Eleanor DeSouza -The Life Of A Weirdo

When Marnie Was There- Review

As I have now finished all exams for my first year of college (a small round of applause for my existentialism), I’m beginning to fill in my spare time. I’m trying to watch new films and tv shows I’ve never seen before; so this will probably be the first of many reviews.

Many of you will be familiar with ‘Ghibli films’. Films made by Ghibli studios. Japanese animated films starting in 1985, first animated by Miyazaki Hayao. These films are promoted as children’s films, with forest creatures and cat buses, but really, they have themes and ideals for all ages. They will make you laugh, cry, think about life and value it differently.

This is the seventh Ghibli film I have watched and I’ll have to say it’s already one of my favorites. Now, I won’t give too much detail about the plot, but will give it an outline, share my thoughts (good and bad) and potentially convince you to give it a watch.

As with many Ghibli films, the main protagonist is a young girl. This time, her name is Anna; she’s been sent to the country for the summer by her mother. Once there, she struggles to navigate her new situation, but is strongly drawn to an abandoned marsh house. After seeing lights begin to turn on in one room of the house, Anna begins to investigate. She eventually meets Marnie, the young girl who apparently lives in the house. After many adventures together, Anna has to return back home, but is a much happier and more confident girl after meeting Marnie.

Of course there is much more to the plot, many twists and turns, yet if anyone reads this and decides to watch I’d like them to go into rather unknowing. But one of the things I really liked about this film was that you didn’t know everything until right at the end. While watching, I had my different theories which of course kept changing the more I learnt.

Ghibli is known for it’s stunning visuals and rather emotional moments. This film was no exception. Set in the countryside near woods and the ocean, with festival and storm scenes, this film really gave the whole optical package. Along with this is also some beautiful music composed by Takatsugu Muramatsu which is the perfect finish.

The one thing I will say about this is don’t let the fact that it’s animated deter you. It’s a simple style, so easy on the eyes, and you can find the film dubbed in English, so no need to worry about sub-titles. All in all, this is a great film, it ticks all the boxes of visual, audio, plot and characters. Each scene is beautiful to look at and listen too, the plot line keeps you guessing and each character is individual and has meaning and motive.

So, if you’ve got some spare time, sit down and give this film a try. Then if you like that, feel free to try some other Ghibli films like ‘The Wind Rises’ or ‘Spirited Away’. All of these films are similar in their beauty, and might just become one of your favorites.

Not What I Was Expecting- Chapter 5

“So, aha, we’re going to Nottingham? Never been!”

This had been the third time in the last half an hour Mia had shot Harry a steely stare, not even having to move her head or say anything to get him to be quiet, quickly. It was always over something mundane. Mia knew he was just trying to make small talk, but to her, it seemed like a deliberate ploy to get her to throw herself in the lake they were passing.

Harry had had his fair share of fear over the past few years. Not exactly being dexterous had meant he had had to rely totally on others to get by, and in these situations, people weren’t always that willing to help. But in all that time, out of the people he’d met, despite the number of those creatures he’d come across, nothing had been as frightening as the stare of that girl. Every part of her told a story which only added to his fear of her. The stale rag hanging from her bag, the bandages wrapped from her wrists to her knuckles stained over and over with blood, the staggering amount of white scars littering her face and hands; each of these things making his fear of her insurmountable.

Mia let out an exasperated sigh, making her annoyance just known enough, yet still, she answered.

“Not exactly”

She then continued to explain the plan to Harry. That technically, yes, they were travelling to Nottingham, but first they were headed to Derby as she knew she had supplies there and it was safer to make a stop. As she was explaining this, she looked up and noticed the sign indicating that they had entered Burnaston, though this took her a moment or two and a quick glance at the map Harry still insisted on carrying, as the sign for Burnaston was completely battered. Mia had made a slight mental list of all the things the films had gotten correct when portraying these events. The list was not long, yet the decrepit signs were on there. It confused Mia as to why they did it, the few people remaining. It wasn’t as if the creatures could read, and therefore knew which towns they were entering into, or would become enraged if they couldn’t clearly read that the sign was telling them to ‘drive safe’. Mia would never understand why the small amount of people left living (and it really was a small amount) would spend any amount of their time that could be spent on a myriad of better things, damaging a sign. With yet another hefty sign, they continued in silence, slowly trudging their way closer to Derby.

