Thursday, May 1, 2008
-9:40 PM-

Chapter 1

“You love him more than you do me.” A statement, not a question. Her eyes were defiant and staring.

“Preposterous!”

In Melody’s eyes, Mother, despite her indignant and irate outburst, was shifty, eyes jumping to anything but her daughter. Melody felt something in her break. Probably something that beat out the rhythm of her blood. She felt hollow. It was true.

“You always did. Don’t you always give in to him? Pamper him? And me, working as a SLAVE…”

“I will not tolerate this nonsense! Go to you room now and don’t come back until you’re sorry!”

She flounced into the room, slamming the door shut. As she buried herself in the dunes of the duvet, wracking with sobs, she heard the distinct click of the lock and knew she had been locked in her room. Resentment filled in her heart and threatened to claw out of her throat in the form of screaming. But no, she would not subject herself to this and humiliate herself to those uncaring persons segregated from her by a thin partition of wood. And what of it? Her mother would just ignore her, leave her to die even, for she loved Brother more. Her mother would blame anything but herself for allowing her daughter to die.

It’s not Me. It’s They. It’s the Bad Influence. It’s the Attitude. It’s the Noise. It’s because of the People. It’s the Negative Criteria in the Media. It’s the Money. It’s the Greed. It’s Satan. It’s God. It’s You. Whatever it is, it’s never Me. Therein lies the problem.

The incessant dissonance of disrupted insects, scaling the pretty, squat terraces on either side of the palm tree-lined avenue in which her house lay, reached her ears through the open window. “Escape, escape…” they told her, enticing her with beckoning freedom.

She had made up her mind. She would tear away from this miserable life. Hers was a three-storey terrace and there were ledges jutting out from each level. She estimated that she would be able to climb down without much difficulty.

Flinging open the window, she breathed in the promise of freedom. She had been filled with the umbrage and bitterness, now she felt numb; she could do anything. She placed one leg gingerly on the desk beside the table and climbed onto the windowsill, embracing the night zephyr drifting around and caressing her. A scent of a quiescent garden which surrounded the terrace – of familiar bougainvilleas, blooming begonias and rosebushes - draped in darkness wafted into her nostrils.

Cautiously, Melody turned her body to face her bedroom, stretching one leg and placing it on the ridge jutting from about half a metre from the window, followed by the other leg. When both feet were firmly planted on the ridge, she lowered her body to a crouch and looked to see where the other ledge was. This was a little trickier. The distance was a few inches more then she could manage.

Her heart starting to flutter in fright, she extended her right leg and stretched as much as she could. Her big toe managed to reach touch the cement. She tensed the other leg and hesitating for a heartbeat, she pushed herself from the first ledge, meaning to land on the second one.

For a second, relief flooded her entire frame as both feet touched terra firma. Then fear seized her as she felt her feet slip from the ledge and suddenly, she was falling.

They say that before one dies, one’s life flashes before one. Melody’s life did. It lasted for about a second – she regretted spending her short life on building the big ball of hatred towards her mom. Her mind was confused, spinning out of control until there was only room for one question…

Why did she always treat me like she did?
Why did she always treat me…?
Why did she always…?
Why what?
Why? Why? Why?

Darkness claimed her.

the butterfly wing symbolises the freedom she will never have

-----LOOK OUT FOR CHAPTER TWO!!!-----

Snippet:

No pain.

She listened to the silence. She was perfectly alone. She was not perfectly sure whether she was there herself.

It occurred to her that she must exist, for she was lying on some sort of tiling. As this sentiment came through, her eyes opened wide. She found herself in a dark living room of sorts, with elaborate furniture. They all seemed like one of those antiques that you go to a shop to buy for fillling your house with and bragging to relatives about such and such.

Standing, she found that she was clothed in the garments she wore when she… what? She could not seem to remember. Jump, something about jumping.

Giving up the pursue of her train of thought, she began to explore, stunned that her feet made no sound when she traversed the marble tiling.

Suddenly she was aware of a presence. It had been dark and she had not sensed the woman, but now she sighted her. To Melody’s astonishment, she wore a traditional costume, something called… a kebaya. She had dark skin, but in the blackness, everything was dark. Her face was a stunning blend of Chinese and Malay.

“I am sorry! I didn’t mean to, I don’t know how I came here-” gabbled Melody.

The woman did not seem to have noticed. She continued picking her way delicately towards Melody. As she became uncomfortably close, Melody stepped back awkwardly and realised there was another woman a few steps behind her, dressed exactly the same, albeit with her hair in a bun and the kebaya a pale blue with different intricate patterns.

Suddenly she felt an odd sensation in her body and looked down. To her shock and fear, a hand from the first woman had extended into her body through to the other side to grasp the other woman’s hand! But there was no pain.

“Chiak pah boey?” said the first woman. Both females did not seem to have noticed Melody, let alone noticing that a hand was run through her body.

Melody screamed but no sound came. Wildly, she backed away, and found that her body just floated through the flesh of the two women. Thoroughly freaked out, her eye caught a photograph hanging on a nearby wall. In big capitalised words on top of the picture, it read: “In remembrance of the 80s-90s 20 years later – taken yesterday”.

Horror.

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