Alna wandered aimlessly through her mind, heading in no particular direction. Her current path took her through a field located outside of one of the few towns she had mentally constructed for reasons even she wasn’t sure of. One would think that, given Alna’s introverted nature that, in the recesses of her own mind, she would prefer to enjoy solitude. And she did. Sometimes, whilst disconnected from the regular world, Alna would take time in which she would not interact with another human being. Seeing as she was inside her thoughts, Alna had more control here than she did anywhere else. It was, all around, a rather welcome escape from the sometimes frustrating reality.
Coming to a stop, Alna looked around. The field surrounding her was a wheat field like one might expect to find on a farm. Golden stalks of wheat swayed in the breeze coming from the east. The sky up above was a clear blue, only broken by the slightest wisp of a cloud here and there. There was a forest in the distance, shimmering in the sun. Truly, this was one of Alna’s least detailed locations, and also one of the first she had ever made.
She should add some wildlife, at the very least, Alna thought. It would make this entire scene more realistic. She’d been neglecting this field until now.
With barely any mental exertion, Alna summoned a couple of deers into the field and added a few birds. She even put a few moles into the field, despite their tendency to cause annoyance. Glancing around, Alna decided she was satisfied with this part of her mind for now, and continued to wander through—and out of—the field, a part of her mental world that she generally left to its own devices.
After some time, Alna decided she’d had enough of wandering through the “wilderness” and mentally transported herself to her personal clearing. This part of her mind was reserved for Alna to have time herself, without any interference from anyone, real or created by her. It was a simple clearing in the center of a forest, almost always kept in a phase of late night. Occasionally, if she felt like it, Alna might change the weather in this clearing. More often than not, she kept in a constant state of rich green grass, just long enough to sway in the breeze. The occasional flower stood out among the grass.
Scattered across the dark blue sky were various stars, forming constellations Alna found enjoyable, including the Big and Little Dipper. A few dragonflies flew around, adding some life to an otherwise barren clearing.
Trees surrounded the clearing on all sides. All were healthy and green, barring a few that had yellow and orange leaves, looking as though they were in the middle of fall.
Lying down on the cool ground, Alna gazed up at the stars and arranged some of them into the Carina constellation before allowing her thoughts to drift. She jumped when a vision of Marianna appeared in the corner of her eye, and quickly regained control of her thoughts, banishing the image.
Having Marianna show up in her clearing wasn’t altogether unpleasant for Alna. When she had first fallen asleep, Alna summoned a lifelike version of the girl into her mind and considered interacting with it, before disposing of the dummy, realizing that doing so would be creepy. Any therapist would deem it unhealthy, she was sure. Not that anyone was ever fully aware of what went on in Alna’s head. Trying to explain that she had literally built her own personal world inside her mind would be difficult for anyone to understand.
Having banished the image of Marianna, Alna lay back down and continued to observe the starlit sky, occasionally rearranging them based on her desires. The moon itself was pushed well off to the side in this scene of hers, its silver glow visible over the treetops to Alna’s right. She felt it might take away from the stars’ simple beauty.
Alna soon found herself lulled into a sense of security, observing the stars through half-lidded eyes with a hand braced behind her head. This meant that when Alna’s alarm went off in the real world, Alna was more than a little annoyed at the shrill sound. The clearing started to blur around Alna as her body started to wake itself up, and soon Alna’s eyes opened to take in the plain grey paint on her ceiling.
One of the disadvantages of lucid dreaming, Alna found, was the fact that, occasionally, when she awoke, Alna would be paralyzed for a few minutes as her body worked to catch up with her mind. This meant that, on this day, Alna had to endure a good four minutes of her insufferable alarm. It was a loud, piercing sound that reminded Alna of a tornado siren. Every time she was forced to listen to the alarm, it grated on Alna’s nerves like no other, but despite her intense dislike for it, Alna could admit that the siren did its job. It managed to penetrate through Alna’s mental wall and get her out of bed on time. This didn’t make Alna love the thing by any stretch of imagination.
As soon as she regained movement in her body, Alna’s arm shot out to her nightstand and grabbed her phone, making quick work to banish the siren. That done, Alna climbed out of her twin bed and did a few quick stretches, before grabbing some clothes and heading for the basement’s bathroom.
Little more than half an hour later, Alna stepped out of her steam-filled bathroom, wearing a long-sleeved black shirt and jeans, her hair damp and hanging about her shoulders. Once she had closed the oak door, Alna wasted no time in grabbing her book and heading upstairs, soon greeted by the sight of her mother making breakfast.
