It was so hard to believe that it was only last month when I found the cure of my pain, the reason to laugh once again, to live my life and laugh with a veritable smile and I lost it again.
I was unanswerable to what might have happen…was it really the software?? Oh!! What was I thinking?? I had lost every bit of sanity but the situations were supporting it. Was I never going to see the kids again! Even this thought gave me chills, there was a blackout in front of my eyes, my breath went down, my lips got dried, and my brain got numb… “No! I could not afford losing them! What have I done?” I said to myself almost huffing.
Standing in front of the mirror, I came to the harsh realization that I fell short of the paradigm of a mother. The reflection that stared back was of an evil step-mother who ate her children. The entire life of a mother is devoted in thriving her children, enduring their ever mischievous doings happily and still loving them massively and unceasingly. I had always had sumptuous dreams and high aspirations. I never noticed how hard it might be to achieve something that you really want. Most people spend their whole lives searching to give meaning to their lives and I have got everything but I made a fool of myself and lost everything in a blink just like that.
I was lost and sad. At that moment I realized a demon is not always grilled in oven by someone else, sometimes his own karmas do the favor, my hate, and my hideous karmas have paid for me. I was locked inside my own devious hatred whose key was lost forever.
Suddenly the window opened making me jolt for a brief second and I saw Angel and Little standing there smiling at me. I was so happy to see them, like I was when I have saw them for the first time. I hurried towards them to hug them and never let them go. The last twenty four hours have been like hell for me making me repent every single thought of mine, how I can even think all that crap. But now my kids were here and I will never let them go again ever. I rushed towards the window, amazed that their smile was getting foxier and sly. The window pane was covered with glass, I tried to push it but it was of no use. When I asked kids to help me, they started laughing. I was astonished, it was only then that I noticed that they were in my room making me confused. How was it even possible and I whispered to myself “the software”. Everything was clearer to me now, why I could not find kids, why Clay was not answering my calls, why cops were acting like I don’t exist. I felt my heart drop to the floor. What I had felt till now, the love, the care everything was just a mirage, a betrayal. I remembered what I wrote last night “And she never saw them again. The End”,WordsAlive – really made the words come alive but it was me who was lost. Every word of theirs was moving around me “You are evil! You are mean! ” everything. Now I realized the reason for making me mad, why they had gifted me with this software, why they did not let me do anything….and many other why’s…!!!
But now it was too late, there was no way out. I was feeling hurt and broken still unsure that what cracks us more, betrayal or faith? Somehow still I was sure that there will be a day which will emblaze my soul with their love, when I will be with Clay again, when all this pain and agony will end and I just have to hold my fire till that moment come, maybe after forever….
Angel shut down the windows on my face and I was forever trapped!!
Cynder and Ella
By: Amanda Alberson
©2014 by Amanda Alberson
Cynder held his books tightly beneath his grey hoodie as the rain soaked him from head to toe. He watched as the taillights of Andy’s F150 disappeared into the morning haze. Why should this year be any different? Just because it was his senior year? Because this bullshit had been going on for over 8 years now? Because he dared to hope maybe one day his step brothers would grow up just a little? No chance. They were still self-centered, spoiled momma’s boys, and he was still the unwanted burden. The only thing he could be thankful for on this particular morning was the fact they dropped him off a few blocks closer than they normally did. He begged his dad to let him take the bus, pleaded to get a summer job so he could get his own car, anything to not have to hitch a ride with them. His father insisted he needed to stay focused on his grades so there was no time for a job, and his step mother said the bus was for people beneath them. As far as Cynder could see he was the people beneath her. While her sons attended the prestigious Tremaine Private Academy, Cynder was dropped off, often several blocks before the run down public school. While they had the finest of everything, Cynder made do with what he could get. He refused to complain to his father, who seemed blind to it all.
Cynder’s mother died when he was five, some hospital born strain of Staph infection she picked up one night on a late shift. His father didn’t speak of her or her death very often. Cynder asked about his name when he was seven, his father looked wistfully into the air and smiled as if sharing an inside joke with the clouds.
“Your mother named you. We met in Arizona you know. I was hiking the Grand Canyon. I thought it would make me a man to venture into the wild and conquer the vast wilderness, in all honesty I was lost as hell when I ran across your mother. It was getting dark, and cold and I heard a strange sobbing wail from around the next bend in the trail. Unarmed, my heart about to climb through my chest I turned the corner to find the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen bent over the ashes of a fire crying. She screamed when she saw me, which scared me so bad I screamed with her. The echo of my manly screech had us both laughing so hard we couldn’t stop.
‘Are you okay? I heard you crying.’
She dropped her shoulders and looks mournfully down at the remains of her fire.
‘I got turned around and lost, so I decided I would camp here tonight and find my way back out tomorrow, but my fire died.’ She looked around into the darkness that fell over us like a thick star studded blanket and shivered.
‘It’s not out, you still have some cinders here at the bottom that are hot.’ I bent down and began feeding the small embers of fire. She knelt next to me and our eyes met, I knew right then she was the only woman for me. Gentle and brave but sweet and vulnerable, I wanted nothing more than to stay there with her for the rest of our lives. When the tiny flames began to flicker to life she gasped.