***

They had made it safely into Derby, steering clear of the town centre as that is where most survivors tended to stay. In every town Mia had passed, survivors took to the town centre. Some even sleeping on the escalators, Mia held back a laugh as she remembered seeing a small group of survivors doing just that at a shopping centre in Watford. Still, there was an even better reason for going elsewhere. Once they arrived, Harry soon understood. They were outside a bomb shelter, Mia doing a once round check of the outside and inside before gesturing for Harry to come in. As he ducked his head and entered, a childish grin infected the lower half of his face. His eyes darted over what sat in front of him. Blankets, pillows, and even out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mia pulling out food. It might have been packaged, non-perishable food from ten years ago, but to Harry, it looked like his mum’s Sunday roast.

Mia thrust a bag of this ‘food’ at Harry, rolling her eyes as the smile smeared across his face. But she didn’t know, he hadn’t had this for the last ten years. Mia had been able to adapt. She’d had to fight, endure countless attempts at trial and error, but she was still here, she’d survived. Harry on the other hand hadn’t had that. He’d lost count of the numerous times he’d woken up, face to face with those creatures. And all he’d been able to do in that moment, was run. The only reason he could come up with that he was still alive, was pure dumb luck. So after both consuming their packaged dinner, Harry doing so at a pace that made Mia stare quite intensely till he slowed down, Mia finally spoke.

“We’ll start heading to Nottingham in the morning. You’re a slow walker so it’ll take us about two days. This is the only night we’ll get good food and a bed to sleep in. So, enjoy it.”

And with that, she got up, locked the door, and disappeared under her blanket. Harry sat there for a minute or two, in complete darkness, the only sound being Mia’s heavy breathing in her sleep. He sat and thought about the same things he did every night, about what had happened over the last six or seven years, to him, to the world, to everyone he knew. And just like every night. He had to tug at his hair and grip the cuff of his jumper between his teeth to make sure nothing heard him sobbing.

Not What I Was Expecting- Chapter 4

Mia’s eyebrows furrowed down, her head tilted. Her eyes darted around the mostly open area in front of her, she could see nothing. Moving her knife in her hand to a more comfortable position, she turned very slowly to face the opposite way, and this is where she was presented with someone else. Apart from a few people at Camp Canopus, Mia had never actually spoken to anyone else she met whilst walking. Yet here she was, facing a boy with tightly curled brown hair, reaching down to his jaw line, split down the middle. He had plain brown eyes, and just like Mia, his skin was littered with small scars. He stared at Mia awkwardly, his mouth twitching between being closed and a toothy half-smile. Mia’s eyebrows stayed furrowed, yet her eyes had cooled and become much more serious, her grip on the knife staying the same.

“I’m…uh… I’m Harry?”

The confusion and uneasiness in his voice made Mia question if he was lying, or maybe he was just taken back by what he’d seen her do, either way, she wasn’t about to trust him. She gave him one final look over and turned to continue walking towards Derby. Just as she started walking, Mia heard Harry scramble to get up and grab his bag, and start running to catch up with her. When he caught up and fell into step with her, Mia stopped abruptly and slowly turned her head to look at Harry standing to her right. She stared his dead in the eyes for a few seconds, his own eyes darting around and making it back to Mia’s every second or so, only to still see her staring at him. Once again greeting her with a strained half-smile, Harry took in a big breath and slowly let it out, puffing out his cheeks in the process before saying;

“Uh… why’d um, why’d we stop?”

He finished this sentence with one of the driest laughs Mia had ever heard, the half smile never leaving his mouth. Mia turned to fully face him, nostrils flaring with annoyance. Although quite a few inches shorter than Harry, Mia watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down in his throat as he gulped. His shoulders raised slightly, Mia heard his feet shuffle back ever so slightly.