Leaning against the doorway leading out of the basement, Alna allowed her book to dangle in her left hand as she observed her mother’s posture. Her hair was in a messy bun, her feet bare as she flipped a pancake, still in her pajamas. She was humming to herself, an indicator of her serene nature today.
“Do you want help with anything?” Alna asked, startling Mom. The older of the two made a high-pitched sound in the back of her throat that reminded Alna of a mouse, spinning around and placing a hand on her chest, eyes wide.
“Alna,” she gasped, “you startled me.”
“Yeah,” Alna said wryly, “I gathered that.”
“You’re going to give me a heart attack one of these days,” Mom muttered to herself. To Alna, she said, “No, I’ve got it, honey, but thanks.”
Alna nodded in response. She allowed her mother to give a quick “good morning” hug before heading into the living room. After placing her copy of Agatha Christie’s Why Didn’t They Ask Evans? book next to her on the dark couch, Alna grabbed the television remote from the coffee table, turning it on to the news channel.
The weatherman, Terrance Askeland, appeared on the previously darkened television. He was rather young-looking, in his early thirties and likely unmarried, seeing as Alna had never seen him wear a wedding ring, like some of the other hosts did. He kept his dark brown hair slicked to one side and always dressed in a dress shirt and tie. On holidays he liked to spice it up by wearing a decorative tie, such as the blue one with snowflakes Alna had seen him wear last year.
Folding her legs underneath her, Alna leaned against the armrest and watched as Askeland assured everyone they would have sun for the next two days, before receiving a light drizzle on Wednesday.
It was then that Evan appeared in the living room, black hair mussed from sleep. He was dressed, though, which meant he wouldn’t have to rush out the door to get to school on time today.
“Hey, Allie,” Evan greeted, as he covered a yawn with his hand. Colton appeared behind him and tossed a hello at his sister before proceeding to the kitchen.
“Hey, Evan,” Alna replied. Evan walked over to the couch. Alna turned the television to mute.
If one were to see Alna and her brothers standing next to each other, they would not be able to tell they were related. The twins took after their father in terms of looks, meaning they had black hair and dark skin. Although they did have their mother’s eyes.
Despite her aversion to spending too much time with people in general, Alna enjoyed her brothers’ presence and could spend quite a bit of time with them without suffering from bouts of boredom.
“I have a question.” Evan sat next to Alna, almost knocking her book to the floor. He turned to face her, still looking rather tired. “I got this assignment in science yesterday, but it’s confusing. Can you help me?”
“Of course. But I’m tutoring Chavelle O’Connell tonight, so we’ll have to get started as soon as you’re back from school,” Alna said. She eyed Evan’s hair for a moment before she reached out and attempted to smooth it down, only for the stubborn strands to shoot right back up. Evan batted her hand away.
“’Kay,” he agreed with a frown. Alna knew without being told that her brother wasn’t particularly happy with this arrangement. He never liked doing homework right after school.
Once Evan had headed to the kitchen, Alna turned the volume on the television back up, and perked up when she caught sight of the title at the bottom of the screen: Car Crashes Escalate.
“As of the last two weeks,” Kitty Lars, the news anchor, announced loudly, “the number of car crashes in Brigate has increased at an alarming rate. Statistics show that these numbers are unusual, as there have been a total of twenty-nine collisions. In a city like Brigate, car crashes typically average thirteen every two weeks, with the exception of the winter months... ''
Behind Lars, Alna could see a large crowd gathered around the crash site, although the vehicle itself was barely visible. The flashing police lights, on the other hand, were easy to spot.
Alna found herself leaning forward, giving her full attention to the news report. When her father made his way into the kitchen a few minutes later, Alna greeted him with a distracted voice.
Kitty Lars gave the viewers a brief list of some of the crashes’ causes, which ranged from an apparent drunk driver to someone falling asleep behind the wheel.
“The most recent one,” Lars continued, “a result of a vehicle malfunction.”
Alna’s eyebrows rose at the last one. A vehicle malfunction? It was not unheard of, but Alna couldn’t remember a time when she had heard it reported firsthand, without coming across it on a newspaper or social media website. And, considering Alna’s inability to forget even the smallest of details, that was saying something.
Her expression turning thoughtful, Alna turned the television off and considered Kitty Lars’s report. Twenty-three car crashes in two weeks. None of which, according to Lars, had left any survivors. Interesting. Alna would have to look into it.
Later, though, she decided, when she heard Mom calling her to breakfast.