‘I didn’t think I was going to make it through the night.’
‘Sometimes a cinder is all you need to start a fire that can consume the night.’
And there it was. When she found out she was pregnant she knew, you were her cinder, you would one day consume the world and make it a brighter, better place.”
As he sloshed towards the front of the school the world did not seem at all brighter or better with him in it.
He normally kept extra clothes in his gym locker, for dark, rainy days, but today was the first day so he sloshed from class to class cursing his bad luck and his rotten step brothers.
By fourth period he was merely damp, but a dank, moldy smell clung to him. Lunch was spent in the boy’s restroom using the hand dryers in a vain effort to dry and air out his clothes. By the end of the school day his mood fit the stormy skies outside.
Trudging slowly Cynder thought hard about slugging one if not both of his step brothers when they stepped through the front door. He would beat them home since they always stayed after for football and then went out with, which ever girl they were entertaining that week, for burgers and shakes. By the time he turned on his street he was sure he would knock them both out.
He jerked the mailbox open with a disgruntled sigh and found a silver, glittery envelope inside. It was simply addressed:
To the Fine young men of the Perrault household
“Well, I guess that’s me.” Cynder chuckled to himself as he ran up the stairs. His step mother insisted her sons use his father’s last name, she stated it kept them from feeling like outsiders. Cynder knew she just didn’t like people thinking she’d failed at anything, including a previous marriage. His father offered to enroll him in Tremaine, a suggestion Cynder watched his step mother scoff at behind his father’s back. She would never allo
w it. While she would never say it in front of his father, Cynder knew she controlled everything. They lived in her house, his father worked for her father’s company, they lived in her and her son’s shadows and by her rules. While his dad made good money at the company, she never let Cynder forget how quickly that money could disappear. In his heart he knew the reason his father was out of town so much was because that’s where she liked him. Her father made him VP of foreign shipping and trading, which kept him overseas sometimes months at a time. So he refused his father’s offer and remained at the public school, remained beneath her and her sons, remained where she wanted him.
He pulled open the envelope as he fell onto his bed. From the depths of the shimmery paper came a lace edged card stock announcing a grand ball at the academy. A smirk curled the edges of Cynder’s lips.
Pulling on a pair of shorts and a plain white T, he tossed the invitation on the kitchen island before heading out the door towards Mrs. Walt’s house. Ever since her husband passed away two years ago Cynder checked in on her. In the summer he mowed her lawn, winter he shoveled her drive, and on wet nasty days like today he would just sit and chat with her, maybe drive her to the store.
When Winifred Walt opened her door she adjusted her glasses on the tip of her nose, looking over the thick lens at Cynder.
“Oh dear, you’re not turning into one of those shiny vampires are you?” She asked, squinting at him. Cynder stared back at her for a moment, afraid she had finally lost her mind.
“I’m teasing you boy, you’re covered in glitter. Have you seen that movie? Vampires that sparkle…..HA….not in my day I tell you!” She shuffled to the side, holding the door open and allowing Cynder into her small home. Cynder loved coming here, not just because she was a sweet and funny old lady but because the house somehow always smelled of cinnamon, something that reminded him fondly of his mother.
After two hours and several glasses of chilled milk and warm cookies, Cynder waved goodbye to Mrs. Walt, promising to come back soon and check on her. He could hear his step brothers arguing loudly before he even opened the door. He stood in the door frame watching as Andy held the invitation over his head, Drew jumping at it in vain. Even though they were twins, Andy was the taller of the two, taller, stronger and probably better looking if you liked square headed jocks with lots of muscle and no brains. Drew was slighter built, thin and lanky with an air about him that screamed egotistical maniac. He had his mother’s attitude and arrogance, a trait Cynder found horridly unattractive on both of them.
“Give it to me Andy! I want to read it!” Drew shouted, jumping at the card again in vain.
“Quit your whining you sissy. I’ll give it to you when I’m done.”
Cynder crept in, not making a sound as he stepped behind Andy and snatched the card from his hand. His step brother swung around his eyes wide with surprise and anger.
“Give it back Cindy.” He growled. Cynder ignored the petty name calling. They’d been calling him Cindy since the first night they moved in eight years ago. He remembered the way they’d swept through the house like twisters, like they owned the place. Moving things and claiming rooms and chairs and spots on the couch, knocking his mother’s books off the shelf to put up their video games and comics. Cynder had stood fuming, tears threatening to burst from his eyes when his father placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I know it’s been just us for so long son, but give it a chance. This is new to them too.” Cynder only nodded at his father. He gave it a chance, he stuck out his hand, plastered a welcoming smile on his face and introduced himself.
“Hi, I’m Cynder, my dad says we’re gonna be brothers.”
He had met their mother, he thought he didn’t like her because she was so different from the few things he could remember about his own mother. She didn’t smile, or hug, she didn’t cook breakfast or sing silly songs at bedtime. She didn’t dance and hold him up by the arms on Sunday mornings, she didn’t love him, and she didn’t even like him.
“Cynder? That’s your name?” Andy howled.