“You’re following me. Don’t”

Mia turned once again to keep walking, her speed slightly faster than usual, but luckily, not hearing the sound of any steps following her.

“Th-… Uh… Thanks for getting rid of them. I-I haven’t exactly mastered it yet. Unlike you. I’m gonna go this, way, then.”

He finished his sentence by pointing a thumb over his shoulder, Mia gave him a single nod, and he took that as enough. Harry turned round and pulled a map of the UK out of his pocket, flipping it a few times before stretching out his arms to get a good view of it. He looked up from the map to check his surroundings, flipped the map once more and set off walking. Mia wiped across her eyes with the back of her hand and sighed loudly, loudly enough for Harry to turn his head back over his shoulder in small increments, making sure the sound had come from Mia. Facing Mia, he got the impression she was building up the strength to talk to him, so he stood and waited. Still facing away from him, Mia spoke.

“I’m heading to Nottingham. There’s a camp there, where you can stay. You can follow me, only till there. That way you won’t get killed before tomorrow.”

Mia looked at Harry, tilting her head and lifting one eyebrow. Harry’s eyebrows raised towards his hairline and he pursed his lips to try and hide the smile behind them.

“Yeah… Uh, cool, great, thanks.”

His mouth opened and closed, each time letting out either a sigh or the beginning of a word that evaporated far before it finished forming.

Mia slowly took in a large breath and started walking before Harry had finished this small moment. Once Mia had walked about five yards forwards, Harry got the idea and jogged to catch up with her. Mia slowed her pace once he’d caught up and they soon fell into a comfortable rhythm. Harry frequently turned to look at Mia, just for a few seconds before looking forward again. This didn’t continue for long before Mia spoke, spitting out the words as if they tasted like vinegar.

“Just ask the damn question, save us both the suspense”

“What’s your name?”

Mia’s countenance softened, this was the first thing he’d said without tripping over his words, or having his hands tremor when he thought she didn’t notice. He’d said it slowly, calmly. Still, Mia paused before giving him an answer, questioning answering with a fake name.

“… Mia.”

“Oh, uh, cool. Mia… Cool”

Apparently that small moment of confidence had passed. Mia shot him a sideways glance and increased her speed, Harry almost toppled over his own feet trying to keep up with the change of speed. They walked in silence as Harry focused all of his attention on staying upright and keeping in step with Mia. Mia wondered what had changed in her mind to let him come with her, and continued towards Derby, mulling over the current situation which she had certainly not been expecting.

Not What I Was Expecting- Chapter 3

Mia had kept her promise, she was gone with the sunrise. Also keeping to her promise she had ransacked September’s small stash of food and she took the blanket she had slept with the night before. It hurt. No matter how many times she left in the early hours of the morning, seeing September lying there, mouth ever so slightly agape and eyes gently closed, she looked older, much older. Mia refused to let those kinds of thoughts stick with her very long. She would never admit that September had become a source of security to her, always having food, always having shelter and a strength to hold her up. She could have stayed, been safe and if she was honest, somewhat content, but she could never let herself stay there. She would have felt too guilty. If she didn’t make any small attempt to rid the world of these things, she would blame herself for the rest of her years on Earth. So instead, she slung her backpack over shoulder, and as the sun was barely starting to crawl up over the horizon, she began to walk.

***

Mia had become frighteningly familiar with these creatures. Their look, their sounds, but most importantly, their smell. That scent is one that Mia had never been able to get rid of since her first encounter with them. From afar, in a strange way, it almost smelt nice. Maybe something along the lines of melting sugar, sweet but getting slightly too warm. Yet the closer you got, the more disgusting the scent became. Like a constant burning you couldn’t get out of your nose, offensive and abrasive. Their insides were worse. Sour milk that had far surpassed sour. It never left her; it clung in her hair, her clothes, it followed her around like a constant reminder of what she was walking to find.