Alna set her book on the coffee table before getting up to join her family in the kitchen.
Breakfast was a quiet affair, as some of Alna’s family (namely her father) were still waking up. Her father placed a light kiss on her forehead when she took a seat next to him. Alna allowed the gesture without complaint, not minding in the least. Alna may think long, drawn-out “good mornings'' were unnecessary, but that didn’t mean she hated every display of affection her parents gave her.
“Okay, boys,” Dad spoke up when breakfast was consumed, leftover pancakes, bacon, and eggs transferred to the refrigerator, “why don’t you head out to the truck? I’ll be there in a few minutes.”
The two boys chirped their agreements before giving their mother and sister quick hugs, grabbing necessities, and heading to the garage. Dad grabbed some plates and put them in the dishwasher as he continued to help clean up.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
“You two have anything planned for the day?” Alna’s father asked as she wiped down the table.
Alna didn’t go to school, having graduated when she was younger, hence Dad’s question. Now, at sixteen, she often found activities to occupy her time.
She cast a sidelong glance at , having picked up on her overly casual attitude the night before when she asked Alna if she was busy today. If her assumptions were correct, Mom would ask her to do something together soon. Most likely together. Dad had given her the perfect opening.
“Actually,” Mom started to say, grabbing a towel and drying the table, “I was wondering if you’d like to go shopping today, Alna. Some mother-daughter time?”
Right in one, Alna thought dryly. The prospect of spending most of her day shopping wasn't an appealing one—she found it tedious; not to mention she more or less had everything she needed—but Alna knew saying no was not an option. Not only would it sadden her mother, but Mom would also start feeling guilty, thinking she had done something wrong by her daughter. Having a child that you couldn’t quite understand was difficult. Alna knew because she had experienced her parents’ lack of understanding on more than one occasion. And it wasn’t some teen angst thing, either; Alna’s parents honestly didn’t understand her at times. If they had, they wouldn’t have tried to convince a younger Alna to watch children’s shows––something below her intellectual level.
Despite this, Victoria and Aiden Holt were not bad parents. Quite the opposite, in fact. So, knowing it would ease her mother’s worries about Alna’s lack of social life for the time being, Alna replied, “Sure. As long as I’m back by the time the boys get home; Evan has an assignment he needs help with.”
To her mild surprise, Alna, for one moment, considered telling her about Marianna. She dismissed the thought. No point in getting her parents’ hopes up. Or having to deal with their intolerance, should it take that direction.
Mom positively beamed at her.“Give me half an hour to get ready.” Pressing a quick kiss to her husband’s lips, Mom floated out of the room on light feet, her jubilant nature palpable.
When his wife disappeared around the corner, Dad pulled Alna in for another quick hug. “You two ladies have fun,” he murmured near her ear.
Alna returned his embrace. “I’m sure we will.”
With that, he left.
Once she had retrieved her purse, Alna headed back into the living room and grabbed her book, keeping herself entertained until her mother returned.
It took Mom more than a half an hour before she was ready to leave (forty-one minutes, if one wanted to be specific), but Alna didn’t mind. She rather enjoyed her book.
When Mom appeared in the living room, clothed in a long-sleeved brown cotton shirt and jeans, damp hair in a bun and light makeup applied, she had a smile on her face. Obviously, she was looking forward to spending quality time together. Perhaps today would be more bearable than Alna thought, she mused. Being bored for a while wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, especially if it made her mother this happy.
“You ready to go?” Mom asked, car keys dangling from her fingers, a purse clasped to her side. She continued to look quite pleased.
“I am,” Alna replied, once again setting her book on the coffee table. She grabbed her black, faux leather purse—something she didn’t use often, but it had been a Christmas present from her parents.
“Let’s go, then,” Mom said.
She was taking way too much satisfaction from this, Alna thought with faint amusement as she followed her mother out the front door.
After a quiet drive to Rain View Mall, Alna and her mother stepped into the brightly lit food court. There were very few people in the food court in question, given the rather early hour and the fact that it was not the weekend. The people that were there stood in line to get their food or sat eating, looking tired.
Upon asking where Alna wanted to go first, mother and daughter strolled to the bookstore, stopping at a jewelry store on the way. It was like most jewelry stores; there were nine different display cases, all rectangular in shape, with various types of jewelry on display. The lighting of the store was obviously planned so that the wares would glitter, immediately catching people’s eye whether they liked it or not.
Alna herself found all the shining gold and glittering diamonds pleasing to look at, but seeing as she was not one to add embellishments to her everyday wear, had no fantasies of buying anything.
