And She Was Gone (Short Story)

She was so different from the rest of us. Therefore, we did not accept her into our group. It sounded like a reasonable explanation. Like a complicated Math equation, you did not question the logic. You simply accepted the answer.

If there really was an equation for it, it would have looked something like this.

Topic: Lunatic Girl
Equation:
Different from the norm + the rest of us = do not mix well.
Explanation:
Refer to Page 1 on Life’s theory of logic.

"Hey, is she going to come too?" I asked Brenda, sounding decidedly reluctant for her to tag along with us. I certainly did not want an irritating loony following us all around.

"I don’t know," Brenda whispered back. "I’ll ask the others."

But all of them shrugged their shoulders and shook their heads. They had no idea whether she was coming with us or not.

"Hey Tina," one of them called out. "You coming with us?"

"No!" she said, smiling to herself as she doodled something onto that notebook of hers she was always carrying around. Then she looked up and grinned at us, "Why? You mean you guys want me to come along too?"

She said this in a joking manner, but I could see the flicker of hope in her eyes before it faded away.

"Er, no … actually, we’d much rather you didn't," Brenda muttered, narrowing her eyes in disgust. I could literally read the thoughts running through her mind.

How dare she even suggest that we'd want her to come along!

"Oh. Okay then, bye," she said.

In that extra high-pitched, cheery voice of hers that sounded strangely out of place in the gloomy school atmosphere.

She laughed to herself as though this was one big joke. Even her wide grin did not seem to belong here.

But as she turned her back and walked away, it suddenly struck me that she looked very lonely.

Like an odd piece of jigsaw puzzle placed in the wrong box, unable to fit in with the rest of the puzzle.

The florescent lights flickered. I blinked. And she was gone.

Deep down inside, I felt slightly guilty for not wanting her to come along with us to go out for New Year’s countdown. But I kept quiet.

The fireworks were spectacular. Everyone was laughing and wishing each other a Happy New Year when the clock struck midnight. I joined in the general hugging and ushering in of the New Year. Yet somehow, I was beginning to feel uneasy.

Perhaps it was because I’d seen Tina in a different light. Perhaps it was the way she’d walked away from us.

Whatever the case was, I had a premonition that something bad was going to happen and it was proven true on the first day of school.

As I hitched my bag up and walked into the school gates, the first person who rushed up to me was Brenda. I was about to greet her cheerfully, but stopped short when I saw the terrified expression on her face.

"Tina's disappeared," she said, trembling as she grasped my hands tightly.

"Gosh, what happened?" was all I could manage to say. I was in shock.

"She ... she visited me last night," Brenda said, before completely breaking down. I tried comforting her, but my heart was racing with fear. Something really bad must have happened for Brenda to cry like this.

"Okay Bren," I said soothingly. "You must have been very tired. It was probably just a dream or a silhouette."

"No ... no it wasn’t just a dream. She was there," she protested. "I saw her with my own eyes!"

"All right ... so tell me what happened," I said, thinking that it'd be better for her if she got it out of her system.

"She ... she was just sitting there on my chair, singing and laughing to herself. And you know how freaky I find her laughter sometimes," Brenda sobbed. "So I quickly sat up on my bed and demanded to know what she was doing in my room in the middle of the night."

I nodded encouragingly for my best friend was showing signs of inability to continue with her story.

"When Tina heard my voice, she slowly turned around and smiled at me. But she never said a word. She simply sat there and stared at me with those insane eyes of hers. Even without the lights turned on, I could see that she’d totally lost it.

And that’s when I totally lost it. I started screaming and yelling at her to get out. But when my parents came into the room and switched on the lights ... she was gone."

I couldn’t help but shiver at the last statement. She was gone.

The florescent lights flickered. I blinked. And she was gone.

"And now, I read the newspapers in the morning and find out that Tina's disappeared because her parents put her photo up under the Missing People section. She was missing since New Year's Eve. Which means she never went home. Don't you think it's too much of a coincidence? I ... I'm scared ... I'm really scared."

"Look Brenda, you were probably just tired," I said firmly, steering her to a nearby seat. “You just need to relax, okay?"

She nodded silently, her face pale and tear-stained. I had never seen her so scared before. And this made me feel frightened too. For Brenda had always been the brave one. The outspoken one.

If she was scared, then where did that leave me?

