Stories Written In The Dark

Leila

"Mommy, look at me!"

I grin, balancing myself on the rickety old log. It groans under my weight, the rotting wood twisting and turning to reveal small colonies of toadstools underneath. They're so cute! I like the colors the most. 

"Yeah, sweetie?" Mom shouts back, one hand still holding a diaper. Gross.

"Mommy, come play with me!" 

"Sure Leila. Just let me handle this...Lorna had another accident."

Mommy's always playing with Drystan. I don't see why. I mean, he's cute, but so am I! It's not fair.

"You're always playing with Drystan. Why don't you ever play with me? Ever since she came home, you've paid more attention to him."

Mommy's smiling. "Sweetie, your brother has different needs than you. He's delicate. Why don't you go play with your friends? It's a nice, sweltering sunny afternoon. There's gonna be tons of kids out."

"They're all so dumb. There's this boy, Billy, he thinks there's a tiny man in the fridge turning the light off. I tried to show him how the switch works, but he said I'm stupid. Can you believe him Mommy?" 

I wait for Mom to reply.

"Mom?" 

"Mom!"

I ready myself to scream, but Drystan beats me to it. Mom must have gone inside to wash him. Of course. Attention-hog. I decide to go back inside, but I hear something crack inside the forest. The trees are like skeletons, but with more leaves. It's so cold...and creepy.

That's it! If I go inside, Mom will have to look for me! Drystan can keep screaming. I don't care. 

Mom told me I can't go into the woods...but what she doesn't know won't hurt her, right? I look at the driveway. Dad's not home either. So she'll have to look for me herself! I smile, skipping away into the woods. I've made my choice.

And now I'll live with it.

************************

"Mommy?"

I don't know what happened. 

"Mommy?" 

"Why is she smiling?" Mommy asks.

"Why is who smiling? Mommy, look at me!"

I'm starting to feel sick. It feels like someone stretched me in every way possible, like someone pulled me apart from my hands and legs. I remember this movie my Mom was watching with Dad. She thought I was asleep.

I remember screaming when some guy got pulled apart by horses. My Mom grounded me for not sleeping on time, but brought me ice-cream later, so I'm not sure if she was actually angry. 

"That's just how she is," someone replies. "She likes to smile." 

Who's that? Why is she with Mommy and not me?

I look around. The whole place is a mess. Ugh. There's paint and stuff everywhere, and clothes all over the floor. Whose room is this? I look at the window. At least that I can recognize. But there isn't supposed to be a bedroom here. Right?

My stomach feels queasy. 

"How'd you make her Drystan?" 

"Drystan?"

But, that isn't possible! He's way too old to be Drystan. Ugh...my head hurts. Why does my head hurt so much? Wait, what's that in the mirror? Why do I look like that? Who is that? No, no no. This isn't possible.

My stomach finally gives up its fight. When I'm finished puking, the only thing that I can see is a faint trace of black goo. 

"What's her name?" Mom says, gesturing to the portrait. To my portrait. "Kids need a name, you know."

No. 

"No! It's Leila! He can't take my name too! Please, Mommy, don't let him take my name away too! Please! You can't let him do this! My name is Leila! Please, don't. Don't you dare. I'll kill you. I'LL KILL YOU ALL! Mommy, don't let her do this!"

My screams drown out everything else, until, finally, Mommy leaves. Along with...No. I won't say his name. He doesn't deserve one. 

The last thing I remember is the feeling. That feeling of hatred, of rage so strong and unbridled it couldn't be contained. A rage as thick as blood, and as red as the flames that will fall upon my enemies.