RAPTURE ! ( it )

eighteen.

RAPTURE !

018. ' loser? nah, lover '

TUESDAY

THE YOUNG PIPERS GIRL pedaled quick down the incline of the road, relieved to be clear of the 'parental jail' her mother had inflicted on her, despite if it was for only thirty minutes that humid afternoon.

Though it had only been five days since the whole conflict at the Neibolt House, Amelia found herself missing all of the others - particularly the four boys that had rarely went away from her side since their third-grade year - as she tilted the bike's front wheel onto the stretch of road that was Witcham Street.

The girl seemed to anticipate for Bill's voice to intrude the air with his iconic phrase " hi-yo silver, away!" as he cycled in front of her, nearly swaying off his bike and into Richie's front wheel. Or, Richie and Eddie, who would pedal ahead of the others, to be squabbling with one another about ludicrous things that happened that day or in the news. Amelia even turned herself to the left to grumble to Stan as she always did in those instances, before it registered that none of the boys were there with her.

     This wasn't how this summer was meant to be.

Her hands fumbled with the chrome handlebars as her hair thrashed hard around in the humid air. A dense silence touched her ears the further she proceeded down Witcham Street - a street, in which, was just as eerie as Neibolt itself. Frankly, every traceable street in this town held its own eeriness.

The noise of loose mud reverberated from the tires abruptly, disrupting that silence and accompanying the moderate breeze through the branches in the nearby yards she passed.

Her clutch on the bars turned white-knuckled as dread settled in her chest almost gleefully - you miss me, Lia? You've had a break, but oh, can't stay away forever!

Her throbbing eyes strayed across the various windows of the homes on her right, and caught a lady peeping out from behind the wispy curtain in one of them. Amelia squinted absentmindedly towards the bay window. Behind the elderly woman was a crimson balloon idly floating in place. The clown - it had to be in there with her. The cramped feeling improved and she felt repressed by the air around her too quickly. The woman tipped her head almost tauntingly at the paused girl in the street outside her home- oh, you think it was over for you? Perhaps this time I'll kill you! Can't fuck around with you forever!

Amelia's bicycle then swayed as she quickly pedaled down the street with swift and robust strokes. She was gasping for the alleviation of air now and her hands trembled against the chrome surface. Shit, not now! No, no! Would this shithead of a clown just give up already?

"You better get to him. Oh, yes, you better get to him!" the clown's cruel voice floated into her ears and she almost upchucked as if on cue, "You better get to him. Yup, yup. Get to him! Go, go!

And she pedaled firmly the rest of the way to the town's center.

➯

IN A STAGGERING EXHAUSTION, Amelia rammed her bicycle into the rack outside the pharmacy, chest heaving to the point it was unbearable - how fucking amazing! It's not even a month into this summer, and I've managed to lose my friends in a period of weeks. Ah, so peachy keen.