Short stories and poems

Strange sights at night.

"I think I'd very much like to meet you, if only this world wasn't so cruel. The only good thing about this life, is You."

Soft argentine gleams of moonlight poured silently through the bare windows, gently brushing past the smudges and cracks that were illuminated by a single touch of the pale fingers of the streams of light that gushed like transparent water flowing from a tap, before curling itself up on the tiled floor that lacked any sort of warmth.

Dimly lit street lamps aligned the edges of the deserted pavements outside the orphanage, weakly casting inadequate light onto their surroundings, all apart from one,
whose glimmer frequently flickered within the reflections of the deep chocolate hued eyes that belonged to the face of a petite girl who observed the sights outside of her window with a look full of nothingness.

The dark pools that once glistened with excitement and mischief, gazed with an unknowing longing towards the world that encompassed the prison that had ripped the life out of her soul,leaving behind a hollow void that had gradually managed to seep through the shining eyes of the child,and bled like water soaking through a pristine white sheet of paper into her heart.

Her elbows rested uncomfortably on the chipped windowsill,as she leant her chin on the palms of her sore hands,her pupils dilated from the darkness that emitted from the raven sky upon the Earth.

The scarce number of stars that littered the heavens,
seemed to wink at the despondent girl, whispering reassuringly into her ears secrets that she didn't dare to voice aloud — terrified of clinging hopelessly onto dreams that may never come true.

She'd already attempted to succumb to some sort of slumber,curling into a tight ball under the threadbare quilt that the orphanage could afford to provide for each of the girls that had been shoved under their care.

Her tiny hands clung to the cotton material of her pillow, as she squeezed her eyes shut, shutting out the relentless gleams of moonlight that seemed to mesmerise her as they poured through the finely dusted glass screen that her bed was unfortunately positioned before, which meant that, every night, the silver glow showering the beds and plain floor of the bedroom persistently worked to distract the girl from a peaceful rest,which ultimately caused the other orphan girls to awaken each morning to find the quiet girl adorned with bleak eyes and dark circles that painted an even more depressing demeanor about the child.

It was the same routine every night, and, though the other girls would happily scramble onto the creaking mattresses and wrap themselves with the quilts they had grown so accustomed to — even within a short period of time — the child found no joy in retiring to the shared bedroom after a long day of scrubbing away at floors until cracks and blisters pinched at the skin of her hands, causing her to grimace with clenched teeth whilst her eyes glistened with tears that she knew she couldn't afford to shed as long as the mistress was around, not unless she wanted to undergo the same torture that other unfortunate girls have had to endure, and that not only included beatings and burns with a fire poker, but also degrading insults that left an abyssal shell of each victim.

Hardly a soul would have been found wandering those London streets at this time of night, yet, the girl's head perked up slightly as her eyes flicked towards the movement of a shadow beside the flickering street lamp.

Whoever it was seemed to be waiting for someone...or something — their face seemingly turned away from the curious gaze held within the dark hues of the child.

It was mid Autumn, meaning that the coolness of the breeze that waltzed through the air had already begun to deform from a gentle kiss into nails that dug mercilessly into the exposed skin of the victim's cheeks — its delighted giggles sending shivers down spines and relishing in the misfortune of those who it managed to trap in its clutches, whilst it whistled tauntingly outside the windows of homes,
brushing up against the glass panes like a cat seeking attention from its owner.

The young girl wondered at the man who remained standing beside the street lamp, an unnerving feeling stirring within the pit of her stomach as her transfixed almond eyes never strayed from the stranger.

Though he stood a small distance away from the orphanage, the child would have been able to detect even the smallest of movements with her keen eyes, yet, he never once moved.

With baited breath, she continued to peer through the window, squinting slightly under the moonlight veil that tickled the delicate skin of her face, until the sound of creaking floorboards resounded within the girl's ears, startling her out of her daze as a tiny gasp slipped through her parted lips — eyes widened as she swiftly turned her face towards the wooden door that was always left slightly ajar.

Immediately, she slid back under her quilt with a shaky breath — the relentless pounding of her heart echoing within her ears — before her eyelids fluttered shut. Lips set in a firm line as her teeth clenched together — her best attempt of hiding the trembling that would have easily given herself away.

The groans of the ancient floorboards under the pressure of feet seemed to last for hours as the monotonous ticks of the clock that hung on the wall on the other side of the room grew increasingly irritating to the sensitive ears of the child who was straining them to listen with anticipation for the footsteps to cease.

Goosebumps pinched at the bare arms of the girl as the hinges of the door creaked, reminding her of the screeching of chairs against tiled floor before the mistress had sat herself down directly in front of the girl, glaring at the tiny child with a scrutinising look that made the girl's hairs stand on end whilst she proceeded to observe and analyse this stray kitten that had managed to wander her way through the streets of London alone until curling herself up in a tight ball on the steps of the orphanage, clusters of snowflakes mingling between the tangled locks of hair,
whilst her hands and face appeared frighteningly pale.

It was a fortunate circumstance that the mistress happened to be passing by the living room window and catch a glimpse of a motionless body trespassing her property.

Though the older lady always wore a stern expression with her eyebrows constantly furrowed and chestnut locks clumsily twisted into an updo, revealing a face that was etched with wrinkles of a strange intricacy, as if they silently whispered of a story that would never be told by the lips or tongue; instead, her smaragdine-hued eyes beheld a glimmer — a sparkle that twinkled like the stars in a clear night sky, mysterious as a stray black cat that frequented the garden of your house, but leave without a trace to cling onto for several weeks, before reappearing almost like it had no sense of time. There was a kindness about her that presented itself in an abnormal manner,
which was the reason why her feet automatically stilled before the shivering child that fateful Winter evening,
the fatigue dispersing away ever so slightly from her emerald eyes as curiosity began to seep into those glistening pools.

The hint of red that relished in her lips appeared brighter almost like they, too, were fascinated with the sight before them.

Crouching as far as her knees would allow her before they would give away, she reached out an arm towards the unaware girl, gently sweeping a dark lock behind her ear, only to hastily withdraw her hand upon contact with flesh that felt as cold as ice.

Her eyes lifted to carefully scan the darkening streets, strained by the lack of light that refused to expose any cleverly hidden shadows lingering on the pavements.

With a deep sigh, she wrapped her arms around the girl, cradling her fragile body close to the warmth of her chest,
as the snow crunched under the impact of her delicate shoes — the very pair that she faithfully wore everyday.

A grin tickled the corners of his slightly cracked lips, whilst the dark pools of his eyes danced with excitement as the scene unfurled before him.

The flickering glow of the street lamp seemed to almost cause the streams of light to drizzle like rain, casting eerie shadows across the face of the man.

He was back again that night, standing beside the same lamp post, his gleaming eyes transfixed on the petite figure at the upstairs window of the orphanage.

She thought he couldn't see her, that she was the only one observing the other, when, in fact, it was the man who was truly observing her.

He noticed how she suddenly slipped away from the window, eyes widened with an unmistakable look of fear as she whipped her head towards something or someone.

He never got the chance to catch another glimpse of the innocent child that night, but he was sure to return another time.