I tried my best to be brave, even when I went home late that night. Brenda had refused to go home until I reasoned with her that this would only make Tina happy in achieving her goal.

"But I can always call you if there’s anything wrong, right?" she sniffled.

"Yes, I’ll be there if you need me," I said reassuringly, even though I knew that if Tina wanted to try anything funny, a phone call would be the last thing on Brenda’s mind.

The house was empty and quiet as I pushed the door open. My parents had gone out for a wedding dinner and would not be back until midnight.

Normally I did not mind being alone in the house, but after what Brenda had just told me earlier during school, every single sound seemed to be amplified ten times its normal volume.

I started imagining things and shadows that were not there and my heart gave a start at the slightest bit of noise. Telling myself that I was just too overwrought with nerves, I decided to turn in early. So I bathed, changed and got into bed.

As I switched off the lights, I almost screamed in fright when I saw Tina standing at the foot of my bed, her head bowed and hands clasped together.

I had no idea how she’d manage to get into the house, for I’d locked both the gate and the door. Nonetheless, I forced myself to calm down and looked her in the eye. I tried my best to be brave even though I was literally shaking.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, in the loudest voice that I dared to use.

At first, she did not reply. But she did not laugh or smile to herself either.

"I just wanted to say good-bye," she finally said in a forlorn, little-girl voice.

"Good-bye?" now I was puzzled. What did she mean?

"Good-bye," she repeated the last word softly.

And with a sudden, bright smile, she was gone, leaving behind no trace of her.

Or so, I thought.

I discovered her notebook the next morning, lying innocently at the foot of my bed.

Unable to contain my curiosity, I flipped it open. To my amazement, instead of the mindless doodles and undecipherable nonsense that I’d expected to find, it was filled with sketches of all our faces.

She’d drawn with an unbelievable accuracy and it was obvious that she was a talented artist. But what gripped my heart the most was the heading she had written above all of our faces. Friends.

Up to this very day, no one knows whether Tina killed herself or ran away from home. She’d simply vanished into thin air.

The florescent lights flickered. I blinked. And just like that ...

She was gone.

Dandelion Seeds (Poem)

I wanna blow dandelion seeds
And see them dancing away on the wind
Whisk every seed off,
Close my eyes and make a silent wish

For the world’s cries to stop
Or at least be heard
For the gun-shots and bloodshed to cease
And peace to be restored.

I wanna lie on the soft, green grass
And look up at the sky
With nothing on my mind
Except the clouds passing by

But as I stare at the endless blue
I cannot help but wonder
How we all live under the same sky
When the world is torn asunder.

Beautiful (Short Story)

She had always been beautiful.

With glowing, coal-black eyes, pale pink lips and a vivacious character to match, she enchanted many who saw her at first glance.

This girl was none other than the closest friend I ever had. I could always recall with fond nostalgia, the times when we used to laugh and talk about so many things under the sun.

She had gone overseas for further studies and was planning to be a lawyer in her future. Even though we had kept in daily contact while she was studying in London, somehow we drifted apart.

That awkwardness was evident as we faced each other for the first time in many months. Her plane had just touched down and I had specially rushed over to the airport just to meet her.

For the sake of our old friendship.

Yet, the minute I saw her, there was a strange distant look in her eyes that I could not comprehend. All the questions that I had been longing to ask her, simply bubbled and died down in my throat.

I stared at her mutely, trying desperately to think of something to say; something that could break the uncomfortable silence that was slowly overwhelming me within.

I swallowed nervously and bit my lip out of habit. She gave me a strained smile and said hello in the friendliest way possible.

Yet she refused to look at me directly, as if she was too embarrassed to face me. I did not want to admit that she had changed a lot. I did not want to realize that the close friendship we once shared was dying.

But the fact that we did not know what to say to each other in real life spoke volumes about the reality of our friendship. It was something that I had tried to ignore at the beginning.

I smiled sadly and said hello back, trying to keep back the tears that threatened to spill out any moment. That was somewhat the end of our conversation, really.

There was nothing more to say.

Words were left unspoken in the air, but we both understood what was better left unsaid. The close bond we had once shared was gone forever.

When we said our good-byes, a single tear trickled down my cheek as I turned away. Somehow, it was hard to let go of the past and all the memories it contained. Somehow, it was hard to let go of things when you have to.

