The Eight Shadows In The Abyss

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The next time I wake up, my back is better and there’s no difficulty in sitting up. The girl- I mean Saiph- is not there in the car. My heart begins to beat loudly, thinking about Mallory.

It’s not raining outside, instead I can see a few flowers bloom at the bottom from the window of the car. The sun is high up in the sky, and I realise the weather is so likeable. It’s probably spring, one of many seasons that exist. This is the basic thing we learn back at home.

At Home.

How long has it been since I’ve left the orphanage?

Fifteen? Twenty? I don’t know, I’ve lost track.

Thinking about home, and the nostalgia that it brings, makes me so homesick that I want to run away from here and enjoy other talk on the table with Meissa, peacefully eating pancakes. I dig my face in my hands and it remains so for the next few seconds.

Saiph isn’t back and I start to worry even more. I think of going out and calling her name but I don’t know how to open the door. It looks like a very complex system to me

How had she opened it before? I don’t know,I hadn’t paid attention.

There’s this small lever just to the bottom of the window. It must be of use of something and I try pushing it.

Nothing happens. I guess I’m using it the wrong way. I try pulling it and it opens. And the smell of wet grass fills my nose.

I’d been leaning a bit so much on the door and it unexpectedly open and sent me landing face-first on the ground. It does makes my spine ache, but I can handle it.

I get up on my feet and think of the car. What if somebody robs it. What if the woman who shooted the man somehow gets here in her hovercraft?

I shut my thoughts and the door close and start by calling out Saiph.

I am greeted by silence.

“Saiph!” I say a little louder. “Saiph!”

I move towards the longer grass that’s around. It actually means suicide since there could be snakes after the rain.

Iwalk for a few moments, but wait- Saiph wouldn’t have gone here, it’s pure danger.

I turn to my opposite direction, really happy I wasn’t greeted by anything and breathe a sigh of relief. The car is sure near a really dense forest because my opposite direction is towering trees and wild shrubs. Where could have Saiph gone?

I almost curse myself for sleeping all those precious moments when Saiph was around. But I soon realise I was helpless.

“Saiph!” I say. My calls seem useless. I see a bird fly overhead. It’s so nice to be near nature again.

My bare feet tickle against the wet grass and for the first time I realise my clothes aren’t the woman’s white shirt and pants anymore. I wear a cyan shirt and comfortable purple trousers.

“Saiph!” I call out my occasional cry. Still, there’s no response.

I decide not losing hope. It’s impossible to lose her. I refuse to believe to lose her just like I refuse believing losing Mallory.

You do refuse believing that the woman’s dead. But she is.

A part of my mind says, which is bitterly true.

I sigh.

“Saiph.” I almost plead for her. Probably from death.

No! She isn’t dead!

I correct myself.

I bend down near a blooming flower. There are many of the same kind around. Watching it closely greets me with surprise that I almost gasp. It’s clearly an evening primrose. It’s the flower of my nightmares, I guess it should bring back bad memories, but it doesn’t. Instead I feel to be recalling some good memories with my mother. Her soothing lullabies, her calm voice, assuring things would be okay. But of course they didn’t. She died.

I seem to be forming her picture, distorted, of course. She had dark hair, just like mine. And blue eyes like mine and Saiph’s. A five-year old must haven’t taken much attention on her appearance, because I don’t seem to recall something else.

I remember seeing these grow during spring, how I’d pluck them every time and give it to her. And that smile, of course it meant so much to me, but it means even more now. I don’t know how I seem to be recalling this, but it’s great so I just wish I remember more of her smiles.

As if I were going to give it to her after this, I pluck it from its roots and look at it dreamily. I sniff it and it has a sweet fragrance to it.

It’s something that recalls me of my mother, and I hold it close to my heart, recalling that heart-warming smile of hers.

And as a series of unexpected events follow, the only one I can make sense of is a beautifully engraved bloodcurdling arrow centimetres away from my feet.

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