The Gift
By Ananda
PG-13
Even weeks after the ordeal, Coraline Jones-- a girl of quick wits and smallish stature-- had moments of intense memory, where the colors and shapes and sounds from her meeting with the bedlam seemed so huge and so real that they would tear their way out of her head and into the real world. She would lie in bed at night, comforters piled high n top of her little body and three gray marbles under her pillow, and stare exhaustedly at the wall in front of her, refusing to close her eyes and let the images come back. This was a most frightful night. The dark shadows at the four corners of her room seeped into the wardrobe and pile of toys, making them sinister and dark, ready to drag their tangled, furry limbs across the room towards her small bed. A soft glow over her shoulder banished the foreboding thoughts from Coraline's head. "Who.?" she murmured, turning slightly so she could strain her neck and still face the wall. A translucent image hung above her of a girl, pale as the moon, with long golden hair and a circlet and dress both of spiderweb. The girl hugged her knees, her wings-- large, silver butterfly wings they were, and they rained down a shower of stardust every time the girl moved them, ever so slightly. "You," Coraline said. The girl nodded. A small smile moved across her thin lips. (I was given many choices, once you retrieved my once-life,) she spoke, her lips not moving. "You mean your soul?" Coraline inquired, pulling her pillow aside to reveal the three marbles that had once been capsules to the ghosts' souls. The fairy-girl shook her head, now serious. (No, fairies do not have souls, in the conventional sense. When we die, we return to the nothing from which we were created. We are, and always will be, made entirely of simple spells and petty glamours.) "Then." Coraline began, trying to make sense of the situation. "How can you be here?" (The occurrence that killed me was a special circumstance,) she replied. (I was given a choice by a creature in chains who wore huge, white birds' wings.) "Why did you come back?" (To return the favor to you, Coraline. You gave me back the closest thing I had to a soul so I could pass on to the sunless lands. Now that my journey is over, I wish to leave a fragment with you.) Coraline's brow furrowed. "But how could you do that?" (I will tell you a story. Of my own life-- and my ending.)
By Ananda
PG-13
Even weeks after the ordeal, Coraline Jones-- a girl of quick wits and smallish stature-- had moments of intense memory, where the colors and shapes and sounds from her meeting with the bedlam seemed so huge and so real that they would tear their way out of her head and into the real world. She would lie in bed at night, comforters piled high n top of her little body and three gray marbles under her pillow, and stare exhaustedly at the wall in front of her, refusing to close her eyes and let the images come back. This was a most frightful night. The dark shadows at the four corners of her room seeped into the wardrobe and pile of toys, making them sinister and dark, ready to drag their tangled, furry limbs across the room towards her small bed. A soft glow over her shoulder banished the foreboding thoughts from Coraline's head. "Who.?" she murmured, turning slightly so she could strain her neck and still face the wall. A translucent image hung above her of a girl, pale as the moon, with long golden hair and a circlet and dress both of spiderweb. The girl hugged her knees, her wings-- large, silver butterfly wings they were, and they rained down a shower of stardust every time the girl moved them, ever so slightly. "You," Coraline said. The girl nodded. A small smile moved across her thin lips. (I was given many choices, once you retrieved my once-life,) she spoke, her lips not moving. "You mean your soul?" Coraline inquired, pulling her pillow aside to reveal the three marbles that had once been capsules to the ghosts' souls. The fairy-girl shook her head, now serious. (No, fairies do not have souls, in the conventional sense. When we die, we return to the nothing from which we were created. We are, and always will be, made entirely of simple spells and petty glamours.) "Then." Coraline began, trying to make sense of the situation. "How can you be here?" (The occurrence that killed me was a special circumstance,) she replied. (I was given a choice by a creature in chains who wore huge, white birds' wings.) "Why did you come back?" (To return the favor to you, Coraline. You gave me back the closest thing I had to a soul so I could pass on to the sunless lands. Now that my journey is over, I wish to leave a fragment with you.) Coraline's brow furrowed. "But how could you do that?" (I will tell you a story. Of my own life-- and my ending.)