And that’s exactly what she found. Whilst walking closer to Derby, Mia could smell burning sugar. She slightly crouched, running behind the nearest tree to pull out a knife. Mia took in a large breath, holding it deep in her chest, punishing it onto her diaphragm. Slowly peering round the tree, she could see a small group of them. Not the biggest group she had handled, but four was slightly more than she was used to. Mia finally let out her breath, sparing a moment to look down at her hands. So many barely noticeable scars littered them from years passed, and even after all these years, they still shook as if she was doing this for the first time. Mia dug her nails into her palm, thought of her father and ran.

Over the years she’d obviously become more familiar with these creatures, she was no scientist, but their anatomy wasn’t too hard to distinguish. Resembling something slightly human, Mia didn’t have to struggle to figure out that slicing them somewhere in the chest stopped them. She didn’t know if it killed them, she wasn’t sure what constituted them being alive, but it stopped them moving. After a fair amount of trial, error, and one disgusting experience of looking inside one, she discovered that they had no organs, nothing inside them. They had some sort of hardened inside, but apart from that, they were hollow. Opening up this cavity, they were certainly… indisposed. After that, all you had to do was take off the head, much easier than watching them flail around from anywhere between ten to twenty minutes as they slowly lost strength. So that’s what she did.

Moving quickly but with force, she made her way to the nearest creature. Making sure not to let it touch her skin, Mia brought her knife up and dragged it straight down through the first one’s chest. As it fell to the floor, she simply held it down with her foot on its throat and took its head off in one movement. This obviously had taken a while to perfect. Her first weapon had been a kitchen knife, with that, Mia had lost count of how long it took to decapitate one of them. Luckily, whilst pillaging a street of abandoned houses, she had come across the home of what must have been a doomsday survivalist. This knife had been in amongst the rooms filled with weapons and devices meant to keep this man alive in the event of an apocalypse or end of word event. Mia had found him with an arm and leg missing, guess it hadn’t worked.

This knife had continued to serve her well, just as it was now. In two swift movements she was able to take down these things. Open the chest, take off the head. Always keeping in her head the one main rule, don’t let them touch you. It wasn’t like the films or television shows had shown it, it wasn’t just a bite that killed you. Obviously it wouldn’t do you any good, but with these, all it took was touch. They were covered in something sticky and brown. If this got into you, it was a slow and rather horrifying death. About a week after Mia had left her home. She ran through a field of sheep. She watched one of the creatures smear its hand over the mouth of the sheep. Its tongue had come out and licked up the substance. Mia stood from afar and watched as it slowly toppled to the floor. For nearly a full day, it shook, it turned a sickly brown-yellow. Blood wouldn’t stop pouring from its mouth, Mia couldn’t believe how much blood came out of that small animal. Then it all stopped. She wasn’t sure what happened to it, but Mia knew she wasn’t about to let it happen to her.

Two were down on the floor around her. She made her way to the third, rapidly taking down to join the others. Then came the fourth. Its movements were stronger than the rest, it moved with purpose. When Mia stepped back and brought her knife up, it caught her wrist, luckily covered in the cloth of her top and wrapped in bandages. It pulled Mia forward, mere millimeters from its face. Despite not having facial features, she could feel it looking at her. She couldn’t tell what it was thinking or feeling, but it was looking straight into her eyes. Mia’s breath started to catch in her throat, she jerked her arm back; the creature tearing her bandages in the process, and kicked it hard in the chest. In doing so, Mia had felt its chest collapse in on itself and the creature fell on its back. In one movement, its head was detached from its neck and the bandages had fallen from its now limp hand. Mia’s breath rattled in her chest, she quickly looked at her arm where the creature had grabbed her. After assuring herself it hadn’t gotten through the bandages which were now on the floor she wiped her forehead and knife, taking one more breath. Mia began to turn to walk onward, continuing up towards Derby.

“Fucking hell. You saved my arse.”