Despite this, Alna examined a necklace with a heart-shaped diamond hanging from a gold chain. She wondered if Marianna was a jewelry type of girl. She hadn’t worn any at the club the night before, but that meant nothing. There could have been any number of reasons she wasn’t wearing any jewelry last night.
Once again, Alna wondered why the girl kept entering her mind. Except for the first one, she had never given any of her previous dalliances this much though. But that was because she had been ensuring her rash decision would have no repercussions. If the doctor Alna consulted with had called her parents, they never said anything.
What was so different about Marianna? She was quite normal, yet even now, as Alna replayed their kiss, her lips curved into a smile. Her kiss had been soft, pleasant. Never had Alna felt the need to pull away.
Now was not the time for fantasizing. Alna mentally shook herself and continued to wander around the store.
“This one’s nice, don’t you think?” Mom asked after a couple minutes of perusing, pointing at a glass case.
Alna, looking up from the rings she had been observing (and losing interest in), walked over to her mother and followed her gaze, peering at the necklace she was referring to. It was the eternity symbol, hanging from a thin, gold chain. The pendant was made from gold with diamonds of varying colours decorating it. Most were white, but if one looked closer they could see the smaller, less eye-catching diamonds, their colours varying from pink, blue, red and purple. It had a certain charm, Alna admitted.
“Very nice,” she agreed.
The price made Alna purse her lips. The gold and diamonds were real, then.
Mom hummed her reaffirmation and continued to examine the necklace. But when a store clerk came over and asked if “You ladies need help with anything?”
Mom declined her offer, and she and Alna proceeded to the bookstore.
Clothes shopping came after the books––something Alna hadn’t been looking forward to. She had everything she needed in that department. At least she’d found some good reading material. The mystery novels she chose sounded rather interesting.
When it came to trying on clothes, Alna only ever tried the black articles. Though some people may have perceived her to be so, Alna was not a Goth. It was, as far as she was concerned, the only practical shade, or colour, for her to wear. Almost everything else clashed unpleasantly with her skin tone.
Despite this, Alna allowed her mother to talk her into trying on a few coloured items, which, as she had known they would, did not suit her. After some time, Alna convinced Mom that no, Alna would not be getting anything that was not black, except for jeans. Which did not include jean jackets, she told Mom in no uncertain terms.
After a brief argument about who would pay for Alna’s clothes, the two made their way back to the food court and parted ways.
Seeing as Alna wasn’t fond of most fast-foods, she soon had a plastic tray loaded with a strawberry banana smoothie, a small salad, and some noodles that looked rather edible, despite their origin. Locating a table next to a large fish tank, Alna made her way over to it and sat down, observing the crowd as she waited for Mom. Her eyes darted toward a nearby blonde woman, but she quickly looked away. Alna forced her attention elsewhere, away from thoughts of Marianna.
The boy a couple tables over was young, perhaps four or five. Given that he was currently with his mother in the mall, Alna was certain he had yet to start school. Unless, of course, he was skipping, but she doubted that was the case.
A man sat down at another table. He was what one might describe as “ruggedly handsome.” His appearance, while a bit unkempt, was neat enough to hide his clear love of drink. The man picked up the water bottle he had set on the table and drank deeply. Setting it down, the man wiped his mouth with a napkin and started eating. Alna’s jaw locked. She tried not to judge people—knowing what it was to be on the receiving end of someone’s intolerance—but the fact that an alcoholic had showed up to a mall of all places irked her. It was so obvious, too. Surely she couldn’t be the only one that took notice.
Alna glanced around at the people going on with their lives and concluded that, sadly, she may very well have been the only one to notice the man’s addiction. And the fact that he had brought a form of his poison with him. She considered contacting mall security.
As if responding to some cue, Mom appeared, tray in hand, loaded with a chocolate milkshake and soup in a cardboard bowl.
“Well,” she began, taking a seat in a red, plastic chair across from Alna, “that took longer than I wanted.” She sounded breathless.
“Something happened?” Alna asked, tearing her attention away from the alcoholic and focusing on Mom. Since her mother had joined her, Alna took a bite of her salad, the green leaves crunching in her mouth.
“My order got mixed up,” Mom explained as she opened up a packet of crackers and started to break them, allowing the pieces to fall into her soup. “I had to wait a couple minutes longer than I normally would have.”
“Well,” Alna said, “fast-food employees are human. They’re allowed to make a mistake or two.”
“Yes, they are,” Mom agreed, shooting her a sunny smile, like she seemed to be doing all day.
