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A Little Light Left


Thirteen-year-old Evan Williams is alone. His beloved sister doesn't speak to him anymore. He has no other living family members and is an outcast at school. Though he has a few comforts in his life, he has no-one to share them with. He wondered if he'll ever find someone who wants him, or if he suddenly disappears, would someone look for him? That was his daily life, until one day someone--or something just as alone as he is finds him. 


"Sis! I'm going now!" I call out with my left hand by my mouth to project my voice while my right palm was upon our glass door.

She doesn't answer;

the T.V is all that answers back.

"Eh, chompchompchomp Whathss up doc?" I hear Daffy-Duck saying, trying to impersonate Bugs-Bunny. "Havin any luck with thothse ducks? Iths duck stheason, you know?"

"Just a daaarn minute," I heard Bugs-Bunny's voice coming in, impersonating Daffy. "Where do you get that duck STHeason SThuff?"

I frown as I remembered how we use to watch the Looney-Tunes relentlessly together when I was little. We'd each be up early, a bowl of Lucky-Charms or Fruit-Loops in our palms. Bits of sugar and milk would be spilling out of our mouths as we laughed our butts off while Bugs threw a lighted match into the oven that Mugsy and Rocky were hiding in while he was impersonating a cop to get them off his back. Those days were always filled with fun and smiles.

Those days are long gone now.

Now, the couch is just for her. I watch the T.V from the table and eat my cereal by myself. Sis doesn't even say a peep even to greet me in the morning. She'd stop talking to me for a month now. She doesn't even look at me anymore.

My chest feels a little heavy, and I tighten my palm around the strap of my back-pack. A tight knot swells in my stomach as I think about her smile, and her shinning eyes of sapphire full of love when she looked at me.

"Evan, come here!" I could hear her say, her lithe arms opened wide for me, her smile brighter than the sun...

...She's not like that anymore. Now that's all in my head.

"See you!" I call again.

Elmer Fudd's gun answers back. My chest constricts.

"See you, little bro!" Her voice calls back in my brain while my eyes envision her right-hand waving back and forth. The right hand that taught me how to write; the right hand that felt my head and cheeks when I had a fever; the right hand that stirred her world-famous macaroni-and-cheese almost any time I asked for it; the right hand she used to teach me how to draw when I said I wanted to be an artist as great as her.

I take in a sharp breath as her voice as sweet as honey echoes in my head, growing fainter and fainter. My heart slowly beats faster and faster. I intake another deep breath, the cool air travels down my throat and into my chest, but it doesn't calm down the beating.

Deep breathes use to calm me down, Now they don't, even though my body keeps trying. Old habits die hard I guess.

I push open the door and moist, cold air slaps against my cheeks, goosebumps slowly begin to prick my flesh. I take a big step forward out of the house, the door slamming shut behind me, and rain gently falls upon my face. I slip my umbrella off my wrist and open it up.

It's the bright-green one sis got me last year. She said it matched my eyes. I didn't really like it that much, I wanted the blue one, but she bought this one instead because she was the big sister and as the only authority figure in the house she had the final say.

I can just hear the superiority flowing from her voice from that moment, and the morbid wide grin stretching across her face as her pale, elegantly long finger waved back and forth. She always did that, flaunting her age over me. It was made worst because she was taller than me. Her eyes would be sparkling with the kind of affection that one would say only older siblings showed when they were teasing their younger siblings. That sparkle though was different from any other older sibling; it was the kind only she could make that no other older sibling could make.

That sparkle was called Anna, my sister, the sparkle that showed everything about her: her sense of humor, her love, her slyness-everything. It was the look only Anna could give that only I, her little brother Evan, would receive.

I miss that. I miss my sister from then. I wish she'd come back.

But she won't...

Bitterness seeps into my throat, and suddenly I felt hot anger slowly rising within my veins. I feel so mad right now. Mad at her.

How could you, Anna?

I quickly bite my lip and shake my head. Being mad at her won't change anything. It'll only make things worse. I chastise myself, and involuntary take another deep breath despite my mind knowing that its magic doesn't work on me anymore. The body always betrays the mind though.

I loosen the grip on the handle of my ugly umbrella and take a few steps forward--looking up from the ground and to what's out in front of me: Our garden. Mostly Anna's garden. I tried helping once but I got kicked off the project since I just kept screwing up everything. Luckily, she had some help from our Aunt Abigail--a sweet round woman with a heart almost as big as her appetite.