Mirror, Mirror On the Wall (Short Story)

Once upon a time, in a far away land, there lived a plain looking princess called Rosette. With mousy brown hair and freckles, she wasn’t exactly anyone’s idea of beautiful when the current rage was all blonde haired beauties with big, blue eyes.

Her mother, a frail and sickly lady, had died while giving birth to her, though many vicious rumors circulating around the kingdom claimed that she’d taken one look at her new-born baby and died of a heart attack.

Nevertheless, the king loved his daughter deeply and doted on her. But he was afraid that one day, his daughter would grow up and realize that not everyone will look at her with such ready acceptance.

So, when Rosette was just five years old, he set down a royal decree to ban all mirrors in his kingdom and destroyed all the existing ones. Those who were found with a mirror in their possession were severely punished and thrown into jail.

While his men were carrying out his orders, he went, disguised as a common peasant, to a powerful witch who lived at the far end of the forests to request her service.

For he wanted her to create a magic mirror specially for Rosette.

"It'll be difficult," she muttered to herself, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. "I'll need a drop of your daughter's blood and a lock of her hair to craft such a devious enchantment."

The king readily agreed to her requests and soon, equipped with the required elements and a sack of gold, the witch started to build the mirror.

This took at least six months to achieve for the magic woven was complex and the whole process was physically and mentally draining. But eventually, the mirror was completed and the king personally went down with a few trusted servants to collect it.

He ordered the mirror to be placed in Rosette’s bedroom and when everything was in place, he called his daughter to come and take a look at the new present he’d gotten her.

Excited, the princess bounced into the bedroom and sat on her father’s lap.

"So where’s my present, Daddy?" she asked impishly, smiling at him with all the innocence of a five-year old child.

Her father smiled and nodded at the mirror hanging on the wall. Rosette gasped in wonderment as she jumped out of her father’s lap and ran to inspect her new present.

With an intricate frame carved out of pure gold and a pane cut out of the clearest glass, the mirror was an exquisite sight to behold.

But what captured Rosette’s attention the most was the reflection in the glass.

"Is that ... is that really me, Daddy?" she whispered, entranced by her new reflection.

For the girl staring back at her had curly locks of gleaming, rich brown hair and eyes the colour of the deepest blue skies. No freckles dotted her smooth, porcelain white skin and her lips were the palest shade of pink.

The girl in the mirror was beautiful and Rosette ... wasn't.

"Yes, darling, that really is you," her father said, mustering a smile even though his heart was breaking at how he was deceiving his own daughter. His only daughter.

Rosette didn't reply, drunk with wonder, as she slowly reached out to touch the illusion on the other side.

For the next ten years, she grew up believing that she looked exactly like the girl in the mirror that hung in her bedroom.

This didn't stop the servants in the castle from looking at her pityingly, and she had to endure constant jeers and taunts at the Royal Academy for Princesses that she attended.

Yet she had only to look into the magic mirror once and somehow, no matter how bad things got, everything would seem bearable once more.

"Its okay," she told her reflection with a brave smile after yet another day of rejection, "it doesn't matter when they look at me with pity or scorn in their eyes. Because you show me who I look like and as long as I know that I'm not ugly, its okay."

Despite her constant self-reassurances, she knew, deep in her heart, that something was amiss.

By instinct, she kept reaching out to brush her fingers against the cold, hard glass, trying to see if her reflection would change upon touch.

But the magic held and Rosette continued to believe in the lie her father had crafted specially for her.

Then, one day, she decided to go exploring around the castle. While sneaking around the kitchens, she chanced upon a maidservant looking at herself through a secret compact mirror.

Curious, she asked the maidservant where she had gotten the mirror from, for she did not remember seeing any mirrors around the castle. But the servant had been so terrified at being discovered that she'd fled, dropping the mirror in the process.

It shattered into thousands of pieces, glinting against the frosty, white marble floor. Rosette gasped as she stared at the broken shards of glass in shock.

For the reflection staring back at her, was not the one she was used to seeing everyday in her magic mirror.

It was the image of a girl with mousy brown hair and freckles. A girl with pasty skin and chubby cheeks.

The reason she faced rejection every single day.

Multiplied by a thousand times in every single shard of glass.

No, she whispered to herself, no, it cannot be.

