Letum Fabula
Drowned in the smooth, soft and shimmering darkness of midnight, so much of it that it covered half of the deep blue moons. The midnight had conquered the whole space hiding the beautifulness of the ever changing young tides. This is the story of Lilith Justins.
The Bullet
A tiny drop of sweat slid down the smooth, pale cheek of Lilith Justins. Before it plummeted down gone forever onto the cold, hard floor; it passed down the sweet lips upon her white face, not smudging her make-up as she need not where any; her beauty shone without it. The sweat wasn't of fear but it was burning hot in the room, it felt as if she was being toasted. It was as if time had carried on but Lilith had stopped, she dare not move.
There was a shining black pistol held by a firm hand of which belonged to a tall, well built, sturdy man, pointing directly at her, the other arm was left limply by his side, as if it were broken. Although the pistol shone in the dim light, it had an old look but to the untrained eye the look was undetectable. It looked as if the pistol had never been used but if you were Lilith who knew a lot about the past-and guns for that matter- you could see clearly that it had been used for other treacherous doings.
Before she knew it the man had his wet, sweaty finger on the trigger ready to make Lilith's life come to an end. The bullet was pushed through the gun and soared through the air. It was as if it had gone in slow motion, she saw the air being pushed aside almost as if it was fighting its way on its journey to Lilith.
When the bullet came to a stop Lilith thought it had missed her. She let go of the breath she didn't know she was holding. Then she knew her life was definitely finished, the bullet had hit her and now she was gone. A warm feeling came over her, at first she thought she had had an accident from fright; but no she wasn't frightened. It was then that she realised that the warm sensation was blood. Her own blood. She was now dead, gone forever, never to return, whatever you want to call it but the thing that mattered was that she was dead.
The nightmare had returned.
The morning
Lilith woke with a start, the nightmare had started about a year ago and had come to her every night, but a few months ago it had suddenly stopped and Lilith thought it had gone forever. The strange thing about the nightmare was that when the man was pointing the gun at her, she wasn't scared; she felt that she actually deserved to die, like it was meant to happen, like she, herself, should have committed suicide. Lilith had thought many times that surely no one, no matter what they did, deserved to die unless they had done something terribly wrong but even then it had to be a horrid thing; like murder of a nice person.
She decided to put the nightmare behind her and not tell anyone about it, the last thing she wanted was for anyone at the care home to fuss around her. They already fuss around her a lot as she disappears for months on end and when she comes back she is covered in at least one extra scar. Where she really is that's a different story-one that may never be told.
The Toast
As she went down the scabby stairs and passed the peeling wall paper she realised how the recession was affecting people as well as herself. The care home had always been scabby with peeling wallpaper but if someone complained about the walls it was always changed. Despite many complaints no change was made; not that any of the other kids would notice as they aren't very observant.
The smell of butter wafted through the air and travelled up her nostrils. She turned the corner into the kitchen and saw the busy rush to get the cereal.
There was toast burning in the toaster and Lilith's head seemed to turn on its own and her feet seemed to walk over to it by themselves. She could see, as she bent over the machine and peeped through the slot, the red wires heated up to maximum and the toast inside heating up every second. A strange feeling all of a sudden flushed over her and she had to get the toast out of there.
