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Sometimes, you're confronted by things that just aren't lucid enough. Sometimes, you need more than signs. Sometimes, you just need to close your eyes . . .
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"What do you want me to do?" I breathed softly, blindly reaching out a tentative hand. 5
At first, there was no answer, then slowly, a warm beam of light seemed to spread inside my closed lids, soothing, sunny, a calming blue liquid that seemed to shimmer in my shielded vision, letting me see through closed eyes.6
"You're alright then?"7
More blue, a warm aura of contentment spread through me. I smiled to myself, sitting in the dark of my room.8
"Are you glad it's over?"9
Yellow this time, beautiful calming shades of contented happiness seeped through me, enticing a laugh from inside of me. 10
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes and I opened them, letting the blinding sunlight pierce through my irises, dazzling my mind. The blinds were open. Dear old mom, of course.11
Turning to the mirror, I slowly made my way over, skirting past schoolbooks and bag, and other junk. I stared at the girl within . . .
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How many of us look into mirrors and fantasize about having a twin? I know I do. The girl who looks exactly like me, down to my vaguely-bipolar personality. The girl who stands by you on the first day of school; a ready-made friend. 13
I had a twin once. Ellen, my identical sister, down to the tiny freckles scttered around our noses. Ellen, now no longer there. Lying somewhere out in the cold dark grounds of Ciderville Cemetery.14
At least, that's what everyone thought.15
***16
"I'm taking this route," Ellen insisted stubbornly, sniffling. She stomped her cute Ugg boot on the cobbled driveway parallel to the little alley she was trying to talk me into taking. I shook my head, brushing loose strands of flaming-red hair aside.17
"I'm not letting you go in there. And I'm not following you in there either, El."18
She glowered. "Fine, you big baby. God, Sierra, can you get any more wimpish?" Her hazel eyes glinted the way they usually did when she was extremely annoyed. I clenched my jaw, choosing not to respond.19
"Fine, I'm going by myself. See you at home. When you walk in fifteen minutes after me that is," she added cuttingly, storming off towards the said route. I hesitated, then decided, what the hell, and walked the long–safe–route home alone.20
I wasn't her babysitter after all.21
Not surprisingly, she was watching TV in the rec room when I strolled in. She looked up and grinned.22
“Sucker.”23
I ignored her, heading straight past and into the kitchen.24
“When are mom and dad coming?” she called.25
“Tomorrow night, they said.” Our parents were away on a visiting trip to our maternal grandparents and they’d left us behind as it was a school week. 26
“I got some spaghetti on the stove, Sier, I’m gonna take care of it,” Ellen added. I called back an affirmative then headed over to the fridge.27
Bending down, I was assaulted by the weirdest smell I’ve ever come across. Squatting, I closed the fridge door just as Ellen walked in, heading straight for the shiny gas stove that was mom’s pride and joy. I watched her with raised eyebrows as she lifted the pan of spaghetti from a burner, looking confused.28
“Sure you know how to use that?” 29
She scowled in response, walking over to me, pan aloft. I got to my feet, sniffing.30
“It’s still there, that weird smell . . . stench. I thought it was something in the fridge . . .”31
Ellen shrugged. “My cold’s a good thing after all then. I can’t even smell these things.” 32
I stared down at the pasta. “That’s ‘cause they aren’t cooked, you goof.”33
She blinked. “I coulda sworn I turned the stove on . . .”34
“Did you light it?” I asked skeptically.35
She nodded, frowning. “Not that dumb, you know.”36
The stench hit me again, and I nearly gagged, choking. Vaguely familiar, yet I couldn’t quite make it out. It seemed to be coming from the stove, and I wished again that our mother could’ve been satisfied with an electric stove instead.37
Ellen shrugged, obviously not affected in the least. I felt a spasm of envy. . . of her cold? Stupid me.38
She walked back over to the stove, and I turned around, grabbing a can of Coke and heading downstairs to the basement lounge. Just as the heavy basement door swung closed behind me, I heard her say,39
“The fire doesn’t seem to have caught . . . I didn’t realize, electric stoves don’t have fire, so . . .I just lit it again–”40
The sound that would stay with me for the rest of my life, a horrific explosion, rang across the first floor. Ellen’s scream echoed from the kitchen, and the handle on my side of the door flamed metal-hot. I jumped back, staring, then felt my blood freeze when I heard her next blood-curdling shriek.41
“Ellen!” I shrilled, running forwards, then stopped, horrified.42
Flames licked the edges of the basement door, vying for entry.43
Somewhere beyond the flaming door, my sister screamed again, a long drawn-out wail of pain that yanked my heart-strings, blurring my eyes with tears of panicked fear as I stood there, staring helplessly at the burning door as flames engulfed it.44
“Sierra! Help me!”45
I backed away, hands to my ears, futilely trying to block out the agonized wail Ellen emitted, stumbling back down the stairs as the heavy basement door cracked at the edges.46
Blood pounded in my head as I scanned the room, searching for a way out of this hell. My dad’s toolset caught my eye.47
The hammer cracked through the tiny basement window on the third try, and I swiftly undid the lock my dad had conveniently positioned, fingers trembling on the handle of the screwdriver as the room beyond grew hotter and hotter. Sweat poured down my spine, gelled on my forehead; the heat was oppressive now, blurring my vision even more, black smoke filling my lungs. I choked, coughed as my heartbeat accelerated, suddenly grasping the notion that Ellen was no longer screaming . . .
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The basement door gave way, a tornado of fire leapt at the wooden banisters, tearing its way towards me just as I pulled myself out of its reach.49
***50
“I’m glad we got rid of that house, Ellen,” I spoke softly, once again closing my eyes. Blindly, I reached out and drew the curtains closed, feeling a hum of satisfaction inside of me that wasn’t mine.51
She was angry I’d brought up the house though. Just like always. I could tell by the way the light behind my eyes faded from a beautiful aquamarine hue of blue and yellow, soothing to the eye, to a deadly swirl of reddish-orange, slowly deepening to a murderous blood-red diffusion.52
But that was fine with me; I'd take her rage. I’d lost more than part of my sight in that fire. I’d lost the other half of my soul. I’d lost my twin sister.53
And her haunting spirit remained to remind me.54
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Gold trophy winner
Honorable winner
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