“More like CINDY!” Drew laughed. With that Andy pushed him down and they continued through the house pushing their way into his life and ruining it with every minute they were there.
“I said give it back Cindy!” Andy growled lurching at him. Cynder dodged him easily and tossed the paper to Drew, not because he wanted to help Drew or even because he cared if Drew read it, but because it’s what would piss Andy off the most. Drew snatched the silver kissed invite and skimmed it quickly howling as he ran around the kitchen island.
“Hot damn a masquerade ball!” He did an awkward jump, clicking his heels together as he slammed the invite down on the table. He jerked his head to the side catching Andy’s eyes and without a word they shot up the stairs shoving and vying to be the first to the top.
Cynder shook his head and picked up the paper again as his step mother came through the door from the garage.
She looked him over as always her eyes filled with disgust and disapproval.
“What is that?” She asked snatching the paper from him, leaving only a sprinkling of glitter on his fingers.
“The Academy is having a ball. The whole town is invited.” He spoke to her respectfully because that’s how he was raised, but in his head he was calling her every name he could think of.
“Hmmm says this Friday night,” she slid the invitation onto the counter top ignoring Cynder, “I better take the boys shopping.”
He knew better than to hope, to dream that he was included in her idea of “the boys”, but no matter how many times she let him down, no matter how much he hated her and knew she hated him back, there’s was always a moment when he hoped, wished, dreamed that she meant him too.
Friday came quickly. Andy and Drew were dressed in the finest tuxedos, their hair gelled in place. Andy wore a black phantom of the opera-esque mask lined with silver glitter. Drew wore an impish green mask that made Cynder think of a forest troll. Cynder himself took a suit from his father’s closet, dad was out of town again on business, Denmark this time for a whole month, but he wouldn’t mind. What he didn’t have was a mask. He came down the stairs as Andy, Drew and their mother were walking out the door.
“I just need a mask guys, gimme a sec.” His step mother looked back over her shoulder and smirked at him as she closed the door behind her. Anger bubbled up in his chest, it was one thing that she excluded him from the shopping trip, that she ignored him most of the time, but to completely leave him behind tonight was just the last straw. Andy’s tires peeled out of the drive, the headlights splashing through the window, illuminating Cynder as he stood there, alone as always.
He stood in the empty house, fuming, wishing his real mother was here, wishing his father was home and could see how he was treated. He pulled his cell phone from his coat pocket, stepping outside in an attempt to breathe and calm down. His fingers flew across his phone screen, machine gunning a message to his father.
When r u coming home
He waited for a response. He didn’t know what time it was in Denmark but his dad always answered his texts.
IDK what’s up?
Cynder thought for a moment before he answered.
Nothing just miss u
Why tell him? He wouldn’t believe it, he was under her evil spell.
“Cynder?”
He jumped at the sound of his name in the dark. Looking around he caught sight of Mrs. Walt’s grey head poking over the fence.
“Hey Mrs. Walt, you okay?” He walked towards her smiling as she stood on her tip toes just to see over the fence.
“What on Earth are you doing outside dressed so nice?” She opened the gate and stepped into his yard.
“Oh, I was going to go to the Tremaine Masquerade Ball but I changed my mind.” He smoothed the coat with is hands disappointment washing away his smile.
“Bitch left you behind didn’t she?”
His head jerked up as he caught the watery twinkle in Mrs. W
alt’s blue eyes. Hearing her curse was the funniest thing Cynder ever heard.
“Yeah, yeah she did. But it’s ok. I didn’t have a mask or anything anyway.” Cynder offered Mrs. Walt his elbow and she took it. He escorted her back to her porch, helping her slowly up the stairs.
“Come in here a minute son.” She said with a smile. He followed her into the house curious about her mischievous grin. She led him through the tiny house which seemed to have more hallways and corners than imaginable for such a small square place. She came to a door with a gold star and her husband’s name beneath it. It looked like a Hollywood dressing room door. She placed her wrinkled hand against the door and breathed deeply. When she swung it open Cynder couldn’t believe his eyes. The room was full of rolling wardrobe racks. The back wall held a huge mirror surrounded by large bulb lights.
“What is this?” Cynder whispered.
“Mickey was a silent movie star. These are his things.” She swept her arm out as Cynder tried to look everywhere at once.
“How old are you?” Cynder laughed, blushing at his own rudeness.
“Younger than you think, older than I feel.” She laughed.
She reached into one of the racks and pulled out a tuxedo. Its coat was long, the vest was backless with a deep curved V-cut, white with a silver paisley pattern running through it.
“Try it on.” She urged, pushing it at him.
“Oh, I couldn’t. These were Mr. Walt’s things.” He shook his head but she kept pushing it into his hands.
“He would want you too, for all you’ve done for me.”
Cynder took the clothes from her hand and watched as she stepped out closing the door behind her.
It was a perfect fit. He had no clue how old the outfit was but it shined like new. The wall with the mirror was decorated with masks of all kinds, even a monkey mask. Cynder laughed as his poked the furry nostrils. Then he saw it, a full face mask, it looked ancient almost. Silver and white, with ornate, antiqued scrolling. It covered his whole face and fit like it was made for him.
After Forever Page 17