Monsters Beyond the Gate

Chapter Two: Losing Her

I looked up at the sky. The sun was at it's highest peak and I was definitely feeling the heat radiating off of it. Sweat trickled down my forehead and soaked the back of my white, cotton tee-shirt. I was tired of walking, but I needed to reach the Gate before the sun started to dip back down.

"I'm tired," Fisher whined from behind me. He was strolling at a ridiculously slow pace, kicking at loose rocks as he went. The bright sunlight reflected sharply off of his rich, pin-straight, black hair that hung down just above his eyes. The color matched my father's and step-mothers almost identically. I was the odd one out with my auburn colored curls, that my mother used to say resembled the Autumn leaves, and my unnaturally bright green eyes that stood out in stark contrast to my father and brother's gray colored ones.

"Then maybe you should have stayed home, Fish," I said, using his nickname and shooting him a stern look, but my tone was light. Fisher really was a wonderful little brother. He was very sweet and wise for his age. A blue and black butterfly fluttered around his head. When he caught sight of it, he giggled to himself. I slowed my pace so that I could turn around and watch him chase the itty-bitty creature around in a circle. He held out his slender pointer finger, and the butterfly finally came to a rest on top of it.

"Look, sissy, it likes me!" he grinned with delight, "She's so cute!"

I couldn't help but smile at how much he was enjoying such a simple thing. Despite the heat, I began to hope that the day would turn out to be a good one.

"How do you know it's a she?" I asked, kneeling down beside him to get a better look.

Fisher shrugged his tiny shoulders. "it's pretty and nice, Sissy," he said, "just like you!"

His gray eyes sparkled up at me, and it felt as if I was being sent back into another time.

I was seven years old, standing in the living room beside my Father. His bright gray eyes were wild with excitement. A slight burning aroma wafted in from the kitchen. Dad was going to ruin Mom's birthday cake.

"Ady, mommy is going to be here in a half an hour. Be ready to say surprise."

I threw a concerned look towards the kitchen.

"Daddy, you'd better check the cake..."
Dad had never done much cooking. Mom was the chef of the house. In fact, Dad was usually so busy with work, he never did much of anything around the house. That was the first year he actually did something for Mom's birthday (she usually organized her own party). Something had changed in Mom over the years though. A sadness started to grow in her deep green eyes and Dad was scared. Scared that Mom would lose it and wind up throwing herself over the gate like so many others before who just couldn't take it any longer.

They couldn't handle the constant fear and seclusion, and while there were other communities to trade with, and ours was the biggest left it the state, it still wasn't enough sometimes.

So that night was Dads last effort at normalizing Mom. He rushed into the kitchen to save the cake and frost it blue-- mom's favorite color.

I waited patiently by the door for mom to come home, staring at the clock that ticked on the wall.

Little did I know that I'd be waiting forever.

Because Mom was never coming home.