Blackened Read Online Free Page A

strong, palpable. I feel a stirring deep within; a desire so appalling I cannot name it.
    I must go.
C.C
     
     
    *
     
     
    I am trembling with anticipation as I leave a tired little boy to his well-earned afternoon nap and enter the garden. There is only one thing on my mind: the girl in the garden. The girl with the tinkling laugh. Bethan.
    The slated sky weeps and a glacial wind whips my hair into disarray, but I care not because she is here. She is true to her word. Today she wears a black hooded cloak over a cream dress. She stands with her back to me again, her arms hanging loosely at her sides.
    “You came,” I say.
    She laughs, “Of course I came! I want us to be friends.”
    “You do?”
    I find myself shocked and a little embarrassed. Who would want to be my friend? I am dull and lifeless. I live a sheltered, odd existence. In fact, I barely exist at all.
    “I most certainly do,” she returns, “but I need to know that I can trust you first.”
    I hesitate, picking my words carefully.
    “I can keep a secret, if that is what you mean. Also, I never venture out of the cottage so I never speak to anyone other than my little brother Eddie.”
    She digests my response, lifts her hand to her face and rests it upon her cheek.
    “Alright then!” she exclaims and whirls around.
    Her black hood falls back exposing her whole face.
    I cannot prevent a sharp intake of breath. Her body is a thing of beauty but sadly, her face is not. Her face is a nightmare made real; cruelly distorted, it speaks of destruction, terror and violence.
    Above a savagely aquiline nose her flat grey eyes lie askew like those of an ill-maltreated marionette. Her cheeks, veined with violet and frightfully mottled, haunt one with their gruesomeness. And her eyebrows – perhaps the most sorrowful part of all - are eternally set into frowning sadness.
    I open my mouth to express my sorrow for her plight but before I can speak her fingers are upon my lips.
    “No pity, no words of compassion. I have lived with this face for a long time and it is a part of me.”
    Her voice is smiling, but her lips are twisted. She is hideous but she is also beautiful, and I find myself filling with admiration.
    “You are amazing,” I whisper.
    “Thanking you kindly!” she says, curtseying daintily in front of me before dancing down the garden.
    I follow, less afraid to venture further with such a lively, strong spirit beside me.
    I can no longer contain my curiosity.
    “Bethan. Where do you live?”          
    She pauses and looks at me. Her aura suddenly darkens.
    “I reside deep in the woods over in that direction,” she gestures to the right with a graceful sweep of her arm.
    “May I ask who you live with?”
    For some reason I feel this may be sensitive ground. Bethan laughs, but it is not natural-sounding.
    “Let us not talk of unhappy things now. Let us enjoy the moment and live life to its fullest.”
    “Of course,” I say.
    Immediately the tension retreats and she grabs hold of my hand.
    “Come, Lisbeth! There is so much to explore in this garden and I know you have not searched it yet.”
    “I cannot be long,” I say, “soon I will need to wake Eddie from his nap.”
    Bethan nods, “So we shall make the most of the next few moments!”
    She drags me down the garden through the wet grass, pulling me faster and faster until our lungs are exploding and we are bursting with laughter.
    I cannot believe how light I feel. My face feels funny and I realise that the muscles that are used to laugh are unacquainted to moving.
    The realisation sobers me up. A frigid wind slaps my cheek. I wrap Mama's blanket more tightly around myself.
    “I need to go and wake Eddie.”
    “Worry not Lisbeth. We will see one another when darkness comes.”
    We bid farewell and I trudge back up to the cottage.
     
     
    *
     
     
    Dear Lisbeth,
    I cannot lie to you. Your queries concerning your Father cause me great concern.
    I have told you what I know: