The Girl With the Dandelion Ring

Chapter 12: The Story of A Child

Chapter 12: The Story of A Child

Luther helps Vivian into the train. She looks weak. It's no surprise, considering I had burnt through her branches. Her bark has a gray tint to it, the leaves resting upon her head are limp, resting against her skin giving her a worn out appearance. Luther holds around her shoulder, supporting her. He sends me a glare as he passes me, helping Vivian into another train car. In it I see about four built in bunkbeds. He ushers her to the closest one, folding his butterfly wings so they don't hit anything. He sits on his knees, whispering to her as she slowly nods her head. He places his hand gently against her cheek, leaning in and pressing his lips to hers. I quickly avert my gaze, a blush spreading across my face.

I'm startled as the train starts to move. I'm jerked forward and barely catch myself against the wall. I feel the wheels grinding against the tracks through my feet. Straightening quickly I take my hands off of the wall, leaving a large smear of blood. I remember the redcap that bit my hand, how his flesh had charred around my fingers, its blood boiling inside of its skin. I remember the smell that had attacked me, the smoke, rot, and burnt flesh that invaded my sinuses. I feel bile rise in my throat as I stare at the blood. My eyes flick to my hand, the blood trailing down my fingers and pooling in a small puddle by my feet. I let my other hand cover my mouth as I clench my eyes, trying not to puke everywhere.

I fail.

The bile comes spewing out of my throat just as I manage to throw open one of the windows. My stomach clenches, squeesing the foul liquid out of my body through my mouth and nose. I hang almost halfway out of the train as my insides burn. I gasp for breath in between vomits as the memories burn through my mind. I let out a loud whine as I finally finish. My body is coated in a fine layer of sweat, it slightly shakes at the exertion, but I start to feel better. I blow out my nose and spit out the rest of the bile, then I allow myself to relax.

My fingers feel the bite of the wind as they hover outside of the window. My golden hair tangles in the breeze, tickling my lower back. The hem of my silk dress dances along my thighs, but I don't bother fixing it. No one is here to see it anymore.

I watch as the pale morning light forces its way past the scarred landscape. It weaves its way through the ashy land, over the dried creeks and smouldering trees. I wasn't aware of the extent the fire had traveled. The black train had sped past the ruins for miles, yet the ravished forest still continues.

I lean against the train's wall, feeling the chill of the metal seep into my skin. I take in a shaking breath as I gently probe my stomach wound. Intense pain flares up, but the stitches are still unbroken. At least one good thing happened, I think ruefully.

I hear a door open from behind me, but I don't bother looking to see who entered. I continue to stare at the trees, they slowly fade back to their natural state, untouched by my destructive wish. I feel a tear trace down my cheek, but ignore it as well. I don't deserve to cry.

Have you gone looney? Crying is nothing to be ashamed of, I blink as I remember what Ben had told me when I was in his house after going into my first coma-like sleep. Tears are a sign of humanity. Science cannot explain why we do it, it's a trait that only we possess. If we deny ourselves tears, then we are denying ourselves humanity. And in the end, isn't humanity all that we really have? Never deny yourself something so important. Especially around me. I smile as I remember how he had brushed away my tears. I do the same now, wiping the tear from my face with my bloodied hand.