A life worth dying for: book 1: Life sucks! -The Story Of Alice And Jasper

Life before

I, something was, I could. My thoughts were so confused. I could hear something, something far away like I was underwater or in a plane. My ears felt all fuzzy on the inside. My hearing like sight and sense of smell were always impeccable. This was horrible .My head hurt, it felt so sore and hazy and confused. I felt so disoriented. I just didn

’t feel right, like I wasn’t in my proper mind and body. I felt like I was in a dream, or a ghost. Could I be a ghost, had I actually died this time? The voice distracted me. It was the same sound but now I knew it was a voice, a voice that somehow I recognized it. It really triggered memories in my brain a mind trigger that I couldn’t find the source of. The sound got clearer and clearer I could make out the one syllable word as that.

My eyes were still closed, I had been so disoriented that I’d only just noticed. I opened them and blinked in the direct lemon sunlight. These were not my eyes, they were dull and cloudy and dark. They were basic.

They were like human eyes; they were human eyes or the strength of human eyes at least.

“Alice,” called the familiar voice. My eyes turned.

I hadn

’t asked them to, I didn’t want to turn round but I did anyway. I wasn’t controlling myself at all.

I knew what was happening now, or I had a promising theory. These were the memories I had forgotten. I was remembering my human life. I’d never remembered anything in the ten years since I’d been changed. Maybe this was just my brain fantasizing, compensating because I’d hit my head.

I could see what my new, or old, eyes were trying to show me. A garden I could see the sun dried, yellow grass and then I looked down to my hands they were shaded and covered in sandy dust. They were small and fat, the type of hands that belong to a child under three years old.

“Alice!” called the voice again, which was now getting initiated. This time my eyes looked up properly. I wanted to gasp; the woman in front of me was so pretty. No, pretty didn’

t crack it, she was beautiful. A woman, of average height with long thin black wavy hair, which went straight to her waist. She had a very tiny frame and beautiful honey brown, sun-kissed skin. She wore a loose, free flowing, gypsy like, white dress. She was carrying a wicker basket of berries in her petite hands.

“Alice, come on your Daddy will be home soon,” she said, holding out her little hand. My eyes looked down again and snatched up a soggy, tatty rag doll. It was a sweet little hand made doll made of a mixture of patchwork fabrics. It was, although not the best doll in the world you could tell it had been made with love. I saw myself moving towards her then these eyes faded and the picture changed.

I saw another memory now. I saw a young girl in the same orchard, slightly older, and I was running with her. The girl may have been around three years old at most, I saw the my hands as I ran, they were thinner, bigger about the size they were in reality. I was laughing as was the little girl waddled towards me. “Awis, wait!” she complained, laughing as she did so.

“Come on Cindy,” I was laughing. I could feel my bare feet on the dry grass as I raced towards her, scooping the little girl up in my arms.

She giggled and wriggled around. “Wuv you Awis!” she shrieked. I looked towards the sky it was twilight, the sun was just visible above the distant hills. “Come on in Alice, supper will be ready soon,” the Mother’s voice called. I looked up to see her standing in the doorway. She looked blissfully at piece for once.

Next I saw a grave, my mind was suddenly flooded with sadness, melancholy, distraught and disbelief. I could feel tears dripping down my new human cheeks. I was standing beside a man, of Fathering age, he had little Cindy’s hand in his she was dressed in black as was he. Then I looked at the freshly dug grave as they lowered the coffin inside the six foot hole. I saw the Preacher standing in his robes at the side of the muddy hole. I realized then that the coffin contained my mother. The happy women with the long hair who loved the outside world. She was dead.