Golden Holes: A Narrative Fiction

I vaguely remembered a hurricane coming through when I was but a child. The howling winds and heavy rains had caused much damage to my father’s plantation and to others along the river. At that time, I had never been into the city; now that I thought about it, Angelique was in the city when the storm came- Anastasia had held me and soothed my fears as debris slammed against the wooden shutters that covered the window of my bedroom…

She decided to look down for the rest of the walk after getting glared at by a passerby. As she was watching her feet and skipping over the cracks in the pavement, something had yanked the back of her jacket. Whipping around, Becca saw a shambled family. They were tan and soaking wet; their cardboard home shaped the background of the frightening portrait Becca was faced with. A wave of angry words, desperate words confronted her, echoing without meaning her mind. The mother of the two children fell to her knees weeping, pleading for something Becca would never exactly know. The daughter, the girl Becca realized pulled her jacket, stared at her. Dark chocolate colored eyes were melting with the heat of her pain and her brittle lips smoked with the speed of her pleading words. Becca was being pulled away unknowingly when she heard a familiar rumble coming from the pit of the girl’s stomach. And just as soon as the encounter had happened, it was over. Concern replaced the sound of desperation and she let her family know she was fine. She went back to looking at her feet. In a couple of minutes, Becca’s family arrived at the

Makayla looked out of the window, when she noticed there was a storm coming. “It sure is getting dark”, said her father. Makayla nodded. “Don’t forget we’re leaving for the weekend”, said her mother. “Yeah, I remembered”, responded Makayla.

Esmé stood in the pouring rain watching her mother from the safety of the garden. Still in her school uniform, shaking like a leaf and with a never-ending flood of tears rushing from her eyes she stood motionless, just staring. As the rain attacked the windows at the back of 72 Russell Street, Esmé could only just make out the silhouette of a woman hunched over a bottle of what she knew was vodka. The woman got to her feet and swayed a little before falling to the floor with an almighty crash from the piles of liquor that she had landed on. Gulping, Esmé looked up into the black and grey sky and said a prayer to who-ever might be listening, but to Esmé this seemed to only make matters worse and the heavens opened and dropped buckets onto her

Morning brought the peace of a warm sunny day to the small town of Tributary; such a contrast to the violent events of the day before, still there was a sense of mourning in the air. The town folk spent much of the day recovering lost property. Everyone felt fortunate to have found their missing belongings. Everyone except Corvida Bratleigh! Rather than being thankful her playhouse was undamaged by the tornado, Corvida was angry that her playhouse was in Nikki Fernandez’s garden! The playhouse was hers, not Nikki’s and she was going to make sure that Nikki did not step one foot in her lovely little house.

As thoughts flooded her mind, she began to make irrational ideas. The day had been simply dark and overcast, but in seconds it became a wall of water, the covering on the buildings did nothing. As the heavy rain drops hit the little girl in the centre of her head, the drops running down her face following and mimicking the tracks of where her dry tears once ran .

Burying her head in her hands, she let her tears mingle into a puddle on her dark dress. The relentless wind howled around the house and the rain pattered roughly against the wood siding. A sudden rapping at the front door aroused Gwilan from her mournful meditations. Gwilan rose from her seat and opened the rugged green door. A young sopping girl stood timidly at the doorstep, her shining eyes gleaming with hope. Gwilan gasped and pulled the girl inside.

The wind howled through the window, threatening to break it in with every gust. The girl sat all alone in a dark room, huddling her legs, gazing out the window, waiting for the storm to pass. If anyone had walked into the room at that moment they would have noticed the girl, who looked around 12 years old, her messy, brown hair clearly hadn’t been washed or brushed in several days. They would have noticed the tattered clothes she was wearing, the dirt covering her skin, her stick skinny limbs which showed how little she ate and the bruises that looked a few days old all over her tiny body including one near her left eye making it difficult for her to see. And, if someone had cared enough, they would have noticed the look of pure fear and exhaustion in her eyes and seen the tears streaming down her face.

