Blackness. Fridgedness. A starless void. A wavering storm. A tempest of painful memories. "Why don't you just get it over with?" "I'm tired of wondering what's going to happen to you." My glasses were blurrie, partially due to an outdated prescription but mostly due to my eyes spilling over into the lenses. And my eyes burnt from my cheap make up, why had I bothered this morning? I took them off, there was nothing to see, my whole world was like a smeared canvas that once held a scene now lost to the damage. The bookself was a blur of red and rainbows, the maps on my ceiling were bold enough to almost make out, I hate that old clicking fan. My garish drapes looked like something a soldier in a black and white film would wear, and my plum walls felt too tight; I hate this. This room was never my own. This room never made me feel safe, this poorly insulated, poorly painted, and poorly lit room belonged to something else. But my bed was different, seven thick blankets offered their comfort every night, three pillows lent me their support, and twenty childish toys who watched me from their home on my heater. I made my usual nest and hooked a blanket to the rusty picture hooks in the wall to give myself a stary canopy.
I forgot if it was morning or night, my old Harry Potter wall clock was too far off to see, but sometime during my sulk it began to snow. I love snow. Always have, but now it feels like a kind of sad magic reminding me of happier times with now hated people. Well hate wasn't the right word, I don't think that I could hate anyone, but they will forever be tainted in my mind with memories of harsh words. I unlocked my iPod and logged on to my schools website, open. I checked the weather channel, -7 c tomorrow with a high chance of lake effect snow. Maybe I could just stay hold up here all day and just watch the whiteness pile up to my window? No I have preschool tomorrow, I can't miss that, Tom'll miss me he might cry, and Piper wanted me to finish the book we'd started. While I mused about class the wind picked up creating a tiny wurl wind outside my window, and from that wind something emerged. All I could see were two blue dots about six feet off the ground that shown like LED lights, my hand slipped under my mattress looking for my knife. The two lights drew closer to the window, now I could see more than those orbs.
Standing outside my window was a, very well, under dressed man. He was wearing a black suit with a long coat, a black silk waist coat, white shirt, black tie and a green and gold woolen scarf. He must've been so uncomfortable out in the storm, he had so much exposed skin, yet he showed no sign of discomfort. He tapped the screen with his gold walking stick it was topped with a blue light like his eyes. Without thinking I left my nest and opened my window letting this stranger into my room. His soft candy pink lips curled into a smile and he was suddenly in my room sitting on my bed. He had magicked himself in. He had turned into snow, been blown in my the wind, reformed on my bed and closed the window. I could see him better now that he was in the light. He was very handsome, smooth marble white skin, shadow black hair slicked back that feathered out by his neck, and his eyes were green now. He took a hankerchef out his his inner breast pocket and began to clean my glasses, his hands were long and very dexterous. I found myself mesmerised by his graceful movements. He offered me a seat by his side which I took, once my glasses were clean he carefully placed them on my face. He smiled again. He leaned forward and pressed those soft lips to my cheek, it was like a child's kiss, just the act of pressing ones lips to something.
"I love you." His voice was soft yet strong like iron wrapped in velvet, he had a slight accent somewhere in the UK. I hadn't noticed that I was shaking till he took off his coat and draped it over my thin shoulders, it was heavy wool lined with green satin. I felt my eyes well up again, he sighed deeply and wrapped his too long arms round my body. He was not warm. He was not cold either. No whatever he was it was close to room temperature. While I cried again he stroked my hair, his blunt nails dragging across my scalp, his tight grip suppressing some of my shutters. My own arms looped round him, my hands finding a button on the back of his waist coat and using it for an anchor. We stayed like this for sometime, the storm picked up outside. The wind was howling against the window, the snow was whipping at the houses wooden paneling, and the moon hid behind a cloud to out wait this tantrum. As my tears calmed his grip relaxed though he never let me go. I didn't want him to, for as forceful and as odd as his hold was I loved it. "I love you." I buried my face into the crook of his neck, his shirt collar was stif and I could smell his musky cologne. Every time he said that I felt my heart stop, my ears became dull, eyes unfocus and if I could've I would've been shaking.
Before I could remember how words work a light broke into this little temple. My father was home from work. The peace the well dressed man brought was shattered in an instant, panic filled my heart, my mind was flooded with bitter memories, my scares burned. I knew that my impromptu dresser baricade would be nothing against his rage, rage that hurt everything. He rubbed deep circles into my back in a vein attempt to calm the terrified sobs that were escaping my throat and eyes. "I have the power to end your suffering." The front door slammed, dress shoes hit the downstairs heater and shock the mirror. "I have to power to punish them for their crimes against you." I could hear a muffled conversation, my mother was shrewd and quite, my father was boarish and loud. "I will end them is you wish it." Heavy feet stomped up the staircase, he was yelling by it all sounded a million miles away. "All you have to do is tell me what to do and I will make it so. Anything. From the grandest demand to the simplest whim and I will do anything to make it so." A fist came down upon my door, the dresser shock, my father threw his weight at the too short door cursing my forethought. My mind was too frazzled to think clearly, she was too focused on dragging up old memories and making old scares burn. Somehow I blurted out. "I wish they would forget me" Everything stilled. Everything shifted to grey scale save for the man and myself. He let go and took my hands into his. "They?" "Everyone. . . like I was never born." "Where would you go? How would you live and where?" I shock my head. "I don't know. I don't care." His long hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushed an angry tear away. "What would I do?" I blinked slowly. "I would miss you dearly, and your children would be heart broken." The tears grew thicker and he pressed our foreheads together his hands wandering over my heart. "I just want to disappear." "You could disappear with me. I could take you somewhere safe. Somewhere far away from these people. We will be together till Ragnarök. Would that make you happy?" I wanted to ask him who he was. I wanted to ask how long he had been watching me for. I wanted to ask this mystery man a million questions. I could only say one thing. "Yes"
Mark pressed his whole fat body against the short oak door, damn thing was stuck. "Trish get me the screwdriver!" The tool came and Mark jammed it into the doors lock and twisted it. The door popped open and Mark worked a fat arm into the cold dark room, using the walk as leverage he opened it. He flicked the light switch which brought no light. Not that he needed it the streetlight was enough to cast shadows over the old red furniture and dusty picture frames. Mark picked up a box from the carpeted hall and deposited it onto the old plastic flooring. He shivered. Something about this old storage room made him uneasy, he shrugged it off and blamed it on the shotty add on.