Children of Hell Fire

A World Better Than Our Own

      Bleached snow floats lightly to the ice capped ground. Mom is listening to an old song that Grandma used to sing to me as a baby, and as my hands wrap tighter around my hot chocolate, I begin to feel nervous. Mom and Dad told me to quickly pack my things this morning, because we were to go back home. I've been living in our tiny one bedroom house for as long as I can remember, so I wasn't and still am not sure entirely what all of this means.

       Mom takes my hand and looks at me from the passenger seat, smirking. Golden curls cascade her face carelessly, and she's glowing. I've never seen her look so happy, or so beautiful. I fake a smile back at my Mom, then start doodling on the window. So fast that I can barely see it, a linked line of hideous creatures stand hand-in-hand from one side of the road to the other.

      Dad slams on the brakes, and everything from that point seems to go in slow motion. Mom's head has busted through the windshield, our car is flipping through the air, and all I can think about is how I dreamt this would happen the night before, but was too stupid to think it wouldn't. That it was just a childish nightmare. The car slams to the ground, and my mother's blood coats everything. There's a horrendous ringing in my ears and I realize that I am hanging upside down.

       Unbuckling my seatbelt, I crawl through the window, careful not to put my hands on any glass. Once I'm out of the car, I take in the scene and it occurs to me that my Dad is also dead. His jaw was taken off by the steering wheel, and his eyes stare lifelessly into mine. Not knowing what else to do, I grip my blood splattered fur coat and begin walking toward the creatures that killed my parents.

       Mouthless, with beady eyes and leathery, ash skin, they move aside and let me walk down the lengthy, winding road ahead. I have come up with two theories as to why they let me go. Either they are scared of me, which I couldn't possibly understand, or they thought I was going to die anyways.

       When I wake up, I don't bother to open my eyes. I know that when I open them I have to start living my mundane life. So, I take a moment to breathe in the fresh morning air. I imagine a cup of hot chocolate with excessive amounts of whipped cream sitting at the kitchen table. I imagine gearing up for some grand adventure. But the truth is, there will be no hot chocolate, no adventure, and certainly no interesting people.

       I want the kind of thing I read in my books, really. To be extraordinary, like everyone else wants to be. To know who I am and what to do with myself. It's a typical desire for someone who wants to be so offbeat. Sighing, I pull my eyes open and drag myself out of bed. After tugging on my layers of clothes, I jot down the nightmare in my notebook, then shove it into my tattered, but favorite, backpack.

      My brother Owen stares unmoving at the TV, clearly pessimistic even though the day has barely begun. Who can blame him though? Owen was paralyzed a few years ago after shooting himself in the head. It's a miracle he lived, but I'm sure he doesn't feel the same way. We've both had haunting nightmares for a very long time, and at some point it becomes more than you can handle.

      I wrap my arm around Owen's waist and grab his hand with the other. We make our way to the bathroom just like this every morning, then we have toast and rice. Every. Single. Day. We live by ourselves and the cost of living is simply too much. I can handle it, but I can't imagine what it's like for Owen to live this life. The caretaker arrives shortly before I leave and I hand her a book to read to my brother. I give Owen a kiss on the cheek, then head to work.

      Some may say that I have a strange job, but to someone who has known nothing but pain their whole life, I think it's perfect for me. A blow lands to my face, and I respond with a kick to the side. When my opponent is on the floor, I spit out blood from my busted lip. A small, beefy girl stares at me from the ground and pushes herself up until she's standing again.