As Scarlet quickened her pace on the path towards her village, she noticed that the center of the clouds had now appeared dark black like ravens feathers. The rounded outsides were shades of crimson red and bluish grey collided together. This storm was a big one. “The gods must be having an argument” she thought as she now was at a steady run towards home. By chance,(no pun intended) William had stormed out of the room, out of the manor and into Fox Run Forest which coincidentally connects to Deer Land Forest at its eastern most point. He was muttering to himself and kicking the leaves beneath his feet. He seem to be lacking attention to the ominous cloud which seemed to be following him with every step he takes.This was a time when he wished he had a mother, someone we know could talk to. She had “gone to the heavens whilst giving birth to him.” His father was sure to remind him everyday! For some strange reason he felt the guilt that he knew his father purposely dig into his brain since he could remember! His father never showed him much attention as a young child. Now as a young man, he only does when he feels he must scold him “personally” for “his mischievous ways!!” As William was lost in thought, suddenly, a young girl came rolling from a small hill where William was now standing. Hitting the stunned William and knocking him to the ground. Scarlet raises herself up and looks over at the dazed boy and began to laugh. He looked at her angrily, “What in the

That day, however, all was changed. It took me a long while to discover Allison. She had hidden herself in the depths of a dark cupboard, in the shed with a fallen roof slate. On the satellite images the hurricane had looked beautiful, a perfect swirl of white no more threatening than cream stirred into coffee. No one had given it much attention, or more so, they had secretly prayed for it to turn away. But instead, it left our town like twisted metal. People cried.

In the middle of finally succumbing to the realization that living her life was harder, by far, than simply dying, she stood on the roof of his old apartment, barefoot and shivering, cradling a picture against her pounding chest. The cold rain beat over the worn portrait and the edges saturated. She could feel the photo weakening as she rubbed it between her thumb and index. Pieces of the photo began to stick to her fingers and roll up into little shavings. Thunder rumbled somewhere to the East, past the ozone of the city, past their home, but not quite to the coast. No one could hear her scream or cry or wheeze or snot... No one would look for her if she stayed right there, in the rain, listening to the nearby cracks vibrate in the pit of her stomach. She couldn 't look into the eyes of the child in the photo, but she held it up in front of her face sporadically to see the warbled image through her tears. She shook more, and the hairs on her arms stood erect and her nose ran and she cried. It didn 't matter what the cold concrete felt like on her knees, that it smelled like trying again, that it reminded her of the desert because it was not... There was nothing that mattered... Not the sound of the rooftop turbines surrounding her, clacking and sputtering water as the wind blew more. Her

Charlotte Diaz sat on her bed and started out the window. Her finger lightly tracing the cascaded rain drops on her window. She sighed and hugged her knees close to her chest. Her tears began to fall and mirror the raindrops outside. Charlotte could still hear the loud shrieks and arguments of her parents taunting her.

Her breath came in short gasps, refusing help from a breathing mask and the people around her. We sat around her bed in silence, not even the crickets of the darkening sky daring to make a sound. Exhaustion pulled at everyone in the room, willing us to close our eyes for a mere three seconds until our bodies gave in to the blanket the darkness that sleep granted. Unable to bear the sounds of heavy footsteps and the wiz of the poorly powered fan, I began to look back on all the memories I shared with this woman. For years, my grandmother’s kitchen counter is the place I went when I needed a safe place from the storm, someone to make me laugh, or simply, a friend. I could sit there for hours, relaxing to the sound of her laugh or throwing my voice in with hers when she would sing an old song I grew accustomed to hearing. For years, she provided long talks and advice that no one else could offer. For years, she was my safe place.

Evelyn perched on a leather chair, slouching, with a dazed look. She ran her fingers through her thinning hair, a cloud of misery raining on her. Life was unfair, terrible, and extremely misfortunate. Soft pats of rain hit a small window frame in her room, causing discreet splats. A hushed creak broke the uncomfortable silence in the room. “Sweetie?” A dim figure peered through the crack of her door, but when she came to the light, Evelyn saw her, with a worried look on her pale face. “Are you alright?” Evelyn grunted angrily, and stood up, out of her seat. “Mom, just tell me already.” Her eyes narrowed at the sight of her mother, she clenched her teeth. There was a noticeably awkward silence, and the sound of them breathing rippled

The darkness was slowly devouring my body. All that surrounded me was an empty room and dead silence. I held on to my knees as tears rolled down my cheeks. I dug my nails into the palm of my hand, trying to control the unbearable pain in my chest. The images of her face appeared in my mind. Horns popped out of her head; a tail crawled out from behind her; and a wicked grin crept across her face. Her smile grew wider the moment her claws ripped off my wings and any chance of escaping the depths of hell.