Separation
Urban fantasy one-shot.
(Apologies if there are any leftover of grammatical errors. It's been a while since I checked them again.)
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They can’t outlive us. So, it’s okay…
to keep a distance.
The kids were at it again. I could hear them through my headphones, screaming down the streets. Their Adidas fitted feet scampering down concrete-stone, hands in the air sparked with a diminishing firecracker.
They circled the crackling pile and ran towards the worn lamp post. The little kid, probably the leader, wearing a bright yellow hoodie parroted the word “Can’t catch me!” as he ran around the same street.
His word echoed with snorts and squeals while holding his little flaming wand behind his back. The sparks on the firecracker swayed and crackled the faster he ran, almost like it would propels him forward.
There was a honk, then a yell. A red Toyota driven by a hippie of sort. Can’t tell if he is – just had weird curly hair and a pair of silver-brimmed sunglasses. His flushed expression wasn’t hard to glimpse under the blood red lens. He was shouting at a speeding motorcycle who long sped past the red light. Couldn’t quite catch what he mumbled, something about kids and their damn exhaust on motorcycles. He scratched his stubbles, pulling his head back into the car. The engine roared, black fumes weaving itself into the purple veiled skies.
Soon the roar faded, replaced with a flash of light and a childish scream.
My vision goes black.
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“Eve.” The voice called. “Come on, we got to talk.”
I grunted, tugging down my headphones. I forgotten how much that hurts. Rubbing my ear, I looked towards the window and spotted the familiar gang of mischief. The leader in yellow now a puddle of tears on the ground, wailing over a little scratch on his cheek. The wand he proudly directed now burnt and discarded. His fellow comrades trying to comfort him, but he just keeps crying. Louder and louder – desperate to be heard by his mother.
“Eve.” A female voice came through.
I kept my eyes closed. I don’t need eyes to know my parents are in my room. A persistent foot tapping on the ground.
I continued to rub my sore ear.
“What?”
“Were you using your powers again?” Mom clicked her tongue. “You’re going to get me in trouble if you keep that up.”
“Yeah.”
“Just yeah?”
“Yes.” I pressed my palm against my ear, feeling an unwelcomed sting of heat.
I could hear her gasp, probably appalled by my lack of grace. She stomped her foot again.
“Just because you’re a demon, doesn’t mean you can simply peek into people’s head.”
“Who said I was peeking? I literally just looked through his eyes.”
“It’s the same. It’s not something normal.” My ears start to itch. “It’s not a normal thing humans do.”
I finally opened my eyes, letting my hand fall to my lap. The sound of Frank Sinatra poured through the room as I steadied my gaze on them. My mother, a human of decent height with black hair and wearied features. She had her red dress on, usually it was saved for special occasions. Family dinners, date nights with Dad or celebrations.
I guess today was worth celebrating for her.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
“Mom, I got to ask…were you fucked to a point of blindness? In what sense do I look normal?”
I wasn’t. I am and never will be. If it takes me to pulls my bangs apart to show her these two bumpy stubs above my swollen ears, then so be it. I have been trying to soothe the growth with music, didn’t dampen the pain but it got it pulsate less. Still ridiculous how slow mine grew.
“These are horns.” I pointed out. “I am a demon. I am not a fragile, sensitive, cheating -”
“That’s enough, Eve.”
Dad stepped forward. His shadow covering the fading evening glow, swallowing the last refuge of light from a waning day. But even under the hard light of dusk, his features were soft and gentle.
“That’s enough.” He said, gaze softening. “Let’s not argue anymore today. We…your mother and I made a choice; you should respect that.”
I bit my lips. It was hard to breathe. Every moment I allowed air to enter my chest was seized by a grasp of suffocating fire. It burned through my lungs, scratched at my throat. My heart was trapped in a cyclic inferno of spite and anger. But what’s worse of all – is the feeling of relief that flooded me soon after. My body relaxes into the seat and my eyes suddenly clear. The clarity permeating my mind, telling me this is alright. This reality is appropriate – I have fed enough today.
I leaned back, powerless against the wash of rationality. Just waiting, watching Dad fix his glasses. They were an old pair of square trims; a birthday present we got him. We asked him to change it after a decade, but he always refused. Sentimental value, he said.
“Better?” He broke the silence.
“Yes. It just…took over.”
“It’s normal – part of puberty. Gets easier to control over time, then it won’t feel as painful.”
He turned to Mom, who wasn’t quite good at hiding that face of doubt and disgust.
“You can say what you want about me but leave our daughter out of this. This is our nature, Mindy. This is us.” He placed a hand on his chest. “Let me handle this.”
Mom gave Dad a look then left without saying a word.
But I could sense it. It’s not hard to know what she is thinking, even with these abilities.
“Why do I have to be like you? That’s what she thinks, right?”
For a moment, Dad’s stoic face looked expressive. He rubbed his face, digging into the weary wrinkles on his face.
“No, she still loves you.”
Liar.
“Dad, did she cheat on you?”
“No.”
Why won’t he admit?
“Dad, why? Why the hell won’t you say what it is?”
“Because it isn’t, honey. It’s understandable.”
“Why?” My head hurt. “For god sake, why do you think that?”
He paused, then signaled to the window. We peered through the stutters to see the yellow-hoodie kid walking down with another woman. His mother, dusting him off with a frown on her face before taking the child’s hand in hers.
“Because I wasn’t enough. It will never be enough. We…We take, honey. We take a lot, and we give as much too. But it all boils down to one thing in the end – Lifespan.”
He turns towards me.
“I can live longer than your mom, Eve. She can’t, so she made a choice.”
I swallowed, the stinging pain indistinguishable from the humming of car engines and soft laughter from the streets below. Dusk settled into my room, veiling my room in its velvet embrace. The plushies against blank white wall sinks into monochrome, slouched against a lonely corner. Unmoving and disinterested in the world of the living.
Just like dead bodies.
“Then why did you marry her?” I asked again. This time Dad has pulled his hands away from his face. The blue light basking under his stoic face once more, lighting no more than a tug of his lips.
“Because I love her. I still do.”
He pulled me onto his arm, letting my head rest on his chest. I can hear his heartbeat and the warm touch of his large palm on my shoulder. We don’t hug often, its not something Dad likes to do. Thinking about it now, Dad never kissed or hugged Mom too. He’s usually quiet and thoughtful. He just sits there listening, helping with anything Mom needs, rushing out for any emergency groceries when there’s a discount. Mom always looked so happy too. She would thank him, appreciate him, and wore her best clothes for date nights with him.
“Promise me, Eve.” He whispered. “They can outlive us, that’s why its okay to despair. But keep your distance. It’s okay…to keep your distance so you don’t get hurt.”
My throat could barely croak out the words. It felt strangling to even speak. I should be crying, shouldn’t I? Instead, my body has no reaction. No tears, no struggle…nothing but an empty chasm of hollow thoughts and relief. As I watch the child in yellow smiled, I felt nothing. My own thoughts reverberating the phrase:
This is okay.
This happens.
We can’t control it.
It is better,
to be alone.
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