I wake up shivering. My breath comes out in a puffing cloud. I rub my bleary eyes and look to the dirty window. Cloudy sunlight streams in. Just then my belly rumbles. Ugh. Mornings are always hard. Mornings are a reminder of another day of survival and of my sad existence. Really existing is all I'm doing here. I have no future goals or plans. Well maybe one plan. If my father finds me, I will end him and then end myself. Together we can break the barrier to the other side. But he will go down to the fiery pits of hell to atone for his sins. I will simply be no more.
I set aside my deep thoughts and decide to pull myself from my warm blankets. The hunger pains are bad and I need to eat a little something. No gourmet meal for me. A can of fruit is what's calling my name. I sit up and yawn. I may have slept but I feel like hell.
My eyes catch something on my right side. Black dust in small piles. Trails of it surround my bed. What in the heck? My eyes hastily scan the room. Nothing looks like it's been touched. The barrel remains wedged under the door handle. Nobody appears to be hiding in the corners. I move my eyes back to the floor and reach down. I pinch some of the stuff between my fingers. As I rub it, it starts to disappear. I pinch another pile and quickly bring it to my nose. I know. Weird right? I inhale the scent, smoke. They're black ashes. I watch as the pile I just touched disappears. I try another pile and once again nothing remains.
To say I'm creeped out is an understatement. My heart is racing and fear is slipping in. I take a few deep breaths and remind myself that I'm alone. Nobody made it in here. I would of woken up from the noise of the barrel moving away from the door. Right? I scan the dark corners just to make sure. Only dust and cobwebs. The windows are untouched. Thankfully, they're rusted and jammed and don't open.
My belly grumbles to remind me that it's been hours since I've eaten anything. I pull myself up off the floor and make my way over to the shelf. I grab a can of mixed fruit and pop the top. Thankfully I have a small stockpile of disposable forks and spoons from McDonalds. I pull one off the shelf and dig in as I make my way over to my kitchen table. By kitchen table I mean an uncomfortable metal chair and rusty desk. I sit in silence but my eyes can't seem to move from the trail of ashes on the floor.
What or who in the hell would leave trails of black ashes on the floor of my dumpy safe haven. My first thought is usually always my father. But these are not of this world. Like magical ashes? Maybe I'm in that stage where I'm halfway between dreaming and awake. Maybe It's a weird nightmare. Maybe I'm turning into my mother. I hardly remember her but my father said she was mentally sick. Although I never believed much of what he said.
I shake my head and focus on my can of juicy fruit. After I finish eating. I toss the can into a rusty metal bin I use for my trash and wipe my mouth on my shirt. I take a deep breath. Once again I'm still alive and all alone. I'm surviving. That's all this life is.
I pull a book out of my backpack and mentally prepare myself. The sadness is overwhelming me. I'm drowning in it. I grip the pages and push myself to read. I allow myself an escape from this horrible emptiness. I enter a world full of magic. Where a beautiful girl has a loving father. A world where a girl falls in love.
***
Wednesday and Thursday come and go. No more ashes appear in my room. I survive on my two meals a day. One can of food in the morning and a can in the evening. I even allow myself a dozen saltines with my can of tomato soup. I know what you must be thinking. I'm living the high life. Actually I've managed to live off less than ten dollars a week. At the dinner I saved up over seven hundred dollars before I left.
Today is Friday. Soup kitchen day. I wake up smelling a hint of smoke. I peel my eyes open to find black smeared on my pillow. I jump out of bed and scan every inch of the room. No ashes are near my door. There's just a trail over my blanket and pillow and some on the ground near the windows. I rub the trails on my pillow and they disappear.
YOU ARE READING
Trail of Ashes
Short StoryEmptiness is mostly all Henley feels. She's had a hard life and she knows her time is almost up. But her world changes when she finds the ashes. Trails of ashes start showing up in her room and on her clothes. When she tries to touch them they disap...