The princess collapsed to her knees and started frantically sorting through the glass shards. She desperately searched for a piece that would show a reflection that didn’t tell her she was ugly.

Stop it! she wanted to scream out, Stop showing me what I don't wish to see!

But she didn't ... couldn't stop. Driven by some inner perverse desire to face the truth. To force herself to look reality in the eye and realize that her own father had been deceiving her all these years.

Her hands started to bleed from the sharp edges of the broken glass. Tears poured down her cheeks and mixed with the blood on her badly cut hands, staining her dress a crimson red.

By the time her father came onto the scene, she was huddled in one corner. The servants tried to coax and cajole her, but she refused to get up.

She simply sat there, staring unseeingly into space. And the look in her eyes, the servants whispered to the others after that, was of one who had totally lost her mind.

The king was heart-broken when he saw the state his daughter had been reduced to. He could barely speak for the guilt he’d been carrying for the past ten years now overwhelmed him.

He wanted to run to his daughter and hug her tightly. To brush the tears away from her eyes and tell her everything was going to be okay. He longed to say, I love you. You'll always be my beautiful daughter and no reflection in the mirror is going to change the way I see you.

But guilt turned into cowardice and he found himself unable to go to her and give her the comfort that she needed.

And it was all because he loved her too much.

From that day onwards, Rosette locked herself in her room and refused to come out. When the king replaced the door with one without a lock, she started walking around the castle at night.

Frightened servants claimed that she came to them, a pale wraith dressed in white, when they were sleeping in their beds.

"Am I beautiful?" she would ask in an expressionless voice.

Over and over again.

If she did not get a response, she would suddenly start weeping and this could go on for hours until she crumpled to the floor due to sheer exhaustion.

Otherwise, she would simply sit in front of her bedroom mirror and comb her hair, singing to herself at random intervals.

'Mirror, mirror on the wall
Who's the fairest of them all?'

She sang this particular verse off-key, turning a well-known fairy tale's line into an eerie tuneless chant.

It chilled the king's heart every single time he walked past his daughter's room, and he grew so haunted by it that he lost all appetite and ability to sleep.

He knew that he had to do something about it before his beloved daughter lost her mind entirely.

On a chilly day in winter, he sent out a royal proclamation stating that whoever managed to bring his daughter out of her depression would get half of his kingdom and his/her weight in gold.

News spread far and wide beyond the kingdom and before long, there were long queues of people lining to the castle. Some bore presents and gifts while others simply brought themselves, convinced that their jokes or stories would bring the princess out of her depression.

However, as the winter wore on, the queues started to grow shorter as one by one, the hopeful visitors dwindled to a few. Nothing seemed to be able to capture Rosette’s attention and the king was growing desperate.

Then, finally, the crowds dwindled down to one last person. She was a very young girl, not more than five years old. With frizzy red hair and bright green eyes, she had a smile that could melt even the hardest heart.

However, when she presented herself to the king in the throne room, he could not help but feel slightly dubious. After all, what could a young girl of five possibly do to help?

Nevertheless, he allowed the girl to enter Rosette’s room alone and waited outside anxiously.

She was his last hope now.

When the girl entered the room, Rosette was sitting at the same spot, softly singing the same verse to herself in front of the mirror.

Dust had settled on all the furniture and the room was dim and musty. Rosette’s hair was unkempt and she wore the same dress she’d been wearing since the day she discovered the broken mirror.

The girl did not seem to notice all of this as she stood there, her eyes fixed on the princess. Slowly, she closed the door behind her.

Rosette stopped singing and turned to stare at the little girl blankly. When the girl did not move, her eyes flickered back to the mirror, but she did not sing again.

The little girl started to walk silently towards Rosette. She still did not say anything, but when she reached the princess, she put her tiny arms around her.

There was a tense pause, as the princess stiffened automatically. Her skin reddened, and she looked as though she was about to scream.

But the girl continued to hold on to Rosette and didn't let go.

Then, something gave way, like the lifting of an evil spell, or the softening of a bitter heart.

The princess suddenly began to weep uncontrollably.

No one, not even her father, had dared to go near Rosette.

Earlier visitors who came to try their luck had instantly labeled her as someone insane and ugly upon first sight.

And she could see it in their eyes. The identical looks of disgust and outright rejection on their faces. Every single one of them.

Yet this little girl was different from all of them. She had dared to hug her with unreserved, genuine affection.

