the celebration of blue raspberry

Fumbling with the clear wrapper, I pulled at both ends of the twisted paper until it unravelled to reveal a lime green orb of green apple flavoured goodness.

Popping the hard candy into my mouth, I could hear Viviana's heels clicking against the sidewalk as she walked away from me and headed towards her own home, which was the opposite of where I was going.

With our backs to each other, I began moving forward. I shoved both of my hands into my front hoodie pocket, fiddling with my trusty lighter that was covered in mini ice-creams and had faces on them. Though, that bit was mainly for the aesthetic. I stared down at the path ahead of me, and continued to kick away any rocks that were standing in my way.

I wasn't paying much attention to where I was going, but rather watching my feet push forward and hit the ground. However, I wish I did, because someone's shoulder slammed hard into mine and sent me flying backwards. I winced at the impact.

"Watch it, human," the man passing me spat, glaring as he towered over my much shorter body—making me feel smaller than I already was.

"S-sorry," I mumbled, knowing very well that he could hear me. I staggered as I tried getting up from the side of a random shop wall, ignoring the pain in my lower back from hitting it against a rebel brick that was sticking out. Now, my back felt even worse. And, my ego was definitely suffering.

All the man did was scoff in response as he continued stomping down the sidewalk, his hands shoved into his coat pockets and his dirty blond hair long enough for the wind to blow through it. He glanced back for just a moment, I watched as he sneered down at me and I couldn't help but notice how his amber eyes darkened.

A werewolf who seemed too at odds with us humans. They weren't all like that one, but the same could be said for humans like me—like my father.

Turning away from him, I began walking at my normal speed, a rather slow, jogging pace.

The shops soon disappeared completely, with the last few being blocks away from the other buildings as the small shops began separating from each other. Soon enough, I was walking on the familiar dirt path with thick trees at my sides, being entirely engulfed by one of the many forested areas. The smell of pine interrupted my senses, as well as the lingering feeling of being watched. Going up my empty driveway, I shook my head at the lack of a parked car, and convinced myself that I was acting paranoid.

Unlocking my front door, I pushed it open easily and effortlessly. The lock seemed to barely work these days, and neither one of us had gotten around to fixing it. I entered my empty house with an ache filling the bottom of my gut. The sound of the TV hit my twitching ears instantly, and I was able to hear new voices, speaking and laughing alike.

Heading into my kitchen, the feeling of loneliness filled me at the sight of the handwritten note on the fridge. And, as I looked back through another doorway entrance, one that was connected to the open living room, I could see the clear, empty bottle of alcohol sitting on top of the coffee table.

Reading the note aloud, muttering each word that crossed my attention, "Gone out with friends for the night, love Dad."

More like drinking buddies, I thought bitterly, ripping the note off the fridge, crushing it into a ball and tossing it into the near garbage can. A petty version of myself craved to write up a nasty text, spinning my anger into sentences, and telling him that his friends could wait until tomorrow. It was his daughter's twentieth birthday, after all.

With quick and harsh steps forward, I turned off the living room TV with the help of a taped up broken remote. I went up the stairs and straight into my bedroom where I threw myself on top of my bed, sighing into the pillow that was being squished in my arms. The only thing with a warm hug to greet me with.

I rolled over to be on my back, my head hanging a little over the side of the bed as I turned my face to look over at my side table where the same picture that has been there for years seemed to always stare back at me. Groaning, I sat up and placed my hand on top of the old frame, pulling it down so that it didn't show the picture that was inside. The more I thought about it, the more I was beginning to think that it was mocking me.

Everything about it was a ghost. The picture itself showed a happier version of myself, it reminded me of a time when everyone around me was truly content about life, and it wouldn't stop reminding me. Even the note on the back, the meaning of the words seemed to now only tell me a sentence that had managed to drill itself into my mind—that was when you mattered. The photograph acted as a constant reminder that she's gone for good and nothing will ever go back to being the same.

My face twisted and contorted as an ache in my chest appeared, a lump had already formed in the back of my throat, and I had started sniffling as salty tears began rolling unevenly down my cheeks. I have known for a while, that all I have left is an emotionally distant, alcohol obsessed father and a mother buried six feet under.

I wiped at my face with the back of my hands, feeling the heat radiate off my sticky cheeks. I placed the palms of my hands over both my eyes as I tried calming myself down. My lips quivered and made strange, annoying crying sounds as I sucked in air through my puffy lips.

Today was not my day. That much was clear.

I threw my legs over the side of the bed and pushed myself off completely. I slowly shuffled across the hardwood floor until I was standing in front of my big window. Climbing over the side of it and sitting, but also kind of laying, on my soft cushioned seat as I peered out at the magnetic view from my bedroom. My body instantly sunk into the accompanying pillows, and I gladly let it. Feeling the comfort of the fabric, I threw on the short blanket that I always kept at the bottom of my window seat and I let it wrap around me like a cocoon.

