These Paper Pages

in the night we chase (serlo)

shadows. ghosts. slivers of memories lost in the darkness.

a past you cannot escape. and death that lingers in the stillness.

who is telling the truth? what secrets lie deep in the crevice of your mind?

What do you fear?

━━━━━

Seraphina is haunted by memories she cannot quite remember.

The woods call to her. Beckon her to come and step into the undergrowth where the grass clings to the soles of her feet, the moisture and coolness seeping through her skin. It beckons her to push pass the low hanging branches and into the heart of the forest where it waits. The heart beckons her to come closer and closer to the heart of it all and the moment she reaches the clearing, into the heart of the forest where patches of overgrown grass brushes against her knees, tickles the back of thighs, the forest becomes eerily quiet. Not even the woodland creatures that come to life at this hour dare make a sound.

She feels a knot in her stomach, Seraphina can feel the oppressing coldness of the night, the eerie silence, pressing against her frail, feeble form as she clutches the brown teddy bear with a bowler hat and red bolo tie to her chest. She shivers, her short white gown providing her little warmth amidst the chill. Dread pools at the pit of her stomach, a voice nagging in the back of her mind about how this, Seraphina takes a quick, cursory glance of her surroundings, was a bad idea. Behind the treeline across the field of overgrown grass, hidden in the veil of night, Seraphina was sure something is watching her.

The memory ends there. It frustrates her to no end. The memory (delusions, perhaps?) ends there, she cannot recount how she had strayed that far into the woods, Seraphina was sure Eric...

Grey eyes glinting under the moonlight. A smile, razor sharp and out for blood. The beating of her own heart loud against her ears, out of breath. Goosebumps. The sickening sound of something tearing through flesh.

Seraphina presses her face in her hands, fingers digging into the skin of her forehead. Soft sobs escapes her trembling lips. Eric is dead. Eric is dead. Eric is dead.

Eric is dead and yet she is alive.

Two years is barely enough time to reconcile with that fact. She has so many questions, so many questions, in fact for over two years, Seraphina has filled three notebooks with questions about that night. Questions she knows she will get no answers.

She had lived. For three days [it felt like it had only been hours then, but at this point Seraphina doubts her own mind] they have searched for her, only to find her almost, almost fifty kilometres from her own home. She was caked in blood and dirt and grime with barely any recollection of what had happened. The stench of death lingers in the air, mixing with the damp smell of trees and earth, somehow Seraphina had not noticed the rotting flesh of her best friend lying just a few metres away from her. The moment her eyes landed on the decaying corpse infested with maggots and worms, a terrified shriek escapes her lips and she finds herself bursting into tears, pleading, begging for the officers to believe her that she did not do anything, that she remembers nothing.

It was a long, mentally taxing investigation. There was no evidence that tied Seraphina to his death, hell, according to the experts, it couldn't possibly be her because there was nothing human about the bone deep lacerations on his body. He was ripped to shreds by something with claws. Long, impeccably sharp claws.

"Seraphina." A pair of hands gently cradles her in theirs. A familiar, soothing presence. Her anchor. Seraphina leans in, resting her forehead against his shoulder, breathing in the familiar although faint smell of cinnamon and lemongrass lingering on his skin.

"Arlo." She rasps. Once Arlo releases her hands, she wastes no time to wrap them around his neck, burying her face at the crook of his neck, curly blond hair tickling her forehead as she huddles against him. "You came."

"Of course I would. You were in hysterics, Sera." Arlo wraps one arm around her waist, pulling their bodies together while his other hand combs its fingers through her hair. "Are you having those nightmares again?"

Seraphina doesn't speak, instead she simply nods her head and remains in his protective embrace, his warmth encompassing the midnight chill settling in her room. Eventually Arlo pries her away from him, making her whine softly at the loss of his warmth, but immediately appeases her once he climbs into her bed and pulls her back into his arms. Snaking her arms around his waist, fingers clutching the fabric of his clothes, she buries her face in his chest and curls up against him.

Arlo loosely wraps his right arm over her shoulder, tangling with strands of magenta as his fingers mindlessly combs through locks of magenta hair. The shaking of her form eventually subsides, her breathing slow and even, but her hold on him remains tight and so Arlo remains there, a soft sigh escaping his lips before he dips his head in and presses a kiss on the top of her head. She was doing so well until that, Arlo holds her closer to him, person saunters into their school, hands stuffed inside his pocket and a scowl on his face that matches his slouched shoulders and glaring golden irises as he kicks up the earth as he walks on by.

Neither Arlo nor Seraphina could see John, no, all they could see is Eric. An exact replica with his eyes being an exception, cold golden eyes, which even under the glint of the morning sun held no life in them. Looking directly into them felt like being violated, it made him feel inexplicably vulnerable underneath his sharp gaze. Arlo couldn't put a finger to it but there is something utterly misplaced, dare he say 'wrong', about John. The boy's appearance at their school opened old, festering wounds along with a crate full of questions left unanswered.

Arlo remembers that day with absolute clarity.

He wakes to an empty room where silence blankets over him, threatening to suffocate him in the stillness of the morning where slivers of sunlight creep through the gap between the pink curtains of Seraphina's ridiculously spacious bedroom. Arlo thinks none of it until he creeps down the spiral staircase and wanders into the living room in search for the two only to find no signs of them. He remembers thinking of it as a joke, the two did have quite a sense of humour and so he decides to play along, searching the house and calling out mockeries that was sure to get both of them springing to their feet and vehemently argue with him.

Only it hadn't and the house felt oddly, disturbingly quiet.

A queasy, dreadful feeling sinks in his guts and Arlo finds himself bolting through the house in search of any signs, anything, that could give him any indication of where they are because panic is kicking in and adrenaline is pulsing in his veins and there is a faint ringing in his ear mixing with the thumping of his heartbeat because something is awfully, awfully wrong and that's when it hits. The smell of rotting flesh causes Arlo to stumble back, his stomach clenching at the sight of blood and entrails and gore. He empties his already empty stomach on the floor, tears stinging the corners of his eyes.

Arlo squeezes Seraphina in his arms, using her presence to ground himself back to the present. Two years had done nothing to erase the memories or ease the grief, the nightmares that haunts him in his waking hours, in his sleep. Curling in on Seraphina, he convinces himself to sleep, to rest. He'll chase these ghosts tomorrow, but not tonight, he'll squash this sudden fear gripping his chest because right now Seraphina needs him. She needs a pillar to lean on, to keep her steady and upright when the wild winds threaten to knock her down.

•• ━━━━━ ••

based on a dream I had about unO where John has a doppelganger except he had grey eyes and died with seraphina as a witness, she remembers nothing except tid bits of it. pretty sure there were some more gruesome details in my dream that i could not really remember anymore but yeah--