Alna shot another look in the alcoholic’s direction, who was making his way through a submarine sandwich. She once again considered reporting him, before reluctantly deciding not to. She didn’t want to ruin her mother’s mood, and there was a chance that whoever she spoke with would be sceptical. Teenagers were known to pull stupid stunts, after all. Perhaps security would figure it out themselves.
Alna twirled some noodles onto her fork and took a bite. “What do you have planned for us now?” She returned her gaze to Mom.
“I was thinking of doing some more shopping,” Mom answered. “Are you okay with that?”
“Sure,” Alna replied, hiding her lack of enthusiasm.
They spent the next three hours doing just that, in which time Mom bought herself some makeup, and tried to get Alna to try on some dresses.
“Absolutely not,” Alna said firmly as her mother held up baby blue dress.
“Why not?” Mom frowned, looking confused. “You’ve worn blue before.”
“Dark blue.”
They’d had the argument today already. When would Mom receive the message? Alna wondered.
“Everything you wear is dark,” Mom pointed out. “Why not try something else?”
“Dark colours are the only thing that goes with my skin tone and hair colour,” Alna explained in exasperation. “Everything else I wear is like trying to mix water and oil. You saw it earlier.”
Mom sighed in frustration. “Fine.” She returned the dress to its rightful place and searched for another few minutes, shoes causing friction against the dark brown carpet underfoot. “How about this one?” She was now holding a strapless navy blue dress, with a tight waist that had a dark brown belt encircling it. Alna observed it for a moment. “I’ll try it.”
When she was done modeling the dress for Mom, Alna decided against getting it, still uncomfortable with the mismatched shades but allowed her mother to buy her a black dress of the same style.
***
Alna braced her head on her hand as she watched Evan answer his science questions. As promised, when the boys had gotten home, Alna convinced her brother to do his homework with her before supper, much to his chagrin. If Evan had it his way, he would have waited until after supper to do his homework, but with Alna’s plans to tutor Chavelle later, that wouldn’t work.
Alna wondered if Marianna had any siblings. She’d never mentioned any last night.
“This part’s super confusing,” Evan said, showing Alna his paper, breaking her out of the daze she’d fallen in. She brought her attention to the question, which was asking what a meat eater was called. Evan’s eyebrows furrowed as he added, “I always get them mixed up.” He ran his pencil next to the words “omnivore,” “carnivore,” and “herbivore.”
“Which one do you think it is?”
If possible, Evan looked even more frustrated. “I don’t know! There’s so many words that end in –vore.”
Instead of responding to her brother’s outburst, Alna asked, “Do you have a piece of paper I can use?”
Evan pulled a piece of lined paper out of his binder and handed it to her.
“All right,” Alna said. She pulled Evan’s binder onto her crossed legs and placed the paper on top of it. After adjusting her position on his bed, Alna stole Evan’s pencil and wrote “herbivore,” “carnivore,” and “omnivore,” evenly spaced.
“For herbivore, all you have to do is look at the first part.” She circled “herb” and wrote the words “jasmine,” “garlic” and “lavender” next to it. “Herbs come from plants, which means…” Alna trailed off and looked at her brother expectantly.
Realization crossed Evan’s face. “So, herbivores eat plants?”
“Exactly,” Alna agreed. She wrote “plants” down, and moved on to the next word. “Now, carnivore. A point of reference for this one would be the word ‘carnage.’ It means that someone’s killed a lot of people.” Alna wrote this down, and once again waited for her brother to catch on.
“Carnivores eat meat,” Evan all but exclaimed, looking excited. He grinned at Alna.
Unable to resist his contagious attitude, Alna returned the smile. “You’re catching on,” she approved. Turning back to the piece of paper, Alna continued, “Now, as for omnivore, I want you to think about a wood nymph. They—“
“Omnivores eat both,” Evan interrupted her, a hint of relief in his eyes.
“Yes, exactly.” Alan reached out to ruffle Evan’s hair, unsurprised when he ducked away. “Keep this,” she continued, handing the paper back to her brother, who placed it in his binder. “And Evan? Perhaps you could avoid telling your teacher about the example I used for carnivores.” She wouldn’t want anyone thinking she was trying to mess with her brothers’ minds. People already thought she was strange as it was.
“Oh, right. Sure, Allie.” She hated that nickname. “Thanks!” Without preamble, Evan bolted out of his room, presumably to join Dad and Colton in the living room.
Alna shook her head with a smile and placed his belongings in his backpack.