Between the path of the large smooth stones inlaid into the ground, from our porch to the wide-wooden gates of our front lawn, holds nothing but natural beauty lovingly nurtured by sweet, gentle and careful hands. Four large bushes of azaleas blossoms--in shades of reds, purples, and pinks--stand proudly across the healthy grass; two on one side of the path and two on the other side. Shrubs of butterfly--bushes are scattered around both sides, with some rose bushes too; groups of pink and lavender cosmos were planted on one side, with groups of white gardenias on the other. Both sides of the lawn are sprinkled with some wild flowers here and there. Some are white, some purple, and some yellow.

Looking closer I can see that some of those yellow wildflowers are actually dandelions. Weeds, Anna would hiss as she ripped them from the ground; their roots splayed out as if panicked that they had been torn from the lawn--their source of life.

I always liked them because they would eventually turn into white and fluffy seeds that I could blow away with my breath and make a wish with. I hope they would transform into those seeds soon so I can wish my wishes again. This time I hope they come true.

This time...

...Maybe if I wish hard enough...Anna will...

...I imagine her smile again, her cheery voice...calling my name...her warm, secure embrace...soft palms cupping my cheeks as she lovingly kisses my forehead...

My grip on my umbrella handle is so tight it's almost shaking, and I scold myself for it. I knew I shouldn't have paused to gaze at the garden. I knew it would just make me more upset. I should have just kept my head down on the stone path and not even have bothered! I take another useless deep breath and end up scolding myself again for this unbreakable habit as I take a timid step forward.

And then I nearly jump back.

Not a moment after I took that step forward did I see something black scurry away across the stone path just a couple inches away from my sneakers. My head whips to the direction it went into and I sign.

"It's another one of those rodents." I grumble, half-disgusted.

They've been scurrying around here a lot lately. Usually, I would find them along the paths to and from school, but for awhile now they've been showing up around the house. I know that where we live is more of a wooden and forested area, and that we're prone to having a few deer and some possums showing up here and there, but these rodents are entirely new visitors. I've never seen them around our home before and I never get a good enough look at them considering they run so fast. As far as I know we hadn't had any black rodents popping up around here before. If I knew what they really looked like though then maybe I could figure out what kind they are, why they're showing up here and what to do about them. I set up a few traps early this morning though, so hopefully I might be able to catch a few. Hopefully. I don't want them ruining sis's plants.

I tighten my grip on my handle again, my heart slowly beating faster and faster again. I look back to the door, my face crinkling with concern. "I sure hope they won't bother sis. She hates rats." I whisper to myself, almost terrified as I think about their long, jagged teeth, biting into her feet...

No. I tell myself. She'll be fine. There's no way they could get into the house, and it's not like sis comes to do her gardening anymore...

...but...but maybe she might...I stop myself before my brain goes any further with anymore imagery of sharpened teeth, and of her walking out of the house...

No. I tell myself again, banishing those thoughts from my mind, shaking my head. No...

With the rain drizzling against my unpleasantly green umbrella in my ear, I turn my head back towards the gate, shaking off the emotions my previous disturbances caused. It won't do me any good, dwelling on those stupid things.

My eyes begin to wander and I find myself looking up above. I welcome my eyes to the gray sky, watching as the needle--like rain drops fall from those full clouds. I then look back towards the garden again, watching as the rain plops onto the ground, mixing the dirt into mud.

Screw it. I say to myself and tip my awful umbrella away from my head, welcoming my skin to the rain.

I take a hop--step purposely to the side away from the stone slabs, splashing through the puddles of water and mud in the grass instead, dirtying my sneakers, and the cuffs of my jeans.

Without my umbrella shielding me, cool water pleasantly drips down the strands of my hair, wetting my cheeks and neck; mud I collected from the jump I made runs down my ankles and into my socks, and my toes curl delightfully with the feel of my sneakers pleasantly soaked. As my skin prickles with pleasurable goosebumps I smile. I always loved rainy days. My deep breathes may not calm me down anymore, but at least the rain and mud still do.