Not What I Was Expecting- Chapter 2

Surrounding here were homemade tents, simple but enough to live in. It was still September so the wind wasn’t cold enough to make you shiver, therefore people were squatted outside their homes, talking to others, watching their children play with other children. Most camps Mia had been to, everyone kept to themselves. No food was shared, people never spoke to each other and the only reason they had made a camp in the first place was because they believed that there was strength in numbers. Canopus was nothing like that. As Mia walked towards the reason she’d come, a smile started to grow on her face, no matter how hard she fought to hide it, it still showed.

“Now there’s a face I haven’t seen in a while!”

Mia settled down next to September. Yes her name was September, no Mia hadn’t asked why.

September had the most wonderful hair, Mia had always thought that. Despite everything, it kept unnatural volume, and the streaks of silver against fading black reminded Mia of many nights awake when she shouldn’t have been, staring out of the window at the defiant lightning, making its mark on the sky. Her skin, whilst dry and aged like a book left in a library, still kept the same rusted tone. Lines crossed her face, records of smiles and laughter that had not been added to for some time, that still kept their shape in case they needed to be added to again. They both sat for a while, staring at the setting sun behind the downy birches, both wondering if this was normal. Neither of them had know normal for quite some time.

September had learned not too long ago that there was no use in talking to Mia about any of this, she wouldn’t listen. So as the sun was setting like melting caramel being poured onto the treetops, and even though it made her turn away with authentic tears in her eyes to see one of the last good people left destroy themselves in such a way, September wiped her eyes with the corner of her sleeve and turned back to Mia with a knowing half-smile.

Silence provided no warmth to fend of the ugly breeze and soon the caramel sky had burnt and left the sky undoubtedly black.

“Still got that spare mat?”

“Staying long?”

“Do I ever?”

September gave a short sigh, adding sentences to a conversation she knew she would never get the chance to have. With stiff knees, she stood up and motioned her head towards her tent, and headed in, waiting for Mia to follow.

***

Her tent whilst sparse kept some feeling of what might be called home, even with none of them truly remembering the meaning of that word. Small hand-made trinkets hung from the makeshift ceiling which Mia brushed with her hand as she passed underneath them. Her few remaining items from another life lay in the corner by her bed, covered in a stained sheet; Mia, against her own character, chose to never bring up this small pile, in fear of adding unneeded pain and severing the only relationship she cared about keeping. September had found said mat and had begun to roll it out on the opposite side of the tent, laying a blanket over the top with a small flourish which Mia wholeheartedly appreciated (even though September would never know) but instead chose to hide this with a raised eyebrow. She started taking layers off, facing away from September but leaving her heavily scarred back on full display as her under-shirt rose up, turning around only when she realized this. Feeling too ashamed to look into September’s eyes, she chose instead to keep her eyes on the floor and turning round to continue undressing.

Once the appropriate layers had been removed, she turned around fully to see September halfway under her blankets. With the fire still burning outside, its light shining through the thin sheets September had used to make her tent; she looked much older than Mia had remembered, this made a small pang of sadness ring out through her chest, as she realized this wonderful woman was going to spend her last remaining years fending off these creatures until she lost the strength to survive. This thought made her question staying simply to look after her, a thought Mia couldn’t be ashamed to have had, yet one she repeatedly pushed away. She couldn’t do that to September, couldn’t do that to herself. She had to keep going. She couldn’t stop.

“I’ll be gone early. If you notice any food missing it was me”

She turned away and slid halfway under her blanket, her face contorted in such internal anger it almost made her eyes seem as if they were drowning.

“Mia-“

“Don’t”

She slid fully under her blanket and pulled it up above her shoulder, protecting her neck from the strong wind that had begun. September felt this and submerged herself too, falling quickly to sleep with the thought, ‘if only’.

Not What I was Expecting- Chapter 1

With her chest rising and falling in a shaky rhythm, Mia wiped her forehead with the back of her hand. You could say that the back of her hand was now glistening in the morning light, to Mia it was just coated in a repelling mixture of grease and sweat. She closed her eyes and slowly suppressed the natural urge to vomit. No matter how many times Mia encountered them, the rising bile in her throat never quite went away. Deciding to put this rather disgusting morning behind her, Mia took one final look around her, wiped her tanto point knife on her lovingly named ‘blood rag’ and set off walking towards the North, which incidentally had a looming rain cloud up above. Bloody typical.

