and very dashing (sarcasm) cream tights with square brown shoes with no heals. Her brown hair was tied back with a blue scrunchy, and she carried on her back a large brown backpack, and in her hand a violin case, slightly battered. She was the very picture of a convent schoolgirl. She saw a bunch of kids slightly older than her to the side, leaning on gravestones and sharing a fag. She walked on as quietly as she could, pretending to be invisible, hoping that the darkness would hide her. She got past what she considered their eye shot and took a sigh of relief before continuing. Then she tripped, and there was a large bang as girl, bag and violin case hit the ground, startling all the birds which flew above making frightening shapes against the dark sky. She lay for a second, hoping the gang of kids had not heard. Nothing. There was quiet for a while as the birds resettled themselves. The bush to her right rustled loudly. She gave a small cry. Standing up quickly, she took a deep breath. Pulling herself together she continued but with more caution this time. She was too scared to look at the bush. Something fell from the out of a tree behind her and she screamed and ran forwards as fast as her legs would carry her. She crashed into a tall man dressed in a suit, with a face she couldn�t make out in the dark. She heard him laugh slightly as he looked at her frightened face. �Little girl, whatever is the matter?� he asked with a hint of humour in his voice. He was strangely well spoken for someone of that part of the country. �There was��It was like��.erm�..� She could think of what had scared her. �And surely school finished a good two hours ago,� he said, �what are you doing walking home now? It�s almost dark.� �Orchestra,� she said, holding up the violin as proof. The man laughed again, and the girl wandered what was so funny. He stepped to her side and took the hand that was not occupied by the instrument. �Well, we cant let you walk home alone here now, can we? Who knows what would happen? I�ll walk you to the high street.� They walked together. His hand felt strangely comforting in its strength, but there was definitely no escaping from that hand. Strangely, though, the girl somehow knew she would never want to, even if she know she should. The pair never reached the gates of the graveyard, as he turned and kissed her on the lips, his hand on the back of her head holding her in. She kissed back as suddenly emotions she had never knew existed flooded through her whole body. Sex was now an issue it had never been before. He pulled her towards him by the waist. She didn�t know what to do with her hands, one of which was still holding her violin case. One of his hands undid her coat and slid down her front and inside the waistband of her skirt, inside her tights, inside her knickers. His lips trailed down her neck, where they nibbled and kissed and massaged passionately. Her bag was suddenly at her feet while the violin had not left her hand. She gasped as his fingers entered her in a place she never really thought about before, but his soothing lips on her neck calmed her, and she noticed how pleasurable the feeling of his fingers on her parts was. With her free hand she grabbed onto his shoulders and moaned, as the fingers brought her more and more pleasure. r untimely death, with a breathy moan of one word she had heard whispered in her ear. �Jaden.� |