Your Biggest Enemy

May 4, 2009
The smell of those delicious banana pancakes can really get irritating. I’m not even hungry and Mom’s just cooking up a storm down there. She always looks out for me, but when I tell her, “I’m fine,” it flies past her head so fast she can’t even acknowledge its mere presence. Whatever. I’ll get ready quick and zoom to school without her noticing. I would rather run there then go on the wicked yellow ship to no-where I call the bus. Besides, riding the bus is so overrated. Everybody thinks it’s some sort of fad that never gets old. I think it’s just a waste of time.
Now, I smell Clorox and soap being brewed in an old bucket. Great. She’s moved onto the floors. I’ll probably slip on them while I’m running out the door. If only I had a job. I am seventeen and all my friends are getting one, so why shouldn’t I? I could get big money off of cracking my skull on a shiny, peach-smelling hardwood floor, now can’t I? Why not do it, you ask? One simple reason: that old hag who keeps me on the tightest leash even though I am starting to chew that leash down into tiny bits of leather and and soggy thread. But, it’s almost loose, so in only a matter of years, I can leave this wretched house and find a nice apartment in the city (the New York Suburbs are dead with opportunities). It’s not that I don’t love her, ‘cause I really do, but I’m old enough to do what I want. And she can’t even accept that.

I stop brushing my rats nest to quick pick up my jacket. It’s that classic striped yellow and brown sweater that was killed back in the 70s. I hate it, but Mom loves it. Speaking of which, I should be hearing her crackled voice right now…

“Annie! Breakfast!” Oh great, I think. More food to choke down. How much does she think I can hold. Not a lot, but let’s not test that right now. I have teeth to brush, a bed to make, and a friend to call to ask for yesterday’s notes. So, I look into my dull, smudgy mirror and see my plain mug. What joy, I chuckle in my head. I am as dull as this mirror itself. I wish I could clean it away. I wish I had a magical sponge to scrub it off into a void in space. Then, I see my face begin to fade. FADE! The mouth, the eyes, and the nose all play hide-and-go-seek and disperse like dust into the air. Eventually, nothing is left. The mirror shows a blank, cold nothing.

I run for the door and scream in the process. Lovely, I think, I have just made myself disappear. No smoke and mirrors here, though, buddy. I scramble to the stairs only to see that a few feet away from me is a dark figure dressed eerily in the ubiquitous black robe. Now, I retrace my hurried steps back into the safety of my room and jump to the window. I crawl out like I’m hopping over hurdles in half-speed and slide down the newly painted pillar on my Mom’s seemingly heaven-sent porch (she takes care of it like it’s her own arm or something). I run across the lawn so fast that my feet start to feel numb and hot at the same time. Your really outta shape, ya know. Your probably gonna die real soon and you couldn’t even take a small walk! I am really getting know this voice so well. It almost feels like I can hear it and not just think it. Right now, I would rather be fighting with myself than running from this thing.
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I run down so many blocks that I actually lose count. I don’t really want to be this far, and Mom says I can’t, either, but I might be dancin’ with the worms if I don’t. No use, though, because the crazy thing is back. And I know it wants something from me. Or, even, my own life.

I continue on running straight down the road, and, eventually, into a flat field covered with the driest dirt on Earth and dead plants everywhere. Those kids down the street think this place is like their playing nirvana, I think, and this helps me realize that maybe I won’t have to experience my horrible fate at this moment. But the figure is back, and like clockwork, I pick up my feet and dart across the field. It seems to get longer and longer, but suddenly, like a massive rip in space and time, a cliff is born in my narrow vision. Out of nowhere, I think, and I come to screeching halt. I catch my breath for a few seconds, and then, I turn around slowly. Darkness blankets the sky and I feel hands grab my shoulders. I also feel like the steep drop-off has formed hands and it is pulling me to its last destination: death. I trip, but I don’t fall. Maybe not this time, Annie, I hear chime in my head abruptly. But, I lose my good sense of balance (being in gymnastics doesn’t do any good, apparently) and I slip into off into the abyss. A gust of wind picks up in the air and, at last, I see the black robe drift away like smoke near a fan, and the face on this creepy character frightens me more than anything imaginable to me. The figure looks just like me. In fact, it is me…





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Zero_Kiryu This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. said...
Aug. 4, 2009 at 10:27 pm
KAZIKAMI (or should I say. . .Spiffy McBonBon) You rock! This awesome, and weird and awesome (oh wait, I already said that, whoops.)!!!!!!!!!!!! ZERO(CHAN!) <(o.0)>
 
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