***

Left foot in front of right foot, right foot in front of left foot. Toes bruising, ankles blistering, stomach growling. Either it took longer than she’d remembered to get to Branston or she’d drifted off and had been sleepwalking in a circle for the last two hours. She hoped it was the former. While trudging on ever forward, Mia’s line of sight glazed over her surroundings and landed on a rather ugly tree about 50 yards ahead of her. In basically every book she’d ever read or movie she’d ever watched, trees were always described as these skeletal hands that would catch onto your clothing. Obviously, all of these examples included girls in forests late at night, running around with nothing but a dead phone and an almost out-of-battery flashlight. Funnily enough, both Mia’s situation and this ugly tree were different from formerly read books and previously watched movies. Mia had a flashlight, it was dented all over and you had to hit it a couple of times to get it working but it had kept going for at least three years and she wasn’t about to give up on it yet. The thing that was most different was the tree. This tree wasn’t skeletal, it wouldn’t pinch at your clothes. This tree was fleshy. This tree had strong fingers not able to be broken by even the most savage storms. These fingers would clasp onto your arm and reject any idea in which they loosened their grip. This would leave you struggling to escape, causing their clutch to tighten even more. Oh the joys of having an overworking imagination. Mia was embarrassed to actually increase her walk into a jog just to get in front of this tree, she even held her breath as she passed it. No, she didn’t know why.

As Mia continued onwards towards Branston, memorable images from the last six years flashed through her mind like a passing train. Mia had only been eleven when all this started. She didn’t much like to think about those first few years of her survival. They caused her breath to quicken to an alarming pace and the pit in her stomach to rise up into her throat. To her, those years had been worse than hell on Earth. For days she’d resided in fields, shivering, sobbing, fantasising. She couldn’t recall how many endless days and nights she’d spent blocking out the rest of the world, refusing to believe any of this was real. With her knees hugged to her chest, eyes bolted shut and arms engulfing her entire being, Mia would escape to her desired future. She would imagine herself older, finally in secondary school. She was at the top of all her classes, on a one-way road to becoming an astronomer. Her dad had found her an angel of a step-mother, they were happy. Well, fantasising is all well and good till your nose is numb because it’s been raining for the past three days, till you can no longer sense your own thirst because you’re fiercely dehydrated, till your muscles have started to atrophy because you haven’t moved from your foetal position for a week. Life never decided to run the same course as it had all those years ago, and it certainly didn’t decide to get any easier. At the age of thirteen, Mia had just about managed to get to grips with how to survive this newly damaged world. Two years had taught her much valuable information. She knew things weren’t going to get any better. With this outlook on life, she had been able to ever so slightly surpass the title of ‘surviving’. Now, she just about lived. In spite of all these dismal thoughts about her past, Mia had now arrived at her long-awaited destination. Camp Canopus.

Not What I Was Expecting- Prologue

As I look out of my window I see red. I shouldn’t see red. A deep, dark threatening red has replaced the sky, with spasms of light splayed across it. Fear has coiled its fingers around my insides and is tightening its grip. My lips are jittering, trying to form words. Sentences. I’m left with nothing. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the glimmering bunting from my eleventh birthday party only a few weeks ago. Flashing memories of village halls, stomping feet and my first phone. The only movement my body exudes is from the rigid inhale and exhale of breath. This is complemented by my shaking my ribcage and frozen eyes. Wrenching me from my cryogenic-like state is a smash of glass and a guttural cry. I bolt out of my bedroom and down the stairs, trainers landing with a muted thud at the end. I clamp a hand over my mouth, the only reaction I can think of to stop the quickly rising vomit in my throat. However, it does not. I finally part my lips and let the arylide yellow vomit pour out of my mouth, splattering on the skirting board as it pools on the carpet. I’m left with an acidic sensation in the back of my throat while I watch in silence as some kind of decomposing creature mauls my father’s unconscious face. Without thinking I let out a tortured scream; I grab the lamp from the hall table and run towards the thing. Looking down at my hands I notice that they’re now covered in some sort of muddy brown liquid that has already started to congeal. I raise my head to see that the creature is lying on its back with its legs bent beneath it, and the hall lamp sticking out of its chest. I slump to my knees and start to sob uncontrollably. My vision quickly becomes blurry and I’m struggling to catch my breath. I shuffle closer to my father’s limp body, picking up his arm and wrapping it around my shoulders. I fall onto his chest and avert my eyes from the half of his face that is missing skin. His once baby blue t-shirt now has an invading patch of navy. I clasp my arms around his stomach, continuing to cry and refusing to think about what’s going to happen next.