Before leaning back deeper into the seat, I made sure to crack open the window—just enough to feel a breeze of fresh air. Soon enough, I found myself dozing off as the sun began falling into a colourful aurora. Even the stars had started filling up the darkened sky.

My eyes had finally closed thanks to a comfortable spot, with my form snug against the seat and submerged underneath a somnolent warmth. My breathing quickly slowed down to a tired state and I had officially begun falling asleep.

The full moon had aided me in my travels—and, within the realm of sleep, I had officially awoken.

I found myself gazing down at my pale hands, moving them around in patterns as I followed the rhythmic scent of chamomile. As I lifted my head up from facing the seeded ground and towards the energetic sky, I was met with staring into the brightly lit, full moon. The shadow stained my showing skin with a blue hue.

My hands rolled down my sides to feel the silky fabric of the white dress that was hanging onto me. And, out of the corner of my wandering eye, I caught sight of my brown, straightened hair being guided to the dirt. I stood up from the young, green grass, feeling it tickle the bottom of my feet. Without thought, I had instantly started walking forward to the castle-like building that was intruding on my dream. The building seemed to call out to me as though it was a bleeding siren. My bare feet hit the ground softly with every step I took. I walked up the hard stairs, quickening my pace, before I shoved my hands out to push on the upcoming door. Entering easily, I walked straight in.

Then, I heard the voices.

Curiosity getting the best of me, I followed the enchanting voices until I was standing in the entrance of a giant room. My hands grappled with the sides of the tall doorway—wanting to both stop me in my place and throw me the rest of the way. Instead, I stood there, listening and watching.

There stood a throne with a man carelessly sitting on top of it, leaning his large body back as he let the moon shine onto his skin. The moon acted as a path for my eyes as they finally started noticing the blood dripping down his chest. He smiled darkly, his hair matted in the dried crimson colour. I watched as his lips started moving, "And? I don't see a problem."

Following his gaze, my coffee eyes landed on a sparkling woman who stood confidently in front of him. One hand was rested on her hip as she stared at the man with no fear showing in her sharp, cerulean eyes. She was being highlighted throughout the moment, as though my vision was merely a stage light. The woman was tall in a long, white gown that nearly matched her fair skin.

"I can't let you get away with it," she told him, her voice firm yet soft, caring. "Not anymore."

"Yes, you can," he said in his deep, alluring voice. He stood up to a towering height, and placed the fancy chalice that was gripped tightly in his hand—it was full to the brim of an enticing liquid that I've never seen before—down on the ground. "You have the power to let them get away with their actions. You have always let them torture us, ridicule us, kill-"

"You don't understand," her voice filled with sadness as she held out her stretched hands. Her body practically levitated towards him before her hands cupped his strong face. "I must do something."

"What, Mother? What must you do?" He pleaded with her, begging to know, but there was something about him that showed he wasn't worried. "You have already given me away to this hell. There is nothing left for you to do."

"Do not hate me," she smiled gently.

His eyebrows furrowed, but before he could respond, his full lips twisted painfully as he bent over. His body was tipping and falling far from the throne as he groaned, "M-Mother, what did you do?"

"What I had to," she whispered and turned away from him. She held her hands against her chest as she shut her eyes, a single tear falling down her cheek as she heard him struggling to move behind her. "Yes, I know that I had to."

The man had started to grind his teeth while his body continued to weaken. He lifted up his head from off of the floor, an action similar to mine prior, and his hand reached towards the chalice. It was then half empty, staining the side of his throne. Realization flashed across his eyes of emerald as he gritted through his teeth, "Wolfsbane."

My body planted itself against the doorway as I stared down at the man. Again, perhaps for the thousandth time since first witnessing his glory, my legs shook uncontrollably as I held on tight to the entrance. My heart was beating hard in my chest, pumping faster than what I initially deemed possible. And, as he leered away from the wretched chalice, my eyes widened when his own snapped to mine.

Opposite of what I thought, the moon wasn't on my side. I jumped awake with a loud gasp, acting as though someone had just thrown a bucket of ice-cold water over me. The sound of a resonating howl echoed through my entire room, and affecting the rest of the house. This was very different from what I was used to. I heard the deep, low howl of a wolf guide the pattern, and the rest of his pack followed in tune—sending off the same message, the celebration of an awakening.

He's back.

W O R D C O U N T : 2185

Not too much, not too much at all.

Something is messing up with my comments. When I respond to any, it says that it was posted but then if I check it, it doesn't come up, and when I go to see what other people have responded underneath comments, I can't see them either.

It's strange.