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A dim yellow light split the darkness of the room in two, shining down on the face of its only inhabitant; me. I was sure the glow from the computer screen painted my face into a sickly pale creature made of dark purple bags and gaunt cheeks. My eyes though, would be a startling green, sharp and aware. Inherited from my mother, I suppose they were my one good trait.
Read MoreIt was surprisingly cool inside the tent. The air stank with the smell of incense, burning his nose with the sharp pungent twang of frankincense and myrrh intertwining with the cooling breath of white sage. The only light came from red candles scattered around the floor and crystals that hung from the ceiling. The boy couldn’t tell if the crystals were reflecting the light from the candles or glowing itself. The sounds of the carnival and children’s laughter faded with each step into the tent the boy took.
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It was toasty in the diner. A warmth that seeped under skin and heated one’s core much like the effect of her steaming mug of coffee. But Ella was the type to be easily chilled so her oversized fleece lined leather jacket was still resting along her shoulders, arms tucked into her sides as her fingers wrapped around the cream colored mug. The steam from the mug wafted up through the foamy cream clouds floating atop its surface and straight into Ella’s nostrils as she inhaled deeply, submerging herself in the warm scent of hazelnut coffee.
The first thing I remember about the day my mother committed suicide, is the sky. It was insultingly clear. A brilliant azure, almost taunting blue as if it was challenging any clouds to dare make an appearance. It was a misplaced beauty, an anomaly in mid October. The ground covered in red and gold leaves glimmering under what could only be described as an August sun it was warm. The sidewalk hot to the touch. So warm they had to clean up the crime scene faster than usual because my mother’s remains were literally cooking.
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