Just Not Me

Chopin. She was imagining Chopin. Nocturne, Opus 9, number 2. Sitting awkwardly on that rickety barstool, surrounded by kids in their late teens flailing themselves about on the dance floor, she placed her cracked hands on the table top and began to play. Her hands moved fluidly, mimicking what she had been doing only an hour ago. Of course, then she had been wearing an old cardigan with a cotton slip underneath. She had had far less makeup on, and instead of the rum and coke that she was holding now, she’d had a freshly brewed mug of mint tea. She thought she could smell mint now, it was just the two girls next to her with mojitos. As she continued to play, she realized something that hadn’t occurred to her yet; the table top was extremely sticky. Her hands stopped exactly where they were, she slowly removed them and placed them back on her lap, fingers flexed in disgust. There she sat, on her own. Not wanting to dance, not wanting to drink, barely wanting to move, for the risk of touching something sticky again was violently imminent. A strand of muddy-brown hair was tucked behind her ear. She decided instead to pull out her phone. Her parents would say it was a very practical phone, her friends would laugh and make some joke about her still living in the dark ages. She just entered the passcode. No messages, no emails, no notifications of any kind apart from that the weather tomorrow would reach a high of 19 degrees with a chance of cloud. Perfect, she thought, I can do some gardening.

A little shudder resonated through her body as she realized she was being watched. She shifted her sharp shoulders back while her dull eyes darted around like a buzzing fly. Eventually, she lifted her head and locked her eyes with the man who was staring at her from the other side of the bar. He was the Oxford dictionary definition of smarmy. As he swaggered over, her palms began to profusely perspire. She tried to rub them on her dress but only felt skin. Why on earth had she bought this dress, it was more like a belt than a dress! She swallowed hard and tried to calm her breathing. He opened with some line about how she looked like someone he went to school with, but that she was quote-on-quote ‘way fitter’. He lent across the table and began to study her face. A tendon in her neck pulsated and she thought she might throw up. With that, she grabbed her bag and made a passionate beeline for the bathroom, just as he made some comment about her breasts. The bathroom door was flung open, an available stool found, vomit released. She raked her hair back away from her face as she continued to vomit but also recall every reason why she shouldn’t have come here tonight. Tears ran down her cheeks. This wasn’t her. She didn’t wear makeup the colour of a tangerine, she was used to her knees being exposed, not anything above, and playing Chopin at home late at night would always be better than this. She stood up, opened the stool door and splashed some water on her face. While making her way towards the exit, she noticed that same worm of a man from before talking to a girl half his age. With that, she pushed open the door and let the cold night air turn her sour breath into ascending plumes of fog.

Inevitable

Suddenly, I heard it. It was coming from the other side of the passage. That grotesque creature that had only been a figment of my imagination until two days ago, when my world started to burn. The low grumbling moan that was escaping its toothless mouth echoed down the hall, constantly getting closer to me, getting closer to ending me. My hands were quivering like a crying child, shuddering in waves, unable to successfully wipe away the tears that were streaming down my face. This couldn’t be real, it had to be fake. Some kind of lucid dream I’d trapped myself in or a trick played on myself by one of the darkest corners of my own subconscious. My eyes scanned the room. Hoping, begging, praying for a way to escape. There were sheets on the bed, but they were ridden with holes and all kinds of stains from over the years. Definitely not strong enough to lower me to the ground and there wasn’t even enough there to reach the second floor, let alone all the way down. Realizing that this might be my last few minutes on what we call Earth, I turned to face the window. I tried to subdue my shuddered breathing but to no avail. The tears refused to stop coming, so I let them fall. I stared out of the window, this place that had once been my home. The tears melted everything together, every colour, shade and hue. The blinding sunshine which had once been a love of mine now teased me, mocking my inability to escape. Then a click of a door being unlocked, and reality flooded back in.

