Spilt

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The sun shines brightly on the Saturday morning, and the air smells of the sea. I walk down the hill on the sidewalk, my feet slapping lightly against the pavement. I carry my red drawing notebook in one hand, and my pencil in the other. I move past the coffee shops and cafes, the boutiques and hair salons, watching my reflection shift and change as I go from one window to another. My red hair bounces in the ponytail I had done earlier, contrasting against the light purple track jacket and leggings. My brown eyes match my freckles that cover my cheeks, and my tan skin only showing on my face and hands from the countless hours of sitting outside.

A gust of wind blows through the streets as I stop before the local coffee shop, Breaking Customs. Breaking Customs is a mix between a coffee shop and a cafe, but always smells of coffee beans. I refer to it as a coffee shop because I only get the coffee here. Just because the pastries are dipped in pure sugar. I push open the dark door, and step inside the warm room. Small, round tables cover the dark wood floor. The walls have license plates from places across the country along with vintage collectibles that you could buy. I walk towards the wooden counter, that always has a line, and wait. My thoughts wander to the day before, when I had been driving in my car to Locos Tacos, where I work, when I heard a nursery rhyme come on the radio. The song echoed in and out, sounding like children were singing it, but the sounded horribly dark and twisted. I had turned up the volume of the radio but the song would play no louder, as I strained to hear what the twisted children were singing. "London Bridge is burning down, burning down, burning down. London Bridge is burning down, no one survives...." over and over again, the demonic children sang.

I immediately called my best friend, Jessica, to ask her what was going on and asked her to listen to the station. She said she couldn't hear anything but static. I had gasped loudly after the moment she said this, for the singing children increased in volume until they were so loud I had to pull over and cut the engine. My ears had rung with the sound for hours later, and when I had tried to continue my conversation with Jessica just after the incident, my phone had died, when minutes before it was at full charge.

Five minutes later, I stand at the front of the line giving my usual order to the clerk standing in front of the cash register, not really paying attention. I hand my money to the dark haired boy, and walk dazed to the pick up counter, still contemplating the question that would not leave my mind, "Who were those children?" I hear a deep, female voice call out the name, 'Cassandra', go to pick up my coffee, and walk to the table that faces a big window. The window looks out onto the London Bridge, cars stuck in rush hour. I stare blankly, the horrible song playing over and over again in my mind. Time passes quickly, and I am still looking out the window, watching people going home to visit their families. I look at my watch and it reads 6:00 PM.

I sigh, and stand up with my half full cup of coffee, my notebook still lying on the table. I walk over to put my cup in the bin full of dirty dishes, waiting to be washed, and set it inside with the rest."Hey, Cassie," the clerk calls to me, although this was a different clerk than the one who had taken my order earlier. Xavier has been my best friend since freshman year of high school. His dark brown skin matches his chocolate brown eyes. His smile is infectious, so I was always smiling around him.

"Hey," I responded, smiling at a familiar face. "Has the London Bridge ever burned down?" I ask him, wondering if he too has heard the song or something like it.

"Um, no. I'm sure they would have taught us that in elementary," Xavier replies jokingly, now putting the dirty plates in the dishwasher, still laughing quietly to himself.

"Oh, ok," I respond, but the disappointment must be clear on my face when Xavier asks, "Why? Do you know something?" with a tone of alarm in his voice. When I don't respond immediately, he stands up quickly. I walk over to my notebook, still laying on the table next to the window. I pick it up when I hear the gate open between the seating area and behind the counter.
Quick footsteps sound behind me. I turn around, and I am face to face with Xavier. He searches my eyes, looking for anything to tell him why I hadn't said anything. I open my mouth, but close it again, unsure if I should tell him.