Who Am I?

September 29, 2017
By StormDragin SILVER, Yukon, Oklahoma
StormDragin SILVER, Yukon, Oklahoma
6 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
Jazz speaks for life. The Blues tell the story of life's difficulties, and if you think for a moment, you will realize that they take the hardest realities of life and put them into music, only to come out with some new hope or sense of triumph. MLK

“You've been chosen.” I heard her eerily quiet voice as it carried through the now abandoned station. Her hair fell around her petite shoulders as a black satin curtain, her face like a porcelain doll against the ebony surrounding it. The small, black dress covering her totally, except forearms, upper chest and her heeled shoes.

“F-for what?” My voice shook as I took a step back, running into the red brick wall that made up the station. They were slowly beginning to crack and crumble around me, like my thin strand of sanity. She took a step, forcing me closer to the wall.

The silence was deafening. The large, empty spaces pressing closer. The rough surface of the brick scratched my once soft hands. The back of my dress ripping when I try to move to the side. I gasp as her sudden movement to pin me against the wall, a sinister smile playing on her lips.

All at once, color and sound rushed back into the previously empty station. My back and hands were bleeding, ruining my light peach dress. People began to notice me in my haggard appearance, and ran to catch me as I fainted.

I woke to the constant beeping of the heart monitor and blindingly bright fluorescent lights. I squinted as I tried to use my arms to sit up, only to discover I was chained to the bed. My legs were similarly bound, and I found my surroundings begin to decay, leaving dingy walls, and that little girl at the end of my bed.

“Wake up, mommy,” she said in a voice I recognized, but couldn't remember as my vision began to swim. Her voice distorted as she spoke again, “come back demon spawn.”

Upon hearing the voice as I shuffled up the bed, as much as my chains would let me at least. The chillingly deep voice from the small child chilled me to my bones. The swimming of my vision only worsened with my jerking, causing me to slowly again lose consciousness.

The next time my eyes fluttered open, I woke again in an unfamiliar hospital room. The table beside my bed covered in flowers and old chocolates. A lone picture of me and my husband, and a little girl in our arms. It took me a few minutes to remember her, before trying to sit up

I looked, only to discover that the weight on me was because of a three year old laid across my abdomen, and the dark sandy hair covering the sheets beside my hips. A soft grown ensued from his lips as he began to wake to my gentle hand running through his hair.

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