Words failed to form, thoughts too. I stood there like a child being ridiculed of some petty crime. Shoulders shaking, teeth chattering. I slowly pivoted to face the door, but my eyes would not meet my visitor. All I could see was a bubbling black figure stood in front of me. Figure is probably the wrong word. Being. A humongous, charcoal being, with foaming flesh and blank eyes. The eyes were the only thing I could bring myself to look at, the only thing that didn’t look like evil incarnate. I could see myself in the gleaming fluid that coated them. I was its appetizer. And there we stood, studying each other. Master and servant, predator and prey, captor and hostage. There was absolutely nothing I could do. No powerful weapon to kill it with. Another sob escaped from my mouth and after a few seconds, my knees buckled. I sat there on the floor of this cell, crying. With each passing second, I was surprised to still be breathing. Why hadn’t it killed me yet? Here I was, the perfect game to take away and devour, yet it just stood there. Shoulders rising and falling, eyelids blinking, almost human. Maybe death would be more peaceful than I had imagined. Maybe he was kind. I nodded my head, surprisingly content with the situation. He moved closer towards me, even as I backed away I knew there was no need to be afraid. He placed a hand behind my neck and let me lie on the floor. A kiss was placed on my forehead as I pleasantly drifted, drifted, drifted…

Just Your Average Thursday

I try but fail to open my eyes. The blinding light only slightly dampened by my eyelids starts to push spears through my temples. For a moment I think I’ve gone blind, but after blinking the tears out of my eyes and letting them roll down my cheek, a sigh of relief escapes through my chapped lips. I shouldn’t be here. It shouldn’t have ended like this, with me struggling to sit up on the soaked cobble path. Realizing that the water on the floor has started to seep through my jeans, I decide to try and stand. I take a cautious sidestep away from the stinging nettles to my left, not wanting to add a rather painful rash to my list of ailments. The frozen wind makes me release a shiver, suddenly flaring up the crick in my neck caused by being passed out on the floor for who knows how long. Despite this, I move my head gently to examine what’s left of my surroundings. More rain is dripping from the slithering ivy draped all around me. It blends into the coal-black behind it, the unwelcoming stone of some sort of side road. On legs as frail as that of a new-born lamb, I take glitching steps towards the curved shape about thirty yards in the distance.

The curved shape in the distance turns out to be a car and if my memory serves me right, Adam’s car. Anthony? Whatever their name was they’re now buried in my back garden. Enough of that topic. I reach my arm through a shattered window and turn the keys in the ignition. Silence, bar the rattle of the keyrings bashing against each other. Irritating even in these circumstances. After at least five more tries, a fresh cut on my arm and about three newly invented swear words being tested, the car makes a noise. An ungodly noise, somewhere between Satan himself rising out of the ground and someone trying to sing opera with a fist in their mouth. Either way, the one working headlight is shining a thin yet hopeful beam and I can feel a little bit of warmth coming off of the car. With a few tugs, I’m able to prise open one of the back doors and slide in, brushing glass off the seat as I do so. In this somewhat safe space, I take the time to breathe. I just enjoy not being rained on and a more comfortable place to sit. Of course, all of that flies out of the broken window as something starts to push through the clouds. With my mouth agape and my hands trembling I push open the door, get out of the car and stare aimlessly at the sky. Some sort of metal tentacle darts from the clouds and smashes into the ground about twenty yards from where I’m standing, sending me and an array of bricks and stones to be cascaded backwards. Just before my skull is concaved by the pavement; Alex, his name was Alex. And with that everything goes black. Not again.