My world is silver, floating hazily around me as I sit up slowly, cautiously. Somehow, both Greg and my mother have disappeared, leaving only me. Alone.
Even my surroundings are different. I’m no longer at the bottom of the stairs, and I can’t see out the open door. Mainly because there is no door, or stairs either. There’s just this strange, in between, grey colour, tinging the ground and masking my world from view. It’s like sitting in a great mass of fog, only… different, somehow.
I can’t see the first thing in front of me, same as if I were surrounded by whirling, swirling mist. Yet, for some reason, I’ve got a sense that maybe there isn’t anything in front of me to see. That myself and the fog are it, nothing more.
No more people, hiding, obscured from view, or the sturdy oak furniture that litters my house. Just this, what I can see, and nothing more.
I sigh, relaxing. My toes splay out as I stretch, yawning.
The nothingness is kind of peaceful.
With one, lazy smile I can forget about Greg, and the prank calls, and whether they’re connected or not. I can forget about Lysander too, with his peculiar hatred of me suddenly disappearing when Ashlin asked him out for me.
Adorable, popular Ashlin. She’s been such a wonderful, spectacular friend to me – changing my life in ways I didn’t even think possible – but when you think about it, she’s a little manipulative. She transformed my looks, my personality, my popularity, without batting an eyelid. Taking me under her wing, and making such drastic readjustments to my life that I barely even recognise myself, she didn’t think about the consequences it might have on me.
Barely acknowledging my parents. Letting my grades slip down. Constant stress over such superficial things like make up that I never would have bothered about before.
Huh. It’s like the fog is making me more daring, more open. At one with myself, my inner soul. So much more willing to embrace what I think about people – really think, not just the ideas put into my head by society and my peers and whatnot – and then let them go. Put the niggling thought of the past aside, and concentrate fully on the here, the now, the smoky silver fog.
I laugh. It’s been ages since I’ve laughed. It sounds funny in the middle of this odd hazy mist, resounding and echoing as if there’s more than just me laughing. It’s like there’s a whole city giggling along beside me, different tones of voices melding into one, beautiful, harmonious note.
This is weird.
The chortling stops as I do, puttering out until there’s no residue of sound left at all.
It’s making me feel cold now, cold like the emptiness around me. Not lke it’s my friend, a comforting, welcoming presence anymore… More like an enemy instead. I’m getting a feeling that the nothingness isn’t quite as peaceful as I first thought, as the silence continues, seeming as if it intends to go on and on, forever and ever.
I can change that.
Opening my mouth, I begin to form words – any words, just to break into this imposing nothing. Lips rounded as I start to form the syllables, tongue clicking against my teeth…I stop. Not out of my own will, but because I physically cannot speak, not out loud. The back of my throat is closing up, like it’s been taped shut, resisting against me, trapping my words in my head. It’s stopping me from breathing; it’s stopping me from crying out, screaming for help.
I want this to be over - I want to pinch myself and find that I’m back where I belong, in my own cluttered, garish home, with everyday trials and tribulations. I don’t want to die here, on my own, without anyone else, in a place so scarily unfamiliar.
What if I die here?
Tears ebb silently from my eyes, welling up and staining my cheeks. I don’t look pretty when I cry, like girls always seem to in the movies – I’m the opposite, a puckered up prune painted a gaudy scarlet red. Spirals of mist are starting to circle around me, prodding and poking at my body as if they want me to give in to it, to stop fighting and stop breathing and give in.
What does it matter though? There’s no one here to see me after all. I try to snicker at my last, feeble attempts at a joke, but my insides seize up, sending me sprawling downwards onto my side. My hair falls across my brow, disfiguring my face, as I start to convulse, shaking with fear as I feel my mind slipping, slipping away.
I can’t breathe.
I’m on my own. I’m probably dying, I reason to myself, so at least this torture will end soon enough. Yet, if I die now, I’ll never see my parents again, to tell them I really do love them, and I’m sorry for becoming such a hopeless daughter, and I’ll never be able to confront Greg, or Lysander, the two who I feel have wronged me most.
There are things in my life worth hanging on for.
There are… But I can’t.
I take a gasping, shuddering gulp of air, and collapse, giving in as the mist swoops closer, wrapping its tendrils around my body like a shroud. In the distance, I hear voices, muttering words I cannot speak myself. Somewhere, someone screams, a shriek of delight that could also be despair, I can’t tell.
I let the mist take me, allowing it in.
I am free.
Ignore this last part. It's a favour, for a friend.
This one’s rather easier.
What you’re looking for here is a group. Now, this group is one that was created quite a few weeks ago and is named after a popular game that resulted in quite a bit of...quirkiness...in the mumbles of movellas. It has to do with a question posed to each player... “T _ _ _ _ or D _ _ _