The Lifeless Girl

by opposites.setisoppo

This story was originally written by my deaf friend, who may not have the best grammar but is an AMAZING person. I edited and posted her story, and based on the ending I believe there is more to come.

She walks with no intentions, watching as the street lights struggle to pierce through the expanding blackness of the dark alley. Eventually, even this struggle ceases to take place. The light slithers along the upper edges of the brick walls. The girl's pale hands chafe along this brick wall, dragging across the friction of the curved ridges. Her feet lead the way as she stares blankly at the ground, refusing to acknowledge that it is well past her curfew. Her stubborn mind is occupied, fighting to resist a memory which is buried away. It is a memory too soon to be forgotten, and far too soon to be forgiven.

Trailing behind her are shadows which linger over the worn-down stones. Out of these shadows emerges an arm with long distorted fingers, grasping at empty air. Suddenly, a mid-aged woman steps forth from the shadows. She tugs at the seemingly lifeless girl's shirt, creating creases and ripples like the infinite ocean. The girl's mouth moves, yet she does not utter a distinguishable sound. Instead her empty eyes stare at the stars, desiring answers.

Again the mid-aged woman tugs at her shirt, adding to the collection of wrinkles. Her eyes are now sorrowful and glossy, as if at war as to whether the stars or the woman are more intriguing. The darkness seems to lure her in as it envelops and twists around her, creating a comfortable blanket of shadows. She knows it is late. The girl glances at the battered watch on her wrist, which reads 10:37 pm. Slowly, she is drawn out of this blank state of mind. Her legs are rigid as they trudge across invisible barriers. Every step is more difficult than it should be. Every step means that she is closer to entering the seemingly unprotected world.

"Come on," came the mid-aged woman's hushed voice, "we're going to be late!" Fighting against her conscience, the girl continues to drag her aching feet across the ground. A repetition of sounds from the clock tower echoes across the street. She glances at it and becomes mesmerized by the movements of the handles. It is now 10:45 pm. The time seems to be going by rapidly fast, yet painfully slow. She then starts to walk faster until she caught up with the mid-aged woman. For a while, they were silent. The only sounds which could be heard are the rubbing of their tired feet against the stones.

More light is visible as they approach the entrance to the alley.