30th April
10:30 am

i. Words, words, words.
That summer I was stabbed in the back. Not once, not twice, but several times. The knives stick close to my skin; no one ever dares to pull them out. They don't hurt anymore. In fact, they stop the blood from profusely gushing out.

"Is my agony loveable?"

ii. The perfect travel song.
Vicious eyes, never-ending lies,
Satan walks on the Earth tonight.
Close your windows, and eyes.
Do not open them till the divine gives a sign-

My eyes open so wide, they are momentarily blinded by the morning light. The chorus still rings in my head, while Judith, my sister, makes swine faces while inspecting my headphones.

"Mamma, sis is listening to the same weird song-"

My hands almost pounce on Judith's, like an evil energy piercing its way through the vessel's skin. When I feel the headphones fabric against my fingers, a wave of calmness washes over me. My favorite chorus hasn't finished yet. Judith's eyes angrily dart at me before retreating to Alaska's lap.

But now, I am sleeping for a thousand years.
Only to wake up in the ribs of Satan.
It is surprising warm in here,
My love, let me be in here, forever.

My lips curl in a malevolent smile; one which can disturb the disturbed. This song is etched in my throat and crawls out on it's own when someone tells me to sing. My parents, brothers and sisters do not understand it.

But it speaks with my soul.

"You came?"

"You called."

11:11 am

iii. The aroma of belonging.
Alaska's birds have been chirping in an unpleasant manner ever since we stepped into the new house. Hitting their heads against the cage, screeching until their necks turn white, it feels like they are begging for instant freedom. There's a fear of being devoured in their eyes.

Do I sympathize them? Yes. Why? I know not yet.

"Daddy it is so cold." Judith says while rubbing her hands together, hoping to create warm, just for her," Moreover, it's so dirty, dusty and has such a... foul smell."

"Well sweetie, you can't expect a clean house as soon as you move in." Arthur, our brother answers.

Judith retaliates. These two are like bees, who always fight over a spoonful of honey. I decide to leave, my hands shouldn't get sticky.

The stairs, creak under the weight of my body. How much modesty must it have required, to allow people to trample it, day after day, without protest or complaint. I halt, resting my hands on the banisters. The dust tenderly settles on my palms, as if it was patiently waiting to kiss them. My eyes travel to the chandelier, which is slightly swinging back and forth.

But there's no air.

My gaze is captivated. The white, transparent chandelier with its sharp edges is gently stroked by an invisible hand, unseen by the human eye. How does it feel to be crushed beneath the weight of the chandelier? How much would it hurt to jump from such a height? Someone must have cast a spell on me, for such thoughts are making me smile.

Just then, I notice something-or rather, someone-standing behind me. I narrow my eyes while still looking at the white chandelier, but whatever is behind me emanates a red aura that I can feel without turning around. A strong, palpable presence fills the room. Before I can react, a sharp tearing sound cuts through the air. I glance down and see that my skirt has been slightly ripped.

When I look up, I see a figure darting away. Ignoring the ripped skirt, I sprint after the person. My breathing grows heavy as I follow them down twisting corridors and winding hallways. Finally, I burst through a set of doors and find myself in the storeroom. I inhale sharply, and my eyes widen. The air is thick with the scent of decaying meat. My lips curl into a smile. This feels like home.

11:30 pm

iv. The colour of love but also blood.
I am supposed to share my room with Alaska, who is only a year younger than me. Currently, she is desperately trying to shush her birds. I am combing my hair, the sharpness of the chandelier still lingering in my mind.

"There's blood on your skirt," I hear Alaska say.

"Wha?-" I look down and see that the ripped skirt indeed has blood on it-blood that isn't mine. My knees aren't scraped. I keep my comb down, slipping out of my skirt to wash it in the bathroom.

The chilly water thoroughly explores the end of my skirt. The blood soon washes away, but it leaves behind spots of black. As I inspect it closely, I catch a glimpse of myself in the bathroom mirror. Reflected in the mirror is a dark, unclear face with red eyes staring into my soul from the bedroom window. Alaska groans in frustration as her birds chirp loudly.

I quickly throw the skirt down and sprint towards the window, my mind clouded with questions. Who is it? Why is its presence so hypnotic? I push the windows open with great force, but there's no one there.

Vicious red eyes; Far from reach, Like the divine.