It didn't matter that she bore no gifts or extravagant presents. It didn't matter that she didn't try to pretend that she totally understood how Rosette felt.

Her company was more than enough.

When Rosette finally turned to look at the girl, she found herself staring into eyes full of a deep compassion that seemed frightfully old for someone so young.

In those eyes, she saw herself for who she truly was.

Her true reflection.

And she did not feel ashamed.

"You're beautiful, princess," the girl whispered softly, smiling as she placed one small hand against where Rosette’s heart beat. "Both inside and out."

The princess smiled through her tears.

It was then that she knew. The curse was finally broken.

The reflection in the mirror did not matter any longer.

Public Observations (Short Story)

On my way to school and back home, I usually take the train and bus alone. As the journey is long, I sometimes see certain strange happenings and funny events. I’ve decided to record down my observations and thoughts about these events.

-------------------
"I want my handbag back!" a shrill, childish voice shrieked in anger.

The voice belonged to a young girl in a plain lemon yellow dress chasing after a small boy in grey checkered shirt and shorts.

The boy was clutching a shiny pink handbag and he seemed very reluctant to give it up to the girl even though she was chasing him around the train, to the amusement of the other passengers.

It only became apparent that their parents were with them when the girl went up to one of the ladies seated on the train and started complaining to her in a tearful voice that 'Di di does not want to give me back my handbag'.

This particular lady had been so busy scribbling something into a leather-bound book that she did not seem to notice what was going on around her.

Still, when the girl demanded her attention, she sighed and finally put down her pen. But before she could respond, the man seated next to her suddenly scolded the girl sharply.

"Girl, I already told you not to bring that handbag filled with all those kind of nonsense you always carry around! See what happened!"

Dressed in a scruffy white collar shirt and worn out jeans, his outfit contrasted starkly against his wife’s silk blouse and well-cut black pants.

As I continued to observe the way the lady treated her husband, it seemed pretty obvious to me who held the reins of the household.

The girl, with tear-filled eyes, continued to whine and complain incessantly. Yet, one could see that she was not really crying. She just wanted to get her own way, and she seemed to think that tears could help to achieve her goal.

The lady pressed her lips tightly in a thin line of patience. She turned to look at her husband and getting the silent message, he leant forward.

"I'll give you a tight slap if you don't shut up," he hissed.

Though he tried to say this as softly as possible, I could still hear every word uttered and was shocked to detect the venom in the tone of his voice.

The girl fell silent almost immediately, but she continued to look at him with a hint of reproach in her eyes.

Then, unable to bear the injustice of it all, she started up again.

"But Daddy ... he took my handbag!"

Sighing in exasperation, he stood up and went over to the boy, who had been prancing around the train with his sister’s pink handbag.

"Boy, give me the handbag."

"I don’t wanna," the boy said stubbornly, clutching the bag close to him.

The father stood there, silent for a moment, but the frustration in his eyes was unmistakable. The girl, on the other hand, was watching the scene that was unfolding in front of her with a faint, satisfied smirk on her lips.

"Stop playing already. Give Jie jie back her handbag," he said softly.

"No!" the boy slowly backed away, his lower lip jutted out and trembling. Now he too, started to have tears in his eyes. He did not want to give up the handbag.

Losing his patience, the father strode over to his son and forcefully took the handbag away. The boy promptly burst into tears and ran to his mother.

Half expecting the lady to give him the cold treatment, I was thus, surprised when she gathered him into her arms and settled him on his lap.

"Yes darling, tell me what's wrong?" she said soothingly, displaying all the motherly affection that I had not seen previously.

"I ... I want ... the handbag," he said, hiccupping through his tears. "Daddy ... Daddy won't let me have the handbag."

"Now, now, don't cry," the lady continued to coo into her son's ear. "Mommy will get you a new handbag, I promise."

The boy looked up at her and smiled happily. The tears automatically stopped.

But I was baffled. I had assumed that the boy had only taken the pink handbag away from his sister to antagonize her and make her angry, as all little brothers normally did.

Instead, he had taken the handbag away because he’d really wanted it for himself.

However, his own mother did not seem to find this strange at all. In fact, she seemed to be encouraging this girlish tendency in him.

Was it blind maternal love or true ignorance?

I'll leave it to you, the reader, to decide.