I let out a light chuckle--if only I didn't have school today I'd take off my shoes and run around in the rain. Mud would be splashing all over my skin, my body soaked right down to the bone. I wouldn't care if I started getting sick cause I'd be to busy catching raindrops.

I continued hopping through mud and water (avoiding the stone slab path the whole way~) until I eventually come up to the front gate. I noticed that I splashed some mud onto my umbrella as I tip it back over my head, and I feel my mood brightening up knowing that a nicer color has been painted over some of the green of this gross umbrella.

I chuckle again. I undo the clasps of the gates and put a few steps forward.

Before I'm all the way out though I look back to our house and cast my eyes straight up over our black, vine streamed roof towards where a large tree hovers behind it and see the gray roof peaking within. That roof is part of my square-shaped wooden tree house faded with blue and grey paint cocooned snugly within that trees leaves and branches (it's always covered with mushrooms and weeds in all sorts of places).

It's my tree--house that our Uncle Cady (a large physically built man who loved laughing just as much as constructing) built. Anna helped paint it--she knew my favorite colors--it was a surprise for my eighth birthday five years ago and I was ecstatic when I saw it.

To this day I love going in it with all my supplies, and keeping my most favorite and personal things inside. I love hearing the squirrels barreling across the roof and the birds feet tapping against the wood. And I love popping my head out the little window to listen to the voices of the birds, and the crickets; the calls of nature....

With it raining like this, the place might get all wet. I felt delightful chills run down my spine at the thought of it. I couldn't wait to get back in there.

I step all the way out and swing the gate closed, shutting the clasps, and then I reluctantly look down the concrete steps leading downward to the sidewalk below.

All there is left to do now is to head down these steps and make a right, walking across the sidewalk and heading down the street passed the strip mall, and to the first of many traffic lights. Fifteen minutes of walking, stopping, waiting for lights to change, and weaving through seas of people (if there are any today due to this weather), I'd arrive at my school surrounded by other students either coming from the cars of their parents or older siblings; descending the bus-steps or walking together in groups from their houses.

It wouldn't matter how they came to school though because they'd all be jabbering on and on with their friends, smiling to each-other, teasing one another, making plans together. Everyone's able to get through the school day because they are comforted with companionship each step of the way.

Well...almost everyone. I frown Almost but not quite.

It must be nice. I think as I unravel the memories of seeing my fellow studentswith one-another. I sigh deeply and force my way down one slow step at a time.    

I'm not really looking forward to going to school. I never do.

Hunger (Inhuman)

Long claws dig grievously into the rain-soaked ground. Bits of grass and mud grimed the jagged, rock-hard, surface.


Heavy, hot breaths hitch in and out 

from a fanged encrusted mouth

flowing with blood, and dribble.


It had to have it. It had have those juicy, rough, tender muscles upon bones;

beating organs filled with sweet blood between its teeth,

and chew.

and chew,

and chew,

and chew,

and chew.

Its teeth would cackle heartily from the constant tearing and shredding, and mashing; The iron flavor, bits of bone, tantalizing the enclosures of its parched mouth, and swallowing them down into a belly ravenously calling for its company.


It had to have it. It had to have it now. If not soon, it would go mad.

Crawling on hands and knees across the ground, at what seemed like at a snails-pace, it felt like it had been trudging through mud and grass for hours. It felt so exhausted like it was carrying nothing but a heavy weight tied to its body.


...Its's body...

It's own


It paused it's agonizing slither. Drool fell out of it's mouth in big globs as it remembered that it's own body was made up of the syrupy blood flowing beneath bone and raw, delicious

M E A T...


It's stomach screamed as it looked directly at one of it's arms: the flesh, the veins; would it really be so bad if it had just a nimble of the flesh? Maybe a finger? Just the hand? Or perhaps this arm outlived it's purpose and it could just....


....It opened it's mouth, thick threads of drool gushing outward...It could almost taste the limb on it's tongue...





It hears something and it stops (It was just a hair's breadth from clamping it's teeth shut onto it's arm). It looks to its right and tears of joy fills it's eyes as it spots some living creatures running around just a few feet away.

Finally! It found some meat to eat.... it didn't have to devour its arm.
(The arm itself could have cried out with relief).


It slithered onward, salivating more then it had looking at it's arm. That delectable flesh filled with succulent innards would soon be in it's teeth. Mercy had smiled down upon it.

Finally. Finally. At last...